Nick wiped away the condensation that had formed on his brown beer bottle in the muggy summer heat. Above him, the Tiki Hut’s freshly thatched roof provided much-needed shade. He checked his watch. Polly was officially five minutes late.
Had she grown up to become one of those so-called fashionably late women who would leave him waiting every time they met up?
Assuming they met up again—which was becoming less and less likely the longer she kept him waiting. He was patient, but he wasn’t going to be a doormat to a diva who engaged in petty power struggles, even if that diva happened to be his old friend Polly.
Six minutes late.
Nick spun on his stool to check over his shoulder. No Polly moving across the sand, her lovely rounded hips swaying with a rhythm he wanted to learn. He dragged a hand over his shaved chin and turned back to his beer, classic rock droning out of the speakers above him.
She’d probably come to her senses and realized that reminiscing about the good old days was never worth the time. He pushed back from the bar, not quite standing. Spending his extra days before the wedding moving from ranch to ranch until he found a job would have served him better than sitting here.
Or better yet, he should have gone back to Roy, hat in hand, and apologized for taking his uncle’s generosity for granted for so many years. He should have helped relieve Roy’s burdens rather than added to them with his cavalier attitude. Nick wasn’t the worst employee, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever given the impression that if it came to thick and thin he’d be there, ensuring everything went the way Roy needed it to. Heck, he’d been so self-absorbed he hadn’t even noticed that his uncle and Maria were on the rocks until they’d separated eight months ago. He hadn’t noticed that Roy was serious about Sophia until he’d been handed the wedding invitation last month.
Roy had been correct when he’d told Nick he needed to look outside himself.
A cool hand rested on his shoulder and warm lips brushed his cheek before he had time to react. Shivers rained down his spine like the small waterfall outside Sweetheart Creek as Polly took the stool beside him.
She’d changed into a pale pink tank top and a flirty little skirt that showed off her toned legs. She was wearing flip-flops, and her nails were painted the same shade as her shirt. Was that why she was late—nail polish? Didn’t she know he was the kind of man who wanted the woman and not the polish?
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, huffing lightly, as if she’d been power walking. “I got turned around and went clear to the wrong end of the resort before I realized my mistake. Did you know they still have bonfire pits on the beach?”
“I should have known you were lost,” Nick said with a chuckle, his mind still stuck on her coordinating top and polish. “You were never good with directions.”
“And do you still have your impeccable, ingrained cowboy compass?”
“Yup.”
“Quick! Which way’s north?”
He raised a brow questioningly.
“Okay, fine,” she said, with a laugh that reached her eyes. “I wouldn’t know if you were right or not.” She leaned toward him, pressing her palm against his bare arm before pushing off again.
He cleared his throat and nodded toward the Atlantic. “With the ocean there you know north’s gotta be that way.” He tipped his head toward Charleston, which wasn’t a particularly long drive away. At least by rural Texas standards.
Polly gave him an impish smile that made him feel as though he’d been granted access to a secret club. To prevent himself from acting on the way her touch made him feel, he flagged down the bartender, Kelso. He nearly ordered Polly’s childhood favorite, an ice-cold root beer, before she interrupted to order a vodka martini.
Nick winced, and she immediately snapped out a defensive, “What?”
“Why don’t you just order a can of paint thinner?”
How had she changed this much? She’d once found his love of Sprite to be boring and lacking in adventure, and he’d found her love of root beer immature. Sweetly so, although he’d never admitted it to her face. And now she was drinking high octane cocktails.
Her eyebrows were somewhere around Mars and her cheeks had pinked.
She’d forgotten their game where they’d mock each other’s drinks.
“Are you judging my martini?” she asked.
“I haven’t changed in that regard,” he said, starting to think that meeting up hadn’t been such a smart idea. Then again, he could finally discard her from the what-if thoughts that followed him across the pastures back in Texas.
Her eyes narrowed. “Judgment from the cowboy drinking his stereotypical beer. Shall we put up a memorial for creativity and spontaneity?”
He scoffed and ordered a second, trying to hide his smile. She did recall the game, after all.
Kelso passed him a new bottle and Nick held up the local craft beer, turning the label toward Polly. “For the record, this is creative.”
She was still giving him that narrow-eyed look. “I bet you buy your clothes in the same store you buy your dog food and cattle tags.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes in a way that turned up both the heat inside him and his frustration over the push-pull attraction muddling his thoughts.
“So what if I do?” he retorted. “Your drink says you’re looking to get sloppy.”
She appeared so affronted he laughed.
“My drink says I’m sophisticated,” she said haughtily.
“Okay.”
“It does,” she insisted. Her lips disappeared as she sucked them between her teeth.
“I didn’t expect you to be drinking something so strong. I expected…” That she hadn’t grown up? That she wouldn’t develop a slightly jaded, defensive edge like everyone else? “…something with an umbrella.”
“Umbrella drinks are a bit too girlie for me.”
“Says the woman whose shirt matches her nail polish.” He took a closer look, noticing the polish was chipped. She hadn’t applied the shade recently, making her maybe not so high maintenance, after all.
The idea shouldn’t delight him nearly as much as it did.
Polly glanced down at her top, then held her left hand out in front of her, her head jerking in surprise. “Oh,” she said softly, her lips curving into a pleased smile.
“What do you drink at home?” he asked.
“Wine. Usually.”
“But a martini today because…flights suck?” He was probing, curious to find out more about who she was currently and how much of that old Polly was still in existence.
“Nope. It was good.”
“Your boyfriend said no to the trip, and now you have all this new lingerie with nobody to model it for?” He held his breath, hoping that she was indeed fully single. Not that it mattered to him—he was just looking to make her smile again.
“Ha,” she said flatly, her martini glass paused in front of her lips.
“It’s that bad, hanging out with me, then?”
A small giggle escaped against the rim. For a moment he saw that vibrant spark of youthfulness and life he’d expected to see sooner, and it nearly took his breath away. There was no hint of that sad, uncertain glimmer he’d seen earlier, meaning it was entirely possible to chase it away.
“You’re funny.” Polly bumped his shoulder with her own and he relaxed, knowing everything was good, everything was cool. At her core, she was still the friend he knew.
“I’ve missed picking on you,” he said.
“You’re nowhere close to picking on me.”
But he was close. She wasn’t as tough as she used to be. It was as though she was a book that had been dropped too many times, the edges softened and the cover not quite as sturdy as it had once been, not quite as able to protect the vulnerable pages inside. There was also the small fact that he was a little harsher, a little more jaded than he’d once been, too.
“What are you thinking?” Polly asked.
“I’m wondering how long you’re going to stick around once that drink is done.” He swiveled on his stool to face her more fully. There was a guy one stool over who kept casting surreptitious glances at Polly’s figure. Nick could tell he wanted to chat her up if given the chance.
Without thinking, Nick found himself subtly scooting his stool closer to Polly’s.
“You have a hot date waiting for you?” she asked, pulling her small handbag into her lap as she leaned forward to take another swallow of her drink.
“Five, actually. So if you could hurry it up…”
Polly sat expressionless for a split second before whispering, “Liar.” Her eyes were twinkling with humor. She was trying to act unaffected, but he could see she wanted to laugh, to let her guard down and play.
Why didn’t she?
They sat in silence for a few beats, the ocean washing the shores and filling the air with a soundtrack that made his entire being relax.
“So you’re single?” he asked, immediately wishing he hadn’t.
She was quiet for half a breath, then pushed back her shoulders, saying, “Let’s not talk about the past.”
“Not even about what a good kisser I am?”
“I’m not in the market for a man, and if you’re offering, I’ll bet your skills have likely atrophied.” She lowered her chin, looking at him from beneath her eyelashes with a hint of primness that made his body awaken and want to join the game—any game as long as it was with her. “And if you recall…you’re just not that memorable.”
Her insult was delivered in a playful, low tone that felt far too sensual. Or maybe it was how she’d said the words slowly, her pink lips carefully forming each one in a way that hit him with a powerful twist of longing. Polly was everything he wanted in a woman.
He leaned closer. “And why do you think my abilities may have faded?”
“Your social skills are lacking, as is your charm. So chances are you’re not kissing anyone, and those abilities are similar to second-language skills—use ’em or lose ’em.”
She was sitting up now, her body language as perky as her ponytail. He wanted to reach over and give it an affectionate tug to see if she’d turn his way again. She took another sip of her drink, as though trying to fortify herself. Or maybe shield herself from something. Maybe him.
“Do you want to help me revive those old skills?” he asked, propping his arms on the bar so he could lean closer to her. “See if they can be resuscitated?”
She allowed a flicker of a wry smile, but didn’t change the direction of her gaze.
“How about this?” He leaned even closer, placing a warm kiss on her cheek that lingered a telling second too long.
She inhaled slowly, but didn’t face him, didn’t say a thing.
“Was that passable? Does it need reviving? More practice?” He lowered his voice. “Better aim?”
He was asking for trouble. He truly was, and despite that knowledge, he couldn’t pull back on the reins. He didn’t want to.
“Cowboys don’t do cheek kisses.”
“I did.”
She turned to him, her expression curious. “Why?”
He knew she wasn’t asking why he, a cowboy, had cheek kissed her. She wanted to know why he’d made that move, and why he was flirting and pushing against the line.
He lifted one shoulder and tipped his head thoughtfully. “Women find cowboys sexy.”
“I’m sure many of them do.” Her long fingers played with the stem of her glass.
“But you don’t?”
“I like them just fine. Horses, too.”
“But?”
By not replying, she was baiting him. He could feel it. And like a moth drawn to a porch light, he was unable to resist being pulled in.
She finally turned to him, and the glimmer in her eyes was neither challenge nor amusement. It was something else. Something born of determination, as though she was wrangling with something personal and private.
She slid off her stool. “Thank you for the drink. It was lovely to see you again. I’ll see you at the wedding on Saturday.”
“Whoa! Wait, wait. Was it something I said?” Nick’s brows were pinched together and he had one large hand resting on her bare forearm as though trying to prevent her from sprinting away.
He wasn’t that far off. If she kept bantering and flirting, as well as letting him touch her or kiss her cheek a little too long, she’d surely end up spending the week with him instead of with her fix-your-messed-up-life books.
“I’m sorry. Jet lag.”
“You’re in the same time zone.” He was watching her with concern. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”
Polly’s need to run waned. He was genuine, worried he’d pushed his flirting too far. But she also knew he had that ability to convince her to go his way even when it wasn’t always in her best interests.
She pushed her bangs off her forehead and, still standing, rested her elbows on the tall, slightly gritty bar, debating her next move. She stared at the bottles lined up and ready in the middle of the Tiki Hut’s inner sanctum, where two bartenders moved in tandem, serving customers. To her right a surfer laughed loudly.
“I’m… I’m…” She shifted to face Nick more fully, struggling for words that wouldn’t hurt his feelings, but also wouldn’t give him the wrong idea. One that would let her off the hook to go do her own thing for the week instead of getting sucked into his orbit.
Nick’s cell phone started ringing, but he didn’t even flinch, his focus solely on her. That was new. He’d been a good listener as a teen, but distractible, and his intensity now was unnerving.
His phone continued to play what sounded like a parody of a famous country-and-western song. Dolly Parton?
“Are you going to get that?” she asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re talking to me.” The phone fell silent and he smiled. “Now what were you saying?”
“Nothing vital.”
Nick waited for her to give in, but his cell began to ring again.
“It must be important,” she said.
“Family first,” he said quietly.
“I’m not family.”
“Right here, right now, you are.”
Polly hated the way her heart betrayed her by softening. A lot. It wanted to let him in despite how that would undoubtedly throw her off track.
When Nick didn’t pick up his phone, she made a grab for it even though it was in his shorts pocket and beyond her reach. “You need to answer that.”
He retrieved the device, keeping one eye on Polly. He darted a glance at the screen and frowned, a mix of emotions clouding his expression.
“Well?” She reached for it again, but Nick connected the call, slowly moving the phone to his right ear.
“Nick here,” he said, his voice deep and slightly cool. He let out a series of murmurs of understanding before he closed his eyes and sighed. “Me? Why?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now?”
“What? What is it?” Polly asked as she edged back onto the stool she’d abandoned earlier. It didn’t seem like an emergency, more like an inconvenience. An interruption. An ex, maybe? “Who is it?”
“Hang on a second. I’m having a drink with Polly Morgan. She wants to know what’s going on.” He paused, listening, then lifted his chin to say to Polly, “Roy says hi.”
“Hi! Is he here already?”
Nick shook his head. “Later in the week.” He said into the phone, “She says hi.” He returned his attention to Polly again. “The wedding planner broke contract and ditched.”
“No!” she gasped. It was only five days until the wedding—and that included what was left of today, as well as the actual wedding day. In other words, three days to find a way to pull up on this matrimonial nosedive. Not easy. Not in the middle of the wedding season.
“There’s a wedding coordinator here at the resort,” Nick said. “Zoe Ward—”
“I think she checked me in.”
“—came recommended by my cousin Alexa McTavish. She worked with her on a Christmas wedding for her old boss, Luke Cohen.”
“And? Can she help?” Polly asked.
“Roy’s talked to her, with no luck. He’s hoping I’ll go schmooze her into it, since he can’t convince anyone in Charleston to take this on. It’s the wedding season, apparently.” His voice got a little louder as, obviously hoping his uncle would hear how unimpressed he was with the idea, he added, “He hasn’t had any luck over the phone, but thinks my good looks will be able to persuade the unsuspecting, hapless victim.” There was a firmness to the set of Nick’s jaw that hadn’t been there earlier. Wait. His jaw. It was smooth. He’d shaved for her. Aw, that was so sweet. And somehow just as sexy as the stubble had been.
Nick was watching her, as though expecting her to provide him with an excuse not to help.
“You have to,” Polly insisted. Otherwise how would there be a wedding?
Nick returned his attention to the phone. “Roy, I know nothing about weddings.” He was silent, his grip tight on his empty beer bottle as his uncle talked.
“You don’t have to know anything to ask,” Polly urged. “Be helpful.”
“I’m being used for my body,” he grumbled to her.
She held his gaze and his shoulders drooped. “Fine,” he said into the phone. “I’ll ask Zoe. But that’s all I’m doing.” He shook his head as he listened some more. The tension coming off the man was impressive. “Right now?” The disbelief and surprise in his tone made Polly chuckle.
Another shake of his head and another “fine,” before he ended the call. “Looks like I have to unleash the charm. Immediately.”
Polly tried to hide her amusement over how put out he looked. “Have fun with that.” She swung her knees back under the bar. She still had a sip or two left in her drink and didn’t plan on wasting it.
“You’re not coming with me?”
“Nope.”
“Will you be here when I come back?”
She wrinkled her nose in thought. “Probably not. I need to go wash my hair.”
She giggled at his surly scowl, but he grabbed her hand, pulling her off the stool as she downed the last gulp of her martini. “Your hair looks fine. I need female help.”
“It’s too hot out. And charming this poor, innocent woman with me standing over your shoulder is going to cramp your style. She’s going to say no.”
“I’ll buy you an ice cream. Chocolate with chunks of good stuff in it.”
“Really?” She perked up, falling into step beside him, a bit in love with how he’d quoted her ice cream preference from earlier. She never did get as far as indulging, and it was perfect weather for a cold treat. “Do I get it before or after you fail?”
“I’m not going to fail. But more to the point, ice cream isn’t supposed to work on grown women.”
“Well, some people don’t change,” she said, even though she had in so many ways. As had Nick, most likely. He still had that heart of gold under his playful side, but he was different, too. And she was curious to find out just how much he’d changed over the years.
She’d find out as she tagged along to watch him save the day—because who could say no to a cutie like him? Then she’d head back to her cottage, mystery solved and curiosity satiated, and go about fixing her life.
“No?” Nick forced himself to remain casual, to continue leaning against Zoe’s guest services desk in the resort lobby. If he kept smiling, if he didn’t accept “no,” then maybe she would change her mind. Then he’d be able to show Roy that he was indeed someone who appreciated him and would be there for him when he needed it most.
Realizing he was still wearing his tan cowboy hat, Nick snatched it off and lowered it to his side. “I’m sure that my uncle’s bride-to-be has almost everything set up. We just need someone to liaise between the vendors and the resort.” And basically order everything Sophia wanted.
Which would be Zoe.
He tried for a bigger smile and nudged a partially eaten cinnamon bun out of his way so he could perch his left hip on the edge of her desk. “Maybe you have an assistant who could help us?”
Zoe gave him a patient, sympathetic look. “My old assistant, Hope Ryan, is now creating art full-time. The woman I hired to replace her just got scooped up by a wedding planner in Charleston last week and I’ve yet to refill the position.”
Nick plopped his hat onto his left knee. He needed to compliment Zoe. Now. Especially since he could practically hear Polly behind him—between the licks of her scoop of double chocolate from The Trixie Cone—chuckling over how he was striking out.
“That’s a nice golf shirt. A lovely blue. Can guests buy them in the gift shop?”
“They’re just for staff.” While Zoe was still polite, she was tougher than a piece of bread left out in the Texas sun.
He was definitely striking out. It was probably due to that fresh-looking wedding band on her finger.
He decided to try a new approach. “So, no assistant…”
“I understand how frustrating this is, but there’s truly nothing the resort can do. This project is just too big. I’m sorry. But to be fair, when Roy and Sophia booked the wedding they understood that the resort wouldn’t be able to help them if they chose this week. I was fully expecting to still be training Hope’s replacement, as well as volunteering for a local fundraiser in honor of the late Evan Davenport.”
“You do arrange wedding packages, though?”
“Yes.”
“And normally you could help.”
“Yes,” she repeated carefully.
“But not this week. Because you’re slammed.”
Another tight smile. She nudged a thin folder with the resort’s crest on it. He’d refused to take it earlier, as it felt akin to accepting defeat. She’d informed him it listed recommended local businesses that worked with weddings.
Not what Nick needed. He needed magic. Preferably in the form of a fairy godmother who was well versed in last-minute wedding planning, because according to Zoe, the coordinator Roy’s bride had hired hadn’t set up a single thing with the resort. Not one single thing.
The only item on record for the Saturday wedding was one of the smaller, less-ballroom-like meeting rooms, which Roy had reserved months ago. That meant all the wedding had so far was a bride and groom as well as their attire, a room to stand in, and invitations that had eager guests such as himself and Polly already arriving.
This was a mess he was going to have to patch together for Roy, seeing as Sophia had to be in Sweetheart Creek until Thursday to help her mother, who was having surgery, then assist her in making the trip out to South Carolina. It was too much for the three of them to change their pre-wedding plans to come oceanside and save the event.
It was up to Nick.
He considered the problem more fully. They were going to need food. Someone to do the official ceremony stuff, and maybe some decorations.
He smiled. That actually didn’t sound too bad.
Polly came around Nick’s side, scooping up the folder and receiving a big smile of relief from Zoe. “Let’s take this just in case,” Polly said. “Thank you for your help.”
“My number is in there, so when you’re ready to coordinate the room’s opening and closing for Saturday let me know, and I’ll make sure someone is available with a key for you. Our kitchen can also accept certain deliveries, such as the cake on the day of the event, keeping it cold for you in one of our refrigeration units.”
Nick turned from the desk and moved a few steps away with Polly, asking her, “Where do we find food?”
She opened the folder from Zoe and handed him a sheet of paper with a list of caterers.
Nick headed back to the desk, where Zoe was now talking to someone on the phone. “If the adoption approval goes through, we’ll be a family of four in that small house,” she said, then was silent for a second. “I know, but I was very clear that the gazebo must stay. Extending the house into the side yard is your only option.” She glanced at Nick and held up a finger to indicate she’d be a moment. She cleared her throat after listening for a few seconds. “If you’re having issues envisioning the work you agreed to perform, I’ll have to hire someone else. Ripping up the backyard is not an option.” She hung up with a growl, and Nick made a mental note not to push her too far. Because while slammed to him might look like a quickly setting winter sun, an impatient driver for the cattle hauler who was under deadline, and fifty head of spooked cattle tearing off into the bush, with just him and Ralph to round them all back up again, this, for Zoe, was slammed.
“Do you guys decorate the room?” he asked.
“For the wedding?” She blinked as though mentally still in the middle of her phone call. “No. Sorry.”
“Food?”
She gave a shake of her head, her frustration with him becoming obvious. “As it says in the packet, we will provide servers and dishes if your caterer doesn’t. It’s an additional cost and should be booked a minimum of a week in advance.”
Right. A buffet with paper plates it was.
Nick turned back to Polly. “So all Roy needs to marry this lady are decorations and food. Right?”
“Flowers.”
“That falls under decorations.”
“Tables and chairs?” Nick called over his shoulder to Zoe, who was tapping away at her keyboard.
“Yes. It’s all in the booklet.”
“Do the tables have those fancy frilly things?”
“Skirts?” Polly asked.
“One thing at a time.” His head might explode otherwise.
“That’s what they’re called,” she said gently.
“Yes,” Zoe said. Behind her a printer was whirling out papers. “Roy booked ten tables and eighty chairs with the room.”
“Can we see a copy of his booking details?” Polly asked.
Zoe hesitated and Nick said, “We’re not going to crash or ruin the wedding. You can trust us.”
“We’re trying to save the wedding for them,” Polly said quickly, edging in front of Nick. “Please?”
Zoe continued to size them up as she turned her chair toward an under-the-desk filing cabinet. Seconds later Nick was peering at his uncle’s scrawled writing, with a sweet-smelling Polly hanging over his shoulder.
A woman with bright pink hair, and legs long enough for her feet to reach any saddle’s stirrups, came hustling up to the desk. “Hi. Zoe, right?”
Zoe nodded.
“Do you have an auction item for Evan’s fundraiser?”
“We’re talking here,” Nick said, frowning at Polly, who was looking slightly starstruck.
“Yes,” Zoe replied to the woman. “Right here, Aspen.”
Polly drew an audible inhale as Zoe reached to the printer, grabbed whatever it was she’d printed off and slid it into a giant gift basket, handing the package to the woman, who answered her phone just then, moving a few steps away to chat.
“It’s Aspen Hampton,” Polly whispered, tugging at his sleeve. “She’s a singer.” She called to Aspen, “I’m a huge fan!”
The woman looked up from her phone with a smile. “Thank you so much.”
Nick gave the woman a friendly nod, then focused on Zoe. “Did you say there was already a wedding happening this weekend? Do you think you could get us their number so we can ask if their guy who does the ceremony could fit in another one?” He lifted a poster advertising a custom motorcycle show from the stack sitting on the corner of her desk, and flipped it over while taking a pen from her jar. He paused, ready to write down the info.
“I can’t give out personal information,” Zoe said, a tinge of exasperation mixed with sympathy in her voice. “Sorry.”
“Maybe they could double their orders for Saturday. Food, decorations. You know…” Nick gave an easy shrug, ignoring the way Polly sighed beside him. “Work together.”
The pink-haired woman laughed as she pocketed her phone and began to head away. “I like the way you think.” Walking backward, she grinned at Nick. “And don’t worry! Zoe will help you take care of everything. Good luck planning your wedding!”
Nick froze. “Wait. No. I’m not…” He gave Polly a helpless look. How did this all become his problem? He was here to sweet-talk. That was it. That was all. And it wasn’t his wedding, either. Although that wouldn’t be so bad if it was.
“I think you’ll make a lovely wedding planner, sweetie.” Polly was grinning, a dab of chocolate marring her perfect upper lip.
“I can’t,” he said, his eyes locked on the chocolate smudge.
“Can’t or won’t?” she asked, the epitome of innocence.
“You have…” He reached over to wipe the distracting ice cream away, but she dodged him, looking alarmed. “Here,” he said, moving slower, cradling her head so he could sweep his thumb over the spot. Her lip was warm and soft. He should have used his own lips to clean her up instead of his thumb.
She was quiet, watching him. She said softly, “You really should help Roy.”
“Not me.” He’d make a royal mess of it.
“The big stuff’s already taken care of,” she said helpfully. He had no reason to still be embracing her pretty face, and he reluctantly lowered his hands, unsure what to do with them. “I’m certain your aunt-to-be has a list of what she expects for the menu, flowers and decorations. Request a copy and you’ll be set.”
“If it’s that easy…” He turned to face Zoe. She was an expert at this stuff. What was a couple of hours of overtime when it came to happy guests? Clients who had rented several cottages?
“Hello,” Zoe said, tapping her phone’s earpiece, which was wedged somewhere under her hair. “Indigo Bay Cottages. This is Zoe.”
Oh, that was hardly fair. He didn’t even think the phone had rung.
“If it’s that easy you can do it,” Polly said, pressing her hand against his arm. “You did say you’d save the wedding, didn’t you?”
“No. I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”
“You did,” she said, using a soft, coaxing yet firm voice that made him want to believe her. Even though he was pretty darn sure he would never say he’d waltz in and save this event. “So save it.”
“This is beyond my area of expertise.” He began backing away, hands raised.
“Everything’s been decided. It’s like a gala.”
“You’ve done this before? For galas?” And her own wedding, he’d presume; he’d guess recently divorced, based on the way she’d rubbed that empty ring spot on her finger earlier.
“Just do what’s on the list and git ’er done,” she teased.
He edged closer.
She waved a hand, her eyes shining with life. “It’s easy, Nick. You pull all this stuff together for others so they can have a wonderful evening. You’ll know it was you who made it happen and your uncle will be so impressed and grateful.”
She caught him watching her with expectation, and her distant, slightly dreamy smile faded. “What?”
“You know how to do this.” He was standing close, and her breath hitched as he ran a hand lazily up her arm.
“I—”
“If you don’t say you’ll help me, I’ll kiss you.”
Polly could see Nick was serious.
He would kiss her if she didn’t agree to help him.
It almost made her want to refuse her assistance.
And she did want to say no. She hadn’t come all this way to put some significant touches on the wedding she was going to attend.
“You thought I was talking women’s wardrobes with that table skirt bit,” she said. “You’re in over your head.”
“You just said it’s easy.”
Shoot. She had, hadn’t she?
“It’s not hard if you’re new to the game, which is why I need you,” he said sweetly.
“Which is why I should say no.” She’d certainly be doing the heavy lifting.
Nick placed a hand on her hip, angling closer. It made the air-conditioned lobby grow warm and her lungs constrict.
“I know what you’re doing,” she said, cringing at the way her voice didn’t sound as steely as she’d like it to. It sounded…weak, and as though she was hoping he’d convince her to say yes. It sounded as though his physical proximity was having an effect on her.
“And what am I doing?” He brushed a lock of hair off her cheek, his thumb sweeping an arc across her flesh and sending a deep electric spark through her. She shivered, both loving and hating the effect he was having on her.
“You’re trying to woo me,” she whispered.
He placed his feet on either side of hers. His left hand was still on her hip, and the hand that had brushed the hair off her face now cradled her cheek. He was definitely wooing her. He leaned his head so close she thought he was going to dust her lips with his.
She should really step away, not allow him to tease her like this. Didn’t she have other things she was supposed to be doing here in Indigo Bay?
“If I was wooing you,” Nick said slowly, his voice deep and tantalizingly inviting, “you’d know it.”
This was why women got weak in the knees. It was because of men like Nick.
But why was that a problem, exactly? It wasn’t a bad feeling.
She clung to one last excuse. “I haven’t seen Roy since I was a teenager. I doubt I could pull off his wedding.”
Nick was still holding her, and she couldn’t seem to muster the will to break free. Maybe she didn’t want to. Maybe she wanted to see if he’d kiss her so she could find out if he was still as good as he had been.
He tipped his forehead down to hers, a small smile playing at his lips as he said, “He’s a dude. Get him hitched and he’ll be happy.”
She was too comfortable here. Too willing to say yes. Wedding planning was torture for two people in love, and was bound to be even worse for the two of them, seeing as they barely still knew each other. Although with Nick, how could it not be fun? Everything always had been.
And wasn’t that what she’d come here for? Fun, and to live a little bit? It wasn’t like she was going to do something irrational like marry him or fall in love. She was going to live for a few days, then go home refreshed and confident about where she was going to head off to in her new life.
Plus she was pretty darn good with details, and Roy deserved a nice wedding. He deserved to have it pulled together for him the way he’d helped make those summers here something special. And it was clear Nick couldn’t do it alone. She’d feel guilty the whole time she sat on the beach with her books.
“I’ll bring you ice cream every day,” Nick promised, “and we’ll give Roy and Sophia the best little wedding a cowboy and his townie could ever want.”
She had no doubt about that—if they could find vendors willing to jump in at the last minute.
She was seconds away from saying yes.
“You’re trouble, aren’t you, Nick Wylder?”
He grinned at her, knowing he had her. “Yes, but I’m the very best kind.”
Polly had said yes. Nick wasn’t sure if it was out of pity, intrigue or simply loyalty for the man who had welcomed her into their big crazy fold as a teen. He could still recall Polly’s look of overwhelmed wonder and gratitude when Roy had included her like she belonged. It was likely that, but either way, he’d take her help. And company.
As soon as the three-letter word of agreement had popped from her mouth, Nick had ushered her out of the resort’s main building and was dialing Roy.
“Roy? The wedding’s a go.” He grinned at Polly, who had her lips pulled into a serious twist that matched her brows.
Nick adjusted his hat as she demanded, “Tell him to email Sophia’s list. We need all the details, such as—”
He held up a finger to indicate she was running too fast. Together they’d get this done, and enjoy their time together, too, but they also needed to chill. This was a mere rescue mission, not some sort of dream fulfillment. They didn’t have time to go all crazy in the head.
His uncle let out a bark of triumph. “I knew you’d be able to woo Zoe, you old dog. There’s nothing like making a request in person and sending in a handsome young buck.”
“Zoe didn’t say yes.”
“An assistant then?”
“Nope. No assistant.”
“So it’ll be someone new doing the organizing?” Roy confirmed, getting back on track.
Nick glanced at Polly, who was in a crouch, watching a tiny lizard climb over the path’s stone edging.
“Polly and I figured we could throw the last few things together.”
She muttered, “Last few things…”
There was a long stretch of silence on the other end of the line. “You?”
Nick swallowed the sting of his uncle’s disbelief. “And Polly.”
So what if he wasn’t the obvious choice? Did Uncle Roy want to get married or not?
There was more silence, then a grunt. “Right. Well. I suppose she’ll keep things in line.”
“Polly wants you to email her the list of everything Sophia sent the coordinator.”
Polly nodded. She had stepped into his personal space, eavesdropping, and Nick offered her the phone. She reached out, snatching it, then moved several feet away. Maybe he should have let her continue to try and listen in. It was nice having her stand so close.
She sent rapid-fire questions to what must be an overwhelmed Roy.
“Put Sophia on speaker,” Polly finally said impatiently. The questions continued from color scheme to flowers to menus to budget, until she finally gave them her email address and handed Nick back his phone, looking rather self-satisfied. He held the device to his ear, unsure whether his uncle was still on the line.
“It sounds like she has things under control,” Roy said, barely choking back his amusement. “I didn’t even know we had a theme or a color scheme.”
“Is it brown and black?”
Roy laughed. “Apparently not.” His voice was warm as he said, “I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Truly, I appreciate it. And if the boys weren’t all grown up and ready to settle down I’d—”
“Look, it’s fine. I understand. But I’ve got to go. There’s a wedding to plan.” He clicked off, wincing at his abruptness, even though he hadn’t been in the mood to hear how the boys were getting the ranch, as it was their birthright as direct descendants of Carmichael’s eldest son—Roy himself. Of course the ranch was going to them. That’s how it had been passed down for generations.
“Where do we start?” Polly asked, her eyes shining once again.
“You like tasks, don’t you?”
“I’ve been sitting around for months.” She rubbed her hands together. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve been needing something like this.”
“A wedding? How romantic.”
“I don’t really believe in romance anymore.” She glanced away, then seconds later whirled to face him again, head cocked as though sensing something out of place. “Is that why you think I said yes? I’m fulfilling some fantasy?”
“It’s not?”
“No. Most definitely not.” She crossed her arms, studying him. “Why did you take this on?”
“My uncle’s always been there for me.” He shrugged. “Plus I get to hang out with a hottie. That’s a perk.”
“A hottie. That’s funny.” She looked shy for a moment, and nervously adjusted her top, even though it hugged her curves in the best kind of way. “Brown and black color scheme? Please tell me you were joking.”
“Maybe.”
“So really. What made you say yes to this amount of romantic work?” Her narrow-eyed look said, Tell me or I will badger you from now until the wedding, without letting up.
Her moxie and determination reminded him of a time when she’d caught wind that he liked someone else. She’d pestered him every single day for a solid week before he finally grabbed her around the waist behind The Sugar Shack and given her a long, slow kiss full of meaning.
She’d looked stunned, but had simply said, “I hope she doesn’t feel the same way about you, ’cause she’s going to be heartbroken when I bring you back in for another one of those.”
Which she had.
They’d been inseparable from then until the end of vacation.
Nick smiled at the memory. He was glad she’d badgered him, or he’d probably still be wondering and waiting.
Now real-life Polly was staring at him, hands on her hips. He did a quick calculation. They didn’t exactly have time to play the games right now.
“He fired me a few days ago.” Nick worked to compile the rest of his related thoughts, knowing that he’d given her only a snippet of the story, and that it would likely leave her judging him—and rightly so.
He edged his hat back, exposing more forehead to the summer breeze coming off the ocean. It felt good, unlike the odd feeling of the wind on his legs which were left exposed by his shorts, rather than sweating it out under a protective layer of denim like they always were back home on the ranch.
“Being fired isn’t the point,” he said. He hadn’t been mature, and his behavior hadn’t done justice to how he truly felt about Roy. His uncle probably thought Nick didn’t care about him, or the help and support he’d provided throughout the years, as well as the roof over his head. Roy had five sons and enough to worry about. He didn’t exactly need a troublesome nephew to deal with as well.
“So you intend to ruin his wedding?” Polly asked, head tipped to the side like an animal sizing up a potential danger.
“No. Not at all.” He waited a moment to allow his answer to sink in, and for Polly to accept it. “Helping Roy pull his wedding together is my messed-up way of showing him I appreciate all he’s done for me over the years.”
He let out a shaky breath for how he’d revealed his inner motivations. What did it matter if he’d exposed his tender underbelly? Women liked that, right? Besides, if she was going to tease him for caring, he could endure it long enough to marry off his uncle, before shipping Polly back to Canada.
“Then we’d better make this wedding great,” she said simply.
And that was when Nick began to worry that he might still have the capacity to fall for Polly.