One Hot Summer (29 page)

“I know. And I don't know why I didn't.” How did that lie pop out like that? Was she really so afraid of Micah's reaction? “Actually, that's not true. I didn't tell you because I was afraid you wouldn't take it well. You hate wealth and these friends are … kind of snobby and really famous. It'll be a huge wedding that will get a lot of media attention.”

Hunching, he propped his elbows on his knees and tapped his thumbs against each other. “It sounds like the kind of wedding you've been wanting to plan that will put your good name back on the map.” He spoke slowly, as though selecting every word carefully.

She walked to his side of the bed and perched on the edge, her arm around his waist. “That's exactly what it is.”

He angled his face away from her. His tapping thumbs stilled.

“I'm not planning on leaving Dulcet anytime soon. I'm not ready and, besides, one high-profile wedding alone does not reinvent a career.”

She braced herself for him to get angry or jealous or for his prejudice against wealth to rear its ugly head, but instead he angled his lips over hers and kissed her. His hands roved over her backside and bunched her sleep shirt higher.

Her attention shifted to the clock again. “I want to stay here with you, but I have to go.”

“Yeah. I know you do. But I don't have to like it.”

Did he think she'd meant leaving Dulcet for Los Angeles? Because that was true, too.
Wasn't it?

That question haunted her while she showered and dressed for work and while she stood in the silent kitchen and ate an apple cinnamon muffin, the latest treat left for them by Micah's secret admirer.

“Hey,” he called when she was near the front door.

She turned and found him standing in the doorway to his bedroom, clad in black boxer briefs and a deep scowl that turned his eyes hard. “You know I'll support you in whatever your goals are—I'd be a shitty boyfriend if I didn't—but consider yourself warned that my goal is to make it mighty tough on you to choose Los Angeles over me.”

Her throat constricted. “Micah, it's not as simple as an either-or choice.”

“Like hell it's not.”

It was the seed of an argument that could have no winners but would make losers of them both. She walked to him and planted a kiss on his unyielding lips. “I'll see you this afternoon.”

 

Chapter Fifteen

The Dalmatians arrived in the ballroom two hours ahead of schedule. The two dogs had been Remedy's bright idea, as part of a whimsical Polaroid photo opportunity she'd created for the ball guests, but that had been before she'd found herself placating a runaway elephant or being stalked by thirty vagabond homing pigeons.

She'd vowed to never again incorporate live animals into the events she planned, but as long as these dogs stayed with their trainers, leashed to the fire hydrant props in front of the old-fashioned firehouse facade she'd commissioned from a Dallas theater company set building crew, all would be well. She'd take a pair of trained dogs over pigeons or elephants any day of the week.

At an hour until showtime, Remedy completed a final walk-through of her masterpiece, which had turned out even better than she'd imagined. Inspired by Emily's insistence on serving Baked Alaska, Remedy had decided to take as many firefighter clichés as she could and turn them on their heads to create a whimsical theme that was both familiar and fresh. Dozens of delicate paper and wood prop trees clustered around the edges of the massive ballroom, their branches draped with tiny white strands of light. But rather than doing something corny such as having cats in the trees, as she'd joked to Emily and Alex, she'd commissioned an artist in San Antonio to create strands of origami butterflies hanging from the branches, with the number of butterflies representing the combined population of all the Texas counties represented by firefighters at the ball—the number of citizens whose safety rested in the hands of this humble group of first responders.

On each round table she'd clustered framed copies of historical photographs of Texas firefighters and firehouses, then sprinkled the tables with vintage candies, from little boxes of Red Hots and cellophane-wrapped sarsaparilla drops, to taffy and butterscotch nips. At each place setting, Litzy and Tabby had set out clusters of peppermint sticks and cinnamon sticks bundled with raffia.

And, of course, in the back of the room, near one of two cash bars, was Remedy's brainchild, the old-fashioned firehouse photo set, where guests would be able to dress up in vintage costumes, including old-time firefighter gear, and pose for Polaroid photographs with the Dalmatians. Event staff members were on hand to snap the photos, then mount them in distressed vintage-style frames as the ball's party favors.

“It didn't have the full effect when I was here this afternoon for my inspection. But with the lighting and those Dalmatians and that firehouse you created, I'm blown away. I can't close my mouth.”

Remedy turned at the sound of Micah's voice, but she was the one blown away at the sight of him looking debonair in a perfectly fitted tuxedo, complete with a black bow tie and fancy black cowboy hat. “Micah, look at you.”

“Forget about me; look at this room. Everywhere I turn, I see new little touches that blow my mind.” He gathered her in his arms and kissed her. “You blow my mind. I've never been to anything like this before. It's a whole new level from the charity balls in years past.”

She smoothed her hand over his jacket collar. “That was the idea.”

“You're brilliant, you know.”

She felt brilliant and on top of her game. This was her first signature event at Briscoe Ranch and everything was perfect, including the man who was presently wrapping her in his strong, sexy arms. “Thank you, and I was just now thinking that you look pretty brilliant in that tuxedo.”

“I'm serious, Remedy. Ty Briscoe's not going to let you go without a fight. I think he and I are going to join forces on that goal.”

He just had to go there, didn't he? Right on cue, her stomach twisted into a knot. She squirmed out of his embrace. “Could we not talk about that tonight and enjoy ourselves without worrying about the future?”

“You can't have it both ways. You can't be making all those private plans of yours to leave and drop that bomb on me this morning about that celebrity wedding next month, then tell me not to think about it.”

He was right, as usual. “Micah, I—”

A loud whoop of joy sounded behind Remedy and silenced the workers in the room.

Granny June strode their way, dressed head-to-toe in purple sequins and waving a darkly stained wooden cane. “Whoo, boy, if it isn't the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on.”

Micah brushed past Remedy. “What are you doing here? I was supposed to come pick you up in a couple hours or so, so you could make a grand entrance after everyone else had arrived.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, we're still on for that, don't you worry. But I saw those Dalmatians arrive and wanted to come see what the fuss was about. I do love me some dogs.” She clapped her hands. “Say, here's a thought, Micah. Let's snap the first photo of the night together, now that those sweet doggies have arrived. Any time I post pets to my Facebook page, the people on there go crazy. Those are my most popular posts, besides all the pictures I snap of you. The ladies on Facebook just adore a hunky young man. Just imagine the kind of draw I'll get by combining a hunk like you with one of those sweet puppies in the same shot.”

She took Micah by the hand and dragged him toward the photo station.

Micah craned his neck to look at Remedy. “Are you coming, too?”

As much fun as that sounded, she waved him off. “I can't. Too much to do, but you two have fun.”

“I'll find you later,” he called.

“Not if I find you first.”

That turned out to be easier said than done. The ball was a smashing success, not that Remedy had a single spare moment to enjoy it. Though everything was going smoothly, with no noteworthy problems beyond the usual hiccups, she and her assistants never stopped moving, directing the replenishment of the bars, rotating the serving staff and bartenders, directing the food service, and keeping the live band happy and hydrated, among a thousand other duties.

It weighed heavily on her that she and Micah had snapped at each other before the ball. She wanted badly to make things right with him and apologize, but every time she spotted him in the crowd he was busy mingling, dancing, eating, or being led around by Granny June and the leashed Dalmatian that she'd somehow convinced its trainer to let her walk around with for the rest of the night. The dog was being a good sport and the other Dalmatian was loving all the extra attention by being the only dog at the photo station, so Remedy couldn't find it in her heart to ruin Granny's, or Micah's, fun.

It was infinitely easier to be the person in the shadows, watching the revelry and making sure everyone else had a good time. Remedy's comfort zone, as it had always been. Around the time that the beef tenderloin was served, she found herself hovering at the edge of the room next to Emily. She hadn't forgotten Emily's discomfort at the idea of being a guest at Albert and Tabby's wedding. Though Emily and Remedy clashed at every turn, they did have that in common.

“Sometimes I feel like an alien, if you know what I mean,” Remedy ventured.

Emily blinked at her in her typical deadpan style. “Absolutely. I feel like you're an alien all the time. That explains a lot, actually.”

Remedy smacked her arm. “Shut up.”

Emily's wry gaze cracked into a smile. “We did good tonight.”

“We did better than good.”

“We're about twenty minutes from the Baked Alaska presentation. Do you still want to help light one of them?”

“I can't wait. Thank you.” Remedy wasn't sure what the bigger shock was—that Emily was following through with that long-ago promise or that she was sharing her moment of glory. She still wasn't sure if she and Emily were friends, but perhaps, more important, they were allies now.

Emily nodded toward the crowd. “Your lover boy's on his way. That's my cue to scram. I'll text you when it's showtime.”

“Hey, you,” Micah said.

“Hey, yourself. Having fun?”

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Some. I would've rather had you by my side instead of stealing glances at you while you're flitting this way and that, running the show.”

“I would've rather been with you, too.”

He nodded toward the photo station. “Got time to snap a picture with me while everyone's busy eating?”

Remedy surveyed the room. The bartenders looked relaxed, the band was on break, and the servers didn't seem to be having any issues. Could it be that she had a spare moment to take a breath and be with her man? “You have perfect timing. I'd love to.”

Hand in hand, they walked to the photo station in the back of the room. From the boxes of dress-up clothes Micah found her a parasol, bonnet, and dusty-smelling crocheted shawl that he wrapped around her shoulders. “There. You look like a virgin librarian from days of yore.”

He swapped his cowboy hat out for a firefighter helmet, then peeled a fake mustache from the sheet of them displayed on an adjacent table, a fun touch that had been Tabby's idea. “What do you think? Am I ready to rescue you?”

“Ready, but just a sec. I'm curious about something.” Rocking up to her tiptoes, she angled her lips over his. She'd never kissed a man with a mustache before. It tickled her upper lip and nose, but it was kind of fun—right up until her mother's voice popped into her head asking Remedy if Micah was anything like Tom Selleck.
Gross.

“You want me to grow a firefighter mustache?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Nope. Your perpetual five o'clock shadow is perfect. No mustache necessary. Let's take this picture before I have to get back to work.”

Standing in front of the firehouse facade, Micah lifted her into his arms for the pose. She stretched out her parasol and tried to look the part of the damsel in distress. When the photographer gave them a thumbs-up, Micah set her down.

“Hey, before you get called away again, there's something I didn't get a chance to ask you earlier,” he said.

“Good or bad?”

“Good, I hope.” He took her parasol and twirled it. “My dad's birthday is coming up next week. He's having some people over for a barbecue to celebrate on Sunday. It's not going to reach the lofty heights of a Remedy Lane event, but my dad smokes a mean brisket. I'd like you to be there to meet everyone, and I'd like them to get to meet the woman I've been telling them all about.”

That was quite the magic trick he'd mastered, making her feel cherished and torn all at the same time. He wanted to take their relationship to the next level. He'd told her that morning that he would fight for her and that was exactly what he was doing. A little push out of her comfort zone, done in a loving way. She couldn't imagine turning him down.

She hooked her fingers behind his belt and pulled him snug against her. “I'd love to meet your family.”

“Good. That's good.” He hooked his arm around her neck and kissed her, that silly mustache tickling her nose again.

Remedy's phone vibrated.

It's time,
read Emily's text.

“I've got to go,” she told Micah. “It's time for the Baked Alaska. You should find a seat. This is going to be quite the presentation.”

Micah cringed. “I'd forgotten I'd agreed to that.”

She gave the corner of his mustache a tug. “It'll be safe. I swear. Just go find a seat and enjoy yourself.”

“You're not lighting any of the Baked Alaskas on fire or serving them, are you?”

She gave him a gentle nudge toward the tables with the parasol. “Don't you worry your pretty little head about it.” Then she hurried off, knowing that Emily wasn't going to wait around for her to arrive.