Wildflower Wedding (19 page)

“Well, sugar, we've all had dark times in our life like that, but those days are done. Look at you! College graduate and shop owner and did it all on your own. I know it's hard sometimes, but don't let your past dictate your future.”

Gabby raised her eyebrows. “Are you ready to take your own advice?”

“I almost never take my own advice.” Joy gripped the stem of her wineglass. “Wait . . . why?”

“Because Clyde Camden just walked in and he's heading right this way.”

Two spots of pink blossomed in Joy's cheek, and her eyes widened. “Really?”

“I kid you not.”

“Well, there you are, Joy!” Clyde said as he stopped next to her stool. “I've been looking all over for you.”

“How did you find me?”

Clyde arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like you were hiding from me,” he said smoothly. “Is that true?”

“I don't hide from anyone,” Joy informed him with a lift of her chin. “Least of all you,” she added, but then frowned. “Wait. I think that last part might not have come out right.”

Clyde chuckled and then waved at Gabby. “Mind if I join you?”

“Would it matter if I did?”

“Not in the least. You can't get rid of me that easily,” he answered smoothly. When Myra approached he said, “I'll have a glass of what they're having and refill their drinks please.”

“Oh, not for me.” Gabby raised a palm. “I'm driving. But, Joy, why don't you stay? This salad is huge, so I think I'll have Myra box up the rest for me,” she said, and before Joy could protest, Gabby stood up. When she reached for the bill, Clyde beat her to the punch.

“This is on me, pretty ladies.”

“You don't have to do that,” Joy protested.

“I understand that completely. But I want to. Please indulge me. I only ask that you keep me company for a while.”

“Thank you, Clyde,” Gabby said. “You are a true gentleman.”

Clyde dipped his head. “It's my pleasure.” He gave her a nod and then smiled warmly at Joy.

“Nice to see you, Clyde. Joy, I'll see you on Monday.” She squeezed Joy's shoulder and then picked up her boxed salad.

“Thanks for coming in,” Myra said to her. “Don't be a stranger.”

“I won't,” Gabby promised. “Tell Jessica that her salad was delicious. I loved the lemon poppy seed dressing with the salmon. I'll bring some floral arrangements for the gift shop too.”

As Gabby walked toward the door, she glanced over to the booth where Jen and Angie chatted away, waving their hands and laughing a little bit too loudly. There was a time when Gabby would have wanted to sit at their table but not anymore. As she drove the Scooby Doo van back to Flower Power, she had to smile. If she had been accepted by the popular girls, she most likely wouldn't have studied nearly as much or spent as much time with her mother before she passed away. Like the Garth Brooks song: thank God for unanswered prayers.

When Gabby pulled into Wedding Row the streetlamps were just beginning to flicker on and as she passed the quaint shops she was suddenly struck by how pretty and cheerful the storefronts appeared, and the sight brought a lump of emotion to her throat. She no longer needed the acceptance of anyone else, because she'd finally found it within herself.

She belonged . . .
here
.

Gabby blinked back tears when she thought back to a time when strangers had helped pay for her and her mother to eat. Her mother's medical bills had been covered by Pete Sully, even though she'd been too sick to work. This was home. And she was so proud of it.

Gabby drove down the street slowly. When she passed Addison's bridal boutique, she stopped. “From This Moment.” She read the name on the awning, and confidence seemed to fill her inch by inch until it reached her lips and widened into a smile. Gabby knew that life was going to throw roadblocks on her journey toward happiness, but she'd jump them, knock them down. She was tired of holding back and of being afraid to face another loss. Reese loved her and it was high time that he knew that she loved him too.

And tonight she was going to tell him.

Cheeseburger in Paradise

T
RISH KNOCKED ON TONY'S DOOR AND TRIED TO IGNORE
the nervous flutter in her stomach.

“Come in, it's open,” Tony called. Digger barked a greeting and danced around when she entered, nearly knocking her over. “Digger, down!” Tony ordered from where he lay stretched out on the sofa.

“Sorry I'm late,” Trish said as she put her dinner ingredients down onto the countertop. “I was on a deadline and needed to finish before I could come over.” The article about the popularity of barn weddings on the Greenfield Farm took forever to write because she couldn't keep her mind off Tony.

“You're wearing jeans and a T-shirt,” Tony observed glumly. “What happened to the lingerie you promised?”

“I was joking.” Trish rolled her eyes at him, but in truth she wore a satin and lace teddy beneath her casual attire and that was another reason she'd arrived so late. She lost her nerve a dozen times before leaving on the silky lingerie. Every movement she made reminded her of the fact. “You didn't take me seriously, now, did you?”

His dark scowl made her laugh until her nervousness vanished. With the disappointment still written on his face, he scooted to a sitting position and got up from the sofa.

“You're supposed to stay off your feet until dinner is ready.” She attempted to sound stern, but his presence filled the small kitchen and so she turned away from him before she ruined her plans and shed her clothing right then and there.

“I will. I just want to watch you cook.”

“I don't want you to watch me.”

“Why? Afraid that I might critique you?”

Trish didn't turn around, but she could feel the arch of his eyebrow.

“I'm afraid you might drive me crazy.”

“I already know I drive you crazy.”

“I didn't mean like that!” But it was true.

“What did you mean, then?”

“That you'll tell me what to do. I can cook.” She finally risked turning around and made a shooing motion toward the chair. “Sit!”

Digger immediately sat and they both laughed.

“He'll give you his paw too.”

“I'm impressed.”

“I've been bored. The treats are in the cookie jar.”

Trish leaned over and lifted the lid of the jar. “Gimme your paw.” When Digger complied she laughed and gave him the treat.

“I'll prop my foot up, but I've had all I can take of the ice pack for today. I'm getting close to being healed, anyway.”

“Which is why you don't need another setback,” she said sternly. God, he looked good in his shorts, but thank heaven he wore a shirt. “I promise you won't have to come to my rescue again.”

“I like coming to your rescue,” he said, and came over to stand near her. “So, what's on the menu?”

Me.
“Cheeseburgers.”

“Cheeseburgers? Aren't you trying to impress me?”

“No! But there is an art to making an excellent burger. You won't be disappointed.” She leaned over to turn the oven on to preheat.

“You're going to bake them?”

“No! I'm preheating the oven for the sweet potato fries. I thought we should attempt to be a little bit healthy. And I've chosen lean sirloin mixed with a little bit of chuck for flavor. Of course good buns are key.”

“I couldn't agree more,” he said, and Trish just knew he was staring at her bum.

“Do you have a one-track mind?”

“Yes.”

Trish laughed, becoming both at ease and aroused at the same time. “Oh, I forgot something!”

“Yeah, the sexy lingerie.”

Trish turned around and pulled a face. “You wish. No, I'll be right back.”

When Trish hurried out the door, Digger followed her. She hefted the heavy cast-iron skillet from the stove where she'd left it. She paused and took a deep breath. “Okay, Trish, get your groove back. Come on . . . Damn, where did that confident woman go running off to?” She looked down at Digger, and as if sensing her distress, he turned his head and licked her hand. She knew she was obsessing. Overthinking. When tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, she put the skillet down, went into the bathroom, reapplied her lipstick, and then glared at her reflection. “You want this. Now go for it.”

Trish rubbed her lips together and then inhaled a shaky breath. “Okay, Digger, let's do this.”

When she reentered his kitchen Tony put his beer bottle down and angled his head. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back.”

“Were you worried?”

“Yeah,” he answered, lacking the teasing tone. “Well, you know, kinda,” he quickly added, and Trish laughed.

Tony nodded toward the skillet. “For cooking or a weapon?”

Trish laughed. “Cooking. At least for now.” She carried a cutting board, a sharp knife, and a big sweet potato over to him. “Slice this into french-fry-size pieces, please.”

“What am I, your sous-chef?”

“Yes.”

“Skin on?”

“I prefer it for the nutrients, but I'll leave it up to you.” She brought olive oil, sea salt, and cracked pepper over to him along with a mixing bowl. “Lightly coat the fries and then I'll bake them to crispy perfection. I hope. Sometimes they turn out a soggy mess.”

“The trick is to make sure that the fries are dry so that the oil sticks.”

“Ah, I'll remember your advice.” She tapped her head.

“I have a nice chipotle sauce in the fridge that will be excellent for dipping.”

“Did you make it?”

“Of course.”

Trish pointed to his beer. “Is there more where that came from?”

“Absolutely,” he said, but then pulled a face. “Beer, cheeseburgers. I can't run. I'm going to have to find a way to burn off these calories.”

Trish felt heat slide down her spine when some erotic solutions popped into her mind.

Dear God
. . . . She opened the fridge, glad for the cool air and the cold beer. After popping off the cap, she took a long, grateful drink before risking another glance his way. His head was bent over his task, and Trish admitted to herself that there wasn't anything about him that didn't turn her on. Thick dark hair curled over his ears, a beacon calling to her fingers to slide right in and tug his face up for a kiss. He'd shaved but already sported a five-o'clock shadow, and her palms itched to cup his jaw and run her palms over the roughness. And the man had a full mouth that was simply made for kissing. But his eyes drew her in more than anything else. Not only were they gorgeous, but they expressed his emotions even when he wanted to hide what he felt. Beneath the hot glances, the twinkle of humor, a lingering hint of fear remained. Trish understood. And tonight she vowed to squash the fear and embrace hope.

But she knew it wasn't going to be easy.

“You don't have to watch me. Actually, I know how to make sweet potato fries. In fact, I'm quite the fan. Chock-full of beta carotene and all that good stuff. There's more to me than Italian cuisine, sweet cheeks.”

“Did you just call me
sweet cheeks
?”

“I did. Are you offended?”

“No, thank you for noticing how sweet my cheeks are.”

Tony chuckled. “I've known since you took out the trash in nothing but your robe. Now you can quit watching me. I'll get this right. I promise.” He deftly sliced through the thick sweet potato to demonstrate.

God, even his voice turned her to mush. His rough-and-tumble Brooklyn accent was beginning to soften with the slower cadence of the South. “Ah, I believe you, but that's not why I'm watching you,” Trish softly admitted.

“Then why?” Something flickered in those expressive eyes and she realized she needed to let him know how she felt. Women weren't the only ones who needed validation.

Trish gave him a slow smile. “Because I like to look at you.”

Their gazes held for a long delicious moment before Trish turned back to the stove and went to work. She knew she was keeping him off-kilter, wondering what she was going to do next. It was killing her not to go over there and slide onto his lap, but she refrained, knowing that a slow simmer was going to end up being a lot more satisfying in the end . . . if she could stand the wait.

•   •   •

Watching Trish prepare the burgers turned out to be equal parts highly entertaining and slow torture. When she bent over the oven to flip the fries over, her shirt hiked up and either he was dreaming or he caught a glimpse of red satin. Was she wearing a hot red teddy under those casual clothes? He was dying to find out. As much as his stomach rumbled for the burgers, he was hungry for her even more.

“The fries will be about ready in ten minutes. How do you like your burger cooked?”

“Medium.”

“Good, me too.”

Tony glanced at Digger, who watched Trish with adoring eyes. He grinned at his dog, understanding completely. She brought over condiments and a Kentucky Ale and then presented him with a big juicy burger topped with a thick slab of cheddar cheese and a toasted bakery bun.

After swallowing a bite she shook his head and grumbled, “Damn it.”

Trish's eyes widened. “What?”

“This burger is amazing. I was hoping to criticize.” He held up a sweet potato fry. “And baked to crispy perfection. I give you five stars and a bonus for having the pleasure of watching you prepare it.”

“Why, thank you very much.” Trish shrugged. “It's just a burger. I thought surely I couldn't mess it up.”

“Are you kidding? You were absolutely right. There is an art to a great burger, and you've mastered it.” He took another big bite and nodded. “Obviously I love food, but I'm so busy in the kitchen that I grab a nibble, a bite, rarely getting the opportunity to sit and savor a meal. Add having it prepared for me by a beautiful woman? It doesn't get any better than this,” he said, and then feeling a little bit exposed by his speech, he turned to look at Digger. “Right, Dig?”

“Again, thank you.” She inclined her head and Tony thought the slight blush in her cheeks was so damned cute. He knew in that moment that there wasn't anything calculating or pretentious about Trish Daniels. She wasn't anything remotely like Gloria, and he needed to remember that fact and simply relax.

Tony finished off the last bite of his dinner and leaned back in his chair. “That was so good.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. Sit back while I clean up.”

“I feel like a slug watching you do all of the work.”

“Oh, you're going to owe me a big fat Italian dinner.”

“And you'll get it. But just pile the dishes in the sink to soak. I'll get to them later. Whadaya say we sit on the patio with the rest of our beer and toss a ball to Digger?”

“I like that plan.”

Five minutes later they were sitting outside on the patio in the waning sunlight. The sky was quickly turning into a glorious palette of deep red and vivid purples with streaks of bright orange. A light breeze kicked up enough to cool the air and bring the sweet scent of summer. Digger was delighted to romp in the field filled with tall grass and cheerful wildflowers.

“I know they're considered weeds, but I just love wildflowers. I know what some of them are, but I need to get a book to identify them like black-eyed Susan, soft yellow foxglove, purple wild onion, goldenrod, and field mint. I bet that Gabby knows them all. She's such a sweet girl. She and Reese make a cute couple.”

Tony smiled at her. “They do. Reese has cared about her since they were kids. With his father deserting them like he did, Reese and Tessa sure have been through the mill.”

“You seem worried.”

Tony shrugged. “After Mike sent the flowers I got this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is going to happen.”

“Like him showing up?”

“I don't know how he'd have the nerve, but yeah, maybe. I just hate to have them suffer a setback. It was really hard to see my baby sister suffering when Mike walked out. I took Reese in, but I always wished I could do more.” Tony felt a muscle clench in his jaw. “Seeing someone you love in pain is tough to witness.” He cleared his throat and then continued. “Tessa is a damned good person. I just wish I could fix everything, ya know?”

“Hey, everything will be all right,” she said firmly. “You have each other and that counts for a lot.”

Tony reached over and took her hand. “You have a way of calming me down.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“I'm glad.”

Tony smiled and held on to her hand, rubbing her thumb over the soft skin. They watched Digger run around while the sun sank lower in the sky. When fireflies started to flicker, Digger chased them, making Trish laugh.

Tony tried to remember when he'd felt this relaxed and at ease with a woman. But touching her stirred his blood, and when the soft evening breeze brought the scent of her perfume his way, he longed to caress much more than her hand. And yet he was loath to break the spell and so he waited.

“It's a beautiful night,” Trish commented.

“Yes, it is.”

“A full moon, I think.”

After a moment he asked, “So . . . are you wearing the teddy?”

Trish looked at him and smiled. “I keep my promises,” she responded in a husky tone that felt like a physical caress.

“I don't think you promised me.”

“I promised
myself
.” She paused and then continued. “I reminded myself that I needed to move forward instead of looking back all the time so good things don't pass me by.”

“That's pretty profound.”

“I've read a lot of self-help books,” she answered with a slight grin. “I've got a lot more where that came from.”

“You didn't exactly answer my question.”

Trish tossed the ball to Digger, who was getting tired of being ignored. “I don't intend to,” she said, and then stood up.