You can be the moon and still be jealous of the stars.
Gary Allan
A familiar old-school country song blared from the overhead speakers as the crowd along Main Street thickened. Brady’s fan club dissipated, likely overwhelmed by the noise and chaos. We were finally left to ourselves.
“You want to watch the cattle drive?” Brady asked. “I think you’ll like it.”
“Sounds like fun.” We eased our way into a spot near the street. Unfortunately we landed right next to an overly romantic couple. They started out holding hands. A few minutes later they were smooching, right there in broad daylight. Awkward.
The crowd continued to press in around us, which pushed Brady a bit closer to me. I didn’t mind. His yummy cologne tickled my nostrils. At least I thought it was his cologne. With people packed in like sardines, who could tell?
I glanced up at him to find that his gaze was already on me. He looked away, his cheeks turning red. Of course, that might have something to do with the heat.
“Brady, I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I know it was all so . . . chaotic. You guys probably aren’t used to that kind of family drama at the shop.”
“Oh, we see our share of drama, trust me. That was a little different, though. Your brothers seem pretty nice.”
I couldn’t help but snort at that one.
“Having your family around is a real blessing, Katie. But I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “My brothers are a pain in the neck, but I adore them. Even Jasper. He’s a challenge because he’s always wanting to leave home.”
“Leave Fairfield?”
“Yeah. It’s hard on my parents to hear him talk like that.”
“So they don’t think anyone will ever want to leave?”
I shrugged. “Most people adore our town. They get so rooted that the idea of going anyplace else seems ludicrous. You know?”
“I’ve only ever lived in the big city, so I guess I can’t really relate to that part. But life is an adventure.”
It was an adventure, all right, especially if you happened to be a six-foot-four pro basketball player in a large crowd. Another round of folks wanting autographs showed up just then. Brady willingly obliged, and even answered a few too-personal-for-comfort questions about his knee. Man, did people get in his business, or what?
When the last of the autograph seekers turned away, I felt free to respond to what he’d said about life being an adventure. “My dad isn’t all that adventurous,” I explained. “He runs a hardware store. But what he lacks in adventure, he makes up for in loyalty.”
“Loyalty to family is important.” A thoughtful look settled into Brady’s eyes. “If I ever understood that, it’s now.”
“True.” I thought about my parents, my brothers, and Queenie. “But how will you ever know what you’re truly called to do if you’re only ever doing what family members tell you to do?”
I saw what could only be described as tenderness in his eyes as he responded, “I’m the only son my mom has. The only child at all. She needs me. And I’m going to be there for her, even if it hurts.”
“Does it?” I asked. “Hurt, I mean.”
“Wedding gowns aren’t my first love,” he said. “But they’re growing on me.” He gave me a little wink and my heart fluttered.
“Ha. Well, you’re being more adventurous than you know because you’ve stepped outside of the box. Outside of your comfort zone.”
“True, that.”
“The problem with my family is that they never step outside of their comfort zone. My dad is as regular as a clock. And he doesn’t seem to be able to function without me.” I pulled out my phone to prove my point. “I’ve had three texts from him just since we got here, asking random questions about where things are in the store. Sometimes I wonder who’s the parent and who’s the child. He depends on me for so much.”
“Yep. I get it. Trust me.”
Brady and I both grew quiet. Not that anyone around us would notice our silence. The music continued to blare, and at the end of the road I could see a flurry of activity.
A voice came over the loudspeaker announcing the start of the cattle drive. Seconds later, the whole atmosphere came alive with excitement as cowboys on horses led the cattle down the middle of Main Street.
“Just like something straight out of the Old West,” Brady called out above the din of horses’ hooves clip-clopping along the road and cows making that strange lowing noise.
I nodded, then turned my attention to the animals passing by. This would be the perfect place for a photo shoot. If I happened to be getting married. Which I wasn’t. Still, I could see myself wearing the Loretta Lynn dress in this setting, with cowboys on horses in the background and longhorns lumbering by. Obviously Brady could see it too. A couple of different times he leaned over to give me ideas for how and where we could get some great shots.
When the cattle drive ended we walked through an area with quaint shops, including a large old-fashioned candy store. We stopped inside and I squealed when I saw the taffies. “Ooh, I have to buy some of these. I love them.”
“Here, let me get them for you, Katie. I love ’em too. We can share.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm as he grabbed a bag and handed it to me. “Fill ’er up, kid.”
I did. In fact, I put so many taffies in the bag that he ended up handing me a second one. When we reached the register, the clerk engaged Brady in a lengthy conversation about basketball while he paid for the candy. As they gabbed . . . and gabbed . . . and gabbed . . . I nibbled on taffy. Okay, more than nibbled. I ate four pieces. Brady didn’t seem to mind.
When he wrapped up the conversation with the store clerk, Brady signed a couple more autographs for two little boys in the store, and then we walked back outside. He reached into the bag to grab a piece of taffy, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.
I found myself mesmerized by him. “Okay, I just have one question, Brady James.”
“Yeah?” He gave me a curious look. “What’s that?”
“Are you always this nice?”
“Nice?” He gave me a funny look. “I’m just being myself.”
A flood of emotions washed over me as I thought about how humble he was. “Well, don’t ever stop. I mean it. You’re a great guy, whether you’re playing basketball or helping a girl find the perfect wedding dress.”
“Right now I think I’d rather be helping the girl out than playing ball. Not sure my knee’s ready just yet.”
“Right.” I sighed. “I feel for you. I really do. I wish your agent was more understanding. I know it’s none of my business, but I wanted to give him a piece of my mind yesterday.”
“Stan.” Brady shook his head. “That guy wears me out, but I know he’s got my best interest at heart. He’s totally in my business, but then again, I pay him to be. That’s what agents are for.”
“I know what it’s like to have people in your business, trust me. My family doesn’t know the first thing about boundaries. Well, all but Aunt Alva. She puts the word distant in the phrase distant relatives.”
“What do you mean?” He popped another piece of taffy in his mouth and gestured for me to sit on a nearby bench.
“I mean, until yesterday I hadn’t seen the woman in years.” I took a seat on the bench and he settled into the spot next to me. “Since I was a kid.”
“Wow. Well, she’s definitely something, isn’t she?” He grinned and tossed the taffy paper back into the bag. “I liked her, though.”
“Me too. But I think she might be a little delusional. She’s a big fan of yours, that’s for sure.”
“That’s what makes her delusional?” Brady quirked a brow.
“No, silly.” I jabbed him with my elbow. “I just think she’s hoping you’ll marry into the family so she can get season tickets to the games.” I gave him a playful smile.
Goodness. Was this guy easy to flirt with, or what?
“Good to know I still have a few fans out there. But I guess the only way we can convince her I’m not your fiancé is to let her see you marry the real one. That ought to do the trick, right?”
“Right.” Perfect opportunity to segue into the truth. “Since you brought up Casey, there’s something I need to tell you about him.”
“Oh, I already know. Madge told me.”
“She—she did?”
“Yep. She told me that he’s a ball player. Or at least he used to be. Baseball, right?” When I nodded, Brady lit into a lengthy story about how he’d played Little League as a kid. At some point along the way I got caught up in his story and gave up on trying to tell him the truth about Casey. On and on Brady went, talking about what it was like growing up with a dad who loved sports.
I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject, but something he said made me curious, so I dared to ask. “What’s your dad like now? Does he come to your games?”
“My dad . . .” Brady’s words trailed off, and I could read the pain in his eyes. “He passed away when I was twelve. Killed in a car accident.”
“Oh, Brady.” My heart skipped a beat and I felt like a heel for bringing it up. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Please don’t be sorry.” He gave me a sympathetic look. “My memories of him are all good. He was a great dad. The kind of guy who laughed—in a good way—at everything. Positive, upbeat guy. And a dreamer too. Always reaching for the stars and telling me I could do the same.”
“Sounds a lot like his son.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Brady’s eyes misted over as I spoke the words. “That’s quite a compliment. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I grew silent for a couple of minutes as I pondered the depth of emotion I’d seen in his eyes. “Did your mom start her business while he was still alive?” I asked after a while.
“No.” Brady shook his head. “She started about a year after he passed away. I think she did it to fill the time, but also to bring in income. Started with a couple of friends asking her to make their gowns, and it kind of went from there. Her big break came about ten years ago when a local designer saw one of her gowns and approached her about doing a show with him. Next thing you know she had her own line. Then she had a write-up in Texas Bride. Then Madge came to her and offered to help fund the shop.”
“Whoa, whoa.” I put my hand up. “Madge funded the shop?” No way. Simple, frumpy Madge?
“Yep.” Brady chuckled. “You probably would never have guessed that, right? She doesn’t come across as a woman with a lot of money. Not pretentious at all. But she’s definitely the pocketbook behind the project.”
“Wow.”
“Trust me, the shop has done so well that Madge’s investment has been paid back several times over. Both women have done very well for themselves.”
“I’d say.”
“And Mom has helped a lot of other people along the way. Dahlia was in a pretty low place when she came to us. Crystal too. Her parents had just passed away in a house fire, and she’d moved to Dallas to try to get past the pain. She had worked in retail but never a bridal shop, so hiring her was a bit of a stretch.”
“Wow, Brady.”
“Yeah, my mom has always known how to love people through hard times. It’s a gift.”
I paused to absorb everything I’d just learned. “I’m sure your dad would’ve been so proud of her.”
Brady grew silent, and I could see his jaw tense as emotion took hold. “He was always the first to sing her praises. And I have no doubt he’d be crooning day and night if he could see all that she’s accomplished.”
“He’d be so proud of you too.” I reached to put my hand on Brady’s arm . . . his very, very muscular arm. “Was he a basketball fan?”
Brady’s eyes took on a faraway look. “You have no idea. From the time I was a kid we shot hoops together. Every time I aim for that basket—whether I’m in front of a huge crowd or just on the court by myself—I picture him standing next to me, telling me I can do it.” He grew silent. “Only, now I can’t do it.”
“Because of your knee?”
Brady nodded. “Yeah. I mean, the doctor says I can go back in time, but right now it just seems impossible.”
“What would your dad say?”
He appeared to be thinking. “He would tell me to pray about it and then wait on God’s timing. He’d remind me of the Scripture about how with God all things are possible.”
“And that would be true,” I said.
“Right. Point is, my dad was a great guy, and he would’ve been very proud of the fact that I’ve made a name for myself as a player.” Brady’s cheeks flushed and he quickly added, “A basketball player. Not a player player.”
“Of course.” I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.
Brady grew more serious. “But he would have been more proud that I’ve stepped in to help Mom here so that she can fulfill her dreams in Paris. He was so proud of her and wanted her to shine. I can’t help but think he’s smiling down on me as he watches me”—Brady shrugged—“get swallowed up by a world of taffeta and tulle.”
“You’re getting more and more comfortable in that world, and that’s okay. Maybe he would want you to know that.”
“Yep. I am feeling pretty comfortable.” He slipped his arm across the back of the bench, and I fought the temptation to lean into him. Brady wasn’t the only one who felt comfortable. Why I felt so at home around this guy, I couldn’t say. He towered above me—my five-foot-two frame completely dwarfed by his six-foot-four one—but he always seemed to make me feel ten feet tall.
And right now, as we stuck our hands in the taffy bag at the exact same moment . . . as our fingers touched, sending tingles all the way down to my toes . . . ten feet tall felt just about right.