Best Laid Wedding Plans Read online

  “Such a way with words, Cole.”

  He shrugged. “Want them?”

  She nodded.

  “Let’s go dicker.”

  When they left Random Salvage, she had her new, old porch columns and six crystal dresser pulls she’d assured him would be perfect on a secretary she intended to move downstairs.

  She threw a leg over the Harley. “I’m starved.”

  “Really?” He tossed her a glance.

  “I practically skipped breakfast. Nerves. You kidnapped me before I had a chance to grab lunch.”

  “I didn’t kidnap you. I invited you to come with me to check out material for your renovation.” He pointed a finger at her. “And you enjoyed it. You said so yourself.”

  “I did.” She smiled and lifted a brow. “And now I’m hungry.”

  “How about the best burger and homemade fries this side of the Mississippi? Will that do?”

  “Do they sell chocolate malts?”

  “Made with hand-dipped ice cream.”

  “What are we waiting for? Get a move on, cowboy.”

  He laughed. That smile of hers? Unmatched. “I have to warn you, though. The place isn’t fancy. In fact, it could be plastered in the dictionary beside the definition for greasy spoon.”

  “My favorite kind of place.”

  “You’re lying and you know it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes it is. Depends on my mood. And today’s a jeans-and-T-shirt, Harley-riding, greasy-spoon-eatin’ kind of day, Cole.” She slid on her sunglasses.

  “Well, when you put it that way…” He climbed on in front of her. “Hold on.”

  She did. Those arms of hers slid around his waist and she scooted up close. For two heartbeats he simply enjoyed her, the feel of her, the sweet, sexy smell of her.

  Then reminded himself the lady was off-limits.

  Checking his mirror to make sure she had her helmet buckled, he started the bike, his sights set on Wimpey’s Burger Basket.

  Grease floated in the air right along with the oxygen molecules. Jenni Beth didn’t complain about that or the beat-up tables and chairs. Standing at the order window, she read through the menu written in grease pencil on a white board.

  “I want cheese and mayo on my burger, Cole,” she finally said. “Lots of fries and that chocolate malt.”

  “You got it. While I put in our order, how about you run out and save us a picnic table?”

  “Sure.” She slipped her sunglasses back in place and left.

  He watched her go. So did, he noticed, a couple teenage boys sitting in the corner. Jenni Beth drew attention. It didn’t matter if she was all dolled-up or dressed-down. She made a fellow want to be with her just by being.

  And what was he going to do about that?

  In no time, his food came up, and he carried it outside.

  Handing her a wad of napkins, he slid onto the bench beside her, close enough his leg rubbed against hers. She didn’t pull away. He smiled and nudged a hair closer.

  Inside, Wimpey’s Burger Basket was a disaster. Out here? A little slice of paradise. A small stream ran along the property’s edge and gurgled as it passed over worn river rock. High in a tree, a bird serenaded them with his happy song. Sun filtered through their table umbrella. A great burger, fries, a chocolate malt, and Jenni Beth Beaumont. It could make a grown man cry from the sheer pleasure of it.

  Jenni Beth made a sound of pure, simple bliss as she bit into her sandwich. “This is so good.”

  He dipped his plastic spoon in the whipped cream on his malt, held it up to her mouth. She closed those luscious lips around it and rolled her eyes.

  “Mmm. Good.”

  A tiny dollop stuck to her lip. He swiped at it with his finger, then popped it in his mouth. Watched her slate-blue eyes darken.

  “Yeah, it sure is,” he agreed.

  For a couple minutes, neither of them said anything.

  She rested her chin on her fist. “Can I ask you something, Cole?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why did you decide to go into the architectural salvaging business? I mean, that’s not, like, something most little boys dream of.”

  His eyes met hers, steady and unblinking. “To honor the past.”

  “Right.” She made a small sound of disbelief.

  He shrugged. “You said it yourself at Dinky’s. Without my business, a lot of our history would end up in the city dumps. I reclaim it. See that it’s used and loved again.” He took a bite of his burger, chewed while he studied her, tried to decipher the intense look on her face. “And you don’t believe a word I said.”

  “Strangely enough, I do. While we were at Random Salvage, I saw a different side of you. And I realized that, after all these years, you’re a stranger to me.”

  She wiped her hand on a napkin and extended it toward him. “Hello, I’m Jenni Beth Beaumont.”

  He nearly choked on his unswallowed bite. But the earnest expression in her eyes had him reaching out to shake her hand. “Cole Bryson.”

  “So, tell me five interesting things about yourself, Cole Bryson.”

  “Whew. Seriously?”

  “Five things.”

  He held up a hand and ticked them off as he went. “I love my mama and daddy, my grandmother.”

  She nodded.

  “My Harley.” He flicked his chin at the big black motorcycle. “That baby’s my pride and joy. I love to take Sunday afternoon rides on her.”

  “So far, you haven’t told me any secrets. Everybody in town knows all this,” she prodded.

  “Ah, but you and I have just met, remember? I like to sleep exactly as I was born. Buck-naked.”

  She blushed, and he laughed.

  “Women have always been a mystery to me. Secret and wonderful. I love them. The look of them, the feel, the scent.” His gaze met and held hers. He held up a fifth finger. “And I’m desperately sorry for what I did to you in Savannah.”

  “Not now, Cole.”

  “Figured you’d say that. Your turn.”

  “What?”

  “Your turn.” He wiggled the fingers of one hand. “Five things.”

  “Oh. Well, my family means everything to me.” She held up a finger. “I have the sweetest little ’65 ’Vette. A ragtop. That thing sails down the highway.”

  “Huh-uh. Secrets, Jenni Beth. I want the dirt.”

  She laughed. “I don’t think I actually have any dirt.”

  “We all have dirt. Some of us have just hidden it better.”

  “I desperately want to be a wedding planner.” She held up a fourth finger. “I love Cheetos and mocha frappuccinos.”

  Before he could open his mouth, she said, “And I don’t actually hate the jerk that stood me up for my senior prom. I do hate that he took Kimmie Atherton, though.”

  “Ahhh.” Dunking a fry into some ketchup, he asked, “Can we be friends again, Jenni Beth?”

  “We were never friends.”

  “Yeah, we were.” He popped the fry in his mouth and chewed.

  She shook her head. “No. As a kid, I annoyed you, then, for one night, I didn’t.”

  “About that night—” He cleared his throat.

  “Not now,” she repeated.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I do.”

  She shrugged. “You lose. Want to share a dessert?”

  He rested his elbow on the table and sent her an exasperated look. “You’re still annoying.”

  With a grin, she said, “Thanks.” She pointed to the menu. “How about banana pudding?”

  “The malt wasn’t dessert?”

  She shook her head. “Banana pudding,” she repeated.

  “Nah, if we’re gonna do it, I insist on a h
ot fudge sundae—with a cherry and more whipped cream on top.”

  She narrowed her eyes for a fraction of a second. “I can handle that.”

  “I’ll bet you can.” He went back inside to order.

  Chapter 14

  Sex. It was on Jenni Beth’s mind way too much.

  She’d let her guard down, and Cole had crept in. The day they’d ridden the Harley to Random Salvage, then stopped for lunch had been too intimate, too enjoyable. They’d laughed and shared a fun day.

  When she was with him, she could forget what a snake in the grass he could be. It was only later, when she was alone again, that she’d pull out her memories. Remember why she couldn’t allow him to get too close.

  And, if she was totally truthful with herself, mourn that fact.

  But he’d returned to Savannah on Friday, and she’d returned to sanity. When he’d dropped her off late the afternoon of their ride, he and Beck held a powwow. She didn’t doubt for a minute she was the main topic.

  It should upset her. The self-reliant, take-charge woman inside was slightly offended that it didn’t, but Jenni Beth decided she could keep that part of herself under control. Bottom line? She couldn’t handle this project alone. Cole wanted to help, and she had to swallow her pride and let him.

  He’d left Magnolia House insisting she’d be okay, that Beck would keep an eye on things.

  She told him she’d keep an eye on things herself.

  Cocky as ever, he’d winked and slid his sunglasses in place. Putting the big bike in gear, he’d left her standing in the drive.

  Without him, the house felt hollow. And that did offend her.

  The men she’d hired had the weekend off, but she’d kept busy stripping baseboards, scraping paint, and working on the ad layouts.

  She worried about the timing. It was imperative to get her ads out there, but she had to be absolutely certain that when the first call came in, she could deliver. Had to be sure she’d have enough done for the old girl to show well. Since most brides planned their weddings with plenty of lead time, she’d be able to finish her renovation even after someone booked a date. But the bait—the house and grounds—had to be far enough along for them to bite.

  Today, the workers had shown up at eight o’clock and hadn’t left till after five. The progress was amazing. Everywhere she looked, though, she saw another project.

  Everyone else had long since gone to bed. The house, silent except for its comforting night sounds, still seemed to thrum from the day’s activities and energy. Construction tools spread throughout the rooms. Partially completed projects waited impatiently for the next workday.

  After doing physical labor all day, she ought to drop like a stone, but tonight, like so many others, she couldn’t sleep. Instead of shutting off, her mind continually added to her mental list of things to do. She wandered downstairs for a cup of tea as she had last night and the night before and the night before that, carefully avoiding the stairs that creaked the loudest. She carried her mug out to the back porch and sat in the dim light from the kitchen. Sipping her tea, she stared into the star-strewn sky and dreamed.

  Almost an hour later, finally ready for sleep, she stumbled up to bed. At the second floor landing, she stopped. Someone was crying.

  Her mother.

  Jenni Beth tiptoed to her brother’s room.

  “Mama?” The door stood ajar, and she pushed it open. Her mother stood in the center of the room, her hair a mess, an old robe hanging on her, holding a pillow to her face.

  “Sometimes I think I can still smell him.” Tears ran down her face.

  “Oh, Mama.” Jenni Beth started toward her, arms outstretched.

  She lifted a hand. “No. Don’t.” More tears streamed. “Yes, do. Please.” She opened her own arms. “I can’t bear this.”

  Neither spoke for the longest time.

  “He’s gone.” Tears waterfalled down her mother’s makeup-free face, and she looked older than she had just this afternoon.

  Jenni Beth’s throat constricted. “Yes, he is.”

  “All the changes—I realized—” Her mother dropped to the side of the bed, the pillow cradled in her lap. “When Wes came home on leave, I told him not to bother picking up. To leave everything, that I’d take care of it. After we came back from Atlanta, from the airport, I came up here to do exactly that.”

  She swiped at her eyes, and Jenni Beth dug a tissue from her pocket and handed it to her.

  “I couldn’t do it, Jenni Beth.” She sniffed into the hankie. “If I touched anything, he wouldn’t come back. Leaving his room the way he left it would keep him safe. Bring him home.”

  Her face caved with sorrow, and Jenni Beth fought for breath in a chest gone tighter still.

  “Mama—”

  On a sob, her mother said, “But I did. I did. It was my fault!”

  “No, oh, no. Listen to me, Mama.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “He’d brought a glass of milk and some of Charlotte’s cookies upstairs that last night.” A ghost of a smile played over her lips before her face crumbled again. “Oh, your brother ate every cookie, every morsel, but he didn’t finish his milk.” She sobbed. “He never did. He always left that last drink.”

  Blindly, she reached for Jenni Beth’s hand. “Don’t you see? I took that glass downstairs and washed it.” Her tears rained heavier. “I killed him,” she whispered.

  Understanding and grief slashed through Jenni Beth. All this time, and her mother hadn’t said a word, hadn’t let on that she blamed herself for Wes’s death. Irrational, yes, but that made it no less formidable, no less real to her.

  Sitting down beside her, she buried her face in her mother’s hair. “Mama, the snipers that ambushed his platoon killed him. Not you. Not you,” she repeated.

  “If I’d left that—”

  Jenni Beth sat up straighter, put a hand on either side of her mother’s face. “Look at me. If you’d left that glass here till the milk curdled and turned solid, Wes would still be dead. You have to understand that.”

  Her mother’s cries turned into the sounds of a wounded animal. Jenni Beth, her own face wet with tears, held her, let her cry. It was way past time. They both needed this. They’d all been too careful, too afraid to vent their emotions.

  Afraid that if they started to cry, they’d never stop.

  Finally, her mother pulled away. “You’re right. I know you’re right.” Her words caught on another sob.

  “Let’s do this, Mama. Right now. Tonight. Let’s clean up this place. Give Wes some peace.”

  Her mother chewed at her lip, then nodded.

  Even though it was dark, Jenni Beth moved to the window, stepping over her brother’s shoes, and threw open the drapes. Moonlight filtered through the window for the first time in a year and a half.

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Fast asleep. I talked him into taking a sleeping pill tonight. It’s been so long since he’s had a night’s sleep.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I love you, Mama.” She ran down the hall to the bridal suite for some boxes to hold what remained of her brother’s life.

  Coming back into the room, she pushed up her sleeves. Her mother turned from the window and nodded at her.

  It wasn’t easy. Everything they touched brought fresh memories, fresh pain. His high school ring, the one he’d given Sadie on prom night, the one she’d given him back three months later. A couple Little League trophies. A crumpled receipt for gas and a bag of chips from Tommy’s Texaco.

  Jenni Beth stripped the bed and stuffed the linens into a garbage bag. No one would have sweet dreams on them.

  Her mom folded each and every item of clothing carefully and placed them in the boxes as though Wes would wear them soon. The clothes, minus her brother’s ratty Atlanta Brave
s jersey, would go to a shelter in Savannah. Neither wanted to walk down Main Street and see one of his shirts walking toward them. Cole would handle that for them.

  The old jersey? She’d keep it, couldn’t bear to part with it.

  Many tears and much hand-holding later, the room had been cleared of all but the furniture. The boxes had been marked for storage or donation.

  “I have a headache.” Her mother rubbed the base of her neck.

  Jenni Beth felt like a drum had taken up permanent residence in her own head. She looked at her mother. She was pale, and tear tracks streaked her face.

  “Go take a nice long shower, Mama, and slip into a clean nightie. I’ll fix you a cup of chamomile tea.” She laid a hand on her mom’s cheek. “Then you should lie down for a bit. Try to sleep.”

  Her mother raised a hand and placed it over her daughter’s. “I believe I will.” She drew her close. “I couldn’t have done this without you. You’re my rock. Mine and your father’s.” Fresh tears started. “Don’t think for a minute that I don’t know how much tonight has cost you, too. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Over her mother’s shoulder, Jenni Beth studied the room. Her chin quivered. She closed her eyes, bit back the cry, and said good-bye to her brother.

  * * *

  “Mama? Daddy?” Shocked and more than a little tired after a nearly sleepless night, Jenni Beth walked into the chaos that was now their kitchen to grab a quick breakfast. “What are you two doing up?”

  “Good morning to you, too, daughter of mine.” Though she’d applied her makeup carefully this morning, her mother’s eyes were still red from last night’s tears. Healing tears.

  “Morning.” Jenni Beth leaned in and gave both of her parents a quick kiss and a hug. “You’re up so early. I thought you’d sleep longer.”

  “With all the noise, sleep’s impossible,” her dad said. “Besides, we’ve decided it’s time for us to step up. It’s our house. We can certainly lend a hand.”

  “Okay.” She drew out the word, but her heart raced.

  “Your dad and I had a long talk this morning, honey. I told him what we did last night.”

  She turned to her father.