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Authors: Bonnie K. Winn

The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie (19 page)

BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie

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Brynn grinned. She doubted anyone could skin someone as overpowering as Matt, but the vision of Ruth trying to was an amusing one.

“I was lots younger then,” Andy protested.

Matt plucked Andy’s baseball cap off, turning it around so that it sat at a smart angle. “You’re right. You were barely out of the cradle. Must have been at least three months ago.”

Heather finished the last of her ice-cream cone. “Come on, Andy. With me holding the money, you can decide first what you really want so we don’t spend the money and then wish we hadn’t.”

Andy grumbled, yet jumped up and walked with his sister down the street.

Seeing that Matt’s gaze rested on her, Brynn shored up a smile and tried to act casual. But his words threw her.

“You been trying to avoid me?”

Since that was exactly what she’d done, Brynn didn’t know quite how to answer. “Why would I do that?”

“You tell me.”

“I’ve just been busy. My
Stephanie
calendar was due—”

“So late in the year? Aren’t the ones for next year already in production?”

“It’s one for the following year and I’ve got a deadline on my greeting cards and—”

“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “So, you’ve got a good store of excuses.”

“They’re not—”

“I see you’ve left the glasses off.”

Thrown off track, self-consciously she reached to where her glasses normally sat before letting her hand fall away. “Yes.”

“Looks good.”

Brynn concentrated on her melting ice-cream cone, realizing that between Gregory’s godparents and now Matt, she’d only had a few bites of the delicious frozen custard. “Thanks.”

Her self-confidence had increased since she’d come to Eagle Point, Brynn realized. And as her self-confidence increased, her need for the protective barrier of her glasses had diminished.

“I see you’re traveling practically solo,” Matt commented.

Brynn cocked her head. “With Heather and Andy in tow?”

“But without your menagerie.”

Brynn tried not to look pained. “As you know, they’re hard to travel with. I can handle Lancelot. But you saw how bad Snookems’s sight is—the trouble she can get into. And Bossy’s just too vocal to take out in public.”

“Heather tells me you got him from the shelter where you do volunteer work.”

“No one else would take him,” Brynn mused. “His repartee isn’t what most people are looking for.”

“Unlike your lifesaving dog.”

Uncomfortably, Brynn recalled how Heather and Andy had stretched and enlarged the truth just a few minutes earlier. She wondered if they’d told Matt that Lancelot was the dog that had dragged Gregory from the burning building.

She wished the kids wouldn’t embroider the stories. Brynn didn’t need any help in that direction. She was doing fine, fabricating a life for herself and Gregory on her own. She wondered how he would deal with everything she’d told his family and friends—especially since she wouldn’t be around to translate and explain.

A babble of feminine voices approached. Glancing up, she saw some familiar faces. Judging from Matt’s expression, he didn’t welcome the interruption.

“Brynn!” Jean practically squealed. “I’m so glad we ran into you. I just heard the most exciting thing about you.”

“You did?” Brynn croaked, dreading the worst.

“I ran into Lucille Stratton,” Jean explained, all but clucking her tongue. “She told us how you pulled Gregory from a burning building and saved him. And, that if it wasn’t for you, everyone in the building would have perished, including the animals!”

Matt cocked one eyebrow.

Brynn saw his disbelieving expression and cursed her unfortunate meeting with the Strattons. “I’m afraid that she’s exaggerated—”

“Lucille said you were modest,” Becky added. “She wasn’t kidding.”

“You’re a lot like that courageous character you draw in your comic strip,” Jean declared. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Me?” Brynn nearly choked. “Like Stephanie?”

“Of course. I could see it right away,” Becky told her. “I’m sure you can’t make all that stuff up. Part of it must come from real life.”

“Like the time she enlisted her boyfriend in the Foreign Legion,” Karen breathed in excitement.

“Surely you don’t think I—”

“And the time she had a load of manure delivered to her boss’s house in the middle of the night and they dumped it in his swimming pool.”

“I don’t actually work directly for one person, so I couldn’t—”

“Or the time that Stephanie ran an ad for a garage sale at her ex-best friend’s house starting at six in the morning!” Laughing helplessly, Jean clutched her sides.

“Or when she reported her neighbor to ‘America’s Most Wanted’!” Becky recalled.

“You must realize how much fiction there is to drawing a strip,” Brynn tried desperately, refusing to meet Matt’s gaze. “So, you see—”

“And then there was the time Stephanie rerouted her boyfriend’s mail to a radio shrink who read it out loud over the air,” Karen recalled. “She told him it was a good way for his mother to hear from him.”

Brynn shifted uncomfortably. “They say fact is stranger than fiction, but in these cases—”

“No wonder Gregory married you!” Jean enthused. “Your life must be like a never-ending carnival ride.”

“You have no idea,” Brynn admitted. And this was one carnival ride that was spinning out of control.

Unexpectedly she met Matt’s gaze.

And that carnival ride was definitely sending her in circles.

“Ladies, I hate to break this up, but Brynn and I have to get going.” Matt unfolded his impressive height from the wooden bench. Not giving her time to agree or disagree, Matt took her arm.

Amid the murmured goodbyes Brynn considered her escape, but doubted she could make it far.

“So, what diabolical plan are you hatching now?” Matt asked as they walked across the street.

She stopped abruptly. “‘Plan’?”

“Am I going to see my name in lights? Or spelled out in bikini underwear across the Alpine Slide?”

Brynn started to sputter when she saw the laughter lurking in his eyes. Still, she wasn’t sure if he was referring to her comic strip or her outrageous tales. “I thought you didn’t approve of Stephanie’s antics.”

“Maybe not, but it sure as hell was funny.”

The absurdity of the situation struck her at the same time, and laughter erupted. Before she could guess what was happening or why the mood had suddenly lightened, Brynn laughed with Matt until she nearly collapsed against him.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she wagged a quivering finger at him. “
You
are a bad influence.”

“This from a woman who single-handedly concocts torture between the sexes? Enough to keep every man in America running for cover?”

Her finger wavered, then lowered as another fit of giggles struck her. “I guess I hadn’t realized the true power of the pen.”

“Worse than a ground-to-air missile,” Matt confirmed.

“At the rate gossip inflates and spreads around this town, word will be out by morning that I’ve declared war on Idaho!”

Matt grinned. “Just think what fun you’ll have blowing up all those potatoes.”

Their laughter trailed across the street as they convulsed into fit after fit of hilarity. Forgetting the observant group of women, the children shopping nearby, and all the constraints that had fallen between them, they gave in to the mild hysterics of shared nonsense.

And from across the street the ladies watched, nodded, and collectively wondered when the absent husband-and-brother would return. And a few wondered just what Gregory would find when he did.

Chapter Fourteen

B
rynn liked this time of day at the lodge, the sun still new in the sky, the crisp early-morning air redolent with the tang of pine, fir and cedar, and sprinkled with the chorus of songbirds that hadn’t yet migrated south. She recognized the distinctive birds—MacGillivray’s warblers, Frank had told her.

Strolling out on one of the upper wooden decks that angled to one side of the lodge, Brynn clasped a steaming mug of coffee, relishing the warmth, welcoming the rush of caffeine. She leaned against the railing, looking out over the circular drive that led to the parking lot, enjoying her clear view of the front of the lodge.

She had taken to rising early since Matt took advantage of the difference in time zones to call the State Department early each morning. But like too many of the previous mornings, they had no solid news. Impatient with the delays, Matt was talking now about hiring a private investigator and possibly even mercenaries to find Gregory. But Frank was afraid that might endanger Gregory even more.

Even though it was early, there was already plenty of movement. One of the resort’s shuttles was loading up departing passengers. Luggage was scattered about and the chatter of guests drifted through the air. Brynn knew that in a few hours there would be another equally excited group—guests just arriving for their visit. She could see the appeal of innkeeping—new faces and old, the constant change, no two days the same.

It was a good life, she realized—especially for people like the MacKenzies. Filled with that contented thought, she glanced down again, her gaze scanning the wide front porch of the lodge. It skipped along, then stopped suddenly.

Miranda and Edward stood at one edge of the porch. And next to him were his suitcase and duffel bag. Unabashedly staring, Brynn watched, hoping the luggage belonged to someone else. But just then the shuttle driver walked up to Edward and he indicated the bags at his feet. Heart in her throat, Brynn watched as Miranda valiantly bade him goodbye.

Certain that Edward would extend his stay since he and Miranda had hit it off so well, Brynn had confidently told Miranda that she was sure this was not to be a short vacation romance. Seeing that he really planned to leave, Brynn fiercely regretted her reckless words and ignorant confidence. As disappointed as she was, Brynn could only imagine how crushed Miranda must feel.

As she watched, Miranda kept a smile fixed on her face. At what cost? Brynn wondered. Had she told Edward how she felt? Or had the past left too deep an imprint for that kind of truth?

Miranda reached out and smoothed his lapel. It was a sweet, loving and most revealing gesture. Then Edward picked up that same hand, kissing it gently.

Now, now he would tell her he was staying, Brynn thought, and instruct the driver to retrieve his bags. But as she watched, Edward briefly touched Miranda’s face before turning away and climbing into the van.

Brynn gripped her mug so tightly the coffee sloshed. How could Edward leave? He and Miranda had taken to one another from the moment they’d met. Sure that he was the one who would reverse the Harvest Ball curse for Miranda, Brynn knew she’d built Miranda up to believe it, too.

Brynn watched Miranda as she lifted her hand in a wave. As the van drove off, Miranda took a few steps forward, her hand faltering, then finally dropping to her side. As the vehicle navigated the winding driveway and then finally disappeared down the road, Miranda still watched.

Without the chatter of the departing guests, it was painfully silent. Still, Miranda stood, unmoving in the solitary quiet.

Brynn quashed her urge to rush downstairs, suspecting that Miranda wouldn’t appreciate the intrusion.

Had it only been a few days since she’d celebrated her newfound confidence? And what had she done with that confidence? Given bad advice to Miranda, causing her to get hurt. Brynn wanted to kick herself. What made her think she could go from a life of daydreams to dispensing romantic counseling?

A sharp, poignant memory of her wish book—the wedding album—surfaced. Somehow that now seemed like a simpler time, when her choices and ambitions had been so clear. She’d seen Gregory and thought she knew what she’d wanted. Love at first sight had been part of the belief system her romantic nature embraced.

Life in her daydreams hadn’t been very realistic. But it had certainly been easier.

Two WEEKS LATER, BRYNN stared at her drawing board, unable to concentrate on her strip. She wasn’t quite sure how to handle the creative block since she’d never had this problem before. She’d always been able to lose herself in Stephanie’s world—a world she’d created to be more appealing than her own.

Lancelot stood on his hind legs, pushing his nose beneath her hand. “Ignoring you, aren’t I?”

His tail thumped in agreement.

“I guess you could use a walk.”

His ears perked up at the familiar word.

“But Snookems doesn’t much care for her lead,” Brynn warned.

The cat, asleep at her feet, didn’t stir.

“Send ’em all to hell in a handbasket!” Bossy ordered.

“Now there’s a thought,” she muttered. “Okay, guys. Maybe we’ve got cabin fever.” Ridden with guilt about both Miranda and Matt, Brynn had kept a low profile. Having stayed as much to herself as possible to avoid the MacKenzies and the complications she’d caused them, her room had become her refuge. And cabin fever was now a distinct possibility.

Miranda had waved away Brynn’s stumbling apologies, assuring her they weren’t necessary.

“I’m a big girl, Brynn. I knew what I was getting into. Told you, didn’t I? But that’s past. Don’t give it another thought. I chose to let myself care for Edward. That decision didn’t have anything to do with what you said. For all your wisdom, you’re still a young woman. My decision was based on a lot more years than you’ve seen. And I don’t regret it. It was an interlude, Brynn—one I’ll remember fondly.”

Still, the guilt ate at Brynn. And a steady diet of deception had depleted her spirit. Seeing Matt multiplied the guilt. Not to mention the hope she saw on Ruth and Frank’s faces, the utter trust on Heather and Andy’s. What a mess.

Lancelot whined, his eyes pleading.

“You win. Go get your leash.”

Happy to obey, Lancelot trotted to the basket that held his leash. Bringing it to her, he didn’t release it immediately, playing the tug-of-war game with the leash that had become their habit. Obliging him for a few minutes, she then clasped his leash in place.

“Didn’t get Snookems’s leash, too, did you?” she asked Lancelot, who ignored her to chase the trailing leash attached to his collar.

Laughing, she started toward the basket containing her pets’ toys and accessories. Glancing down she saw a sticky note nearly beneath her foot. As she picked up the note, she scanned it quickly, realizing it was one she’d scribbled late the previous evening when she’d thought of an idea for the strip, but had been too tired to follow through on it. The scrap of paper could have saved her an unproductive morning.

Turning, she planted her hands on her hips as she stared at Lancelot, guessing how the note had wound up on the floor. “You’ve been on the nightstand again, haven’t you?”

Too involved to act chagrined, Lancelot continued to play with his leash. The dog had always loved climbing from the bed to the nightstand, investigating for treats, poking his nose into the pile of papers she kept there. Staying at the resort apparently hadn’t changed the habit.

Sighing as she shook her head, Brynn headed again for the basket And saw another note. “I wonder if I did more last night than I thought,” she wondered aloud.

Whirling around, she narrowed her gaze on Lancelot. Part of his heritage had come from longhaired terriers, providing him with a lengthy coat of hair extending from his haunches to his paws. Hair that dragged against the ground, making his coat act like a dust mop. One that operated on four legs. And one that picked up sticky notes as though the animal had been bred for the job.

While the dog played, she followed him, picking up the scattered trail of notes, then drawing him close to pull the remaining ones from his fur. “Ah, Lancelot. Treasures you’ve been collecting, huh?”

He cocked his head and she couldn’t resist his appeal, once again engaging in a game of tug-of-war with him.

Snookems wakened to the noise of their play and stretched sleepily. Brynn patted Lancelot one more time, then retrieved the cat’s leash.

“Okay, gorgeous, your turn.” Brynn secured the lead to Snookems’s collar.

With what little sight she possessed, the cat sent her a baleful glance.

“Sorry, baby, but I couldn’t take another close call with you.” Petting the cat, she then turned a skeptical gaze on Bossy. “And you, my friend, had better behave.”

“Ratted out!” the bird shrieked. “Ratted out!”

Brynn rolled her eyes. “Okay, troops. Let’s roll.”

Once outside, the animals wanted to run in three different directions. Since Brynn could have cheerfully run off in the fourth direction, she compromised. “Since Bossy’s not on a lead, we’ll go his way,” she told the others.

Head held at a haughty angle, Bossy waddled forward, his clipped wings outstretched. Lancelot charged every bush in their path while Snookems delicately picked up each paw, not seeming to want to muss her long fur.

Her eyes on the trail, Brynn didn’t look up as she walked ahead. The trees, now bare of leaves, held new snow. The storms had come, each bringing a new accumulation of white powder—the powder Utah was known for, worldwide.

With Thanksgiving approaching, Eagle Point had gone into advanced preparation mode for the coming ski season. Traditionally the season opened on Thanksgiving weekend, and not a moment was wasted as the entire staff prepared for the onslaught of eager skiers.

Brynn had wanted to volunteer to help, but the prospect of leaving her sanctuary daunted her. She’d even taken most of her meals in her room, pleading deadlines. Taking to walking her animals early in the morning and late in the evening, she managed to avoid a lot of contact. She hoped it would ease the break so that she could leave. What she was doing simply wasn’t right.

No matter what the initial reasons and intentions, she was deceiving a family who had extended their hospitality, opened their home and treated her as one of their own.

Over the past weeks Brynn had deliberately studied the wedding album. And as she did, she found herself staring at the faces of strangers. Even she wasn’t the same anymore. And, sadly, Gregory had been and always would be nothing more than a daydreams.

Head down, Brynn found her thoughts drifting as she escaped into a daydream of a different sort. She could leave the resort. Gregory would be released, but rather than coming to Eagle Point he would return to Salt Lake, never encountering the wild stories she’d fabricated. And Matt, happy over the return of his brother, would believe that the wedding story had been in everyone’s best interests. Instead of being angry, he would be glad that she was free. And he would come after her. The deception would be forgotten; but the feelings that flowed between them wouldn’t. No longer would they have to hold back....

Smacking into something firm and unmoving, Brynn’s daydream flew out of her head, along with her ski cap. Not having a strong grip on the animals’ leads, they, too, went flying.

“What?” she began, then stopped as she met Matt’s curious gaze. “Oh, hello. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Apparently,” he replied, picking up her ski cap.

“The animals,” she blurted out, uncertain what else to say. “I let go of the leads when you...when I...” She cleared her throat. “I’d better go find them.”

As she started away, Matt called out, “Lancelot. Here, boy.”

Brynn turned back to him. “He won’t come. Especially if a man calls.”

She’d scarcely stopped speaking when Lancelot dashed up to them, apparently content to let Matt take his leash.

Brynn stared at her normally predictable dog. Traitor, she thought.

Matt’s voice was mild. “I told you before that I don’t growl at him. He’s a smart dog and knows when it works both ways.”

Brynn wondered at his affinity with the animals. Despite his put-upon attitude when dealing with her pets, he was actually very good with them. “I’m guessing there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Could be all sorts of things,” he replied enigmatically.

“I meant about the animals,” she retorted, spotting Snookems and reaching for her lead.

Matt shrugged. “I thought you were buried under a ton of work.”

“I am. I mean, I just took a quick breather. The animals needed some air, but I do have a mountain of work... deadlines.... It’s really frantic.”

He smiled. “I think I get the concept. How’s it been going?”

“What?”

“The work.” One brow quirked upward in question.

“Of course,” she replied hurriedly. “I guess I’m just tired from the—”

BOOK: The Accidental Mrs. Mackenzie

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