Читать книгу The Best Man Takes A Bride - Stacy Connelly - Страница 11

Chapter Two

When Rory McClaren was five years old, she went through a princess phase. Her cousin Evie would likely say she never fully recovered from her belief in true love and happy endings and fascination with gorgeous ball gowns. Or the hidden longing to wear a tiara. On a Tuesday. Just for fun.

And while Rory had denied those longings throughout her adult life, her new position as wedding coordinator for Hillcrest House brought out every once-upon-a-time memory. She might have laughed it off when Lindsay Brookes had introduced her as a fairy godmother, but it was secretly how she viewed her job.

Of course, Rory also knew what Evie would say about that.

Coordinating weddings is a serious business, not a game of pretend. And Hillcrest House isn’t a fairy-tale castle, no matter what you thought as a kid.

Neither she nor Evie had planned on this recent stay in Clearville, but the two of them were in this together—doing all they could to keep Hillcrest House running while their aunt was going through cancer treatments. Evie, a CPA, was handling the books and the staff while Rory was taking on a guest relations role as well as event planning for the venue.

So far, Lindsay Brookes had been a dream to work with, but her wedding to Ryder Kincaid came with some extra pressure. Not only did Rory consider Lindsay a friend, the pretty businesswoman also worked for Clearville’s chamber of commerce. She was constantly promoting the small Northern California town and its businesses.

Rory wanted to prove all the brochures and promotions touting Hillcrest House as the all-inclusive wedding destination were as good as gold. The weight of responsibility pressed hard on her shoulders, but she was determined not to crumble.

She could certainly withstand a reticent best man and his shy flower girl daughter. Despite Jamison’s claims that she didn’t enjoy shopping, Hannah was gazing at the elegantly posed mannequins and racks of lacy dresses lining the walls of the small shop while her sharp-eyed father watched from close by.

With her tiny hands clasped behind her back, the little girl was clearly familiar with the phrase look but don’t touch. Under her breath, she named off the color of each dress she came across in a singsong voice, and Rory didn’t think it would take much to rid Hannah of her uncertainty in her role as a flower girl.

Her smile faded, though, when she caught sight of the storm clouds gathering in Jamison’s eyes. Something told her erasing his concerns wouldn’t be so easy.

Rory had hoped her initial impression of Ryder Kincaid’s best friend had been a rush to judgment. She’d told herself that with a good night’s sleep and a chance to relax and unwind, Jamison Porter would be a different man. A man she could handle with professional competence as she guided him through the duties of the best man from suggestions for a fun yet tasteful bachelor party to tips on a heartfelt toast.

But Jamison Porter was still every bit as intense and edgy as he had been the day before—and not a man easily handled.

It wasn’t the first time Rory had been to this shop with a reluctant man in tow. Not every couple held to the superstition that the groom shouldn’t see the bride in her gown. But none of the men had seemed so out of place as Jamison did. At over six feet, with rich chestnut hair and cool gray eyes, all rugged angles and sharp planes, he wore the tall, dark and handsome label to perfection. The airy dresses around him seemed as insubstantial in comparison as dandelion fluff, ready to disintegrate with a single puff of breath from his lips.

Not that Jamison Porter’s lips were anything Rory should be thinking about...

“So, you’re the best man,” she said, cringing at the exuberant sound of her own voice.

“That’s what Ryder tells me.”

The hint of self-deprecating humor loosened a strand in the single father’s too tightly laced personality. One that made him even more attractive than his classically handsome good looks.

But that was the last thing Rory needed. Their first meeting, as abrupt and tension filled as those moments had been, had sparked an awareness that had her thinking of the handsome single father far too often.

And just now while standing outside the bridal shop, when she asked what she’d thought to be an innocent question about his first night at Hillcrest...

The intensity in his expression served notice there was nothing innocent about Jamison Porter. Everything about the man had Rory on high alert, raw nerve endings leaving her jumpy and out of sorts. Off her game at a time when she needed to be at her best.

Evie had taken a leave of absence from her job at the accounting firm to help out their aunt, confident they would hold her position for her, and had sublet her fabulous condo in Portland.

Whereas Rory—

Rory had nothing left. She couldn’t afford not to come to Clearville. Back in LA, she had no boyfriend, no apartment, no job and a reputation left in tatters all thanks to her professional—and personal—failure.

Pushing thoughts of her short-lived interior design career aside, she focused on the most important aspects of the wedding.

“Ryder and Lindsay make such a wonderful couple. It’s amazing the way they’ve reunited after so many years, and seeing them together... Well, they’re crazy about each other.”

Jamison gave a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Crazy is one word for it.”

“And what word would you use?”

He paused for a moment, and Rory had a feeling he was searching for the least offensive description. “Sudden,” he said finally. “They just got engaged.”

“True, but they’ve known each other since high school.” Lindsay had filled Rory in on the couple’s history, how she had been a shy bookworm with a huge crush on the popular quarterback. “They went their separate ways after graduation, but from what Lindsay says, she never stopped loving Ryder.”

And while Ryder had gone on to marry another woman, Rory had no doubt he was in love with his future bride.

“She’s a wonderful person. A great mother...”

The dark clouds in Jamison’s eyes started flashing lightning and Rory’s voice trailed away as she realized that was one box she shouldn’t have opened. Unable to leave well enough alone, she couldn’t help asking, “Have you met Robbie?”

He gave a quick nod. “I have.”

“He’s a great kid.”

“One Ryder didn’t even know about until a few months ago.”

Rory sucked in a startled breath. Okay, so Jamison was breaking out the big guns to take on the elephant in the room. Fortunately, the curtain to the dressing room opened and Lindsay stepped out before he had time to reload.

Hannah’s breathless voice broke the silence that followed. “You look beautiful.”

This was the first time Rory had seen Lindsay in her wedding dress, and she couldn’t hold back a whisper of her own. “Oh, Lindsay. Hannah is right. That dress is perfect.”

Having worked on the flowers, the music and the table settings for the reception, Rory knew Lindsay had an elegant, timeless vision for the wedding, so it was no surprise her dress reflected that same taste.

The sheath-style gown was gorgeous in its simplicity; lace sleeves capped a straight column of white satin, and a hint of beadwork decorated the bodice and the lace insert that veed out into a modest train.

Lindsay gave a self-conscious laugh as she glanced at the silent member of the group. “It’s not bad luck for the best man to see the bride in her gown, is it?”

To his credit, Jamison tipped his head at Lindsay. “You make a beautiful bride.”

Lindsay blushed at the compliment, but while the words were right, Rory knew in her heart Jamison thought Ryder and Lindsay getting married was wrong.

A gentle tug on her skirt distracted Rory from the troubling thought. “Miss Rory, is it my turn to dress like a princess?”

She smiled down at Hannah. She was an adorable little girl with a riot of blond curls, big brown eyes and a shyness that tugged at Rory’s heart.

But it was the expression on Jamison’s face that had grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go. A mix of love and uncertainty that held him frozen in place, as if he, too, were bound by the look, don’t touch mantra.

“It sure is, sweetie,” Rory said, injecting a positive note into her voice though she didn’t know which of the Porters needed her encouragement more. “Miss Lindsay has a whole bunch of dresses for you to try on.” Tilting her head in the direction of the changing room, Rory asked Jamison, “Do you want...”

Looking torn between Daddy duty and a man’s typical reaction of running as far as he could from anything girlie, he said, “I, um, think I’ll wait out here.”

“What do you think, Hannah?” Rory asked when the little girl hesitated. “See, your daddy wants the princess dresses to be a surprise, so he’ll wait in that chair over there.”

Like father, like daughter. Hannah looked indecisively from her father to the curtained dressing room and back again. Finally her blond head bounced in a nod. “You wait there, Daddy, and no peeking.”

Rory wouldn’t have thought Jamison Porter could look any more uncomfortable than he had two seconds ago, but his daughter’s instructions for him not to go peeking into the women’s dressing room had a slight flush darkening his cheeks.

Rory fought to hide a smile, but judging by the narrowing of Jamison’s eyes, she didn’t succeed.

Biting the inside of her lip, she shot a stern look in his direction. “You heard the girl, Mr. Porter. No peeking.”

For a split second, their eyes met, and Rory’s smile faded as something electric and powerful passed between them. Heat flared in Jamison’s eyes, a warning beacon, and she swallowed hard. He might not have looked behind the curtain, but when it came to her attraction to him, Rory feared he saw way too much.

* * *

The jingle of metal rings cut through Jamison’s relentless pacing, and he glanced over in time to see Rory slip through the curtain.

The one his little girl had warned him not to peek behind. His faced started to heat again at the thought. Not because his own kid made him out to sound like some kind of Peeping Tom—she was only four, after all. But because of the moment that had followed.

The moment when Rory had echoed his daughter’s words and his gaze had locked on hers and there’d been nothing—nothing—in his power that could keep him from mentally pulling back that curtain and picturing Rory McClaren wearing something far less than the old-fashioned dresses she favored.

Judging by the way her eyes had widened, she’d known it.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “Is Hannah—”

“She’s fine. The seamstress is taking some measurements, and Hannah wanted me to make sure you’re still waiting for her. She was a little nervous at first, but I think she’s getting into the spirit of things. So, please...” She nodded her head at the waiting chair. “Sit down and relax.”

He all but glared at the floral-print cushions that might as well have been covered with sharp thorns. Without some outlet for his excess energy, he’d likely explode. “Relaxing doesn’t come easy to me.”

“Really?” Rory drawled.

“That obvious, is it?” He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Maintaining a single-minded focus and blocking out the world around him had been a reflex since he was a kid.

His parents’ divorce—hell, their entire marriage—had been a battlefield, his childhood collateral damage. The fights, the cold silences, the endless digs when the other wasn’t around—Jamison had hated it all.

That volatile home life had made Jamison even more determined to keep the peace in his own marriage. He’d worked hard to give Monica everything she could need, everything she could want, everything she’d asked for and more.

And none of it had been enough to make her—or their marriage—happy.

Monica had always complained about the long hours he put in. Of course, Monica had complained about so many things that work became even more of a refuge.

A sweet giggle came from behind the curtain, and Rory murmured, “She’s a beautiful little girl.”

The innocent comment slammed through him. He needed to spend this time away from work with his daughter. He needed to find a way to reconnect, but he was at a loss to know how. And it galled him, he had to admit, how easily, how naturally Rory related to Hannah when for him it was all such a struggle.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly, wishing he could take more credit for the amazing little person Hannah was. But she even looked like Monica, a tiny carbon copy of his blond-haired, doe-eyed wife.

“She’ll make an adorable flower girl,” Rory said.

“I’m sure she will,” Jamison said. “I’m just not sure about this whole wedding thing.”

Rory cocked a questioning eyebrow. “The whole wedding?” she asked.

“Hannah’s role in it,” he amended, knowing he’d already said too much.

“I can see how she’d be nervous, walking down the aisle in front of all those people. But you’ll be standing at Ryder’s side, so all she has to do is keep her eyes on you, knowing you’ll be watching her the whole way, and she’ll do fine.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“I have faith,” she said lightly.

Of course she did. The Hillcrest wedding coordinator had faith, hope and light shining out of her. “Still, it’s a lot of pressure to put on a little kid.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about Hannah. My faith is in you.”

“In me?” Jamison echoed. “Why would you—” why would anyone “—put your faith in me?”

“Because I see the trust Hannah has in you. All you have to do is show her you’ll be there for her, and she’ll find the courage and confidence to move forward all on her own.”

All you have to do is be there for her. Little did Rory know how seldom he’d been there for Hannah during her short life. First because of how hard he’d been working, and then because of Monica... But now he, as Hannah’s only parent, was responsible for her health and happiness.

The weight of that responsibility pressed on Jamison’s chest until he struggled to breathe. And he couldn’t help wondering if his in-laws were right and if they weren’t so much better equipped to raise Hannah...

“Ever think maybe you put too much faith in people?” he asked Rory, his voice rougher than necessary and so out of place in this shop filled with feminine softness.

“Sometimes,” she admitted, surprising him with the candid answer. “And sometimes they let me down.”

“Rory—” A hint of sadness clouded her beautiful features. And that restless energy inside him changed into an urge to close the distance between them, to pull her into his arms and wipe the lingering shadows from her blue eyes...

“Daddy, look!” His daughter’s excited voice broke the moment, saving him from making a huge mistake, as she popped out from the dressing room. “It’s a real princess dress! Just for me.”

She giggled as she spun in a circle, the cream-colored lacy skirt flaring out around her tiny legs and glittery sneakers. The happy sound only magnified the ache, the guilt, pressing down on his chest. When was the last time he’d heard Hannah laugh?

“Just for you, Hannah,” he vowed.

From now on, everything was just for his daughter.

Because if there was one thing he’d already done far too many times, it was let the females in his life down.

So despite the attraction, despite the knowing, tender look in the wedding coordinator’s gaze, Jamison was going to keep his distance.