Andy pulled the catering van toward the back of Briarwood Manor and killed the ignition. This had to be the building. It was the only place for miles.
He glanced at his cell. Three more texts from the wedding planner. The things seemed to be coming in delayed with the mountains all around blocking the signal. He didn’t need to check the messages; he knew the gist of them:
Just wondering where you are.
Any time now.
Where the heck are you?!?!
First real break he’d had in a long time and he was an hour late. It was perfect. Just perfect.
Andy hopped out of the van and set himself in motion. If for no other reason than pride alone, he was going to do this. He was going to make this happen. Otherwise he’d never hear the end of it from Dad or his brother come Sunday dinner.
“You’re a cook, not a caterer,” his father had said last weekend, both snide and amused at this latest venture.
And a cook at that, not a chef. The distinction didn’t need to be spoken out loud in order to ring clear across the dining room table.
“Sounds like a challenge,” Michael had said. “Let me know if you need any help.”
On the surface, it might have sounded like a magnanimous offer to his baby brother given Michael’s vast professional experience and busy schedule. In truth Michael’s generosity was nearly as bad as Dad’s patronizing. Here was Andy, off in the clouds instead of rolling up his sleeves and doing some real work.
He’d been rolling up his sleeves and working in the family restaurant since he was nine. If he didn’t strike out on his own, the next Ottavio kitchen yelling match would turn into a fist fight. And then a knife fight.
Mom, bless her, proceeded to rave about how wonderful the wine tasted. Wine was neutral territory.
“I got this,” Andy had replied curtly, shoving something, anything into his mouth to end the matter.
Small wedding party, remote location. Bride’s request: Not another rubber-chicken buffet. Of course he had it. This was supposed to be a chance to make some money, but, more importantly, it was a new start. He could see if he liked it, gain some contacts, perhaps even line up a few jobs in the future.
The bride had been too busy to even do a tasting, putting her trust in the wedding planner. Luckily Julie was a friend who was willing to refer him.
The client’s name had been given to him as Underwood-Downing. Andy couldn’t recall who came first in these things, bride or groom, but both of them sounded classy. Like you could stick them onto an old English castle. Not that you could tell that much from a name, but the wedding location was a pricey one and he assumed the affair would be upscale. He’d even spent a few extra bucks to send his jacket to the cleaner to be starched and pressed.
Showing up late, however, was no way to make a good impression, no matter how crisp his chef’s coat looked. The next hour was going to be a push to get the food out for the reception. According to the itinerary Julie had sent him, the ceremony was supposed to be starting just about now, which meant he had less than thirty minutes to get everything set up.
Speak of the devil. Julie came rushing out of the building in full wedding-planner mode, ready to tame lions.
“Finally!” she said with a long-suffering sigh.
“Fort Bend Road,” he said dryly. “Not Bend Fort.”
She hit him with the evil eye and kept on walking. Was it just him, or did Julie look kind of shiny?
“Hey, are there a few spare hands to help me out here?”
Julie had assured him the place would be fully staffed, but she was already too far to answer; a woman on a mission.
It would be fine. He’d get into the kitchen. Set up cold appetizers as a first line of defense. Hopefully there was enough alcohol to tide everyone over while he set up the hot apps. He’d already prepped the entrée, which was being kept to temperature in the warmers in the catering van.
Tugging the back doors open, Andy had just unloaded a serving cart onto the ground when a white blur shot out of Briarwood, clutching a bouquet of flowers.
The bride.
It had to be the bride who disappeared around the opposite side of the van. He heard the sound of the driver’s door opening then closing. Ho-ly hell. He so didn’t have time for this.
By the time Andy came around, she was fiddling with the ignition.
“Hi,” he greeted through the open window, at a loss for something more clever to say. This was something that only happened in the movies and soap operas.
There was a determined set to her jaw as she searched around the steering wheel. “Where are the keys?”
“Uh . . .”
She turned to look at him and Andy was stricken by a set of not-quite-brown, not-quite-green eyes along with dark hair that looked barely tamed, even when pinned up.
“I am not freaking out,” she insisted preemptively.
“Okay.”
“Give me the keys. I just need some space.” When he didn’t respond, she made one final appeal, “Please.”
If she had been crying, if she had been hysterical, he would’ve certainly tried to talk her out of his van. Maybe call for backup from someone inside.
Between his mother and younger sister, Andy had plenty of experience with emotional outbursts. Heck, it wasn’t fair to limit it to the women of the family. The men were twice as hot-headed. In contrast, the bride was trying to keep a semblance of calm. Other than a bit of color that dotted her cheeks, she was focused inward, absorbed with this one task as if it was the most important thing in the world.
He hated seeing her like this. She was the bride, for crying out loud. This was supposed to be her day and all that.
Andy found himself reaching into his pocket and handing his keys through the window. “Look, if you need to talk—”
“No, not really.” Her head remained bent as she searched through the key ring.
“The black one,” he prompted.
“Thank you.”
She inserted the key into the ignition and managed to start the engine before the gears ground to a halt, making him wince. Foiled by the manual transmission.
He opened the driver-side door. “Here, maybe you should—”
“All right.”
Gathering up her skirt, she scooted over to the passenger side, which was a bit of a struggle. He caught the flash of a stockinged calf and redirected his gaze to her face.
Spoken for. So spoken for.
“You drive,” she said.
“But—”
“Hurry!”
The bride looked toward Briarwood Manor, prompting him to do the same. He half-expected the entire party to come rushing toward them with a pissed off guy in a tuxedo leading the charge. They were about to be at the center of an extremely awkward scene unless he did something fast.
With a shake of his head, Andy ran around and shoved the serving cart back inside. He slammed the doors shut and returned to the driver’s side.
“Drive,” the bride commanded from inside the cab. There was a plea in her voice that poked at some spot in his chest, right at that ancient organ labeled “chivalry.” This was a tough situation, but no matter how difficult it was for him, it had to be a hundred times worse for her.
He climbed onto the seat and set his foot on the clutch. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She rested her head against the passenger-side window and closed her eyes. “Just drive.”
***
“I’m Andy.”
The bride was preoccupied staring at the side mirrors and occasionally over her shoulder. Briarwood Manor was now a tiny dot in the distance. “Hmm? Oh, I’m Tessa.”
“So, uh, rough day?”
That was probably the stupidest thing he’d ever said to anyone.
“It started out real well, I thought.” Her voice trailed away. She glanced again at the passenger-side mirror.
“There’s no one behind us,” he reported.
“Good.” She chewed on her lip nervously. “You know how you sometimes spend a lot of time convincing yourself something is absolutely right and everyone around you is also insisting everything is absolutely right, and you just stop paying attention to the signs?”
“Um, yeah.”
The one thing Andy knew was the best way not to say anything wrong was to say nothing at all. That was probably good advice about now. Tessa probably just needed to talk things out and clear her head. Once she calmed down, he would just turn the van around and return to the wedding.
All brides were beautiful, but Julie hadn’t told him her client was this beautiful. Tessa was quite a distraction, ivory-skinned with dark curls ready to spill out over her shoulders. In addition to struggling to keep his mouth shut, it was difficult to focus his eyes on the road.
“I mean, I didn’t want to be a doomsayer,” Tessa was saying. “And Graham and I got along really well, so when he asked me to marry him—he asked me, you know? So many of my girlfriends tell me how guys these days are always dragging their feet. Anyway, I was happy when he asked. I really was, but—”
“But?”
“Oh, never mind. You don’t need to hear all this drama.”
Julie had brought him this job because it was a great opportunity for him to build his reference list. The client was undemanding, she’d told him. A sweetheart. Now that undemanding sweetheart was in his van, tapping restlessly against the window.
He drove as the seconds ticked on, each one becoming more uncomfortable. Strange day.
What happened if she didn’t change her mind? What if he had a real runaway bride on his hands?
“Have you ever seen the movie The Graduate?” he asked finally.
Tessa looked at him like he was crazy, but at least she no longer looked like she might go crazy.
“You know, the last scene in The Graduate. Elaine!”
That teased a faint smile out of her. “I am not trying to seduce you.”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
She shifted in the seat to face him. “I wonder if there are guys out there with a bride fetish.”
“Yeah, they’re called grooms.”
He thought he heard a snort, but Tessa quickly stifled it.
“Nice dress, by the way.”
Dead silence. Okay, totally inappropriate to say. You only said that to a bride when the wedding was still on.
“So . . .” Andy dragged out the lead-in as long as he could, hoping for the right words to come. They didn’t. “Is there somewhere you want me to take you?”
Tessa let out a wail and dropped her head into her hands. “What am I doing?”
“It’s okay. You know, probably all brides get nervous.”
Her head shot up like a cobra. “Shut up!”
“Okay.”
So much for trying to be a good guy. He kept on driving while she kept on staring at the side mirror. Whether it was with hope or trepidation, he couldn’t tell. It knocked the wind out of him to see her looking so lost.
“Do you know my father didn’t even show up to the wedding?” she said after a while, very quietly.
It didn’t sound like she was looking for an answer, so Andy made a sound of condolence and let her continue.
“He was planning to come, but then he couldn’t. He sounded upset about it, really. I don’t have any uncles or brothers to step in. Max has been like a big brother to me, but I already asked him to officiate. Imagine scrambling around at the last minute for someone to walk you down the aisle. If that’s not a sign, what is?”
Andy felt he should say something thoughtful, but he was just the guy she’d hired to pass out goat cheese on toast. Where was the guy she was supposed to marry? Why wasn’t he out there chasing after her? What made her unhappy enough to run in the first place?
“I’m sorry,” he said after a while.
“For what?”
“For being late with the food.”
She stared at him and finally broke. The sound of laughter filled the cab as she pressed a hand to her ribs. It was one of those laugh-so-you-don’t-cry kind of laughs.
“We can stop right here if that’s what you want,” he offered. “Go right back. We’ve been gone for maybe ten, fifteen minutes at the most. You can pretend this never happened.”
Tessa considered it for a long time, running her hand lightly over the flowers in the bouquet that rested beside her on the car seat. Some of the petals had fallen off like large blue tear drops.
“Just keep going,” she said, looking straight ahead.