ANNIE HAD GIVEN her toast to the bride before dinner and now she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed and—yes, she could say it—so happy. The food was wonderful. She had offered to do the catering herself but Emily and Jack graciously declined, insisting they wanted her to enjoy the wedding, not work at it. She was more than grateful they had.
The tables had been draped with white linen and set with silver-rimmed white china and silver flatware and elegant stemware provided by the caterers. Emily wanted some fall color so Annie had helped her make the centerpieces—shallow white vases filled with bunches of yellow and orange and gold chrysanthemums, and decorated with blue satin ribbon that matched the bridesmaids’ dresses.
She and Paul were seated next to one another at the head table, and she now appreciated CJ for stepping aside as maid of honor and insisting Annie take on the role instead. Her meddlesome sisters were being matchmakers, no question about it. This morning they had come up with reasons to excuse themselves from setup, which had left her to work with Paul and Fred. Given that Fred had kept making himself scarce, he had obviously been in on the plan. If Paul noticed, he was either too polite or too mortified to say anything.
Tonight, he was being attentive, charming, polite. “More water?”
“I’d love some.”
He tipped the pitcher and filled her glass. “I’ve been following your Ask Annie posts on Emily’s blog. They’re good. Really good.”
“So you expect me to believe Paul Woodward, the dedicated doctor, is interested in chickens?” she asked. “And eggs?”
His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I am now. If I wasn’t being a best man this weekend, I’d be home building a chicken coop.”
“Now you’re making fun of me.”
“The dedicated doctor is guilty as charged.”
“Touché. Seriously, though, I know how busy you are at the clinic and at home with your dad, so I’m surprised you’d find time to read Ask Annie.”
He gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Apparently I’m not alone. There were forty-seven comments on your story about the chickens.”
“I know.” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “It’s unbelievable. People I don’t even know, people from places I’ve never been, like Eugene and Sarasota, were saying how much they liked my photographs and the stories about my silly chickens.”
“The photographs are good, Annie. Really professional.”
“That’s not possible. I’m not a photographer. I’ve never owned a camera until Emily gave me hers.”
“Then you’re a natural with an eye for color and composition.”
She felt herself blushing. “I don’t know about that, and I have no idea what I’m going to do for this week’s column. I’ve been so busy with the wedding.”
“I think you just found your answer. You were taking pictures while we were setting up this morning. I bet you’ll find a few gems in there.”
“From chickens to weddings?” she asked. “Won’t that seem strange?”
“Small-town living is the theme of Emily’s blog, right? That covers a lot of territory.”
He was right. That’s exactly what she would do, and of course Emily’s fans would love to see photographs of her wedding. With that settled, she should probably take a few photographs now that the reception was in full swing. “Excuse me for a few minutes?” she asked. “I’m going to dash inside and get my camera.”
He stood, always the gentleman, and helped her to her feet, holding her hand a beat longer than necessary. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”
She hurried into the house, brushing the tips of her fingers over the back of the hand he had held, hoping dinner would be over soon. Traditionally, the maid of honor’s first dance was with the best man. She couldn’t wait for the music to start.
In the kitchen, she pulled the camera from the desk drawer where she kept her laptop, address book and calendar for the B&B. She turned on the camera and quickly scrolled through the photographs she’d taken while she and Paul and Fred had arranged tables and chairs inside the tent. She had captured some nice close-up images of the flowers and the elegant place settings but, to her chagrin, Paul was in most—no, make that all of the wide-angle photographs. Fred had made it into only one.
Her face felt flushed. Was she really so focused on her husband’s best friend that she had unconsciously pointed the camera at him every time she’d snapped a picture? The truth was…she didn’t know what the truth was. She still loved Eric. Yes, she was angry with him for not taking better care of himself, for leaving her alone, but she missed him like crazy.
Paul had been his friend, but he was rapidly becoming her best friend, too. A closer friend than they’d been during and after high school. She enjoyed his company. He made it okay for her to share stories about Eric, to admit to being overprotective with Isaac. He made it okay to laugh again. But if she was being honest with herself, she loved the way he made her feel cared for, admired and capable of accomplishing things she never would have tried on her own. Emily had her own reasons for wanting her to write the Ask Annie column on her blog, but Paul simply believed in her.
She turned off the camera and returned to the reception as the emcee, Logan Kane, stood and welcomed everyone. He was a friend of the groom’s, a detective with the Chicago PD as Jack himself had once been. He was every bit as tall and good-looking as the groom, with the same confident stance all police officers seemed to possess.
“Good evening. Emily and Jack hope you enjoyed the meal—I know I certainly did—but now they think it’s time to get this party started. Before we do, the bride and groom are going to cut the cake, but I think there’s another matter we need to attend to.” He picked up his dinner knife and tapped the edge of his glass several times. Most of the guests enthusiastically joined in.
Annie watched her sister and her new brother-in-law share an intimate smile, then Jack stood, drew Emily to her feet, put his arms around her waist. She wound hers around his neck, and then he gave her a long, deliberate kiss.
Annie’s gaze involuntarily swept the space and found Paul. He was watching her, his gaze so intense that even from a distance, her skin warmed and her heart fluttered. Amid the applause for the bride and groom, she made her way to her seat next to Paul. There would be no kissing in her foreseeable future but tonight she would dance.
* * *
THE BRIDE AND groom waltzed across the small dance floor to the melody of an Etta James classic. And while Jack’s lonely days were over, Paul wasn’t so sure that would ever be the case for him. He also sensed Annie was expecting him to invite her onto the dance floor. He had a different idea.
He stood and offered his hand. “Take a walk with me?”
“Oh.” If she was disappointed, she quickly recovered. “Sure. I’d like that. A stroll by the river is always nice on an evening like this.”
Perfect. The river walk ended at the gazebo, which was the destination he’d had in mind all along. He could see it from the sweeping lawn in front of the house, where the huge tent and makeshift dance floor had been set up, its outline strung with tiny white lights, beckoning.
Annie accepted his hand and he helped her to her feet. The air had cooled after the sun had set, so he pulled her shawl off the back of her chair and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“The bridesmaids’ dresses are an amazing color,” he said. “The three of you look great.”
“Thanks. Emily picked out the dresses for us and I love that she chose a different style for each of us. I wasn’t sure about this shade of blue, but she insisted. She wanted something that would stand out against the fall foliage, and Jack’s favorite color is blue.”
“Blue is every guy’s favorite color,” he said.
“Noted,” she said, laughing.
Noted. He wondered what she meant, but didn’t ask. “The ceremony was nice,” he said instead. “Simple, traditional, not too long.”
“And this was the perfect place for it, here in the gazebo. So many memories.”
He wondered if she was thinking about the night her husband had proposed to her here, but her thoughts seemed to have taken a different track.
“My sisters and I used to play down here. We’d pretend the gazebo was a fort, a castle, a church, even a spaceship, and we would spend afternoons playacting one dramatic scene or another. Emily was usually the one to dream them up—she always had such a wild imagination. When Fred was old enough to ride his bike out from town, we co-opted him into being the groom for our wedding skits. At one time or another he was married to all three of us.”
Lucky guy, Paul thought. He’d settle for one Finnegan sister. “And now Fred seems to have a thing for Rose,” he said.
“I’ve noticed. I’m not sure she has, though.”
“I spoke with her earlier,” he said. “Asked her how she’s settling into life in Riverton. She had just stopped at the bar to have her gin and tonic refilled. She seemed a little tipsy.”
“CJ mentioned that as well. I hadn’t noticed.”
“Did she drive out here?” he asked.
“She did. If she doesn’t want to spend the night with us, I’ll make sure she gets a ride back into town.”
“I’ll be happy to take her.”
“That’s sweet of you. I’ll check with her when we get back to the party and let you know.”
Right now Paul was in no hurry to get back to the reception.
As they approached the gazebo, Annie stopped and looked up at it. “It’s so pretty with all these lights. With the ceremony being in the afternoon, I wasn’t sure why Emily wanted them. Now I know.” She reached for his hand. “Let’s go inside and sit.”
He hadn’t anticipated her touch and it literally took his breath away. He walked with her up the steps and they sat together on the circular bench lining the perimeter, facing the farmhouse on the hill. Light filtered through its curtained windows. The big white tent on the lawn was aglow with soft lights and laughter. The dance floor was alive with swirling couples. They could hear the music from here—Frank Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon,” the song he had asked the DJ to add to his playlist. Paul stood and reached for her. “Dance with me?”
Annie drifted into his arms, placed one hand in his, the other on his shoulder. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to dance with me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because when the music started, you asked me to go for a walk instead.”
“And yet here we are,” he said softly against her hair. Here we are.
For the first few steps, she felt stiff and uncomfortable and he held her awkwardly. Gradually, they both relaxed and found an easy rhythm that didn’t involve anyone’s toes being stepped on. Part way through the song he heard her sigh, sensed she might even have closed her eyes. He eased her a little closer and she didn’t resist. By the closing chorus, her cheek had touched his shoulder and his rested on the top of her head. He held her even after the song ended, and she let him. Neither of them spoke and, for once, he felt words were not necessary. After that first awkward, accidental kiss, she had said she needed a friend but she wasn’t ready for anything more. He had accepted that and agreed it would be best for things to stay as they were. He would have agreed to anything if meant he could keep seeing her. But standing here with her in his arms, this was more than friends. This was a turning point in their relationship. He needed to move carefully, he knew that, but he also knew he needed to make a move. It was now or never.
He shifted his weight and she responded by leaning away a little and looking up at him.
“We should probably get back before we’re missed,” she said.
“There’s just one thing,” he replied.
“What’s that?”
“This.”
He took his time lowering his mouth to hers. The accidental kiss a few weeks ago had caught them both off guard and come dangerously close to interfering with their friendship. This time he didn’t want there to be any question that he wanted to be more than a friend. Her lashes fluttered but she didn’t back away.
The instant their lips met and held, and when she slipped her arms around his neck, he decided she’d been worth waiting for. Finally kissing Annie for real and on purpose was heaven. Having her kiss him in return was a miracle. He knew this—whatever this was—wasn’t going to go any further tonight, and probably not for many nights to come. For this night, though, it was enough and he didn’t want it to end.
Annie had other ideas.
“Paul,” she said, part gasping for breath and part whisper. “What is this?”
“This…” He touched his lips to hers, lightly, one last time. “This is what I’d call an incredible first kiss.”
She gave him a quizzical look.
“In fact…” He smiled down at her. “As first kisses go, on a scale of one to ten, that was an eleven.”
“You kissed me once before,” she reminded him.
“Not intentionally,” he said. “And you didn’t kiss me back. This time, you did.”
“And that makes it a first kiss?”
“It’s a first for us.”
She unwound her arms from his neck, rested her hands on his chest and her cheek on his shoulder. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
He closed his eyes, forced himself to breathe. “Do what?”
“This—us. You’re Eric’s best friend. It’s only been six months since…since he’s been gone. What will people say?”
Paul could well imagine what people would say and he couldn’t care less, but this wasn’t about him. If Annie was willing, he could wait. “Those people don’t need to know. No one needs to know right now, unless you want them to know.”
“My sisters will figure it out.”
“Are you worried about what your sisters will think?”
The question actually made her laugh. “No. They already think you’re…well, they adore you. No worries there.”
He thought they might be on his side and he liked having that confirmed. “Your dad?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Isaac?”
“He’s crazy about you.”
Paul was tempted to ask if she worried what Eric would think, but he didn’t want to hear the answer. Paul wished he could tell her no one else mattered, but he would have been wrong. Annie mattered more than anyone else, and she believed this wasn’t the right time for them to be a couple. And that meant only one thing. He would wait. She had let him kiss her and she had kissed him back. Something he had long desired and yet believed would never happen. Well, he was a patient man and he would wait until she was ready, because if this could happen, anything could happen.
He picked up her shawl, which had slid off onto the bench when they stood to dance, and settled it around her shoulders, then tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Ready to go back to the party?”
“I’m ready.”
He cautioned himself about reading too much in to those two simple words while at the same time thinking he was beyond ready.
* * *
THOMAS ROLLED HIS chair onto the dance floor with his middle daughter at his side. At the DJ’s request, the guests had cleared the floor for the father-daughter dance. At Annie’s wedding, he had surprised her with both the dance and his song choice. There was no surprising Emily. She had her heart set on the same song and she had insisted on rehearsing ahead of time.
Now, as the opening notes of “Thank Heaven for Little Girls” floated through the air, she swept into as deep a curtsy as her expanding midsection would allow before putting her hand in his and following his lead across the floor. She was as light on her feet as he was on his wheels, and as they glided and swirled, as he raised his arm and she twirled beneath it, and as he spun under hers, the crowd around them clapped and cheered.
The song ended and Emily gave him a curious look after she leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.
“Are those tears?” she asked.
He nodded. “Happy ones. Thank you for the dance, sweetie. It’s been quite a day, and Jack is a good man.”
“I know he is, and he’s going to be a great father, just like you.”
“He’s a lucky man, too. He’s getting one of my girls.”
Emily planted another kiss on his cheek. “I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, too, Em. And I know you’ll be happy.”
As Jack approached to reclaim his wife, Thomas scanned the crowd, searching for Libby. He found her sitting alone. She had brought her mother to the ceremony because Mable was very fond of Emily. Afterward, Libby had driven Mable home because attending the reception would have been too much for the elderly woman. Now Libby was watching him with his daughter, smiling and dabbing the corners of her eyes with a napkin. More happy tears, he hoped.
One thing was certain. Libby looked amazing, like she could have walked off the page of one of those fashion magazines his daughters were so fond of. He had heard Annie and CJ gushing over Libby’s dress when she’d arrived. He didn’t remember the designer’s name, but apparently the full skirt, narrow belted waist and bold floral print on a pastel background were said designer’s signature. He’d also forgotten the name of this particular shade of pastel, but it looked light blue to him. Her classy elegance made her a standout, and at the same time she fit right in.
He closed the space between them and wheeled himself into the space next to her chair.
“Oh, Thomas. That was so touching. The song choice, the way you and Emily were in perfect step with one another, the love…” Again, the napkin fluttered up to touch her eyes.
“Didn’t I tell you I cut a pretty mean rug?”
“You did, and you do. I’m impressed.”
He reached for her hand. “Impressed enough to take a spin out there with me?”
“Oh. Oh, I don’t know. I’m not a very good dancer.”
“Doesn’t matter. This is a wedding, not Dancing with the Stars. You’re supposed to have fun. Besides, everyone knows someone’s going to start doing the chicken dance, and that’s never pretty.”
Libby’s smile brightened her whole face. “Yes, that is so true.”
He leaned closer. “And I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said in a stage whisper. “When you’re dancing with a guy in a wheelchair, folks mostly notice he’s not really dancing, and that makes you look like a pro.”
Her easy laugh made him want to coax more of them out of her. She was beautiful when she smiled but her laughter made her glow. Based on the few things she had let slip about her marriage, he suspected there hadn’t been a lot of levity. He’d like to change that, he decided, and doing the jive with a man on wheels sounded to him like a great place to start.
“Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?”
She lowered her lashes and shook her head.
“Well, you do. Your dress is really something.”
“Thank you.”
“I have a question for you, though.”
“Oh?” She looked up, startled. “What kind of question?”
“I’ve been wracking my brain for a memory of you back in high school. How could I have spent four years in the same building with someone as gorgeous as you are and not remember anything about you?”
“That’s easy,” she said without hesitation, her gaze unwavering as it met his. “I was invisible.”
“Not possible.”
“Oh, but I’m afraid it was. I was an honor roll student and the English teacher’s daughter. Queen of the geeks, or at least I might have been if I’d had any other geeky friends to hang out with. Since I didn’t, I was a bit of a loner. Oh, and everything I wore was brown. When you’re a teenage girl and you want to disappear, brown makes you invisible.”
Were teenage boys really so dense they only noticed the girls who went out of their way to make themselves noticed? In a word, yes.
“Then I hope you never wear brown again. And now I’m going to swing by the DJ’s booth and make a request. Meet me on the dance floor?”
“Oh.” She folded her napkin and pressed it into a neat square. “What are you going to request?”
“Let me surprise you.”