Saying Yes To The Dress!: The Wedding Planner's Big Day / Married for Their Miracle Baby / The Cowboy's Convenient Bride. Cara Colter
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to that,” he said. “I have the bruises on my ribs to prove it.” And then his tone grew more serious. “And you never gave up in the water yesterday, either.”
“That was because of you. Believe me, I am the little bookworm I told you I was earlier. I do not have the spirit of a gladiator.”
Though she did have some kind of unexpected spirit of boldness that had made her, very uncharacteristically, rip off her clothes and go into the water.
“How many guys were there?”
“Hmm, it was years ago, but I think maybe four. No, five.”
“What were they doing?”
“They kind of had her backed up against a wall. She was quite frightened. I think that stupid Bram was trying to kiss her. He’s always been a jerk. He’s my second cousin.”
“And you just waded right in there, with five high school guys being jerks? That seems brave.”
She could not allow herself to bask in his admiration, particularly since it was undeserved.
“I didn’t exactly wade right in there. I used the Moose Run magic words.”
“Which were?”
“Bram Butler, you stop it right now or I’ll tell your mother.”
He burst out laughing, and then so did she. She noticed that it had gotten quite dark. The wind had died. Already stars were rising in the sky.
“Allie and I hung out a bit after that,” she said. “She was really interesting. At that time, she wanted to be a clothing designer. We used to hole up in my room and draw dresses.”
“What kind of dresses?”
“Oh, you know. Prom. Evening. That kind of thing. Allie and her mom moved away shortly after that. She said we would keep in touch—that she would send me her new address and phone number—but she never did.”
“You and Allie drew wedding dresses, didn’t you?”
“What would make you say that?” Becky could feel a blush rising, but why should she have to apologize for her younger self?
“I’m trying to figure out if she has some kind of wedding fantasy that my brother just happened into.”
“Lots of young women have romantic fantasies. And then someone comes along to disillusion them.”
“Like your Jerry,” he said. “Tell me about that.”
“So little to tell,” she said wryly. “We lived down the street from one another, we started the first grade together. When we were seventeen he asked me to go to the Fourth of July celebrations with him. He held my hand. We kissed. And there you have it, my whole future mapped out for me. We were just together after that. I wanted exactly what I grew up with, until my dad left. Up until then my family had been one of those solid, dull families that makes the world feel so, so safe.
“An illusion,” she said sadly. “It all ended up being such an illusion, but I felt determined to prove it could be real. Jerry went away to college and I started my own business, and it just unraveled, bit by bit. It’s quite humiliating to have a major breakup in a small town.”
“I bet.”
“When I think about it, the humiliation actually might have been a lot harder to handle than the fact that I was not going to share my life with Jerry. It was like a second blow. I had just barely gotten over being on the receiving end of the pitying looks over my dad’s scandal.”
“Are you okay with your dad’s relationship now?”
“I wish I was. But they still live in Moose Run, and I have an adorable little sister who I am pathetically jealous of. They seem so happy. My mom is still a mess. Aside from working in the hardware store, she’d never even had a job.”
“And you rushed in to become the family breadwinner,” he said.
“It’s not a bad thing, is it?”
“An admirable thing. And kind of sad.”
His hand found hers and he gave it a squeeze. He didn’t let go again.
“Were you thinking of Jerry when you were drawing those dresses?” he finally asked softly.
“No,” she said slowly, “I don’t think I was.”
She suddenly remembered one dress in particular that Allie had drawn. This is your wedding dress, she had proclaimed, giving it to Becky.
It had been a confection, sweetheart neckline, fitted bodice, layers and layers and layers of filmy fabric flowing out in that full skirt with an impossible train. The dress had been the epitome of her every romantic notion. Becky had been able to picture herself in that dress, swirling in front of a mirror, giggling. But she had never, not even once, pictured herself in that dress walking down an aisle toward Jerry.
When Jerry had broken it to her that her “business was changing her”—in other words, he could not handle her success—and he wanted his ring back, she had never taken that drawing from where it was tucked in the back of one of her dresser drawers.
“I’ve talked too much,” she said. “It must have been the wine.”
“I don’t think you talked too much.”
“I usually don’t confide in people so readily.” She suddenly felt embarrassed. “Your name should be a clue.”
“To?”
“You drew my secrets right out of me.”
“Ah.”
“We have to go now,” she said.
“Yes, we do,” he said.
“Before something happens,” she said softly.
“Especially before that,” he agreed just as softly.
Her hand was still in his. Their shoulders were touching. The breeze was lifting the leathery fronds of the palm trees and they were whispering songs without words. The sky was now almost completely black, and finding their way back was not going to be easy.
“Really,” Becky said. “We need to go.”
“Really,” he agreed. “We do.
Neither of them moved.
DREW ORDERED HIMSELF to get up and leave this beach. But it was one of those completely irresistible moments: the stars winking on in the sky, their shoulders touching, the taste of strawberries and cream on his lips, the gentle lap of the waves against the shore, her small hand resting within the sanctuary of his larger one.
He turned slightly to look at her. She was turning to look at him.
It seemed like the most natural thing in the world to drop his head over hers, to taste her lips again.
Her arms came up and twined around his neck. Her lips were soft and pliant and welcoming.
He could taste everything she was in that kiss. She was bookish. And she was bold. She was simple, and she was complex. She was, above all else, a forever kind of girl.
It was that knowledge that made him untangle her hands from around his neck, to force his lips away from the soft promise of hers.
You heal now.
He swore under his breath, scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Are you?”
Well, not really. “Look, Becky, we have known each other for a shockingly short period of time. Obviously circumstances have made us feel things about each other a little too quickly.”
She