TWO

Bellamy had held her breath as Reid escorted her through the open doorway of the Stantons’ expansive home. This kind of luxury and wealth might be the normal, everyday existence for Reid and his family, but Bellamy experienced all of Cinderella’s wide-eyed wonder after the pumpkin-turned-coach brought her to the castle.

And by holding her breath, Bellamy had resisted the urge to hum the chorus of Abba’s “Money, Money, Money” song—and choked back the accompanying giggle.

Thank you, Reid, for taking me to see Mamma Mia!

This was no time to break into song or to give way to inappropriate laughter. Yes, Mrs. Stanton had smiled at her, but Reid’s father had only given her his customary nod—and nothing more. What would it take for the man to like her?

Of course, it didn’t help that there was a standoff between their parents. Not the two mothers, who both seemed eager to just have fun with all the preparations. No. But ever since she’d told her parents the Stantons had offered Reid and her additional money to help pay for their Manhattan destination wedding, her father had stepped away from everything. His comment as he’d handed her a check for fifteen thousand dollars still echoed in her mind: “I understand this is a Hillman-Stanton wedding, Belle. Even so, I’d like to think I could pay for your wedding, just like I did for Bailee and Bridget, and will for Brooke.”

But now was not the time to worry about her father. Today Bellamy would do Reid proud at this engagement party. All it took was a new dress. New shoes. One “please, please, please, squeeze me in” haircut. Applying and reapplying her makeup to conceal the weariness that came from not sleeping well after Reid told her what his mother meant by a “small” party. Dozing off in the chair at the nail salon during her pedicure this morning—just after praying God would forgive her for skipping church for a mani-pedi.

Thank God for Elisabeth, who’d stuck by her side ever since Reid had been whisked away by his father to meet . . . well, Bellamy didn’t know whom. Mr. Stanton had kept his son circling the room in some sort of conversational waltz for almost an hour.

“Those nails are a new look for you, Belle.”

Her best friend’s whisper pulled Bellamy’s attention away from the ever-moving mass of well-dressed people populating the main room. How did minimalist furniture arranged just-so and several abstract sculptures manage to suggest affluence without screaming filthy rich? Mr. Stanton’s upscale, intimate restaurants had not only served their clients well—they had also secured his family’s fortune for generations to come. Guests flowed through the sliding glass doors, which afforded an expansive view of the well-groomed lawn. The late-afternoon September sun sparkled off the infinity pool that seemed to disappear into the red rock landscape of Garden of the Gods.

Bellamy turned her left hand, revealing her engagement ring—and her long, crimson-red nails. “They do make a statement, don’t they?”

“If you want the statement to be I have talons, yes.” Elisabeth ignored her glare. “What prompted you to get gel nails?”

“Exhaustion. The nail tech suggested it instead of a regular manicure and I agreed. I was half asleep. It sounded fun. I thought long nails would look nice for today.” Bellamy tapped her fingertips against one another. “I didn’t realize these things would handicap me. I couldn’t zip up my dress. It’s a good thing I live near my mother.”

“Well, you look gorgeous. And the nails are very old-movie-star glam.”

“I should hope so. I’d pinned this very dress on my Outfits I Love Pinterest board. Little did I know I’d buy it! I walked into White House/Black Market looking for a dress, and came out with a dress, shoes, and my jewelry. That was one savvy saleswoman.”

“I love this.” Elisabeth pointed to the full black-and-white floral skirt of the dress. “But I thought you were going to wear your red dress—”

“I was.” Bellamy paused. She wasn’t going to tell Elisabeth about Reid’s “You didn’t buy something new?” comment. “I changed my mind.”

“Well, this party is a bit of a crush—classy, yes, with the waiters, but more people than I expected.”

“Other than you and Reid and my brothers and sisters, I don’t know anyone here. And I’ve only met Reid’s parents and his sister a few times.” Bellamy twisted the single strand of pearls at her throat. “If these people knew I was a dog groomer . . . that I work at my dad’s vet clinic because I made so many wrong choices in college—”

“Will you stop?” Like a mother calming her child, Elisabeth removed Bellamy’s hand from her necklace, smoothing it flat against her flushed skin. “You’re Reid’s fiancée. Everyone here is looking forward to meeting you.”

“They’re all wondering why he’s marrying me—that’s what you mean, right?”

“Bellamy Hillman! What has gotten into you?” Her friend’s question was asked through a pasted-on smile as Elisabeth nodded to yet another woman they didn’t know. This one wore a deep red designer pantsuit and passed by with barely a glance their way.

“This—” Bellamy waved around the room. “—all of this. Reid is used to this kind of life. He’s . . . he’s filet mignon and I’m plain old hamburger.”

“Reid Stanton loves you, and he wants to be with you. I’ve watched him try to excuse himself from that conversation with those men across the room—”

“The man with the thick gray hair and blue eyes—the one that doesn’t smile?—that’s his father. The man on his left is his grandfather. And I don’t know who the other person is—but he’s probably rich.”

“Well, Reid has been watching you the entire time. How can you miss that?”

Bellamy swallowed several negative comments, but one managed to slip past. “Surely some of these people have guessed I’m not the kind of woman that his parents expected Reid to marry.”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“I don’t know. I mean, his mother is nice, but his father doesn’t seem to approve of me . . .”

“It doesn’t matter what Reid’s father thinks. You’re not marrying him—you’re marrying Reid, remember?” Elisabeth lowered her voice to a whisper, a grin on her lips. “And from the way he looks at you, honey, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

A laugh escaped—and at last, Bellamy no longer felt like a half-off twentysomething in a room of full-price people. Across the room, Reid gave her a quick wink, a smile curving his lips. If he laughed with her, she’d catch a glimpse of his dimple—but he was “serious” Reid at the moment. His thick brown hair combed into submission, a studious look in his blue eyes. From their very first date, he’d told her that he loved her laugh because it made him want to laugh, too. If she focused on Reid—and remembered that all of this lavishness was to celebrate the fact that they were getting married in three months—she would be fine.

“Thanks, Lis.” Bellamy accepted a glass of white wine from a passing waiter. “I didn’t expect quite this many people.”

Elisabeth quirked an eyebrow. “You come from a family of ten. You, of all people, should know how to manage a crowd.”

“And you, of all people, should know how I feel about being ‘the end’ kid in my family.” The sip of chilled fruity wine eased the tightness in her throat. “I’m the one who gets lost in a crowd of incredibly talented, intelligent people.”

“Well then, let’s do what comes naturally and get lost in this crowd and enjoy ourselves until your fiancé comes and finds you for the gift-opening festivities.”

Elisabeth linked their arms and wove their way through the guests. Music floated through the house, mingling with the ebb and flow of conversation. Had Bellamy ever known anyone who owned a house with an actual music room? Her parents sat on a curved-back sofa in ice-blue crushed velvet, talking with Reid’s mother and another couple. The shoulder of the woman’s black dress was adorned with a large jewel-encrusted brooch shaped like a peacock. Her siblings—and Bridget’s and Keagan’s spouses—did what the accomplished, self-assured Hillmans did. Mingled—and made it look easy.

Once outside, Bellamy took a deep breath. September was one of her favorite times in Colorado—the weather just about perfect. Beneath an oversized tent, tables decorated with vivid purple irises and white roses covered one area of the lawn, while guests helped themselves to an array of hors d’oeuvres. Reid’s mother had arranged for everything from shrimp cocktail to bacon-wrapped dates to crab-salad canapés. At one station, chefs made fresh sushi, and at another, a bartender poured drinks. When she’d arrived earlier, Reid’s mother had shown Bellamy the selection of miniature cakes and pies that would be served after she and Reid opened the tower of gifts. Some guests had adorned their packages with different types of brooches or sparkly earrings. The “stash,” as Reid had called it in a whispered aside accompanied by a soft chuckle, was all arranged in front of the tall natural stone fireplace in a room off the formal dining room. And somewhere in the midst of all this celebration, a photographer was capturing pictures of the guests, the family members, her and Reid, the scenery. Bellamy hadn’t met him—or her—yet, but as his father hauled him off for the first of many “vital” conversations, Reid had tossed her a quick warning that photographs were being taken at the request of his mother.

“I think the Stantons invited anybody they knew in the Springs and Denver to this party. So much for Reid’s hope to keep our wedding low-key by having a destination wedding in Manhattan.” Bellamy handed her half-empty glass to another waiter who hovered nearby. Since she couldn’t manage to pick up anything from a tray with her new nails, she had to be careful not to drink all her calories. She needed to request a ginger ale. “After his sister’s engagement and wedding attracted so much media attention, all he wanted was to somehow maintain our privacy.”

“Is that his sister, Lydia, over there?”

Bellamy couldn’t help but admire how comfortable Lydia Webster was as she worked the crowd like a pro. And to be slender—not skinny. “Yes, that’s Lydia.”

“I thought she and her husband lived in England.”

“They do, but he’s away on location filming his latest movie—some action film that’s already getting buzz. She said Lincoln would try to make it, but it doesn’t look like it will happen.”

“How fun for you—you’ll be Lincoln Webster’s sister-in-law.”

“In the most distant way possible. Most important, I’ll be Mrs. Reid Stanton. How did I get so lucky?”

“Reid’s the lucky one.”

“Spoken like a true best friend.”

“Only because it’s true. You are made in God’s image—and that is just one of the reasons Reid is attracted to you.” Elisabeth held up her hand, holding off Bellamy’s comment. “And now I’m changing the subject again so you can just agree with me. How about I get us some sushi?”

“Sounds perfect—with an extra dash of wasabi.” Bellamy held up her hands, wiggling her fingers. “I’m starving here.”

As they made their way to the tall table where a group gathered as two chefs created sushi, a man with long hair brushing the collar of his dark suit jacket intercepted them.

“Good afternoon, ladies. I’m Nick. Can I get a few photographs?” He tapped the side of his camera, which hung from a black strap around his neck.

Bellamy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. At least the curls she’d worked so hard for hadn’t wilted yet. And she couldn’t say no when this was part of the engagement party “fun.” “I guess so. How about one of me and Elisabeth?”

“Elisabeth?” The man fumbled in his pants pocket. “You’ll have to remind me just who this other lovely lady is. I seem to have misplaced the list of people Mrs. Stanton requested be photographed. Of course, there’s no mistaking the bride.”

“Elisabeth Straker, my maid of honor.”

“Of course. Why don’t we walk over here so the Kissing Camels is behind you?” He indicated the distinctive red rock formation beyond them.

After a few photographs, the man nodded toward Bellamy. “Now a few of just the bride-to-be.”

“Of course.” Already Elisabeth was backing away. “I’ll go get the appetizers for us, Belle.”

Bellamy stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Wait and I’ll go with you—”

“I’ll return you to Elisabeth in just a few minutes. Let’s change locations. Can’t do the same thing over and over again. No ‘Been there, photographed that,’ if you know what I mean.”

Nick placed his hand against her back and ushered her to a corner of the yard, close to where Lydia stood talking with a trio of older women.

“You have a great smile.” Nick took two quick pictures and then motioned toward Reid’s sister. “Your future sister-in-law is in the wedding party, too, isn’t she?”

“Lydia? Yes, she’s the bridesmaid.”

“Well then, we need to get a couple of shots of the two of you—bride and bridesmaid as well as future sisters.”

What did she know about the photo list? “I suppose that would be okay.”

Nick followed, waiting while Lydia finished her conversation and turned toward them, leaning to give Bellamy a hug.

Click.

Since when was her backside considered an attractive photo op?

“The photographer your parents hired for the party—” Bellamy stepped away from Lydia. “—wanted to get a photo of the two of us.”

But Nick was already taking pictures, his camera whirring.

The smile on Lydia’s face faded as she advanced upon the man. Even as Nick stumbled backward, he kept taking photos.

“Hey!” Lydia’s hands went up in front of her face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Within seconds, a tall man with a dark crew cut appeared behind Nick. Placing a beefy hand on his shoulder, he stopped the photographer’s retreat.

“I’ll take that camera.” Crew Cut’s voice was a growl. “Now.”

The photographer tried to shrug out of the other man’s grasp—and failed. His hair fell forward across his eyes. “Are you kidding me? I’m not giving you my camera! Do you know how much a photo of Lincoln Webster’s wife is worth?”

Lydia yanked the camera from his hands as Crew Cut removed the strap from around his neck. “It’s bad enough you parasites hound me and my husband on the street. This is a private party—”

“Everybody has a price, baby.” The photographer’s smile morphed to a sneer.

“Well, I hope you can manage without a paycheck.”

With a few quick motions, Lydia deleted all the photographs on the card and the camera’s internal hard drive.

“Hey! I had other pictures on there—”

“Too bad.” Lydia tossed the camera into the air, not even watching to see if the man caught it before turning away. “Eli, show the man out—but first, make sure you check his pockets for anything he may have stolen.”

A small crowd had gathered while Lydia took on the imposter photographer. People moved aside as Eli—and just who was he?—none too gently led him away.

“I’m so sorry.” Bellamy tried to figure out how many different ways she could apologize. “I didn’t know . . . he said he was the photographer—”

“He’s just another person who thinks he has every right to make his living off me—because I’m married to Linc.” Lydia paused, shaking her head, causing her chandelier earrings to sway. “And here comes the cavalry.”

Reid and his father, followed by Bellamy’s father and two of her brothers, made their way past the murmuring crowd. Mr. Stanton spoke first.

“What is going on?”

“Nothing Eli couldn’t handle, Daddy.” Lydia patted his arm and pressed a brief kiss to his cheek. “And before you ask, yes, I will stop fussing about the security guard that Linc insisted on hiring.”

Eli was Lydia’s security guard?

“Are you okay?” As Reid placed an arm around her shoulders, the scent of his understated cologne wrapped around her.

“I’m fine.” She relished the warmth of his solid embrace. “I can’t believe I was that naïve.”

“There was no way you could know he wasn’t the family photographer.” He clasped her hand, his thumb rubbing a gentle circle on the back of her hand. “I didn’t mention that Francine Frey has taken our family’s photos for years. She photographed Lydia’s wedding last year.”

A personal photographer. Mrs. Stanton had a personal chef. And a chauffeur. Mr. Stanton had a private pilot to fly his personal plane. Her whirlwind romance with Reid kept bringing her back to these questions: How long would it take for her to fit into the Stantons’ lifestyle? What other mistakes would she make before she did?

She allowed Reid to lead her away, waving off her brothers and father. Let them talk to Lydia. She didn’t want to handle the barrage of questions that was sure to come either now or later. She’d take later—much later. Or somehow manage to avoid it all.

• • • 

A few more miles and they’d be at Bellamy’s—well, at her parents’. Reid couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his lips whenever he thought of Bellamy living over her parents’ garage—it was so old-fashioned. Bellamy said it was a great way to save money, but readily confessed that somehow her savings account never quite grew the way she anticipated.

“All in all, the engagement party went well.”

Bellamy remained quiet, her eyes closed, her head resting back against the seat of his car, her long curls wilted around her shoulders. Was she asleep?

Then she half turned to face him, her face hidden in the shifting light and shadow of the moving automobile.

“I’m sorry about what happened—”

“Bellamy.” He covered her hands with one of his, his palm brushing against her engagement ring. “You’ve apologized to me. To Lydia. To Francine. To my parents—and to anyone else you could think of. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I just feel so stupid.”

“No more apologies. It was a small part—a very small part—of our celebration. I had a wonderful time showing you off to my friends and colleagues.”

“Showing me off—right.” Even as she shrugged off his comment, her fingers tightened around his.

“I meant what I said about showing you off. You’re lovely. Charming.” The tires spit out loose gravel as he turned the car onto the unpaved road leading to the Hillmans’ house, causing Reid to decrease his speed. Then he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips adorned with those unexpected red nails. “You had everyone laughing while we were opening presents. You were gracious. People now know several reasons why I am marrying you.”

“Because I make you laugh.”

“There is that. For the past few years, I’ve been so focused on work it’s as if I’d forgotten how to have fun. You’ve reminded me to slow down and make time for the good things in life.” Reid parked the car alongside the garage, turning the engine off. Leaning toward her, he caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand. “Think one of your parents would come out and check on us if we do a little passionate necking in the car?”

“Reid Stanton! You are a grown man!”

“Exactly—a grown man engaged to a very beautiful woman whom I haven’t kissed once today.”

“That is not true. You kissed me when you picked me up.”

“I did? That was hours ago. You’re going to have to remind me.” He curved his hand around her neck and urged her closer.

“Reid—” Bellamy pressed her hand against his chest, as if she was fending off his advances.

“Kiss me first. We can talk later.”

Her kiss ignited a delicious burn inside him. Her lips were soft against his, flavored with a faint tart taste of lemon and sugar from the dessert Bellamy had indulged in. Kissing his wife-to-be was his own sweet indulgence, and he shifted, tightening his arms around her and weaving his fingers through her hair.

A few seconds later, she broke away, burying her face in his neck. “Stop. Be good now.”

“I was trying to do just that—” He tried to capture her lips again for another kiss, but she eluded him, turning her face away, her hand clasping the lapel of his jacket.

“You want to tell me what that sigh was for, Belle-love?”

Her voice was low. “I hope your parents were happy with how today went.”

“You do not have to worry about my parents. You were nervous before we even drove past the gate guard at Kissing Camels. You’d think that guy was going to interrogate you.”

“I don’t think your father approves of me—”

“Of course he does.” Reid tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—the same curl she’d tucked behind her ear again and again during the day. “Besides, I’m a grown man, you know. I don’t need my father’s approval to marry you.”

Another sigh, but Bellamy let the issue drop. “Walk me to my door, please?”

“If I must.” When she looked at him again, he traced the outline of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Will you promise me another good-night kiss?”

“If I must.” She slid out of the passenger seat, tossing him a saucy grin over her shoulder.

He tucked her hand inside his, navigating the narrow wooden steps leading to the quaint carriage house apartment above her parents’ garage.

“Only three months.” Reid admired Bellamy’s silhouette framed by the porch light.

“Yes—and still so much to do.”

“You’ve got your dress. I’ve got my tux. What more do we need?”

“For a Stanton wedding in Manhattan? Are you kidding me?” She paused and looked back over her shoulder. “I just ordered the wedding invitations, but I still need to get the envelopes to the calligrapher. Your mother mentioned today she wants a formal portrait of me in my wedding gown. We need to decide on gifts for our attendants. And we need to think about the wedding cake—”

Reid stopped halfway up the stairs. “Bellamy.”

“What?”

“It’s late. You’re tired. I’m tired. We are not talking about the wedding tonight—unless you want to tell me your favorite gift from today.” Reid continued his way up the stairs. “Thanks to my mother agreeing to keep the presents at their house until after the wedding, I have only one thing left to do tonight.”

“And that is?”

“Kiss you good night again.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Standing two steps below the landing just outside her door, Reid slipped his arms around Bellamy and pulled her close. Perhaps he could entice more than one good-night kiss from his fiancée. “I love you. We’re good together.”

“I love you, too, Reid.”

Just as he was about to kiss her again, Reid stopped. “Oh, one more thing—”

Bellamy rested her head against his shoulder. “I thought we were only kissing good night.”

“I did say that, didn’t I? But I promised my mother I would remind you about the charity auction in November.”

“The charity auction?”

“To benefit the children’s hospital, remember? She heads up the committee and the entire family attends—we sit at a table front and center and have fun bidding on items.”

Bellamy leaned back so she could look into his eyes. “I remember now. It’s early in November, right?”

“Yes. Another chance to dress up. I’ll be wearing a tux—kind of a preview of our wedding day.”

“Wonderful—but you don’t want to see my wedding dress.”

“Nope. It’s tradition. But no matter what you’re wearing, you’ll be the most beautiful and gracious woman there.”

The memory of Bellamy’s kisses lingered as Reid drove home.

How ironic that he’d found his future wife covered in dog hair—after he’d agreed to pick up Wiley, his mother’s much-loved mutt, from his weekly bath. Bellamy’s hazel eyes and welcoming smile had him volunteering to both drop off Wiley and pick him up the next week. And then he’d shown up the next day—without a dog on the leash—and invited Bellamy out for coffee after work. And she’d said no.

“No?” Reid’s skin warmed, a sure sign he was blushing like a middle-schooler—a family trait he couldn’t conquer even at almost thirty. He struggled to find a way to back out of the veterinary clinic—to retreat to the shelter of his car—and then call his mother and tell her that she could take her mangy mutt to the groomer herself.

“I mean, I’d love to have coffee with you.” Bellamy’s smile appeared again as she reached out her hand across the counter that separated them, as if sensing his desire to escape. “But I, um, have to clean the kennels in the back first. You don’t want to wait around while I do that.” She motioned to his pressed pants and button-down dress shirt. “It’ll take me a couple of hours.”

“I could help—”

His offer sparked a quick laugh that held the sound of wind chimes—but somehow he knew she wasn’t laughing at him. “I can’t let you help me clean animal kennels! What kind of woman do you think I am?”

The word “intriguing” crossed his mind, but he didn’t tell her—not that night, anyway. “Well, how about if I find something to do and come pick you up and take you to dinner once you’re done here?”

“You’re serious . . .” Her eyes glinted like rare emeralds.

“Yes, I am.”

“All right, then. Dinner it is.”

“What’s your preference?”

“Surprise me. I like surprises.”

“Me, too.” And he did—particularly ones with long black hair and eyes framed by thick black lashes. And a musical laugh that reminded him how he’d forgotten to laugh. And smile.

Their relationship had moved fast—a whirlwind romance to be sure—with him proposing and her saying yes as he slipped an heirloom diamond ring on her finger three months after they met.

Bellamy restored his belief in love—and in himself. Something he’d lost and feared he’d never regain. In a few short months, he’d reclaim his parents’ trust—and then he and Bellamy would be married. Life would be everything he’d ever hoped it would be. And more.