Sweetheart Bride. Lenora Worth
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church. I won’t be sad no matter how much I miss you, no matter how much I wish I could be the one walking up that aisle.
Brenna had a brief flash of pain, like a thorn from one of Callie’s beautiful roses, as she thought of her ex-fiancé and wondered why she’d had love and lost it. Oh, wait, according to Jeffrey, her former fiancé, she wasn’t good enough for him. He’d never said that out loud, but he’d shown it, loud and clear. Jeffrey hadn’t said a lot of things, but she’d found out so much about him too late. Never again would she be interested in a man who held everything inside or kept things from her.
Never.
But in her heart she knew she really hadn’t loved Jeffrey the way her mama and daddy had loved each other. She’d never loved him the way Alma loved Julien. She’d kind of stumbled upon Jeffrey and decided he’d make a perfect groom and a good husband.
Not. Maybe the brooding type wasn’t her type, after all.
Brenna saw Alma’s smile light up when her gaze settled on Julien, saw the way his grin went from happy to awestruck to humble with each step her beautiful sister took toward him.
I want that kind of love, she thought as she stood tall and held her head high. I want someone who will look at me the way Julien is looking at Alma right now.
Brenna glanced out into the crowd and locked eyes with a man sitting toward the back on the outside aisle, a man with dark hair and dark eyes, dressed in what else—a dark suit.
Who’s the good-looking stranger? she wondered.
And why did he keep staring at her?
* * *
Who’s the looker? Nicholas Santiago wondered, his gaze lingering on the second bridesmaid on the left. The bridesmaid who looked as if she’d rather be anywhere else but here.
She had hair the color of the tallow tree leaves falling outside, a rich golden-hued auburn that only burned brighter against the creamy gold of her dress. He couldn’t see her eyes, but he’d guess they were a vivid green or maybe a vivid hazel. She shouted fire and heat, which probably meant she also liked a bit of drama.
Well, so did he.
But lately, he’d had too much drama. And coming to a sweet wedding simply because his new friend Callie Blanchard Moreau had invited him had seemed like a good idea when he rolled into town a few weeks ago. Now, Nick wasn’t so sure. Too many bad memories.
“Please come, Nicholas,” Callie had said. “Weddings are a good way to meet people. If you’re going to be here for a while, you need to meet everyone. And we’ll feed you. Alma insisted on cooking most of the food for her own wedding. You might even get a mention in Mr. Sonnier’s ‘Ain’t that Good’ column because he’ll be here covering the wedding to help promote Alma’s gumbo. You know, he’s helping her to mass-produce it and sell it all over Louisiana. She hopes to expand in the next couple of years.”
Callie was a talker, but the woman knew her flowers. And he’d need her help once he got the old Dubois estate, known around here as Fleur House, renovated for his picky client. They’d been good friends since he’d first come to Fleur a few months ago to check out the old antebellum mansion and purchase it for his secretive boss. Nicholas had remembered his mother’s birthday, and Callie had helped him wire some flowers to her back in Texas. After they’d talked about the renovations at Fleur House and how he needed help decorating it, Callie had mentioned one of her sisters was an art expert. And that the sister would be at the wedding, of course.
So here he was, being courteous, being neighborly, by attending a quaint little wedding in a simple little church on a crisp fall Friday night.
And a good thing, too. He really wanted Callie to introduce him to that fidgety, adorable redhead and he sure hoped she was the sister who knew her art.
* * *
Brenna checked her lipstick and turned to head back in to the reception. The church fellowship hall was beautiful. Callie had outdone herself with the fall theme. And irises everywhere. She must have forced those to bloom this time of year, or found some that rebloomed in the fall. Callie could do anything with flowers. She’d managed to make this big, plain white room turn into what looked like a fall garden.
Shaking her head, Brenna rounded a corner and ran smack into him. The one she’d named Tall, Dark and Dark.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He grabbed her by both arms, holding her steady while she stared up into those well...yes...dark eyes. “I should watch where I’m going.”
“I’m okay,” Brenna said, touching a hand to her upswept hairdo. “Nice reception, isn’t it?”
How dumb could she be? Did he actually care about the reception?
He gave her a once-over. “Very nice.”
Brenna hoped he didn’t notice the blush popping out over her freckles. She did not blush prettily.
“See you later maybe?” He waved a hand in the air and Brenna immediately noticed his expensive gold watch. So like Jeffrey’s.
That turned her off enough to start walking away. “I should get back.”
“Hey, don’t leave in such a hurry.”
He had a bit of an accent. Hispanic maybe. That would explain the hunky dark good looks.
She turned, smiled at him. What would it hurt to flirt with a nice-looking man? He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and...neither was she. She needed to stay in practice, didn’t she? But she couldn’t find the courage to have her heart stomped again.
“I have bridesmaid duties.” She thought hard, but couldn’t remember exactly what those duties might be.
“Very important job,” he said, coming to stand with her while they gazed out on the crowded room. “The first being, of course, to stand around and look gorgeous?”
Brenna giggled. “You’re not serious, right? I mean that’s a line, isn’t it?”
He grinned and the brilliance of it sizzled the paint on the walls. “Did it work?”
Well, she was laughing. That was something new. But Brenna didn’t want to laugh. So no flirting, no laughing. And nothing left to say. Awkward.
“Oh, good, you two have finally met each other.” Callie twirled and pranced toward them. “Brenna, this is my friend Nicholas Santiago.” She smiled at him, then touched a hand on Brenna’s arm. “And this is my baby sister. I think I mentioned her to you. She’s home for a while from Baton Rouge.”
The man gave Brenna another one of those smoldering looks. “So you’re the little sister. Wow.”
“That’s me,” Brenna said, smelling a setup. “Wow. Nice to meet you, Nicholas.”
“Nick,” he said, taking Brenna’s hand. “I was about to introduce myself. Once we got out on the dance floor.”
Brenna bristled. “I didn’t say I’d dance with you.”
“But you will,” her bossy sister said, pushing her toward Nicholas. “Don’t be rude to my friend.”
I...uh...”
But it was too late. They were suddenly moving across the dance floor to the tune of a Cajun-inspired waltz. Brenna glanced around and saw her sisters smiling and waving. She’d deal with them later. Her daddy, Ramon, waved to her from where he sat with Julien’s friend Tebow and Tebow’s mother. He’d been hanging out with that woman way too much lately.
“You have such an interesting family,” Nicholas said. He wasn’t looking at her family, though. He was looking down at her.
“Yes, they’re very colorful and ever so helpful.”
“You have a cute Southern accent.”
Still looking at her.
So