A Christmas Wedding For The Cowboy. Mary Leo
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“Sure will,” Carson said right before Amanda slipped away.
“You know you don’t have to go out of your way for that contract,” Carson said to Zoe. “It can wait until Monday.” He would have liked for it to never get to his door, but he knew as long as he kept up this charade, he’d have to start paying for more and more of the wedding.
Zoe shook her head as she scooped up the last bite of lemon cake on one of the many plates on the table. “We should firm this up ASAP, and I’m thinking you’re right, the top tier of this cake should be lemon. It’s amazing.”
“Yes...amazing. It’s all amazing.” Carson pushed his hat back on his head, then readjusted it. Between the two women, he had just signed up for two cakes with a price tag that outdid a pair of handmade boots.
“Believe me, we’re just getting started. There’s still a long list of decisions to be made.”
Carson wasn’t in the mood for any more decisions, especially when those decisions were going to cost him more money. Both he and Marilyn Rose had agreed to pay for their own wedding. Her parents couldn’t afford to pay for such a fancy event. And Carson’s parents had four daughters, one of whom was still working on paying them back for a wedding that never happened.
“What’s the rush? I thought all the big stuff had been chosen already. Can’t these smaller decisions wait for a few more days?”
But Zoe didn’t answer. Instead, she headed out of the bakery. He stood, quickly grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and followed her to the front door past several customers ordering their sugar fixes. One of them was Doc Blake Granger, the local pediatric dentist, and his daughter Scout, who had won more trophies and ribbons at the county fair last summer than anyone had in its history.
Everyone said their hellos, and then Carson hurried to catch up to Zoe. Out in the bitter cold, he secured his hat on his head, buttoned up his coat, slipped on his thick wool gloves and mentally prepared himself for the rest of his day with one very determined wedding planner.
* * *
“I REALLY DON’T care what color roses are on the dinner tables or what color the tablecloths are and I especially don’t give a hoot if there’s a disco ball hanging from the ceiling when I take the bride out on the dance floor,” Carson said to Zoe. Connie Bates, the events coordinator at Pauline’s Inn, a two-story Victorian on the outskirts of town, and the only place in all of Briggs that Marilyn Rose would even consider for the reception, headed out of the room to check to see if they still owned a disco ball.
Carson had reached his breaking point, and Zoe knew it. “You only have one more decision to make and we’re done here.”
“The operative word is here. Sounds like we have more to do.”
Zoe didn’t want to tell him that not only did he have more decisions to make about the big-ticket items, but they also had to decide on what kind of wine to serve, and the seating chart. There were just under one hundred guests invited to the wedding, and as of yet there was no seating chart. They still had some time to decide on all these things, but Zoe found that the closer the bride and groom got to the actual day, the harder it was to pin them down to make decisions. Plus, Christmas had its own set of issues that might make these final three weeks a real challenge for everyone.
Zoe nodded. “Yes, a few more stops, but you’ve been a trouper so far. Don’t give up now.”
“Wouldn’t it save everyone a lot of time and money if we just called the whole thing off? I mean, if we had to, we could elope for a fraction of the price. Then we could throw a barbecue on my parents’ ranch when the temperature heats up and call it done.”
Zoe’s eyes went wide, and her pulse quickened at the mere mention of an elopement. If he pulled out of this wedding now, she’d have to take that counter-person job at Holy Rollers that Amanda was talking about. Her mind raced with ideas to keep Carson going, and short of calling his sweetheart and asking her to give him a quick pep talk, she decided on the next best thing...mom guilt.
“Do you really want to do that to your mom?”
His forehead wrinkled and a look of concern captured his otherwise serene face. Zoe had found his soft spot: his mom.
“What’s my mom got to do with this?”
“Everything! She was already cheated out of Kayla’s wedding, and now you want to cheat her out of her only son’s wedding? I doubt she’d ever forgive you for that one.”
Carson didn’t respond at first. He merely sat back in his fancy Victorian chair and slowly let out a breath. There was something about Carson Grant that Zoe couldn’t shake. Sure, he had all those rugged good looks going on enhanced by some gorgeous, thick, exceptionally silky dark hair and long eyelashes that shaded his steel blue eyes. She also knew he had a ripped chest hidden away under that gray shirt and sweater, but it was his demeanor and his cowboyness that set her heart racing every time she stood close to him. Not to mention how good he always smelled, like cut grass in spring, or a crisp morning in fall when the sun worked to soak up the dew.
With Piper busy decorating the town square, that left Zoe completely in charge of the Grant wedding.
Piper’s father, a third-generation potato farmer, had been voted in as Royal Tuber, president of the Royal Order of Local Spud Growers. For the second year in a row, he’d tapped Piper to head up the town square decorating committee. The Royal Order regulated what was acceptable for town square decorations, and that included any and all events that took place during the year. Piper never could say no to her dad, so on top of planning weddings, she also planned outdoor adornments.
Now Zoe would have to be the one to lead Carson around to all the vendors and guide him to make the right decisions. By the sound of his discontentment, that wasn’t going to happen for much longer. Zoe sensed a Carson Grant rebellion coming on.
Carson was notorious for his refusal to take a traditional route, which was part of what made him such a great rodeo athlete. He was one of those nonconformists who learned to ride a bucking horse on his own terms. He rode as if he and the horse were cut from the same cloth, and even though Carson was taking his time getting back in the saddle, Zoe, along with the rest of the town, felt confident that once he returned from his honeymoon, nothing would keep him from competing again. She only hoped bringing in the mom card would settle his current restlessness and they could continue on with the wedding plans.
“Fine, but I need a break from all these decisions. I have something I want to say and I don’t think it can wait much longer. This wedding is getting out of control, and if I don’t do something quick-like, I’ll be paying for it for more years than I might be wanting to.”
“What are you proposing?” Zoe asked as she collected her purse and notebook.
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER Zoe and Carson eased up on two wooden bar stools inside a crowded Belly Up Tavern. Carson took more time to secure himself on the stool. That injured leg of his still seemed to cause him a lot of pain. He leaned on his cane more than Zoe first thought he would. As the day had worn on, he seemed to be relying on it steadily.
Happy hour was in full swing and most of the twenty-one-and-older residents of Briggs liked to take advantage of the half-priced drinks, house wines and the bar menu, especially on Fridays.
Christmas decorations surrounded them, with pretty garland hanging from the beamed ceiling. The multicolored lights on the seven-foot decorated tree standing next to the glass front doors reminded Zoe that she hadn’t even begun to decorate her own apartment. She’d been too distracted by her financial woes to get into the holiday spirit this year.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Milo Gump said from behind the polished mahogany bar. “Good to see you up and about, Carson Grant. Last I heard, you were holed up in your house and never leaving. What finally got you out?”
Milo and Amanda had recently purchased the tavern and Milo liked to tend bar most days during