A Cadence Creek Christmas (Cadence Creek Cowboys) (5 page)

She had to keep a lid on her temper before she said something she’d regret. Jack had such a tendency to be cocky and normally she just brushed it off. Tonight it irritated. Could she not do anything right? “Then how convenient for you that he just gave me a lift home after helping me clear away the dishes. Oh, and he reminded me I hadn’t had time to eat at the dinner, either, and fixed me a plate. And when we finally went to leave, my rental was completely blocked in by a snowbank so he offered me a drive home. My type or not, Rhys Bullock was very supportive this evening. So you can put that in your pipe and smoke it, Jackson Frederick Shepard.”

Unperturbed, Jack merely folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m going to bed,” she announced. “I recommend you do the same. You’re taking me to the golf club at eight-thirty so I can be sure it’s ready for the reception.”

Without waiting for an answer, she swept up the stairs, her pride wrapped around her. It was only when she was settled in her room, dressed in flannel pajamas and curled under the covers that she let down her guard and closed her eyes.

Behind her lids she saw Rhys. And she saw what might have happened—if only they were different people, in a different place and time.

* * *

The church was beautiful.

Taylor let out a relieved sigh as she peeked through the nearly closed door leading through the sanctuary. It had taken longer than she’d anticipated, making sure the reception venue was all on schedule and then it had been time to head to Molly Diamond’s, where all the bridesmaids were meeting to get ready and have pictures taken. Taylor gave the thumbs-up to the photographer, Jim, who had flown in from Victoria to do the wedding as a personal favor. He was set up at the front of the church, ready for Avery’s walk down the aisle.

Taylor’s worries about the decorations had been pointless. She wasn’t sure how Melissa Stone had managed it, but the end of each pew held a stunning but simple decoration consisting of a red satin bow and a small cedar bough. Not only did it look festive, but the smell was incredible.

And Clara had come through with the sills, too. On each one was a small rectangular plate with three white pillar candles of varying heights. It was incredibly romantic and the warm light radiated through the church. She couldn’t have come up with anything more suitable on her own.

With a lump in her throat, she turned to Clara and smiled. “How on earth did you manage that?” she asked. “It’s perfect!”

Clara laughed lightly. “I called the owner of the dollar store last night and asked if we could go in early this morning.”

The dollar store. Heaven forbid any of her clients ever found out! She gave an unladylike snort and patted Clara’s arm. “I swear I need to stop underestimating the women of this town. First Martha with the dinner, then you with the candles and Melissa with the pew markers. I’m starting to feel rather irrelevant.”

Avery heard and her face fell with concern. “Oh, don’t say that, Taylor! We put this together in such a short time that if it weren’t for you we’d be standing in front of the Justice of the Peace and having a potluck. I never dreamed I’d have a wedding day like this. It would never have happened without you.”

Taylor’s eyes stung. This was so different from anything she’d ever experienced. She hadn’t even had to ask for help. Without even knowing her, people had stepped up because it was the right and neighborly thing to do. Maybe Cadence Creek wasn’t the hub of excitement Taylor was used to, but never had she ever been made to feel like she belonged so easily. She was starting to understand why Callum was so happy here.

“It was my pleasure, I promise. Now let me check to see what’s going on.”

Because Avery had no family, they’d decided to forgo the official ushering in of the parents. Instead Taylor’s mom and dad sat at the front, with an adorable Nell, dressed in white ruffles, on their laps. Taylor turned her attention to the side door as it opened and the minister and men came through. At last night’s rehearsal it had become glaringly apparent that everyone had an escort up the aisle but the bride. They’d made a quick change of plans, and the women would be walking up the aisle alone with the groomsmen waiting at the front.

Taylor’s heart beat a little faster as Rhys appeared, looking so very handsome and exciting in the black tux and tie. The men lined up along their side of the altar, with Rhys positioned right after Jack. The pianist began to play Gounod’s “Ave Maria,” the signal for the women to begin their walk.

“This is it, girls.” Taylor quickly got them in order and then took her place behind Angela. She gave the man at the door a quick nod and it opened, and the procession began.

Clara went first, radiant in dark green, glowing with pregnancy and holding her bouquet in front of her rounded tummy. Then Angela, smiling at her husband at the other end, and then, in the middle of the procession, Taylor.

She stepped on to the white runner, her emerald satin heels sinking slightly into the carpet. She kept slow time with the music, a smile on her face as she winked at her brother who was waiting rather impatiently for his bride. Jack was beside him, grinning like a fool and then...

And then there was Rhys, watching her with an intensity that made her weak at the knees. The smile on her lips flickered until she purposefully pasted it there, but she couldn’t deny the jolt that had rushed through her that second their eyes met. Her chest cramped as her breath caught, and then his lips curved the tiniest bit and his gaze warmed with approval. And she was back in the truck last night, feeling his hands on her body and his lips on her lips and she got hot all over.

Then she was in her place, Denise followed and the music changed.

Taylor forgot all about Rhys the moment Avery stepped to the door and on the carpet. Her lace dress was classic and romantic, her solid red rose bouquet perfect. Taylor’s throat tightened as she took one quick glance at her brother and found his eyes shining with tears. She couldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She never did at these things. But today was different. She knew how Callum had had his heart broken before and how incredible it was that he was even standing here today. Nell stood on her grandfather’s lap and everyone chuckled when she bounced and said “Mumm mumm mumm.”

Avery reached Callum, and he held out his hand. She took it and they faced the minister together.

The prayers were short and heartfelt, the “I Do’s” immediate and clear so that they echoed to the farthest pew. It was when Avery handed her bouquet to Denise and took Callum’s fingers in hers that Taylor wished she’d tucked a tissue into the handle of her bouquet.

The vows were simple and traditional, the words solid and true as they filled the candlelit church. “I Callum, take you Avery, to be my wife. To have and to hold from this day forward.”

A lump formed in Taylor’s throat as she tried to swallow.

“For better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.”

Taylor took a fortifying breath and told herself to hold it together. But it was so hard, because she could see the look on Callum’s face as he gazed into the eyes of his bride. He was so in love. So sure. The promises were the most important he’d make in his life, but they came easily because he loved Avery that much. Taylor had never experienced anything like that. Sometimes she doubted she ever would...if she was actually that...lovable.

Avery’s soft, gentle voice echoed them back. “I Avery, take you Callum, to be my husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward.”

A single tear splashed over Taylor’s lower lashes. She was mortified.

“To love, honor and cherish for as long as I live.”

The pair of them blurred as her eyes filled with moisture and she struggled not to blink. The pronunciation was made, there was clapping during the kiss, and then Avery, Callum, Denise and Jack moved to the table to sign the register and wedding certificate. Just when she was sure the tears were going to spill over, a dark figure appeared in front of her and held out a handkerchief.

She didn’t need to see the fine details to know it was Rhys. Her heart gave a confused flutter just before she reached out and took the fabric from his hand. The shape of his lips curved slightly before he silently stepped back, and she gave a self-conscious laugh as she turned her head a little and dabbed at her eyes.

She could see again but she didn’t dare look at him. A handkerchief—a white one, she could see now, and it smelled like starch and his aftershave. What sort of man these days carried a white handkerchief, for Pete’s sake? And why on earth was she charmed by it?

The documents were signed, the minister introduced them as Mr. and Mrs. Callum Shepard and clapping erupted as the bride and groom immediately went to gather their daughter and then swept jubilantly down the aisle.

Taylor swallowed as Rhys offered his elbow. “Shall we?” he asked quietly, smiling down at her.

She tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. It was strong and warm and she felt stupidly pretty and feminine next to him. “Certainly,” she replied as they made their way out of the sanctuary to the much cooler vestibule. They’d form a receiving line there briefly, and then the guests would go on to the golf club for a cocktail hour while the wedding party had pictures taken.

Taylor gave a final sniff and prepared to get herself together. She had the next hour to get through and didn’t want smudged makeup or red eyes to mar the photos. The sentimental moments had passed.

What she hadn’t prepared herself for was the number of times she’d be forced close to Rhys during the photos; how she’d feel his hand rest lightly at her waist or his jaw close to her hair. By the time the wedding party was dismissed, her senses were so heightened her skin was tingling.

“You want a drive to the club?” Rhys asked, as the groomsmen and bridesmaids gathered by the coatrack.

“Avery said we could all go in the limo that brought us from Diamondback.”

“But aren’t they doing just some bride and groom photos in the snow first? I guess I figured you’d want to get there and make sure things were running smoothly.”

She smiled up at him, making sure to put several inches between them. “You know me too well.”

He shrugged. “That part’s easy to read. The tears on the other hand? Total surprise.” He reached for her coat and held it out so she could slip her arms into the sleeves.

“And yet you were at the ready with a hanky. Impressive.” She needed to inject some humor so he wouldn’t know how genuinely touched she’d been at the gesture.

He chuckled. “That was Molly’s doing. She said that at weddings you never know when a woman might need a hanky. She gave one to all of us.”

He brushed his hands over the shoulders of her coat before stepping back. “Didn’t think it’d be you, though. You’re too practical for that. I guess I figured you’d be thinking two or three steps ahead.”

Normally she would have been, and it stung a bit knowing that Rhys only saw what everyone else seemed to see—a woman lacking in sentimentality. But she’d been caught up in the moment just like everyone else. And for the briefest of seconds, she’d felt a strange yearning. Like she was possibly missing out on something important.

“I slipped up,” she replied, reaching in the coat pocket for a pair of gloves. “It’s just temporary.”

She finally looked up into his face. His dark eyes were glowing down at her and whatever other smart reply she’d been about to make fluttered away like ribbons on a breeze. Her gaze inadvertently slid to his lips as she remembered the sound of his aroused breathing in the confined space of his truck. A truck that he was suggesting she get in—again.

This time there would be no funny business. She really should get to the venue and make sure everything was going according to plan. She relaxed her face into a pleasant smile. “I’ll accept the drive with thanks. Let me just tell Jack that I’m going on ahead.”

“Taylor?” He stopped her from walking away by grabbing her arm, his fingers circling her wrist. “You should slip up more often. It looks good on you.”

Maybe he did see more. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “I’ll tell Jack,” she repeated.

“I’ll warm up the engine,” he answered.

She turned around to find her brother and when she turned back again, a cold gust of wind from the just-opened door hit her like an icy wall.

She had to keep her head about her today. Weddings made people do strange things. It was just as well, then, that she planned on remaining behind the scenes as much as possible.

CHAPTER FIVE

T
HE
RECEPTION
WAS
going off without a hitch. When Taylor arrived at the club, the guests were already circulating and enjoying the cocktail hour. Platters of crackers, cheese and cold cuts, shrimp rings, crudités and fruit were set out on tables close to the bar, where people were lined up to be served either punch or hot cider.

The place looked lovely. The centerpieces had been lit—boy, Melissa had really outdone herself with those. White candles enclosed in glass sat on real rounds of wood, surrounded by aromatic greenery and winterberries. Each chair was covered in white fabric, a wide red ribbon around the back with more cedar and a single pinecone adding a festive, homey touch. The pew markers had mirrored the design perfectly. She couldn’t have planned it any better. Hadn’t, actually. Funny how some things worked out.

Rhys showed up at her elbow and handed her a cup. “Have something hot to drink.”

“I should check the kitchen.”

“You should relax. Maybe enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll enjoy myself later.” But she took the mug anyway. The sweet, spicy scent of the cider was too tempting to resist.

“You look beautiful by the way,” he said quietly.

Her pulse fluttered again. “Thank you,” she answered politely, but inside she glowed. She was used to dressing up, but her style usually ran to the classic and conservative. Tailored fits and solid colors that spoke far more to class, confidence and efficiency than femininity and whimsy. But the dress today made her feel very girly indeed. The bodice was strapless and the lace overskirt to the emerald tea-length gown was far more dainty than she normally wore. Not to mention the gorgeous satin shoes on her feet, or the way her hair was gathered in a low chignon with a few pieces left artfully around her face.

“Do you want something to eat? I can bring you something if you like.”

What was she doing? Last night she’d lost her senses, but it was the clear light of day now. Sure, weddings brought out the romantic in anyone but she was smarter than that. This wasn’t anything. One kiss in a truck at midnight didn’t make them a couple today. Or any day for that matter.

“I can get it myself, you know. You don’t have to act like we’re a couple just because we’re paired up in the wedding party,” she answered, making a pretense of scanning the room even though everything was moving along seamlessly.

Her breath squeezed in her lungs as she waited for his reaction. When she didn’t get one, she turned to say something only to discover that he’d walked away. He’d gone to the buffet table, and she wondered if he’d stay true to form and simply ignore her wishes. But when he’d put a few selections on his plate, he never even glanced her way. He walked over to the other side of the room, greeting a few guests with a smile.

It made no sense that she felt empty and bereft when he’d done exactly as she’d intended.

Fine. She’d go to the kitchens and check on the dinner prep, and then make sure the sound system was a go for the emcee. That’s where she should be anyway. Not trying to impress a stubborn groomsman.

* * *

The words had sat on Rhys’s tongue but he’d kept them to himself. At a wedding reception was no place to tell her exactly what he thought of her rude response. But he was plenty put out. He’d only been trying to be a gentleman. Sure, he enjoyed pushing her buttons. But after last night...

Never mind that. Even if that kiss had never happened, he would have been courteous to any woman he’d been paired with for the day. That was just plain manners where he came from. But she was too damned independent. Wanted to do everything by herself. Was it to prove she could? She didn’t have to prove anything to him. Anyone with eyes in their head could see she was good at her job. She’d pulled this whole event together in a few weeks. That took organizational skills and long hours and, he suspected, a good amount of money. He felt like saying, “I get it. You’re successful and you earned it all by yourself.”

The contrast between them was laughable. So why did he bother? He got the feeling she’d never understand his point of view anyway.

He mingled a bit, visiting with neighbors and acquaintances. The Diamonds arrived, and then fifteen minutes after that Avery and Callum followed, along with Denise and Jack and of course, the adorable Nell. His gaze lit on the little girl for a moment, all in ruffles with a tiny green bow in her dark curls. Humph. Taylor probably didn’t even want kids. It would take too much time away from her business and important tasks. How much more reminding did he need that she was not for him? Her work was her top priority.

Rhys’s heart constricted as he thought of the two little boys he’d grown so attached to. For a while he’d been so focused on saving the business that he’d neglected the people closest to him. Funny how your perspective changed when you lost what you didn’t appreciate in the first place.

So why did he kiss her last night? Why had he made an effort today? And why in hell couldn’t he stop thinking about her eyes swimming with tears as he handed her a stupid square of cotton during the ceremony?

Sam took the mic and introduced the happy couple and asked everyone to take their seats. “You, too, Taylor,” he added, glimpsing her talking to one of the wait staff by the door. She smiled and gave a little shrug, making people chuckle as she came his way.

Rhys waited. And when she got to his side, he held out his arm.

He could tell her teeth were clenched as she smiled and put her hand on his arm. “You did that on purpose,” she accused, smiling brightly.

He smiled back. “Yes, I did. Just to annoy you.”

Her eyes sparked. “Why would you do that?”

“Because pushing your buttons amuses me,” he replied. “I know I shouldn’t.” He pulled out her chair with a flourish and noticed her cheeks were flushed. “It’s pretty clear where we stand. But I can’t resist.”

She took up her napkin and gave it a sharp flap before settling it on her lap. “Hmm. I took you for a rule follower. Straight and narrow. Didn’t take you as a bit of a scamp.”

Once upon a time he’d been far more carefree and less careful. A risk taker. Circumstances had made him grow up in a hurry. “Funny,” he answered, taking his seat and retrieving his own napkin. “I never pictured you as the sappy type either, but...”

“Maybe we bring out the worst in each other,” she said in an undertone, reaching for her water glass.

“See? We’re getting to know each other better. Now I know that you see both fun and sentimentality as flaws.”

“You’re deliberately twisting my words.”

“Be quiet. The minister is going to say the blessing.”

He was gratified when she clamped her lips shut—score one for him. After the blessing, Sam took to the mic again, explaining the order of the evening while the salads were served. Even the salads matched the Christmas decor—greens with candied pecans, red cranberries and creamy feta. Her attention to the smallest detail was starting to get annoying.

Staff were on hand at each table to pour the wine, and he noticed that when Taylor’s glass had been filled with red, she reached for it immediately and took a long sip.

Maybe he shouldn’t bug her so much. She had a lot on her mind today. He didn’t need to add to the stress.

Then again, there was something to be said for distraction. And he did enjoy pushing her buttons. It was a nice break from his self-imposed “dry spell.”

“Good wine?” he asked, reaching for his glass.

“One of my favorites, from Mission Hill. Do you like it?”

He did, though he wasn’t much of a wine drinker. “It’s okay.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. I said it was okay.”

A look of understanding lit in her eyes. “You don’t drink much wine, do you?”

He shrugged. “Not as a rule.” When would he drink wine? It wasn’t like he went on dinner dates or was the kind to chill out at the end of the day with a nice chardonnay. At her distressed look, he took pity on her. “Look, I’m a guy. Most of us around here are beer men, that’s all. Which would be totally out of place at this dinner.”

“Oh, is it too fancy? I tried to keep it fairly traditional. Nothing that people can’t pronounce, that sort of thing, you know?”

Gone was the sharp tongue and sassy banter. She was actually concerned. A few days ago he might have taken her comment differently, like maybe she meant the people of Cadence Creek weren’t as sophisticated as she was. But that wasn’t it. Her brow was wrinkled in the middle. He knew without asking that she’d tried very hard to come up with a menu that people would like.

“What’s the main course?” he asked.

“Beef Wellington, Duchess potatoes, green beans and roasted red pepper.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“Well, Avery approved it, but then she approved just about everything I suggested.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, Rhys, did I railroad her into stuff? Did she feel she couldn’t say no?”

“Hey,” he said, beginning to take pity on her. “Where is all this doubt coming from? You’ve said from the beginning that this is your thing.”

“It is, but...”

He nudged her elbow. “Why did you pick this as the menu?”

She picked at her salad without eating. “Well, I tried to come up with something that was fancy enough for a wedding, something special, while keeping in mind the guest list. This is a meal for ranchers and, well, regular people. Not crazy movie stars or visiting dignitaries who only eat fish and sprouted grains or that kind of thing, you know?”

“So you tailored the food to the guest list?”

“Of course. I always do.”

“Then why are you so worried? Know what I think? I think that for most people this is going to taste like a fancy meal out that’s not intimidating, you know? Nothing they can’t recognize or need to pronounce in a foreign language.”

Their salads were removed and the main course put in front of them. Rhys’s stomach growled. He’d only managed a few bites of the salad and the beef smelled delicious.

“I swear I’m not usually like this. Not so insecure.”

“Is it because it’s Callum?”

“Maybe. Then again, I don’t usually do weddings. That’s the one day everyone wants utterly perfect. There’s more freedom with parties. But wedding days?” She took another sip of wine. Was quiet for a moment. “I screwed one up once.”

“You did?” Was Taylor actually going to admit she’d made a mistake? It didn’t strike him as her style.

She nodded. “The bride was allergic to strawberries. I’d forgotten. You don’t mess with a bride on her wedding day, you know? She had a breakfast for her bridal party. I never thought twice about giving the chef dominion over the menu. I trusted him completely.” She winced at the memory. “The wedding colors were pink and cream. The chef added strawberry coulis to the pancake batter. She got hives and her face swelled up like a balloon. Four hours before her walk down the aisle.”

Rhys was intrigued. “What did you do?”

“We tried cold cloths, creams...it wasn’t until the antihistamine shot that she really started to improve. But the ‘getting ready’ photos never happened, and she still looked rather pink and puffy in the pictures. Not to mention the fact that she nodded off in the limousine on the way to the hotel and reception because the drug made her drowsy. Not my finest moment as an event planner.”

She speared her golden-browned potatoes with a somewhat savage poke. “I’m telling you, Rhys, you do not mess with a bride on her wedding day.”

She looked so fierce he nearly smiled. But there was something else in her expression, too. She didn’t like failure, or anything that would reveal a chink in her perfect armor. He wondered why.

“Have you always been a perfectionist?”

She didn’t even take it as a slight criticism. “Yes.”

“And doesn’t that stress you out?”

She shrugged. “Occasionally. As long as I stay organized I’m fine. And I do work best under pressure. It’s just now and again something will crop up and I’ll chew antacids for a few days.”

He wanted to ask her how that could possibly be fun, but they were interrupted as the speeches began. Mr. Shepard welcomed Avery to the family, and then Avery and Callum stood to speak together, thanking their family and friends. They took a moment to thank Taylor for pulling it all together, and Rhys saw her relax a little in her chair. The day was nearly done. The ceremony had gone without a hitch; the reception was lovely and the food delicious. Perhaps she could actually enjoy herself a little during the dancing.

Dessert was served—pastry baskets filled with chocolate mousse and topped with berries and whipped cream. They were almost too pretty to eat, and Rhys noticed that Taylor had slowed down on the wine and accepted a cup of coffee instead.

He frowned. He shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t bother him that she was wound tighter than a spring or that she was so deliberate in each choice and move. Except he knew now. He knew that there was a vulnerable side. He’d seen it last night when he’d mentioned how her family had ignored her. Whether she acknowledged it or not, she was desperate for her family’s approval.

And he knew there was an unpredictable side to her, too, that rarely had a chance to get out to play. Because he was pretty sure that the heavy kissing they’d been doing in the cab of his truck last night had not been planned out and put on a list of pros and cons. It had been spontaneous. And combustible.

When the meal ended, the wedding cake was rolled in. “Oh, it’s stunning,” Taylor gasped, leaning forward to see better.

“You didn’t know? A detail escaped your notice?”

She laughed. “No one was allowed to see it. Avery’s friend Denise did it as a wedding gift. Avery insisted I trust her on this and so I did.”

“It bothered you, though, right?”

She tore her gaze away from the cake and slid it up to meet his. “A little,” she admitted. “This whole experience has been weird. I’ve had to give up way more control than I normally do. Usually no detail ever escapes my approval.”

“Sometimes it’s good to let someone else take the reins.”

She chuckled. “Not my style, Bullock.”

The cake really was pretty, even Rhys could see that. It looked like three presents stacked on top of each other, each layer turned on a slight angle and alternating red and white. The topper looked like a giant red bow. “What’s the bow made out of?” he asked Taylor.