Читать книгу What a Girl Wants - Jennifer Snow, Jennifer Snow - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

JIM PROPPED OPEN the west entrance door of the fire hall with a brick as they carried the cases of beer into the fire hall later that evening. He plucked the receipt from the top case and shot his brother a questioning look. “What’s this wine on the bill?”

“I ran into Kim Parsons at the liquor depot. She was picking up wine for Victoria’s bachelorette party. I took care of it.... Rather, you took care of it.”

Ethan shut the back door of the Jeep. His brother, Jim, had been friends with Luke Dawson since grade school and he knew, despite his grumbling, Jim had been honored when Luke asked him to be his best man.

“Last time I send you to get the booze,” Jim huffed as Luke’s truck pulled into the driveway of the fire hall. The old clunker rattled and gurgled as Luke cut the engine and a dark puff of exhaust escaped the tailpipe.

Ethan watched in amusement. “What happened to his new truck?” Owner of a successful architecture firm that had contracts in New Jersey, New York and Boston, Luke had bought a new Ford F-250 just before Christmas, but whenever Ethan saw him, he was driving that old beater.

“Victoria is using it. As long as Bailey keeps reviving that thing, he’ll keep driving it,” he said, nodding toward the truck where Luke was trapped inside, struggling with the door handle.

“Must be love,” Ethan said. “So explain to me why Luke and Victoria are holding their prewedding parties so early. The wedding isn’t for another month.” His brother’s longtime best friend had gotten engaged for the second time to his childhood sweetheart on New Year’s Eve and the wedding was scheduled for the Labor Day weekend.

“Luke’s out of town a lot working on that restaurant in Boston for the next few weeks. His crews are under a tight deadline for a grand opening the first weekend in September. This was really the only time we could do it, and holding it at the fire hall made sense because I somehow got stuck on night rotation this weekend.” He turned as Luke entered, a case of beer under his left arm. “Hey, man. You weren’t supposed to bring your own drinks,” Jim said, taking the beer from him and putting the bottles in the cooler filled with ice near the poker table.

“My mother says you shouldn’t go anywhere empty-handed. Hey, great setup.” Luke scanned the transformed fire hall. A poker table stood ready to go, stacks of multi-colored chips at each place. A dartboard hung on the wall and the scoreboard had each of their names already written in white chalk. The old tan leather sofa and matching recliner had been moved to the side of the room and a small flat screen was set up on the coffee table. The first inning of the baseball game lit up the screen.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to run out to get the pizza and wings before my shift starts,” Jim said, grabbing his truck keys from the hook on the wall near the door.

Ethan glanced at the clock on the wall. “Your shift started five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, but I’m usually fifteen minutes late, so technically I’ve got ten minutes,” Jim said as he disappeared out the side door.

“Can’t argue with logic like that,” Luke said.

“Brother or not, I’m going to have to start writing him up.” Ethan shook his head. “Anyway, ready to get wild and crazy?” he asked, slapping Luke on the back.

Luke laughed, suppressing a yawn. “As long as we’re done by ten. I’m exhausted.”

“Working a lot these days?” Ethan stocked the small bar fridge with extra beer, removing bottles of water and Gatorade to make more space.

“Around the clock. This restaurant chain I’m working on has me commuting to Boston three or four times a week. And then I’m helping Vic plan the wedding....” Luke pulled out a chair at the poker table and sat. He reached for a chip and flicked it between his fingers.

“I thought women loved to do all the wedding planning themselves?” Ethan opened a beer and handed it to Luke. “A game of darts before everyone else gets here?”

“Sure.” Luke headed over to the board and took out the darts. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. When I say helping, I mean acting as a buffer between our moms.” He handed Ethan three red darts, keeping the blue ones.

Ethan gestured for him to throw first.

Aiming carefully at the bull’s-eye, Luke released the dart with one easy, smooth motion. It landed in the black zone just millimeters from the center.

“Nice,” Ethan said, positioning himself for his turn. “But I thought your mom and Mrs. Mason were getting along again.” When Victoria had called off their wedding years before, it had created a feud between the mothers, one that had lasted over twelve years, but the couples reuniting last Christmas had brought the two women close again. Ethan threw his dart, landing it square in the bull’s-eye.

Luke let out a low whistle. “Impressive.”

“We have a lot of downtime,” Ethan explained.

“Our mothers are getting along, until there’s a decision to be made about flowers or cake....” Luke shook his head. “I swear they call Victoria at least four times a day. Then, of course, she calls me.”

“Women. I don’t know how you survive.”

“Hey, I’m just grateful she agreed to marry me—again. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her down the aisle this time,” he joked. “She left me once—twice actually....” he corrected, releasing his last dart. “I won’t be letting her go this time.” The dart missed by a mile and he turned to Ethan. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean...”

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Ethan said, tossing his final dart and reaching for his beer.

“You know, Victoria still feels partly responsible for the whole Emily thing. She says so all the time.”

“What?” Ethan shook his head as he removed his darts and wrote the scores on the board. “She shouldn’t. Emily leaving town had nothing to do with her.”

“Well, if Play Hard Sports hadn’t come to town...”

“Look, tell your pretty fiancée she has enough to worry about with running the bed-and-breakfast and planning the wedding. Besides, if it hadn’t been the executive from Play Hard Sports, someone else would have caught Emily’s eye eventually. She hadn’t been as committed to our relationship in the months before she left.” Ethan shrugged. “Victoria did a good thing. I know better than anyone about the positive impact that Play Hard has had on the community.”

He was the first to admit that the big chain store had improved the town’s sports facilities, paying for an extra rink at the hockey arena and maintaining the soccer and football fields.

“Yeah, but you’ve also taken the biggest hit on your personal life because of it.” Luke took a sip of his beer and waved to John Bentley, a member of their bowling league, who had just entered the fire hall.

“Ah, it’s been six months. I’m done feeling sorry for myself.”

His cell phone chimed in his pocket with a new text message. Bailey’s familiar ringtone. He opened it and read Get me out of here. “It’s Bailey.”

Luke turned to look around the room. “Hey, where is she?”

“At the B and B.”

“Oh, man, didn’t anyone tell her she’s welcome here tonight?” Luke said. “She took a bunch of my money last weekend playing pool. I was kind of hoping to get some of it back at poker.”

“Or lose even more.”

“Good point.”

* * *

“THANKS FOR YOUR help cleaning up, Bailey.”

Rachel Harper, coowner of the Brookhollow Inn, carried another load of dirty dishes into the newly remodeled kitchen of the bed-and-breakfast. In the past six months, Brookhollow’s historic landmark had undergone a complete makeover thanks to the new ownership team of Victoria Mason and Rachel Harper. The main common areas and guest quarters had been freshly painted and the original hardwood floor refinished. The chipped stained glass windows had been replaced with large bay windows, complete with a window seat and lined with small bookshelves for the enjoyment of their guests. The living quarters had been transformed into a home for the Harper family of mom, dad and five kids.

The dishwasher was already running with a full load, so Bailey stood at the double sink washing dessert plates. The stack of plates, cups and cutlery piling up on the granite counter seemed never ending. The turnout had been even better than expected—Victoria Mason was well liked in Brookhollow.

“No problem,” Bailey assured her.

Victoria entered the kitchen with several empty wine bottles gathered in one arm and a big garbage bag of discarded wrapping paper from the shower gifts, which were now stored inside the gazebo in the yard. She tossed the bottles into the blue recycle bin and dropped the bag near the kitchen door. “Thanks, Bailey,” she said, reaching for a dish towel and a handful of cutlery.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be cleaning up after your own party,” Rachel chided, taking the dish towel from her. “Go sit. We’ve got this.”

“I’m not arguing.” Victoria surrendered the towel and slumped into a wicker chair at the table with a yawn. Glancing at her watch, she gasped. “What? Nine-thirty, that’s it?” Her emerald-green eyes were wide with disbelief. “We must be getting old. The sun’s not even completely set and I’m done.”

“We’re not old, we’re responsible,” Rachel defended, abandoning the dishes and joining her at the table. She reached for a half bottle of white wine and said, “Bailey, come sit. Have a drink with us. We’ll finish cleaning up in the morning.” She poured herself a glass of pinot grigio and took a sip before handing the bottle and an unused wineglass to Victoria. “I’d forgotten how much I missed wine.”

Bailey dried her hands on a dish towel and pulled out a chair at the table. With the fire hall off-limits to the female species that evening, she really had nowhere else to go.

“Wasn’t I right about that breast pump?” Rachel’s sister-in-law, Lindsay Harper, entered the kitchen with a bowl of veggie straws and dip.

“Yes. I never used one with the other children, but it’s been a lifesaver this time with the girls.” Rachel’s eight-month-old twins, Abigail and Mackenzie, were the most recent addition to the Harper clan.

Bailey glanced between the women, almost afraid to ask. “Breast pump?” It didn’t sound like something she wanted to know about, but she suspected she was about to get an education.

Victoria handed her the bottle of wine. “Don’t worry, I knew nothing about mommy life eight months ago, either.” She turned to Rachel and Lindsay. “And you know what, ladies, I think we should allow Bailey to live in her wonderful breast-pump-and vomit-free oblivion a little longer. I’m actually dying to hear about her exciting single life.”

“Definitely a better topic,” Lindsay agreed, climbing onto a kitchen stool at the counter and reaching for a carrot stick.

“What do you mean, Lindsay? You’re single, too, and I’m sure you have better stories,” Bailey said, desperate to take the attention off herself. Lindsay, a nurse at the medical clinic in town, was known for her serial dating and late-night partying. While Bailey refused to date just anyone, hoping to find the right person, Lindsay adopted a different approach. The voluptuous blonde believed you had to kiss a lot of frogs before finding Mr. Right.

But Lindsay just shook her head. “Not lately. My shifts at the clinic have been crazy. All I do is work and sleep. So come on, let us live vicariously through you.”

Bailey stretched in the wicker chair. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve got nothing to report.”

“That can’t be true,” Lindsay protested. “You’re always with the men. I know for a fact you have a VIP card to the fire hall.”

Not tonight.

“And weren’t you dating Jonathan Turner for a while?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, that didn’t work out.” Jonathan was a great guy, but they had very little in common. He was bookish and serious and she was a grease monkey who loved loud music. Their three weeks of dating had confirmed one thing for sure—compatibility was key to a successful relationship.

“Why not? Jonathan’s gorgeous and so sweet,” Victoria said, standing and pouring a cup of coffee.

The phone rang on the wall and she checked the caller display as Rachel reached for the cordless on the table. “Don’t!” Victoria said.

Rachel froze.

“It’s my mom,” Victoria explained. “Since leaving here an hour ago, she’s texted me three times about different types of fabric for the wedding dress. I’m ignoring her.”

“Understood,” Rachel said, letting the phone ring. “Although, Vic, you really do need to make a decision about your dress. I know the B and B and your position on the New Jersey tourism board have kept you busy this summer, but you need to take some time to focus on you for a bit. All of the other wedding details have been sorted out, except that one. Your mom is a fantastic seamstress, the best in town, but even she can’t perform miracles.”

“I know, I know. It’s just every time I think I’ve decided on a style, I see something else I love even more.... I just want to look perfect, you know?” Victoria waved a hand and turned to Bailey. “Anyway, back to Jonathan....”

“Um...we’re just too different,” Bailey said with a shrug. “I mean, he spent most of our date trying to convince me that my motorcycle is too dangerous and that I should buy something safer.” Bailey knew she was more vulnerable on a bike, but in a small town like Brookhollow where traffic was minimal, the bike was often the only vehicle on the road, especially in the early morning when she started her shift at the garage.

“He was concerned about you—that’s a nice thing,” Rachel pointed out.

“There were other things, too—he said the UFC was barbaric.” She just couldn’t date someone who didn’t like the Ultimate Fighting Championship. She watched it all the time, knew all the fighter stats and even trained in mixed martial arts with her younger brothers at Extreme Athletics.

“Again, not exactly an invalid point,” Victoria pointed out.

“Either way, it’s important for me to date someone with similar interests, but then most of the guys in town just see me as one of them.” A no-win situation. “In fact, they even invited me to Luke’s bachelor party tonight.”

The women gasped and exchanged looks.

“What?”

Victoria sipped her coffee and Rachel toyed with the edge of a paper napkin. Even Lindsay held her tongue.

“Come on... What?”

“Well, I guess we all just figured you had your pick of them,” Victoria said.

“Yeah, I mean, look at you.” Lindsay stood and tugged an old elastic band from Bailey’s hair. The loose, dark waves fell around her thin shoulders. “Look at this beautiful virgin hair. I’d kill for these thick, healthy strands.” Lindsay’s voice was filled with pure jealousy as she examined Bailey’s hair. “Nope, not a split end to be found, despite using elastic bands.” She dropped Bailey’s hair and crossed her arms.

“And you’re in great shape, too. I’d kill for your flat tummy,” Rachel said, frowning as she touched her own stomach.

“I guess I’m just waiting for the right one, that’s all,” Bailey said. The challenge had never been finding someone interested in her, it was finding someone who could hold her interest. She wanted someone who made her laugh, someone she could have fun with but who also understood her need for independence and admired her strength. She wasn’t prepared to change who she was just to fit someone else’s idea of the perfect partner.

“Okay, well, if you aren’t seeing anyone, who have you been texting all night?” Rachel asked. “I saw those smiles, and it definitely wasn’t a female friend.”

Wow, these women were observant. She waved a hand. “Oh, that was just Ethan.”

“Ethan, huh?” Lindsay pulled out the chair next to her and sat, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands. “Tell us more about that dreamboat.”

“You two are awfully close,” Victoria said, then added quickly, “not judging.”

No, just interested in gossip like everyone else in town. “There’s really not much to tell. We’re friends...and lately I’ve served as a shoulder to cry on,” she said wryly.

“He has to be getting over Emily by now.” Lindsay refilled her glass, emptying the bottle.

“I don’t know about that, but he’s not moping around town as much anymore.”

Silence filled the room as all three women stared at her expectantly.

“What?”

Victoria finally spoke for the three of them. “We’re just wondering when you plan on asking him out yourself.”

Bailey hesitated. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of it since Emily had left town, but to hear it suggested by others...

“Didn’t you just say you wanted a guy with similar interests?” Victoria asked. “Personally, I think you two would be perfect together.”

“Don’t say you haven’t thought about it,” Lindsay insisted.

These women were relentless. “Ethan’s a great guy and I like him...as a...”

“If you say brother, I’ll die,” Victoria interrupted. “I’ve met your brothers. Ethan couldn’t be more different than Brandon and Jordan. Those two are big and burly and tough....”

“Hot in their own way,” Lindsay chimed in.

“But not Ethan hot,” Rachel interjected.

“Agreed,” Lindsay said with a nod.

These women were insane and they wouldn’t ease up until she confessed. “Fine, I’m attracted to him, but who in this room isn’t?” Bailey countered.

Victoria’s lone hand shot up, then she slowly lowered it. “He’s a firefighter, it’s the uniform. I may be getting married, but I’m not blind.” She took another sip of her coffee, then added, “Don’t tell Luke I said that. Poor guy is terrified that I’m going to back out of this wedding again and take off to New York while he’s out of town. As if I’d be that stupid again.” Her eyes took on a faraway, dreamy look.

“Anyway, I think you should make a play for him,” Rachel said with a definitive nod.

“No way.” Bailey stood. She had to get out of there before they suggested that they call him right now and ask him out for her. A little too much wine had been consumed that evening.

“Why not?” Lindsay asked.

“He’d never go for it.” There. The truth was out. The main reason she would never gather the courage to ask Ethan out was her fear of being rejected. The same reason she hadn’t approached him years before and had stood by while Emily had asked him to prom. It didn’t matter, though. Ethan had only ever seen her as a friend, and with or without Emily, that didn’t seem to change.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY, Bailey arrived at the shop to find four vehicles parked in the lot and a frazzled-looking Nick behind the service counter. Not quite eight o’clock in the morning and the shop was busier than it ever was. That couldn’t be good news. Joining him on the other side of the counter, she quickly stashed her motorcycle helmet under the desk and unzipped her leather jacket in the humid heat of the unair-conditioned shop.

“What’s going on?” she asked, recognizing the annoyed, impatient faces on the other side. They’d all been in earlier that week to pick up their vehicles after repairs. All four had been worked on by Nick.

He stabbed the enter key and moved the mouse anxiously around the Corvette-shaped mouse pad, staring at the frozen computer screen. He muttered under his breath as he moved away from the computer. “Stupid thing is frozen again and it won’t let me bring up last week’s work orders.”

“Let me try,” she said, shrugging free of her jacket and approaching the monitor. A new computer system was on her list of upgrades, as soon as possible. The dinosaur program they were currently using was more trouble than it was worth. “Sorry about the wait. Please help yourselves to coffee.”

Nick cleared his throat behind her. “We’re out.”

Bailey swung around. “How is that possible? I asked you to pick some up yesterday....”

He shrugged. “Forgot.”

Of course he’d forgotten. Why was she surprised? She couldn’t count on him for anything. How was she supposed to train a guy who didn’t want to learn and had no interest in the family business? The work orders popped up on the screen and she scanned them quickly. All four were basic oil-and-filter changes. Well, luckily whatever the issues were, they should be easy to fix.

She turned to the first two people in line. “Please drive your cars into the bays. I’ll have you out of here in fifteen minutes.” As they moved away from the counter, she told the others, “Give us half an hour and you’ll be on your way, as well.”

The angry expressions disappeared as they took seats in the small waiting area.

A half hour later, Bailey wiped her forehead and fanned herself with a newspaper as she updated and closed off the work orders on the computer. Glancing up at the sound of the chime above the door, she saw Ethan enter the shop. She loved how he looked in his firefighter’s uniform. It wasn’t just the clothing, it was what the uniform represented—bravery, courage, strength, compassion and heart. His sense of duty and loyalty was admirable. Then there were those smoky dark eyes. She busied herself with the work order for the Volkswagen Jetta.

“Hey, Ethan, what brings you by?”

“It’s inspection time again,” he said.

“Aren’t you supposed to give us a heads-up?” she asked, glancing around the shop. They’d been extrabusy that morning, so some things weren’t as organized as she would have liked them to be before an inspection.

“We did. Chief left a message with Nick yesterday.”

“You know that doesn’t count,” Bailey said as Ethan scanned the shop. “We had a crazy busy morning, so go easy on us this time, okay?”

“No.”

Friends or not, she knew Ethan took his job seriously. Inspections were a yearly occurrence, and he always found something not up to code. She knew his intentions were good, but she wasn’t looking forward to having to make any expensive updates at the moment. Heck, she still hadn’t changed the ownership sign out front.

Taking out his inspection checklist, he started at the door, examining the exit signs and lights that were required to be illuminated when the building was occupied. “You know this extinguisher is too high, right? The handle height should be between three and five feet. This is at least five foot one....”

Bailey cocked her head to the side. “It’s in the exact same spot as last year.”

Ethan hesitated. “I really should insist on lowering it,” he said before signing the inspection tag with his initials and the day’s date.

“Thank you for letting it slide.” Her voice held a note of sarcasm. Ethan could be so uptight about these things. She doubted one inch higher would make that big of a difference in the event of an emergency.

Heading toward the back, he pushed through the shop door and tested the emergency lighting. “Have you given any more thought to that sprinkler system I suggested?”

Bailey shrugged, “I mentioned it to Doug, but since I just bought the place, I don’t think it’s quite in the budget at the moment.”

Ethan clenched his jaw. “I really hate that I can’t insist on it. I should be able to enforce the new building codes,” he said, shaking his head.

The building had been constructed in the sixties and the standard codes at the time hadn’t required a sprinkler or ventilation system for the permit. Unless upgrades were done, the fire department couldn’t apply the new codes so that the shop failed the inspection. “Look, I promise to check the sprinkler thing out myself, okay?”

“Promise?” he asked.

“I just did,” she said as he disappeared through the swinging door toward the bays in the back of the shop.

The bell chimed again and Bailey was surprised to see Victoria coming through the front door of the garage, wedding planner stuck under her arm and her cell phone cradled between her right ear and shoulder. Bailey waved in greeting and Victoria rolled her eyes, gesturing to the phone.

“Mrs. Dawson,” she whispered, covering the speaker with her left hand.

Bailey nodded her understanding. Victoria and Darlene were more acquaintances than friends. As the head of the social committee in town, Luke’s mother was sure to be very hands-on with the wedding preparations. She suspected Victoria had very little to say about her wedding, between Mrs. Dawson and her own mother weighing in on each decision. Grabbing a box of motor oil, Bailey stocked the metal racks along the wall, listening to one side of the conversation.

“Yes, Darlene, that’s fine. If you think the pale pink Gerbera daisies work better in the bridesmaids’ bouquets instead of the dark fuchsia ones, please go ahead and make the switch, as long as Pearl is okay with it...No, I’m not sure what Luke’s favorite flower is....”

Bailey hid a smile. Luke, local architect and business owner, didn’t strike her as a man who would have a favorite flower.

“Okay, thanks, Darlene. I appreciate your help.” The words sounded forcibly polite even to Bailey’s ears.

Victoria disconnected the call and shook the phone. “Wow!” she said as she approached. “Forty-three minutes of that, just to decide between two shades of pink.... I’ll be happy once this wedding part is over and the house renovations are done.” She let out a deep breath. “Sorry, I’m through venting. Hi, Bailey.” Her shoulders visibly relaxed and her smile was now genuine.

“What brings you by?” Outside, Luke’s new Ford F250 sat parked on an angle, taking up two stalls. Victoria wasn’t the best driver in town. Twelve years living in New York City hadn’t provided her with much driving experience. “Is something wrong with the truck?”

“Besides the fact that it’s huge and I can’t park it? No, it runs like a dream. I really wish Luke would drive it when he travels for work,” she said. “You have to stop fixing the old one so well.”

“I’ll try.” Luke’s other truck was at least thirty years old and Bailey knew he kept it for sentimental reasons, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it in running condition. “Believe me, I’ve told him a million times that the truck won’t last forever.”

“One can only hope. Anyway, I’m actually here because I need your help with something else.”

“Okay,” Bailey said, reaching into the box for the last two bottles of oil, and aligning them on the shelf. She broke down the carton and tossed it onto the stack of other stock boxes near the door, scanning the shop for Nick. Nowhere to be found—how unusual. Biting back the annoyance she felt at his relaxed work ethic, she asked, “What can I do for you?”

“I need you to be a bridesmaid in the wedding.”

Bailey’s mouth gaped. “I’m sorry, what?” She couldn’t have heard right.

“My cousin Adele was supposed to be back from her mission trip to South Africa in time for the wedding, but her grant from the university was extended until the end of September. The dress was made to fit her and, well...you’re just the right size. If I have to ask my mom to make a new one or even alter that one, she’s going to kill me.”

Bailey stared at the bride-to-be, a good excuse eluding her. The last thing she wanted was to be in a wedding party and stand in front of the whole community in a dress...holding a bouquet of flowers. She’d be forced to wear makeup and do her hair...and be in the photos. The mere thought made it difficult to breathe. She remained silent.

Victoria looked desperate as she moved closer. “I know it’s a lot to ask and it’s really short notice, but please.”

“Wouldn’t you rather a family member or a close friend? What about your friend Heather from New York? She looks tiny in those photos you have on Facebook of the two of you.”

Victoria shook her head. “Weddings are not exactly Heather’s thing. If she wasn’t such a close friend, she’d never even have agreed to attend, and her work schedule at Clarke and Johnson is busy—the way mine used to be—so I can’t rely on her. Besides, Luke has always thought of you as another sister. I know he’d be thrilled if you agreed to do it.”

Bailey hated to disappoint Victoria and Luke, but weddings weren’t exactly her thing, either. They always made her sad when she saw the mother of the bride looking on as her daughter said the vows. Even if she did find someone she wanted to spend her life with, her own mother wouldn’t be there to be part of the wedding, not in the physical sense, anyway. She had been hoping to skip the ceremony and just attend the reception if at all possible. “There has to be someone else.”

“Bailey, it’s either you or Lindsay, and I can’t ask her for obvious reasons....”

Bailey nodded her understanding. “She’ll try to steal Luke away at the altar. Yes, I get that, but...”

“Bailey, please. It would mean a lot to both of us.” She cocked her head to the side. “You get to keep the dress,” she said in an attempt to persuade.

“That doesn’t really sell it for me, Vic,” Bailey said with a laugh. She owned one dress, a black knee-length formal that worked for both funerals and weddings. She hesitated. “Fine, okay, I’ll be your bridesmaid, but I’ll warn you now—I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I. Don’t worry, Reverend Miller said he will walk us through everything at the rehearsal the day before. Thank you, Bailey.” Victoria looked relieved.

“Sure.”

“So I told my mom you would stop by sometime tomorrow to try on the dress...just to be sure.”

Bailey shook her head. Victoria had really assumed she would say yes. “Okay.”

“Great, thanks again, Bailey.” Her cell phone beeped with a new text message and she sighed as she read it. Turning the phone toward Bailey, she asked, “Do you know the difference between these two flowers?”

“Amaryllis and hyacinth,” she read. “I wouldn’t even have known they were types of flowers. Sorry, Vic.”

“No worries, you’ve done enough,” she said as she typed amaryllis into Google search on her cell phone.

Ethan reentered the front of the shop. “Hey, Vic. How are the wedding plans coming along? All set for the big day?”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed.

He held up his hands in defense. “Forget I asked.” Turning to Bailey, he handed her the inspection report.

She scanned it, noticing several fail marks, including the extinguisher. “Hey, I thought you were going to let the extinguisher position slide?”

“Changed my mind,” he said, placing a yellow tag on it. “Are we still on for the UFC tonight?”

“How can you switch back and forth from mean fire inspector guy to my good friend like that?” She placed her hands on her hips.

“Easy—both guys care about your safety. Eight o’clock at the fire hall?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she mumbled, tucking the report into a drawer.

Victoria watched his disappearing figure before turning to Bailey. “So are you making any progress with that one?”

“What?”

“With Ethan. Come on, don’t tell me you’re not completely in love with him. Whenever he’s around your eyes look excited and your cheeks turn red.”

“That obvious, huh?” And she thought she’d been doing a good job hiding her true feelings. “Think anyone else knows?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he knows?”

“I figure you’re safe there. He’s completely oblivious. Is he really still pining over Emily?”

“Unfortunately.” How was she supposed to make a play for a man who refused to get over his ex? “I swear, he’s making himself miserable on purpose. He still listens to her CDs in his Jeep, even though he hates country music and always complained about having to listen to it before. There are photos of them everywhere in his place....” She shook her head. It annoyed her that he didn’t seem to be making an effort to move on.

Victoria frowned. “I guess I don’t get it. Granted, I didn’t know Emily as well as the rest of you, but in the two months that I saw them together, they were always fighting. What exactly is he holding on to?”

“The past. The way they were in the beginning. The truth is, they’d been growing apart for years, and then once Emily met Greg Harrison from Play Hard Sports, that was it. Anyway, you can understand why I’m not about to put myself out there, especially since he’s always thought of me as one of the guys.” She hated that saying. So she liked to work on cars and enjoyed sporting events and beer? She was still a woman. A woman who was much better for him than Emily had ever been.

“I guess you’ll just have to open his eyes,” Victoria said.

“How?” If the bride-to-be had any suggestions, she was more than willing to try them. After over a decade of believing that the man she loved was off-limits, she’d be willing to make a play for him if she thought she actually had a chance.

“Sorry, that’s where you may have to talk to Luke. He was the one to open my eyes to the possibility of love...but I remember it had something to do with a mistletoe kiss.” She smiled, obviously lost in the memory of it.

“Well, it’s August, Victoria, and unless you know where I can find some mistletoe, I may have to come up with a different plan.”