Chasing I Do (The Eastons #1) (2 page)

“Got it,” she yelled, but the celebration quickly faded as her momentum carried her forward—and right into the stone cherub boy’s watering hole.

“Oh God, no!” Darcy yelped, as water exploded around her.

Having landed ass first, she felt the cold wetness seep through her silk skirt and slosh into her shoes. Her brand new designer shoes she’d found at a consignment store and purchased special for today. “Please, no.”

She clawed the edge of the fountain and pulled, mentally willing herself out of the fountain—but she couldn’t gain any positive momentum. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t pull herself out.

Refusing to give up, she looked around for Fancy, hoping to either send him to find help, or pull him in with her. But he’d vanished, right before the wedding, leaving her waist deep in his mess.

The situation was so painfully familiar, Darcy wanted to cry. Then devour the entire wedding cake in one sitting.

“Are you okay?” a husky voice asked from above.

“Thank God you’re here,” she said, pushing her hair out of her face and looking up, expecting to find one of her kitchen staff.

But instead of a clip-on tie with a comb over, Darcy’s unexpected hero looked like an underwear model in a dark blue button-up and a pair of slacks that fit him to perfection. And his arms—
oh my, those arms—
were impressive, perfect for helping a lady in need.

Although Darcy had worked hard to not be reliant on others—a lifetime of letdowns could do that to a girl—she knew that sometimes it was okay to take an offered hand. And those hands were big and solid and—
whoa
—reaching forward to wrap around her hips and easily lift her out.

Her feet hit the floor and she did her best to wring out her shirt. “I’m sorry if I’m getting you all wet.”

“You never have to apologize to a man for getting him wet,” he chuckled, and Darcy, realizing how
that
had come out, went to move, but his arms tightened, stilling her. “Make sure you’re okay first. You were moving pretty fast when you dove in.”

Not as fast as her heart was racing.

Closing her eyes, Darcy took stock. Her chest tingled, her head was light, and a wave of delicious thrill jumpstarted parts she’d long believed dead. In fact, she was as far from fine as a woman who had sworn off men could get.

“I’m good. Thank you,” she lied, trying to gain some distance without falling back in the fountain, which was not an easy task. He was so big, he filled the space, leaving nowhere for her to go. She brushed off her elbows, which were scraped up, but she’d live, then started to straighten when a big hand appeared. Candice’s ring resting in its palm.

“I believe you lost this.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, a wave of relief washing over her. “You have no idea how…”

Darcy looked up, and the words died on her lips and dropped to the pit of her stomach, where they expanded and churned until—

Oh God
, she couldn’t breathe.

Her unexpected hero wore slacks and tie fit for wall street, a leather jacket that added a touch of bad boy to the businessman, and a pair of electric blue eyes that she’d recognize anywhere. They’d always reminded her of a calm, crystal clear lake. Today they were tempestuous, like an angry summer storm.

The change wasn’t a surprise given the last time they’d seen each other. But the deep ache of longing it brought on was.

“Gage,” she breathed, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it thumping in her chest.

It was the first time she’d seen him since the funeral, a thought that brought back a dozen others—some sad, some of the best moments of her life, but all of them a painful reminder of what had been lost.

“Hey, Pink,” he said in a tone that implied had he known it was her he would have let her drowned.

She swallowed back the disappointment, hoping he didn’t notice that she was shaking. “What are you doing here?”

“It looks like I’m helping you find your wedding ring.” He took her hand in his and slid the ring on her finger. The sensation was so overwhelming she jerked back.

Gage Easton was over six-feet of solid muscle and swagger. He was also sweet and kind and, at one time, one of the few people she thought she’d always be able to count on. If things had gone how Darcy had dreamed, he would have made for one heck of a brother-in-law.

An even better uncle.

A swift shot of guilt mixed with the swelling panic in her throat, her reckless secret pressing down until she was choking. But Darcy swallowed it back, and refused to shoulder all of the blame.

Life was filled with hard choices. While Gage’s twin had chosen to be unfaithful, Darcy had chosen their daughter’s happiness.

She would always choose Kylie.

Gage looked at her bare feet then aimed that intense gaze her way. “I would have thought that after jilting Kyle like you did, you’d have started wearing running shoes to these kinds of events.”

Although Gage had a big heart, he was still an Easton. And when someone messed with one brother, they messed with the whole clan. The only way to survive was hide your fear and never stand down.

Shoulders back, chest slightly puffed, Darcy made her body appear bigger, the way she had when she’d been a young girl and encountered a stranger at her breakfast table. She’d walk into the kitchen and pretend she was big and strong—someone not to be messed with.

Her mother had a thing for rot-gut whisky and bottom-shelf men—and made a habit of bringing both home. Sometimes they stayed the night, sometimes they stayed the year, but Darcy never knew who—or what—she’d encounter in the one place that should have felt safe.

But this was her home now, and she’d do whatever was necessary to protect it.

“After five years, I would have hoped you’d realize your family weren’t the only ones who were hurting,” she said. “I may have walked out on your brother, but I wasn’t the one who let him drive that night.”

❀❀❀

Gage Easton felt the truth of that statement hit hard, the power of it nearly taking him out at the knees. Darcy wasn’t a confrontational person by nature, but she knew how to stand her ground. No doubt a trait she’d picked up from dealing with his family.

He hadn’t seen her since the funeral. Nobody had. Not that he’d blamed her. His family had still been reeling from the aftermath of the wedding that never happened, when tragedy struck again, tearing a chasm between Darcy and the Eastons that could never be fixed. His brother, Kyle, was gone, and with the overwhelming and sudden grief that had been thrust upon his family, most especially his mom, a lot of the blame had been unfairly placed upon Darcy.

There were so many times he wanted to reach out, make sure she was okay, but he’d spent the majority of their relationship keeping his distance, certain that no good could come from letting himself get too close. And he wasn’t looking to test his theory.

Not today.

“Are you okay?” he asked, waving a hand to her elbows, which were scraped and he was certain smarting.

“Nothing that won’t heal,” she said, and he knew she wasn’t talking about the gravel burn. “I just have to change my skirt and shoes.”

“You might want to change the top while you’re at it.” He grinned. “Not that I mind the view, but it might cause some heart problems with the older guests.”

Darcy’s gaze dropped to her shirt and the two beautiful buds peeking through the translucent fabric, and she gasped. Hell, Gage was in his prime and her top was causing some serious gasping and heart palpitations on his end.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t peek. Much.” He leaned in and whispered, “Although, if you know you’re going to take a swim, you might just consider skinny dipping. You’d get the same effect, only you wouldn’t have to hang-dry your lace bra and panties.”

“You can’t see my panties.”

No, he couldn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. The narrowed eyes and pursed lips were enough to tell him that she was ticked just thinking about him seeing her panties. And that was a far better state than the tears that had been threatening a moment ago.

“Look,” she said pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest, which did nothing—except pull the fabric tighter. “I’m grateful that you found the ring and helped me out of the fountain, and I have no clue as to why you’re here,” her tone said she didn’t care to find out either, “but I need you to leave.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I didn’t come to ruin your big day. I’ll get out of your way as soon as my meeting is over.” And he found the abomination in bows he was stuck dog sitting.

“Oh, it’s not
my
big day,” she clarified. “I’m the planner for the wedding that is supposed to start in less than an hour.”

He looked at her outfit, while although cream and dripping, it wasn’t bridal attire. The skirt, the buttoned silk top, even her hair said professionally elegant. Not bride to be.

A heaviness that he didn’t even notice he’d taken on lifted at her admission, and he wanted to kick himself. She wasn’t getting married? So what? It didn’t matter. Kyle was gone, Gage was still struggling to make peace with things, and Darcy would always be off limits.

No matter how great she still looked. Even scratched up and sweaty, she was as gorgeous as ever.

“Well, if you’ll just direct me to the manager’s office,” he asked. “I’m late and don’t want to keep him waiting.”

She looked at her watch and froze, an expression of resignation washing over her.

“Actually, you’re early,” she said, so full of dread he felt sweat bead on his forehead. She stuck out her hand. “Darcy Kincaid, owner and exclusive planner for Belle Mont House. I believe the editor from
Wedding Magazine
said you’d be dropping by tomorrow.”

Chapter 2

“Can you define exclusive for me?” Gage asked, not sure if he was going to laugh or lose his shit. Both were distinct possibilities, and he knew with complete certainty that he was screwed.

“It means I am the only person allowed to design, plan, or oversee events at Belle Mont House,” she said, her eyes full of fire, her attitude dialed to untouchable.

Which in no way explained why his fingers itched to reach out. Sure, he liked fire and attitude on his women. He’d always especially liked it on this particular woman. But after five years of no contact and a boatload of disappointment—on both sides—he’d assumed he’d gotten past the attraction.

She’d made her choice, and he’d made peace with it.

“And what if my client wants someone else to plan the event?”

“Then they need to find a new venue. I have a list of recommendations in the office,” she said, ever so helpful. “Just let me know who your client is and I’ll have my assistant send it over.”

She handed him a card, which she pulled from who knows where. The point was, she stepped forward to give it to him, so close he could see the sun dance in her eyes, and he caught a whiff of something floral and—
Jesus help him
—sexy.

“I’m not at liberty to say who the event is for until we have nondisclosure agreements signed,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. Right, lame excuse, but he knew the second she heard who his client was, any bargaining chip he held would be voided. “What can I do to make you feel comfortable entertaining the idea of bringing in someone else to plan the wedding?”

“Nothing.”

The way she said it, with a bravado that was too big to be real, told him that she wasn’t as rigid as she was letting on. As an agent for some of the world’s top musicians and sports stars, Gage had negotiated enough deals to know that everyone had a price—it wasn’t always money, although money was the easiest to leverage.

But nothing with him and Darcy had ever been easy.

“Look, they don’t want another venue, they want Belle Mont House. My client’s fiancée is set on having it here.” Only because she’d heard some European princess who was loosely related to Grace Kelley had been married there once upon time. “But he will only agree to it if you ensure that it won’t turn into a media frenzy. Can you guarantee that?”

Gage watched the way those beautiful eyes darted around the grounds. He knew what she was seeing. Besides the assistant she’d mentioned, there were only a few hired servers and wait staff walking around, and if her wedding was to start in an hour, he doubted she had more coming. Bottom line: she didn’t have a staff large enough to handle a high-profile event. Let alone one that could easily become a media circus. And she knew it.

“If security is a concern, I can look into a solution that would satisfy your client’s concerns. I’d even be open to using a security company he’s used before,” she said. “But as far as running the event, I was very upfront with Lana that I would design and plan the wedding.”

Shit.

“Lana didn’t mention that,” he said, referring to the magazine editor he’d spent the last two weeks courting to make this last-minute-wedding happen. A deal that, if it went south, his client would have his ass.

And it wasn’t just any client, it was his biggest client. Rhett Easton, prodigy guitarist, front man for one of
Rolling Stone’s
bands-to-watch, and one of Gage’s older brothers. While Rhett was finishing up the press tour for his band’s first album, Gage had been drafted to make sure his upcoming wedding went off without any problems.