Loving the Chase (Heart of the Storm #1) (32 page)

More suited to
you, Quinn thought.

“Well, I called everyone yesterday to confirm everything,” her mother said. “The florist, the caterer, and the band—”

“I told you I’d already done that,” Quinn said, patting her face. Was it warm in there? It felt warm.

“Can never be too careful,” her mother said. “And good thing I did, too. The florist said the paperwork mentioned daisies at the reception and on the end caps at the church?”

“Yes, that was my idea,” Quinn said.

Her mother laughed as if she’d suggested live pigs. “Daisies, Quinn? Honey, you aren’t hosting a picnic in a barn. This is a wedding.”

“It’s
her
wedding, Mom,” Phoebe piped in, earning their mother’s pointed look. Phoebe held up a hand to deflect the invisible darts. “I mean, you made me have roses.”

“And it was beautiful.”

“I hate roses,” Phoebe said, squinching her nose a little. “They remind me of funerals.”

I love you, Phoebe.

“Which is precisely why I went a different way this time,” their mother said, widening her eyes as if her daughters wore her out. “Orchids are just as classy.”

“When you’re sixty,” Quinn muttered.

“Or dead,” Phoebe quipped.

The doorbell rang, and her mother’s forehead creased. “No daisies, Quinn,” she said, heading toward the door. She stopped and wheeled back around, holding up a finger. “Or how about this? Little individual guest gifts at the table with a daisy motif?”

Quinn felt the heat rise to her neck. “Daisy motif,” she echoed.

“I can have something designed for you to look at in a few days,” she said. “We’ll mix it up to match your invitations but with your little touch,” she added, backing out of the sitting room and toward the door.

Quinn shook her head and blinked hard to shut out the impending burn. Her little touch? It was her little effing wedding—in theory. In reality, neither she nor her sister had any say in their nuptials. Adelaide Parker had designed, produced, and directed Phoebe’s wedding like a premiere event, and Quinn’s promised to be the same. Something
for her to look at
? Please. Like it mattered.

“Simon,” she heard her mother say in surprise, opening the door. Quinn snapped out of her misery and propelled herself toward them.

“Hi, Mrs. Parker,” Simon said, standing there with his cap in one hand and Quinn’s keys in the other. His clothes were still damp and one leg of his jeans had a mud smear, but somehow, even with hat hair, he looked as charming as ever.

Quinn felt some of her knots melt away as he smiled at her knowingly. He could have stuffed them into a plant or under a brick and just texted her. But he didn’t. He came to check on her sanity. She sighed and chuckled.

“Your keys, m’lady,” he said, holding them out. He glanced down at her feet and met her eyes again, nodding with a grin.

She laughed and took the keys from him. “Thank you, sir,” she said, dropping into a mock curtsy.

“How are you doing, Simon?” Phoebe asked, waddling up beside Quinn.

“Perfect,” he said, smiling at her with that incessant Chase charm. “Phoebe, you look gorgeous as usual.” He did a little head bow. “Ladies, I can’t stay, but have a good rest of the day. Quinn?”

Quinn gave him a head tilt, amused. “Simon?”

“Drive safe.”

She gave him a little salute as he turned and sauntered down the sidewalk. She closed the door and nearly ran into her mother.

“Jesus, Mom,” Quinn exclaimed. “Back up a step, will you?”

“You’re splotchy,” she said, glancing down at Quinn’s neck.

Quinn’s hands automatically went to her chest and neck. “Well, you flustered me,” she said. “All that flower drama.”

Her mother walked back into the sitting room, but Phoebe stayed where she was, chewing a corner of her lip and eyeing Quinn.

“What?”

“You’re splotchy,” she said.

“We just covered this,” Quinn said.

“Uh-huh,” Phoebe said, glancing from the door back to Quinn as she passed her. “I heard. Flowers.”

About the Author

Photo © 2011 Leo Weeks Photographers

S
harla Lovelace is the bestselling, award-winning author of sexy small-town love stories. Being a Texas girl through and through, she’s proud to say she lives in Southeast Texas with her retired husband, a tricked-out golf cart, and two crazy dogs. She is the author of five stand-alone novels and the Heart of the Storm series. For more about Sharla’s books, visit
www.sharlalovelace.com
, and easily keep up with all her new book releases by subscribing to her newsletter.