A December Bride (A Year of Weddings Novella) (5 page)

L
ayla set the white votive inside the Mason jar and slid it down the table to Murphy.

He caught the jar and cut a length of twine. “I swear they’re going to revoke my man card.”

Layla scooped sugar into the next jar and arranged red berries around the votive. “You own a hardware store; I think your manhood is intact.”

He scowled. “I’m tying bows on glass knickknacks. Don’t you need some wood chopped or something?”

“What I need is thirty of these to line the walkway, so butch up and tie the bow.”

It had taken a couple days for the awkwardness of Tuesday’s incident to pass. Layla spent the time convincing herself Murphy hadn’t really intended to kiss her. Had he actually leaned in? Maybe she’d only lost her balance and swayed a bit.

No sense dwelling on that when there was so much to do.
The main floor was almost complete, but she still had the upstairs and the exterior. And only one week to go.

The fire crackled in the fireplace. Her gaze swept over the mantel where a pine swag draped lazily between three old-fashioned stockings. On the hearth a set of wooden milking buckets overflowed with boughs and pinecones. The sled above the mantel had turned out nice too.

“I saw the sewing room. Great idea.”

“Thanks. I saw that sewing table at Grandma’s Attic and got inspired.” She’d bought a length of red cotton batiste to drape over the table. “I’m going to put a dress form in the corner and cover it with a Victorian morning dress.” She was borrowing the dress from an antique collector in town.

“That’ll look great. Have you heard from Stanley?”

“I touched base with him yesterday. I was hoping he’d come over on Friday before the tour starts, but he’s got plans that night. He’s coming over on Saturday.”

“A week from tomorrow?”

She nodded. Which meant they’d have to drag out their engagement until a few days before their supposed wedding. How was that going to work? She was already tired of fielding questions at Cappy’s and hearing complaints about their Christmas Eve wedding date. She could hardly wait to deal with the fallout.

“How are we going to handle all this?” She slid the jar to him, her eyes flickering to his.

“All what?”

“You know, the end of our pretend engagement.”

His mouth tightened as he focused on the twine, his thick fingers making awkward work of the bow. “I don’t know.”

Last time she’d brought it up, he’d changed the subject, but it had to be discussed. They were racing toward the deadline, and she needed a plan in place.

“It’s going to fall awfully close to our pretend wedding.”

He frowned. “I know that.”

“Well … someone’s going to practically get jilted at the altar,” she said lightly, hoping to draw a smile.

Her efforts failed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the fall. I got us into this, I’ll get us out of it.” He didn’t seem too happy about that.

She’d already been through one broken engagement. This one would be a breeze, though. No feelings involved.

No feelings? You sure about that, Layla?

She thought of Tuesday’s incident, of the stirring in her stomach at his nearness. Of the way she anticipated his return each evening. She told herself she was eager for help, but was that really true? Or was she only kidding herself?

She gazed at him from beneath her lashes. Watched his sturdy hands work at the tedious task. It was Friday night, and instead of being out with friends, he was tying bows on Ball jars. For her. Maybe he’d gotten them into this, but it was her fault that they’d followed through. He didn’t owe her anything.

Unless you count the thing with Jack and Jessica.
The newlyweds were arriving home tonight. Layla wasn’t looking forward to seeing them.

But she didn’t want to think about that right now. She followed her string of thoughts back one thread to Murphy and their situation. She couldn’t deny that her—affection—for him had grown. He’d weaseled his way into her heart
a little with his quiet sincerity and teasing ways. With his crooked smile and his sea-blue eyes and his old worn cap.

All the reasons he’d appealed to her two summers ago were still there. The stomach flutterings and noodle knees were there too. What would’ve happened if Murphy had asked her out before Jack? Would she be settled into this house with him, warm and snug, a wedding band circling her finger?

The thought made her ache inside.
Is that what was supposed to happen, God? Was I supposed to go out with Murphy and not Jack? Did we somehow mess up Your plans?

Maybe she’d never know. Maybe she’d lost her chance at happiness and was destined to be alone the rest of her life.

They worked in tandem, the fire popping and sizzling nearby. The musky scent of his cologne wafted over as he reached for a jar.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” Layla blurted, suddenly needing to know. She bit the inside of her lip, cursing her impulsive tongue. Her heart beat erratically, thumping hard against her ribs. “Two summers ago when we volunteered at the theater? I kept thinking you might.”

His hands paused on a spool of twine as he looked at her, his eyes somber. “I wanted to. But I was coming off a difficult relationship—I needed some time.” Regret laced his voice.

“Chloe Peterson.”

He nodded.

She’d seen them around town for about a year. The grapevine claimed she’d cheated on him with Chris Geiger, but who knew?

“I was about to ask you out,” he said. “But before I could …”

“Jack.”

His eyes skimmed over her face. “You have no idea how many times I’ve regretted waiting.”

Her face warmed under his perusal. Her pulse skittered. “Wonder what would’ve happened.”

One corner of his lips tipped up as a look of serenity passed over his face, displacing the regret. “Who knows. Maybe we’d be engaged for real.”

Maybe
, she thought. But she couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud. Instead, before she got caught in his eyes, she placed another votive and slid the jar to Murphy while her mind toyed with the notion.

The next afternoon Layla let herself into Murphy’s house. They’d kept at it until midnight, and this morning she’d had the earliest shift at Cappy’s, coming in for lunch prep. They’d been busy with Christmas parties through lunch, and Layla had been on edge, wondering if Jessica would make an appearance. After work she’d gone to see her grandpa at the nursing home, feeling guilty for missing the previous week. He didn’t remember her today.

She was ready for the quiet reprieve of Murphy’s house. She shrugged from her coat, a familiar smell making her draw another breath. It smelled like Christmas, but it wasn’t the piney scent of the tree or the woodsmoke from last night’s fire.

She followed the smell toward the kitchen. Dirty mixing bowls sat in the sink, filled with water and assorted utensils.
Flour dusted the island, and on it sat a baking sheet full of cookies.

Layla moved closer, her lips parting as she neared the island. Gingerbread men. Her eyes skated over the misshapen forms. White eyes of varying sizes stared back. Fat buttons lined the fronts. The icing that outlined the cookies was sparse in places and globby in others.

A laugh bubbled up at the pathetic sight of them. But it got stuck in her throat, held by the growing knot. The gesture caught her in the gut, like a sucker punch, leaving her breathless and teary-eyed. What Murphy lacked in artistic ability he made up for in heart. She pulled in a breath, the scent of ginger filling her nose, and thought it might just be the best thing she’d ever smelled.

S
eth talked Layla into attending his church on Sunday.

Not only would it be odd for them to go separate ways so close to their nuptials, but it would also give Layla a chance to chat with Stanley.

Seth sat tall in the pew, loving the feel of Layla pressed against his side. She wore a red dress that fell just short of her knees, and it was taking all kinds of willpower to keep his mind on the message. They’d slipped in late at her request, but now, as they stood for the last song, he could feel her muscles going taut, her spine lengthening.

Jessica and Jack were three rows up, tanned and glowing with happiness. There’d be no avoiding them afterward. Them or anyone else. Seth didn’t care. He was proud to be with Layla, and his feelings were as real as the hymnbook he held in his hands.

After church he fended off congratulatory wishes in the vestibule while Layla chatted with Stanley and his wife. Next
time he checked on her, Jack was talking to her. Seth excused himself from Daniel Dawson, the young mayor, and hurried to Layla’s side, not liking the familiar way Jack set his hand on her arm.

“Welcome back.” Seth shook Jack’s hand. “Looks like you got plenty of sun.”

“Stepping off the plane was a rude awakening, let me tell you. We had a great time, though. I was just telling Layla that Jess and I’d like to have you two over Thursday for dinner.”

Seth looked at Layla, not missing the panic behind her plastic smile. “Oh, well, that’s her last night before the tour opens. She’s staging my house.”

“She told me.” He smiled fondly at Layla. “I’m really proud of her.”

Something twisted inside Seth at the proprietary words. He set his hand at the curve of Layla’s waist and pulled her closer. “You should see the house. She’s amazing.”

A delicious shade of pink rushed into Layla’s cheeks, and he could hardly tear his eyes away.

Layla cleared her throat, glancing at him.

Jessica sidled up to Jack and nestled into his side. “So are we on for Thursday? I’m making my lamb, and believe me, you don’t want to miss it.” Her eyelashes fluttered at Seth.

Jack smiled down at her. “She’s a great cook.”

Seth wanted to smack Jack. How could they have ever been such close friends?

“I’m afraid Thursday’s no good for us, is it, baby?” Seth said. “We’ll be too busy with final touches on the house.” He addressed Jessica. “Layla’s staging my house for the Tour of Homes.”

“Oh, how cute! Well, you still have to eat. Plus, I invited my mom and Aunt Lorraine already, and they’re expecting you. We’re not taking no for an answer.” She waved her manicured fingers at someone over Seth’s shoulder.

Seth tightened his hand on Layla. “I don’t think—”

Jessica touched Layla’s arm, wincing. “Oh, sweetie, is it still too hard?”

Seth fisted his free hand as he drew Layla into his side. “She’s engaged to me now, Jessica.”

“You know what?” Layla said. “It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll be finished by then. We can come over for a couple hours.”

“Perfect! See you at seven.” Jessica parted with an air kiss to Layla’s cheek and tugged Jack off to talk with someone else.

Seth and Layla made their way to his truck, his stomach churning. He didn’t want to sit through a meal with Jack and Jessica any more than Layla possibly could. It made him physically ache to see Jack and Layla together, even if he was married now. Thinking of his hands on Layla, his lips on hers, made Murphy want to punch a brick wall.

He put the truck in drive and pulled from the lot. Once they were on the street, Layla dropped her head against the window, her hair falling over her face.

He lifted his hand to brush the hair away. But she wouldn’t welcome his touch. They weren’t in public anymore. He turned up the heat instead. “You didn’t have to do that. We could’ve put it off.”

“And let her think I’m still hung up on Jack?”

He sighed. He didn’t want to put Layla through this dinner. Shoot, he didn’t want to put himself through it.

Seth turned the truck and angled up the hill. The sun glinted brightly off the snowy street. “I can call him later and cancel.”

She sat up straight, squaring her shoulders. “No. I have to get used to it sooner or later.”

His stomach clenched. “To what? Seeing them together?”

“We live in the same town. I can’t avoid them forever.”

He hated the brittle sound of her voice. His heart worked as hard as the Chevy’s engine as it climbed the hill. The thought of her pining for Jack soured his stomach.

“Is it hard?”

“Is that your way of asking if I still love him?”

He kept forgetting he had no right. No right to ask things like that. No right to brush her hair from her eyes. “You don’t have to say.”

Maybe he didn’t want to know anyway. Maybe it’d be another sucker punch to the gut. He wasn’t a glutton for punishment. Or never had been until Layla.

“I don’t love him anymore,” she said softly.

Her words sent a flood of relief through him. Maybe there was hope. Maybe he hadn’t imagined the way she’d looked at him on the ladder last week. Or the softening in her eyes when she’d thanked him for the cookies last night.

He couldn’t resist a look. Her face had relaxed, her eyes staring into the distance. In memory? In sadness? He couldn’t tell.

“The only thing I feel in regard to Jack is humiliated.” She tossed him a wry grin. “I don’t know what that says about me, but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing good.”

The engine shifted gears as the road leveled. Seth let off
the gas and turned onto his street. “Anyone would feel the same. It only added insult to injury that she’s your cousin—and not a very nice person, I might add.”

A minute later he pulled into his drive, aware of the tension that threaded through the cab.
You had to go and remind her about your part in it. You’re making great headway here, Seth, and with exactly five and a half days left.

He shut off the engine and reached for the door.

Layla grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

Her green eyes flittered to his, then away again, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. When they swung back to him again, piercing him with their sincerity, he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight. He clenched his hands against the seat before he could act on the notion.

“I was wrong before.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t your fault, what happened with Jack and Jessica.” She looked down at her purse straps, twined around her hand. “I just needed somebody to blame, and you were convenient. I’m sorry.”

The words healed a broken place inside him. He let it soak in for a minute. “I know what betrayal feels like. If I’d realized what was happening between them, I would’ve told you.”

“I know.”

“I’d never hurt you on purpose, Layla.”

She swallowed, nodded. “I know that too.”

That was something, wasn’t it? Trust was a good place to start. Especially after the kind of betrayal she’d been through. It made him want to prove he was the kind of man she deserved. The kind of man who’d love her for better or worse. The kind who was faithful and true.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, “I think he’s the biggest fool on the planet.”

Her eyes came back to him, as if needing not only to hear the words but to see the authenticity on his face. Her lips curled up a fraction. “Thanks, Seth.”

His heart squeezed at the sound of his name. Every inch of him wanted to touch her. Wanted to pull her into his arms and claim her lips, her heart. Wanted to hear his name escape on a sigh. But he sensed she needed space. Time to sort through her feelings. And he’d give her that. He’d give her whatever she needed.

He reached for the door handle. “You said something about needing a sixteen-foot ladder—I’m afraid to ask what for.”

She cocked a brow as she opened the door.

He loved seeing the strength return to her face. That sassy side he loved about her.

“Hope you’re not afraid of heights.” She glanced back over her shoulder with a mischievous smile as she slipped from the cab.

The moment in the truck had eased something between them. Layla wasn’t sure if it was her admission that she no longer loved Jack or her apology.

But the tension gave way to a lighthearted afternoon. Despite the hard work and pressure of a deadline, she was having fun. With Seth of all people. He knew when to buckle down and when to play a practical joke to break the monotony.

Outside now, she stepped down from the ladder and
moved back to survey her work. There would be plenty of lights by the time they were done. The roofline remained untouched. Layla had teased him about heights, but truth was, she wasn’t too fond of them herself.

The wreath on the front door was large and beautiful, as was the fat swag Seth was hanging now above the gorgeous leaded door. Wreaths hung from every window, the lit Mason jars would line the walkway, every tree would twinkle with white lights.

She tucked her gloved hands into her pockets and scanned the snowy yard, frowning. Something was missing. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” The small yard stretched to the snow-packed street, sloping down just before the sidewalk. Its barrenness bothered her, but she couldn’t exactly throw up a plastic Santa or standard yard ornaments like candy canes and peppermints.

“It’s going to be great. Just wait till it’s finished and lit.”

That would help, but that wasn’t what was bugging her. A few well-made snowmen would fill the space, but who knew what the weather would do between now and Saturday. It wasn’t the right look anyway.

“Something’s missing,” she said.

Seth stepped from the ladder and walked to the edge of the porch, hands low on his hips. His breath plumed in front of his face.

She surveyed the yard again. Something big and old-fashioned. Artificial deer? She shook her head even as a new thought occurred.

Of course.

She swung her head toward Murphy, a smile breaking loose. “A sleigh.”

His brows popped up. “A sleigh?”

“An old-fashioned sleigh. It’ll be perfect.” She trudged through the few inches of snow and stood in the middle of the yard. “Right here, facing this way. Lit with white lights, a garland draped around the edges, and big fat presents piled in the backseat.” Unable to contain her excitement, she clapped her hands.

Seth’s lips twitched. “And where do you think you’re going to find a sleigh at this late date, little miss?”

Her smile fell. “You’re right. It’s too late.” Even she could hear the defeat in her voice.

It wasn’t something she could run down to the hardware store for. It wasn’t even something Grandma’s Attic carried. And she didn’t know anyone who had one. She might be able to find one online or at an antique store somewhere, but get it here in time? In five days? Besides, she didn’t have time to hunt one down.

It would’ve been perfect. Unique.

Seth came down the porch steps. “Well, hang on, maybe we can find one.”

“You know of someone who has one?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one sitting around a barn somewhere.”

“I don’t have time to refurbish some broken-down thing. My schedule’s full this week as it is. It would have to be hauled out here and cleaned up. The big presents would
have to be made, the lights and garlands strung … I really needed it a week ago.”

“I’ll find you a nice one. And I’ll find it today.
And
I’ll help you get it ready.”

She gave him a look. “You
are
delusional. It’s already four o’clock, and the antique stores are closed on Sundays.”

He crossed his arms, aiming a cocky grin her way. “You underestimate me, Layla. I’ll make it happen.”

She gave him a wary look. “How?”

“I’m not giving away my secrets.” His eyes lit mischievously. “But I’m willing to bet on it: suitable sleigh, right here, by midnight tonight.”

Now she was suspicious. “You know someone who has one.”

“No, I don’t. Scout’s honor. Now are you taking the bet or not?”

She turned her face from him, her eyes narrowing on him. “What kind of bet?”

“Name your price.”

She stared at the house, thinking. “If you don’t find one, you have to …” Her gaze climbed to the roof. “Do the roofline.” She smiled big.

He looked up, squinting against the light, then back to her. “Fine. I’m not losing anyway.”

He pulled his keys from his coat pocket. “Time’s a wasting.” With one last smile over his shoulder he headed for his truck.

“Wait, what about you?”

He turned in the snow, giving her a strange look. Then
he slowly started toward her. It took all her willpower to keep her boots planted as he came within inches of her.

“If I win …,” he said, those blue eyes warming her clear down to her toes, “I get to kiss you.” His lips twitched as his eyes slid down to her mouth and back up where they held her hostage.

Layla swallowed hard.

With a final look, he traced his steps to his truck, only turning once he reached the door. “And, Layla …,” he said with a smug grin, “I
will
win.”

Five hours later the work was going slow. Layla had lost her helper and had moved inside when darkness had fallen. It would be worth the reduced production if only Seth found a sleigh. But as badly as she wanted one, the stakes he’d put on it made her stomach knot. Would he really collect on the kiss?

Did she want him to? Things had changed since last week on the ladder. They’d spent hours working and talking and sharing. She’d forgiven him for his minor role in the Jack and Jessica fiasco. Then there were those gingerbread cookies.

And, let’s face it, you’re attracted to the man.

She still saw him shirtless when she closed her eyes at night. Still saw the rippling muscles of his arms, the sturdy set of his shoulders. She thought of the protective way he’d slipped his arm around her when they’d stood with Jack and Jessica. Despite priding herself on independence, she’d
liked the way it felt. Liked the way he made her skin tingle, made her heart shiver.

Yes, if he brought home a sleigh, she’d let him kiss her. And she’d enjoy it, she had no doubt about that. But every car that roared outside the windows passed on by. And every time her phone buzzed, it was a text from Cooper or one of her other friends.