Sweeping The Bride Away. Michele Dunaway
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Mistake number one had been letting Lillian Morris, neighbor from hell and her future mother-in-law, in the front door. Yes, it would have been much better to have just ignored the doorbell and pretended she wasn’t home. But Cassidy Clayton had been waiting for the city building inspector, and when she’d opened the door, unfortunately he hadn’t been standing on the other side.
Cassidy looked at her fiancé’s mother and grimaced. Once again, this time within five seconds after Lillian’s arrival, Cassidy had been hit up to set an exact wedding date.
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly, for it was always wise to choose your words carefully around Lillian, “exactly, if Dan and I want to marry this June. We haven’t discussed it. After all, we’ve only been engaged two months. I was thinking more like October. That’s eight months from now.”
Lillian Morris peered over her horn-rimmed glasses and with a dismissive wave brushed off Cassidy’s concerns.
“Darling Cassidy, engagements should be short. Yours can be even shorter than normal, given that you’ve known my son all your life. Besides, a June wedding is perfect for you and Dan. Even Ed,” Lillian mentioned her husband, “agrees with me. He’s going to announce Luke’s candidacy for senate right after the best man’s wedding toast. Of course, Dan already agreed that his brother, Luke, would be best man. It’s only fitting.”
Great. Before Cassidy could even fully open her mouth to remind Lillian whose wedding it was supposed to be, Lillian went right on. After all, Dan was her baby boy.
“Besides,” Lillian said, “Dan and I discussed it just last night and he agreed that June is perfect. Of course he wants to see his older brother win the senate race and keep the seat in the family. Luke would be the third generation you know. And we’ll hold the reception at the Diamond Country Club. I’ve already contacted the manager, booked the room and arranged the menu. We’ll be starting with roving waiters carrying trays of appetizers that are—”
If only for a brief moment, the doorbell’s ringing interrupted Lillian’s prattle. The older woman blinked, as if startled, as she glanced at Cassidy. “Are you expecting anyone?”
Even the devil himself was welcome at this moment. “City building inspector,” Cassidy replied as she rose from the overstuffed armchair that had been her mother’s latest attempt at redecorating.
Lillian nodded. “Oh, that makes sense. I had wondered why you were here. Usually you’re at work by now.” Lillian waved her hand dramatically around Cassidy’s family home.
“You must be so grateful, Cassidy, to have sold this albatross. I’d imagine it gives you terrible memories, especially with your father divorcing your mother clear out of the blue like that after what, thirty-seven years of marriage? No wonder she took off for Cannes. I’d do the same. Not that my Ed would ever leave me. Some marriages are just meant to last. But I’ve always been lucky. I hope your mother isn’t taking too much of a loss on the property. She should have fetched quite a price for this neighborhood, especially selling it furnished like that.”
Cassidy’s smile tightened. Next-door neighbors for almost twenty-five years, Cassidy’s mother had always said that if Senator Ed Morris had thought divorcing his wife was less of a liability than was keeping her, then the tactless Lillian would have already been history.
Cassidy opened the front door. The elderly inspector standing between the columns looked like a smaller version of Santa Claus. Cassidy sighed. He seemed harmless enough. Grateful for the welcome diversion from Lillian and the already insane wedding planning, she bade him to come in without shooing Lillian out. Right after that, Cassidy discovered that not getting rid of Lillian was mistake number two.
FOUR HOURS LATER Cassidy tossed her handbag onto the wooden bar. It landed with a thump, nearly knocking the half-empty bowl of peanuts off the other side. She ignored the curious look crossing the face of the man seated to her right.
“Bud Light.” The words coming from her lips sounded foreign to her own ears.
But the bartender simply nodded as if dodging flying peanuts was the norm, and without a word of judgment, she took a beer from the cooler, removed the top and handed over the longneck bottle.
Cassidy placed the cold brown glass to her lips and took a long slow slip of the golden liquid. Normally she avoided beer, but today an ice-cold one sounded like just the medicine she needed. Besides, it would serve her fiancé and his silly mother right. When she was with them she only drank wine, for in their “crowd” domestic beer was frowned upon as something bourgeois. As if millions of Americans who tossed cold ones back every night could be wrong.
Oh well, drinking beer could be mistake number three in her perfectly ordered world. With satisfaction Cassidy mulled over that thought. After all, what else could happen?
Thanks to Lillian’s inane prattle to the building inspector, which caused him to find even more code violations to cite, Cassie now had a multitude of problems all needing to be repaired by the home closing date in just two weeks’ time. If the code violations weren’t fixed, the house sale couldn’t be completed, and she couldn’t take a well-deserved vacation and close on her cute new condo in Clear Lake.
Cassidy took another long sip. The building inspector hadn’t missed a thing. She had to do everything from painting to fixing a cracked concrete pad under a screened-in porch.
Closing her eyes, Cassidy again let the cool liquid slide down her throat. Perfect. She opened her eyes. At least this one thing was what she needed, which was good because right now the rest of her life was absolutely falling apart.
And, of course, Sara wasn’t on time, and that was after Cassidy, preparing for her former college roommate’s perpetual lateness, had arrived fifteen minutes past their designated meeting time of seven o’clock. There was nothing Cassidy hated more than sitting in a bar by herself.
Making the best of it, she took another long swallow and drummed her manicured fingernails on the bar as she surveyed the place Sara had picked out. “No one will know you there,” Sara had said after Cassidy had called her in the throes of desperation. Now after seeing the place for herself, Cassidy couldn’t agree more. As an image consultant, she’d helped some of Houston’s elite refine their images, and this wasn’t where anyone worth their salt would ever be caught dead.
At least it wasn’t smoky, although that was about all it had going for it. There was no question that the place was a dive. The wooden tables had seen better days, the chairs were vinyl, and the waitress sported a tattoo under her Harley-Davidson T-shirt. All that was missing was sawdust covering the floor and musicians behind chicken wire.
“You know, most people at least try to relax when they come into a bar.”
Cassidy turned toward the deep silken tone coming from the man seated to her right. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Excuse me?”
“Perhaps, as long as you relax a little,” he said, his drawl rolling over her in waves. He grinned, and inwardly Cassidy groaned. Not another one.
Ever since she’d been a cheerleader in high school she’d attracted the wrong type of men like a refrigerator door attracted magnets. But at least this one was attractive. More than attractive.
From where he was sitting on the stool, he looked as if he would tower over her by at least a foot. His body was lean and wiry, and his shoulders were wide and broad. She liked that. Too bad his upper body was covered by a T-shirt that looked as if had been laundered too many times.
He twisted his beer in his hand, and Cassidy shivered despite herself. Maybe the air-conditioning inside the bar was set too high.
“Can I buy you another one?” Without waiting for her answer, he gestured to the bartender.
As he smiled again, Cassidy immediately gave him credit for having wide sensual lips, twinkling dimples and a roman nose that wasn’t too long. Too bad she wasn’t interested in men with dark-brown eyebrows and eyelashes, no matter how deep and sensual his greenish-blue eyes. Bedroom eyes.