Going to the Chapel: A Novella (10 page)

“Both sound good,” he said, hoping for more information than a commentary on the woman’s culinary skills. “They’ve just recently opened this business and redone the chapel?”

“Mercy, yes,” Lulabelle said. “The girls left here after the scandal at the Triple D. Heard they all got married but don’t know where their husbands are now.” She leaned closer. “Makes you wonder.”

Levi bit into a biscuit.
Small towns
.

A man in overalls waved her over for a coffee refill, and she waddled off. Behind him, he heard a bunch of blue hairs whispering.

“You think that wedding shop’s gonna last?” one of them said.

“Don’t know why city folks would wanna come all the way up here to get hitched.”

“Those girls mean well,” a frail woman in a pink knit warm-up suit said. “But it won’t be long before trouble comes on their tails.”

“What do you mean, comes on their tails?” a chubby woman with pin curls muttered. “They bring trouble wherever they go.”

“Remember when Izzy ran her uncle’s truck into the bank that day?”

He recognized that woman as Nellie Needlemyer—the author of the “Naughty in Matrimony” column.

The woman in the pink knit suit hooted. “I never seen so many dollar bills flying. Kids were running everywhere trying to stick them in their pants.”

“You know they caught Caroline screwing that rodeo star in the barn after the hog hollering contest,” Nellie whispered.

“And Daisy nearly poisoned the supper club at the senior’s center.” This from a lady he’d heard called Uner Pinkerton. “The poor ladies were throwing up for days, dentures and wigs flying.”

“Wonder why the girls came home at the same time,” the chubby lady said.

A rail-thin lady with a gray bun leaned forward. “I wonder where their menfolk are.”

“I heard Daisy’s husband is dead,” another said.

Levi stiffened. Was he?

Several women gasped. “You think she killed him like her mama killed Waylin?”

“Who knows? Although Daisy was the sweet one. It’s that Izzy that was the sneaky one. You know she intentionally ran into the bank because she was trying to hit Moon.”

Levi tugged at his collar. Moon?

“That’s right.” Nellie tittered. “When she was just fourteen, she and Sybil’s son made out at the river, but Moon spread it all over school how he got to third base. Izzy was furious and came after him with her uncle’s truck. Then she told everyone that he had a little . . . you know what.”

Another woman they called Myrtle held her hand up to her ear. “A what?”

“You know.” Uner leaned closer. “His man part.”

“A man farts?” Myrtle said. “Royce used to fart every time he peed. He said all men did it.”

“We aren’t talking about farts,” Uner said. “She means his penis.”

Myrtle shrugged. “No, I don’t want any peanuts.”

“Oh, good grief, Myrtle,” Nellie said. “Did you get that hearing aid from the thrift store?”

Another woman jumped in. “Izzy sure had a way of getting back at the boys who messed with her. Remember when she glued Willie Grace’s husband’s toupee to their son Rodney’s head when he fell asleep in algebra? They practically had to skin that boy’s head to get it off.”

The other women laughed, but Levi removed his wallet to pay the bill. Good grief. Izzy was dangerous and devious.

He waited to see if the women said more, but a gray-haired gentleman approached, and the group started fussing with their hair and giggling like teenagers.

Levi dropped some cash on the table for Lulabelle, then walked outside and punched Elsa’s number. “Talk to Izzy’s neighbors and friends,” Levi said as he sat down on a park bench overlooking the town square.

“You think she helped Ray con those women?”

He gritted his teeth. “I don’t know. But it’s possible that she masterminded the scam.”

He’d postpone seeing Izzy until tomorrow. A day without being around her might just help him get his head back on straight so he’d stop looking at that pouty mouth and wanting to kiss it.

Izzy tossed and turned in a fitful sleep that night. She dreamed that she was being arrested with Ray and ended up in the pokey for the rest of her life.

In the dream, her aunt Dottie had buried her head in shame at the news just as she had the night of the Triple D brawl ten years ago. But it was the disappointment in her sisters’ eyes when they realized she’d lied to them about Ray that had ripped out her heart.

Especially Caroline’s. Caroline had practically mothered her and Daisy. She had deserved better than to be betrayed by the sisters she’d half raised.

Still dragging, she shuffled into the kitchen for coffee, determined to apologize for her bad behavior ten years ago, but Caroline was gone, and so was everyone else.

In fact, the house reeked of loneliness.

Aunt Dottie’s Santas mocked her from the shelf on the wall, and someone had moved the boxes of decorations so that they almost blocked the door to the living room.

Her aunt’s subtle way of nudging them to hang the dang things?

Izzy poured herself a mug of coffee and flipped on the Christmas lights in the den. The kitty startled for a moment, then curled up in her aunt’s chair again.

When she and her sisters had moved in, Aunt Dottie had insisted on decorating with white lights. But Izzy had cried and pleaded for the colored lights, and Aunt Dottie had caved.

The different colors glittered now, reminding her how much her aunt had sacrificed for them. Aunt Dottie had liked everything in its place, had built a life with Harry and planned to see the world—before she’d been saddled with her and her sisters.

Izzy walked over to the box of ornaments and picked up a salt-dough one in the shape of a wreath, then another candy-cane-shaped one and a snowman. Aunt Dottie had taught them how to make them the first Christmas they’d come to live with her.

Making ornaments had become a tradition each year after that.

Her heart ached for those times when they’d all been close, and she suddenly yearned for a family of her own.

When she’d broached the subject of having children with Ray, he’d acted strange. The next day she’d found a string of pearls adorned with a cameo in his pocket and thought they were for her. That he’d planned a romantic evening, and they’d make a baby that night.

Nope. She’d seen one of the country-club wives wearing those pearls at the grocery store the next afternoon.

She had blanked out for a second, imagined ripping them off in the store, then strangling Ray with them.

But an image of her mama behind bars flashed in her head, and sanity had returned. She had accidentally bumped into a stack of canned goods and sent them crashing down on the woman’s foot.

She laughed just thinking about the astute lady in her designer dress squealing as she rolled around on the floor amidst the three-cans-for-ninety-nine-cents butterbeans. Only the damn woman claimed she’d broken her foot, and the police and paramedics had shown up. Thankfully, Izzy had talked her way out of that jam by acting rational while the woman threw a full-fledged hissy fit.

Thank God word of that incident hadn’t made it back to Matrimony.

All the more reason she had to make this venture work.

The next time Izzy Sassafras was featured in the paper it was going to be highlighting her rise to success.

By the time she reached One Stop Weddings, nerves fluttered in her stomach. Levi was waiting on the bench in front of the shop, looking so sexy and handsome in that Stetson and western jacket that a dizzy spell made her lightheaded.

Why couldn’t she have found a decent, honest man like Levi Fox, one who’d love her like he loved Elsa?

Levi reminded himself that he might have to arrest Izzy as she glided up to the storefront like an angel in disguise. He still didn’t have all the answers, but he would get them. “Arresting an Angel”—that might be the title of Nellie’s “Naughty” column when he had to take Izzy in.

Because Izzy was that—in disguise. Not the sweet, charming wedding planner who wanted to make his day perfect with his nonexistent bride.

She gave him a little wave and grinned, her cheeks glowing from the chill in the air. A breeze stirred the trees and ruffled her hair, tangling it around her face and tempting him to touch it.

He jammed his hands in his pockets instead. Dammit, he was supposedly engaged to another woman. If he touched Izzy, he’d blow his cover.

“Feels like it might snow,” she said, breaking the tension.

“Yeah. Don’t see that in Texas.” There, weave the conversation back to her.

“No, I guess not.” She opened the door, the bells tinkling as they entered.

Fragrant aromas assaulted him—coffee, chocolate, cinnamon, vanilla. Then others—barbecue sauce? Bacon? Prime rib?

“Daisy got an early start so she’d have some samples ready for you,” Izzy said. “While she sets up, why don’t I show you a few tux choices, then we’ll take your measurements.”

He trailed her to the Groom’s Den, where hangers held an assortment of tuxedos along with dress suits. Izzy pulled out a light gray one and held it up to him. “This is nice, but with your dark hair and eyes, black might look better.”

He shrugged. He didn’t give a damn about tuxes or colors. “Whatever you think.”

She removed a black jacket from a hanger and urged him to slip it on. Perspiration immediately beaded on his neck. He was used to jeans and western shirts and his hat. And dressing himself.

Having Izzy’s hands on him clouded his mind with images of those hands
undressing
him.

Izzy stepped back to examine it. “That’s nice, but you don’t look comfortable.”

How had she read him so well?

Izzy snapped her fingers. “I have an idea.” She dug through the row of jackets and snatched another black jacket. This coat was longer with a western flair.

“This duster is more your style,” she said with a smile as she helped him ease the jacket over his shoulders.

He glanced in the mirror and relaxed slightly. It still was too dressy for his taste, but she was right. If he actually were getting married, he’d choose something along these lines.

She ran her fingers over his shoulders, eliciting heat down his arms. “It’s a little tight, but we can fix that.” She walked around him, her gaze perusing his physique. “You look so handsome and sexy that Elsa will probably swoon.”

His cock hardened at the husky sound of her voice.

But Elsa’s name doused the hard-on she’d given him with her praise.

If he was wrong about Izzy, and she was innocent, she’d hate him when she discovered the truth about him.

But if she was guilty, he’d have to ignore the way she made him feel and lock her up.

Izzy choked back the words she wanted to say to Levi, that he was the sexiest cowboy she’d ever laid eyes on, and she’d seen a lot of cowboys in Texas.

But she couldn’t mention that she’d lived in Texas.

Ray might have feelers out looking for her. After all, he was a cheap bastard.

“What part of Texas did you say you’re from?” Izzy asked.

Levi narrowed his eyes at her. “Austin.”

“I’ve heard Austin is a great city.” And not far from where she and Ray lived. She chose a gold star and horseshoe bolo tie with silver accents to match the duster and wound it around his neck. “Have you and Elsa discussed the type of music you want at the wedding and the reception? Do you want a pianist, violin, harp . . . or maybe a guitar at the ceremony? Do you want live music, or a DJ and playlist?”