Falling for the Best Man Page 2

  “I’ve sailed down the Nile, crossed the Sahara, and been bungee jumping in New Zealand. Finding an inn in a town with a population of two thousand people is definitely in my toolbox.”

  She pressed her full, pink lips together, allowing him to be reacquainted with just what nice lips they were. Sensuous, like her. He remembered the feel of her skin. Her body had been toned from work on the farm rather than from a repetitious gym program, which he found strangely arousing. Had found strangely arousing, rather. That was firmly in the past.

  As far as he was concerned, anyone who was too scared to leave home wasn’t the right person for him. Regardless of how hot she looked as she pushed her long bangs away from her face.

  Man, it’s going to be a long four days.

  “I’m sure it is.” Emmy slammed the pickup into third gear and tightened her grip. “It’s just I was out this way, and it was no bother.”

  “Really.” Christopher quirked an eyebrow. “You had a wedding emergency at the airport?”

  “I—” Emmy started to speak, then broke off as frown lines gathered on her forehead. She let out a sigh. “Fine. So there’ve been a few last minute hiccups with the accommodation. It turns out you’re going to have to stay at the farm.”

  “At the farm?” he said, before understanding hit him. “You mean at your farm? With you?”

  “Yes, with me,” she said, her body stiff, as if daring him to argue. He opened his mouth and then closed it, noticing the pale purple smudges under her eyes. It looked like she hadn’t been getting much sleep lately. “Thanks to a plumbing disaster brought on by Lewis’s brother, the entire Rosepot Inn is out of commission.”

  “Lawrence always has been a one-man demolition unit,” Christopher confirmed. His friend’s younger brother must’ve been the cause of the dark shadows under Emmy’s eyes. “Still, I could always just bunk in with him, or one of the other guys.”

  “No, you can’t. Every room is already at capacity, and that’s with me pulling strings. There’s nowhere else,” she said, still refusing to look at him. “Trust me, if I knew you were the best man, I never would’ve given Melinda my word you could stay.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve broken your word,” Christopher said and was rewarded by the sight of a crimson stain creeping up her neck. He winced. Considering he strung words together for a living, he was doing a lousy job of using them right now. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just I was hoping to spend time with the wedding party, and if I’m stuck out on the farm, that will be difficult.”

  “There are a couple of pre-wedding parties, plus the wedding itself. Plenty of time to see everyone,” she said, then let out a faint groan as if something else had just occurred to her. “Oh. You’re talking about nighttime activities.”

  Of course he wasn’t.

  Well, okay, maybe he was. But not how she thought. Not to mention the fact it was none of her business.

  “Who says I don’t just want to catch up with old friends? I haven’t seen Lewis for two years. Longer for Lawrence and the other groomsmen. I do have other things on mind besides ‘nighttime activities,’ as you call them,” he said, annoyed she seemed to think so little of him.

  She flushed. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. It’s just, considering how we met, can you blame me?”

  “That wasn’t a wedding. It was a christening,” Christopher pointed out. And it was completely different. She had been different.

  It had been in New York, and she’d worn a red dress that looked like it was straight from the nineteen fifties. It had highlighted her narrow waist and then gently flared over her hips before showing a pair of sun-browned legs. Sweet and sinful all at the same time. They’d also been the only two single people in the whole damn church, and after most of the couples had started discussing daycare and the best way to get rid of diaper rash, they’d drifted together.

  Despite the dress, Emmy wasn’t normally the type of girl Christopher went for. She was fresh off the farm and had confided in him it was her first trip to New York. And while she didn’t mind it, she’d be pleased to be back in the peace and quiet, surrounded by people and things she loved. To Christopher that would normally be a warning bell, but she was also smart and open, and with the way she laughed at herself, she’d managed to turn him on more than any woman he’d ever met.

  And remembering that isn’t helping matters.

  “That’s hardly the point.” Emmy gave him a withering gaze, as if the weekend in question was something she wished to forget. “But I’m sorry you won’t get to see quite as much of your friends as you’d hoped to. Feel free to invite them out to the farm.”

  Christopher closed his eyes and wondered how such a simple thing had become so complicated. When he opened them, Emmy was still purposefully clutching at the steering wheel.

  “I was hoping to spend time with the…ladies of the wedding party. But not like that,” he said, not sure why he needed to convince her that his intentions were honorable. After all, she was the one who dumped him, not the other way around. And yet the idea of her thinking he was on the prowl made him uncomfortable. “I’m meeting with some producers in Hawaii about an upcoming TV pilot, and they’re concerned about my single status, which means I need to find a pretend girlfriend. Lewis told me that all the bridesmaids are single, so I was hoping one of them could help me.”

  “What?” The truck jerked, and almost veered into the middle of the road, but Emmy seemed to collect herself as she once again picked up speed. “So do you invite every girl you meet at a wedding away on a tropical holiday?”

  “Again, just to clarify, we met at a christening. Besides, it’s hardly the same thing,” Christopher said. The trip to Hawaii was going to be work; the spontaneous invitation for Emmy to join him in Fiji had been purely for pleasure. Pleasure that she’d decided she could do without. His mood darkened, and he narrowed his eyes. “And why are you so concerned? After all, you were the one who stood me up, not the other way around.”

  With a text message.

  “And thank goodness I did,” Emmy said, and Christopher winced. He didn’t like arguing with people. Especially not any of his flings, which was definitely one of the advantages of not staying in one place for too long. She went on, “And more to the point, you can’t go around seducing bridesmaids at this wedding. Thanks to the flood, Melinda’s already on her last nerve.”

  “One, there won’t be any seducing.” Christopher blinked as he studied Emmy’s face. Is she jealous? “And two, why would Melinda care?”

  “I take it you haven’t met Melinda before,” Emmy said in a dry voice.

  “No, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Lewis. But I’ve known him half my life. He’s pretty laid back.”

  “He might be laid back, but Melinda isn’t. She cares about everything. A lot. She cares that the wedding cake is twenty-six inches high and that fish sauce doesn’t have parsley in it. She cares about whether the dessert spoons are silver or silver plated. She cares about whether her mother will wear the gray pearls or the pink ones. Her brain is so full of caring about things that discovering the best man is out to cause even more mayhem than the groomsmen already have would probably send her over the edge. Not something I’m prepared to let happen on my watch.”

  “O-kay,” Christopher said, not quite sure what kind of woman his old friend was marrying. “Thankfully, I don’t plan on having any naked orgies. I just want to meet a fake girlfriend. I’d never do anything to jeopardize my friend’s wedding. I love Lewis, and I’m sure when I meet Melinda I’ll love her, too. So, in return for my word, we can forget all about me staying at the farm? Just drop me in town, and I’ll find somewhere to crash. I’ve spent half my life on the road and have always managed to find a bed.”

  “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” Emmy’s full lips were now flattened out as she took a sharp turn to the left and headed down an empty road flanked only by fields. “You might not think you’re going to
cause a problem, but I can’t take that chance. I need this wedding to be perfect, and if keeping you away from the bridesmaids makes that happen, then that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “What?” Christopher’s mouth went dry as she leaned forward and turned up the volume on the ancient radio. Music blared out, and he scratched his head. He’d been in a lot of strange situations on his travels, but as far as he was aware, this was the first he’d ever been kidnapped by a wedding planner.

  Chapter Two

  The first time Emmy had looked up at Wishing Bridge Farm she’d instantly fallen in love with the low, yellowed hills and the billowing, sleepy trees that seemed to wrap her up in a comfortable embrace. It had given her a sense of relaxation. Of rightness. However, as she sat at Ivy’s ancient sewing machine, working on the bunting to decorate the barn where the reception would be held, she was feeling anything but relaxed.

  She tried to tell herself it was because she still had so much to do, but she suspected it was the fact Christopher Henderson was now in the small cottage at the bottom of the farm, no doubt sulking. In her defense, instead of understanding just how important this wedding was to Lewis and Melinda—and her—he’d admitted he was here to look for a fake girlfriend.

  Right to my face.

  It was humiliating.

  Over the last two years, she’d often wondered what would’ve happened if she had gotten on that plane and spent the week with him in Fiji like he’d asked. Most of the scenarios that played out in her mind ended with them getting married and moving back to Wishing Bridge Farm where they lived happily ever after, surrounded by kittens and rainbows.

  As if.

  After all, if he was casually looking for someone to accompany him to Hawaii, then it meant flirting with women at weddings (and christenings) was just part of his playbook. A regular thing. She was surprised he’d even realized who she was. Scratch that. He probably only remembered her because she had stood him up.

  At least, thanks to his jet lag, he hadn’t wanted to stay for a meal and had gone straight to bed. But it was now ten in the morning, which meant Emmy didn’t know how much longer she could avoid him. She sighed as she cut the thread and inspected her handiwork, all crafted from old tablecloths and lace doilies.

  Pepper and Bec had always hated how Ivy refused to throw anything out, but it was thanks to her beloved great aunt’s hording that Emmy now had such a huge selection of vintage treasures for the business. And while she kept some as they were, she also liked to upcycle them with a fresh twist. Happy with the bunting, she looked at the next thing on the list, and her face twitched.

  White doves.

  As soon as Melinda had caught sight of the old, rustic birdcage that had been hanging up in the barn, she’d been determined to have fifty doves released to symbolize the marriage. Nor did she care that the only person who Emmy could get white doves from was a temperamental breeder called Monsieur Lafayette who only spoke French and didn’t like his doves flying on a Sunday.

  It hadn’t helped that she’d lost a day dealing the accommodation crisis and most of yesterday afternoon at the airport, discovering a man from her past was now very much a man in her present.

  No wonder I have a headache.

  She picked up the phone and the small phrase book she’d purchased, and was just about to leave Monsieur Lafayette yet another message when she caught sight of Christopher walking up from the guest cottage. She put the handset down and sucked in a lungful of air.

  He was wearing old jeans and a faded denim shirt that highlighted his tan, and Emmy realized there was one more thing she’d forgotten to add to her long to-do list.

  Ovaries on lockdown. Check.

  She dragged her gaze away and hoped she wasn’t about to embark on Mission Impossible.

  “Ah, so it wasn’t a dream. I really was dragged to a farm with lousy wifi,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Good morning. I hope you slept well,” Emmy said in a tight voice, determined to ignore his baiting as he stepped into the kitchen. She normally loved the wide, sunny room with the old wooden table that had been in the Watson family for generations, but now it was far too small and lacking in oxygen.

  Just breathe and don’t look at the hot guy in your kitchen.

  “Have you been up all night?”

  “Of course not.” She shook her head. Getting three hours sleep probably wasn’t doing any favors to her appearance. Not that she cared. Obviously. “We have to leave for the wine tour in half an hour, so would you like some breakfast before we go?”

  “You’re going to let me within the vicinity of single bridesmaids? Aren’t you worried I’ll cause a scene and ruin the wedding?” His velvet-green eyes mocked her as he pulled out one of the mismatched wooden chairs and sat down. His jet lag might be gone, but his mood obviously hadn’t changed.

  “I’ll be right by your side the whole time.” Emmy pushed a loaf of homemade bread in his direction and nodded to the jar of jam made from last summer’s brambles

  “Why do I get the feeling that you would rather be babysitting a box of spiders?” Christopher cut a thick slice of bread and sniffed it in appreciation before he smeared it in butter.

  “I just want this wedding over,” Emmy said while trying not to admire his long fingers. Would it be so bad if she reached out and touched them? A shiver ran up her spine at the very idea.

  “Hey, don’t let me stop you,” he said as he picked up her phrase book with interest. “Parlez-vous francais?”

  “What?” Emmy dragged her gaze away from his fingers. Her cheeks heated, and she hastily began to pluck stray threads off her white dress. If he can read minds, I’m in big trouble.

  “I was asking if you spoke French, but I’m gathering from your less than fluent response that you don’t,” he said as a small smile danced around his mouth.

  “Unfortunately, no,” she said, suddenly feeling very provincial. No doubt all the other women he knew could speak fluent French and would never stay up all night working. They probably didn’t kidnap best men from weddings, either.

  Paragons.

  “So, what?” His eyes filled with curiosity. “You’re finally ready to leave home?”

  “Very funny.” She tried not to flinch at the unwelcome character assessment. “You might hate small towns, but there’s something to be said for knowing your neighbors. Being able to say hello to old friends. Trusting that people are looking out for you.”

  “I’m sure there is.” His mouth tightened for a moment before he gave an easy shrug. “Though, I still don’t see where the French fits into it.”

  She forced herself to stop looking at the small lines around his eyes. Had they been there the last time she’d seen him? She didn’t think so.

  “I’m trying to talk to a man about some doves. Fifty to be exact.”

  “Ah! So that explains the empty bird cages sitting on the front porch.” Christopher gave her a questioning look. “Aren’t you leaving it late?”

  “It’s all under control, thank you very much.” Emmy snatched the phrase book from him and tried not to think of the last conversation she’d had with the bad-tempered dove breeder. According to her translation he’d suggested she go and reside in a very cold, very miserable place for the rest of her life. But that was one of many details Christopher didn’t need to know. “If you’ve finished, we should go.”

  “Sure.” He got to his feet. “But first, shouldn’t I say hello to your aunt? Unless of course you’re worried I’ll flirt with her? From what you told me, she sounds feisty.”

  Emmy immediately forgot about the doves, and Christopher, too, as her throat tightened at the mention of the woman who’d raised her.

  I will not cry in front of him.

  “Ivy died last year.” She finally spoke, proud that the words didn’t catch. It was Ivy who’d taken in Emmy and her sisters when everything had gone to hell. And Emmy would do anything to protect the farm her aunt had loved

  Christopher’s
face paled. “Hell. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I shouldn’t have been making a joke. Forgive me.”

  “It’s okay.” Emmy studied her fingers. Most people meant well, but she found it difficult to talk about Ivy’s battle with cancer. It was still too painful. Too raw.

  “It’s not okay,” he corrected. “I know how close you were.”

  Yes, because I was dumb enough to tell you.

  She dared to look up and study his face, unsure if he was going to say anything more. But he was silent as his eyes caught hers. His irises were rimmed with black and full of remorse. Her heart pounded, and she looked away. Having his sympathy just makes it harder.

  She jumped to her feet.

  “We need to get going. Ready?”

  “Of course. Where did you got that bread from?” He brushed the crumbs from his clothing, as if the exchange had never happened. “I normally write about whitewater rafting and rappelling, but I might have to make an exception. This is pretty special.”

  “Well, you’d be writing about me,” Emmy admitted, not sure if he was changing the subject because he sensed she was uncomfortable, or merely because he was addicted to carbs. Either way she was quietly grateful.

  “Impressive. I didn’t realize what hidden talents you had.”

  “Er, thanks,” Emmy said. Making a loaf of bread wasn’t exactly part of the dark arts. Which meant he was probably making fun of her. Her mood darkened, but she was saved from having to reply by the crunch of tires on the gravel path outside. Christopher stood up, letting her once again see the full extent of his body. Her breath deepened as he went to peer out the long kitchen window.

  Do not look at his ass.

  “Are you expecting company?”

  “What?” Emmy blinked as she dragged her gaze away from his behind. Honestly, I have the worst ideas. Then she realized he was still waiting for an answer. What was the question? Oh, right. Company.

  “Not that I know of,” Emmy said, then wondered if Monsieur Lafayette had changed his mind. “It could be the dove breeder.”