Bridesmaid Says, ''I Do!''. Barbara Hannay
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yummy smile across the breakfast table at her, after a night of delicious lovemaking.
Good grief. Next minute she’d be imagining him naked.
Could he guess?
‘Excuse me.’
His voice roused her. Blushing, she stepped out of his way as he carried the new wheel and hefted it into position. But, heaven help her, she was mesmerised by the strength of his shoulders and the sureness of his hands as he lined up the wheel as if it weighed no more than a cardboard button, and fitted it into place.
‘You’ve done this before,’ she said.
‘So many times, I could do it in my sleep.’
*********
Zoe wasn’t sure it was wise to let her mind wander in the direction of this man’s sleep. Better to keep the talk flowing.
She said, ‘I’ve watched my dad change tyres on country roads enough times. I should have picked up a few more clues.’
He looked up at her, clearly surprised. ‘Which country roads? You’re not from around here, are you?’
‘No. My parents were in a band and they toured all around the various country shows.’ She hoped any resentment she felt for those nomadic gypsy years hadn’t crept into her voice.
‘Which band?’ he asked, pausing in the middle of tightening a nut.
‘Lead the Way.’
‘You’re joking.’
Laughing, Zoe shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid I’m serious.’
‘Were both your parents in Lead the Way?’
‘Yep. My dad was the lead singer and my mum was on drums.’
‘So you’re Mick Weston’s daughter?’
‘His one and only.’ It wasn’t an admission Zoe needed to make very often. Since she’d started work in the city she’d hardly met anyone who’d heard of her parents or their band.
‘Amazing.’ To her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed. ‘Wait till I tell my old man. He’s a huge fan of Mick Weston. Never missed a Lead the Way performance in Willara.’
Fancy that. Zoe beamed at him. It was heartening to be reminded that her dad had been very popular out here.
But, heavens, now she and this stranger had something in common and she found herself liking him more than was sensible. Perhaps encouraging conversation wasn’t such a bright idea.
She busied herself with securing the punctured tyre in the boot and restowing all the bits and pieces of luggage.
By the time she’d finished, her good Samaritan was removing the jack. ‘That’s done,’ he said, straightening and dusting off his hands.
‘Thank you so much. It’s incredibly kind of you. I really am very grateful.’ And just a little sad that we’ll have to say goodbye now …
He stood with his feet apart, hands resting lightly on his hips, watching her with an enigmatic smile. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Do you sing or play the guitar?’
‘’Fraid not.’ Zoe returned his smile—seemed her face was permanently set in smile mode. ‘The musical genes totally bypassed me.’
‘But you inherited your dad’s talent for flat tyres on country roads.’
‘Yes … unfortunately.’
Wow. Instead of rushing off, he was making conversation with her. And Zoe loved it. She was no longer bothered that he was a stranger. She was too busy enjoying this amazing experience—the most awesome sensation of being swept high and pumped full of excitement, as if she were riding a magnificent, shining wave.
Were her feet still touching the ground?
She’d never felt like this before. Not with a complete stranger. Not with this bursting-from-a-geyser intensity. Rodney the Rat didn’t count. He’d been a work colleague and she’d known him for twelve months before he asked her out.
Truth was—Zoe usually lacked confidence around guys. She guessed it was part of an overall lack of confidence, a problem that stemmed from her childhood when she’d always been the new girl in town, always arriving late in the term when all the friendship groups were firmly established. She’d grown up knowing she’d never quite fitted in.
But this man’s gorgeous smile made her feel fabulously confident and suddenly her biggest fear was that he would simply drive away—out of her life.
‘I’ll tell my dad I met the son of one of his fans,’ she told him.
‘Do you have far to go?’ her helper asked.
‘I don’t think it’s much farther. I’m heading for Willara Downs.’
He stiffened. ‘Willara Downs?’
‘It’s a property near here—a farm.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Now, he was frowning again. ‘It’s my property.’
His property?
Really?
A sudden chill swept over Zoe. He wasn’t.
He couldn’t be.
‘You’re—you’re not—a Rigby, are you?’
‘I certainly am.’ He smiled, but it was a shade too late, and with only a fraction of its former warmth. ‘The name’s Kent Rigby.’ His smile wavered as he asked uncertainly, ‘Should I know you?’
Oh, God, he was Bella’s Kent … Bella’s boy next door.
Kent’s been so sweet, Bella had said.
No wonder he was nice. He was the man her best friend was about to marry.
A cool breeze made icy goose bumps on Zoe’s skin. The purple tinged dusk crowded in and she felt suddenly, terribly weary. And wary.
‘We haven’t met,’ she said quietly, hoping she didn’t sound as ridiculously disappointed as she felt. ‘But we’ll soon have a lot to do with each other. I’m Zoe. Bella’s bridesmaid.’
Kent Rigby’s eyes darkened and his features were momentarily distorted, as if he tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
But if he’d been caught out, he was very good at covering it up. ‘Sorry, I should have guessed,’ he said, speaking smoothly once more, with no hint of disturbance. ‘But I expected you to be with Bella.’
Calmly, he held out his hand.
Unhappily, she felt the warmth and strength of his hand enclose hers in a firm clasp. ‘Hello, Kent.’
‘Hi, Zoe.’
‘I dropped Bella off at the hospital. She tried to call you to explain that I’d be arriving on my own.’
Kent had forgotten to let go of her hand. ‘I’m actually on my way back from seeing Tom myself,’ he said.
‘How—how is he?’
‘Slightly improved, thank God.’
Suddenly he realised he was still holding her hand. Letting go, he cracked a slightly embarrassed grin, then thrust his hands into his jeans pockets. He straightened his shoulders, then looked to the sky in the east where a huge full moon was already poking its golden head above a dark, newly ploughed field. ‘I guess Bella will ring when she’s ready to be picked up.’
‘Yes.’
‘We’d better get going, then. Would you like to follow me? I’ll keep you in my rear vision, so I’ll know you’re OK.’
‘Thanks.’
As