Picture Perfect Wedding (9 page)

She gave herself a shake
.
No boogeyman is going to bother driving down a muddy lane to find you.
It’s probably just Wade telling you which cottage to start with in the morning.

“Maggie-May, quiet. Sit.” When her precious had stopped barking she called out, “Who is it?”

“Luke.”

Maggie-May barked and pawed at the curtains with a whine as if saying,
Let me at him.

Luke?
Anticipation and panic collided, leaving her stomach flipping and her head spinning.
Was this a booty call?

Unlikely
, she told her panting inner slut. Given the cool way he’d acknowledged her after what she’d been referring to all evening as
the kiss
, she doubted he was here to continue where they left off
.

“Erin, can you call your dog off so I can come in?”

Yes
,
no
,
I
don’t know.

“Just a minute.” She stifled a groan at what she was wearing, picked up her dog and locked her in the other room before doubling back, flicking on the deck light and sliding open the door. Mac sat quietly next to his master but her breath caught at the sight of Luke leaning up against the doorjamb. Clean boots, clean chinos, and he wore a pressed, long-sleeved Oxford shirt the color of a summer sky. The blue lit up his eyes and took them to a level beyond piercing.

After throwing herself at him like a wild thing earlier, this time she was determined to be Ms. Civilized and match his previously detached air. “You’re all dressed up? Have you been to a party?”

“Family supper. Mom expects clean hands, clean shirt, clean pants and clean shoes.”

And he looked divine. Just as he had at the wedding. Not that he didn’t look fabulous in his cutoff work shirts, but there was something about a man who took some care in matching his clothes to the occasion. “I like the sound of your mother.”

He huffed out a breath. “Yeah.”

Given that he’d been the one to stop by, he wasn’t exactly full of conversation. “So I take it supper’s over?”

“You bet.” The words held a sardonic edge.

She searched his face looking for a hint of why he was here but she came up blank. His expression was neutral and his eyes shuttered. “So at ten p.m. you thought you’d stop by and...?”

“And—” his voice dropped to a delicious burr, “—see you.”

His eyes, which up until that moment had been fixed on her face, proceeded to flick over her—one small brushing glance at a time.

Mini explosions of lust detonated until they coalesced and rushed through her, making her blood thick with hot and heavy need. God, she really should have paid overnight shipping on that vibrator.

As his gaze hovered, reading the writing on her tank top and then dropping to her black-and-white pants, he made a sound that was half laughter and half groan. “Nice pajamas. Do you always dress to suit your location?”

She crossed her arms over the black tank top that had a picture of two cows wearing black fedoras, suits and ties, and said The Moos Brothers. “They were an ironic birthday present from my brother. Who knew I was actually going to end up living next door to cows?”

“Who indeed?” As he stepped past her into the bedroom, he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her in close.

His voice and his touch had her sighing. Quickly forgetting she was supposed to be cool and detached, she relaxed against him, breathing in his clean scent of soap with the undertones of pure masculinity. Running her hands along the soft cotton of his shirt, she reacquainted her body with the hard contours of his. Man, he smelled and felt fantastic.

He nuzzled her neck exactly the way she liked it—the stubble on his cheeks tickling her skin, the gentle pressure of his mouth on hers, the decadent flick of his tongue followed by the erotic suction of his lips. Every part of her started tumbling toward doing anything he desired, because chances were it was exactly what she wanted too.

His mouth cruised down her décolletage and when he reached the top of her tank top, he lifted his head. “You being dressed like a Holstein is slightly disconcerting. I was hoping to forget the farm tonight.”

Her totally aroused inner slut called out,
No problem.
Strip my pajamas off me now.

His words, however, had kick-started her brain, which rudely interrupted with,
Why did he say I was hoping to forget the farm?

Her body tensed. As a come-on line it was very one-sided. Shouldn’t it be
we can forget the farm?
No, that wouldn’t have made sense because she had no reason to forget the farm or even a reason to remember it. However, it seemed he had a reason to forget it or why would he have said it? Her brain continued to whirr, firing questions at her and slowly her body started to calm as the rational side doused the lust.

If she added in his cool detachment this afternoon, moments after
the kiss
and then combined it with this unexpected evening visit, she suddenly felt like she was being used. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope.” He stared down at her with an easy smile and her legs immediately turned to jelly again despite the fact her head was warning her that he’d never smiled at her like that before. From the moment she’d met him, all previous smiles had either been sarcastic grimaces, wry, reluctant or had come with accompanying tension clinging to the edges. His words were at odds with the smile.

“Buzzed, then?”

“Little bit.” He stroked her hair behind her ear. “But you have nothing to worry about. I promise you my performance will only be enhanced by a little help from Jack.”

She rolled her eyes thinking he was more than just buzzed. “Research doesn’t support that theory.”

“I’m willing to prove research wrong,” he said, still holding her hands and stepping backward. He sat down on the end of the bed, pulling her toward him until she was standing between his legs. He smiled up at her, those blue-on-blue eyes gazing at her as if she was the only woman in the world.

Even a little bit drunk he was good and she needed to harness every ounce of energy to stop herself from pressing her hands to his shoulders, pushing him backward onto the bed and climbing on top of him.
Distance.
She needed distance. Somehow she stammered out, “Would you like a hot beverage?”

“I don’t need a drink.” His smooth, deep voice wove around her like the promise of cozy heat on a cold night and all she had to do to get it was snuggle up. “All I need is you.”

All I want is you.
But she knew she had to override her wanton libido and slow everything down
.
She tugged her hands from his loose hold. “I think some hot chocolate would be a good idea.”

His eyes lit up with wicked intent. “Excellent idea. I think you’d look fabulous wearing nothing but chocolate.”

The thought of him licking her clean made her gasp as the slow build of fire between her legs roared to life with flames leaping high and fast. Her muscles twitched against nothing, desperate to close around something, and because of the reckless command of her body, she almost agreed to have sex right here, right now. Right this very second. God knows she was ready. Her body was beyond ready, willing and absolutely able, and there was no argument that she wanted him. Handsome, gorgeous, ripped, Luke Anderson. What was not to want?

Except he was more than buzzed and
something
was going on with him. Something she had no clue about but she wasn’t fool enough to step into the middle of whatever that something was, no matter how much her body was begging her to have sex with him.

Obviously all talk of chocolate was extremely dangerous. “As hot chocolate is off the menu, I’ll go make us chamomile tea then.”

He snorted. “Seduction by sleeping? That’s a hypothesis not even worth testing.”

She wanted to smile. “We can drink tea and talk.”

He groaned. “You’re killing me, Erin. I didn’t come here to talk and you sure as hell weren’t interested in talking in the sunflower field.”

Embarrassment tinged with guilt burned her cheeks. “True, but tea and talking are all I’m offering now.”

Her inner slut flounced off in a stomping huff.

He glared at her. “I’m not drinking any new-age mumbo-jumbo pansy-assed tea.”

Somehow she suppressed the urge to laugh. “Instant coffee then?”

He flinched as if the offer was abhorrent. “Hot chocolate,” he said with a smile that would have melted stone. “You know you want it.”

I
do
,
I
really do.
“I’ll go check on Maggie-May and make the drinks.” She fisted her hands to stop them reaching out to him and turned to leave.

“Erin?”

She paused wondering if she really should risk turning back. “Yes.”

“If you have any compassion at all you’ll wear this.” He threw a hoodie at her.

She pulled it over her head and Luke’s eyes scanned the words printed on the front.

“Photographers do it in the dark?” He groaned. “More irony from your brother?”

She sucked in her lips as laughter hit them. “A college friend.”

“Do you own anything that doesn’t scream sex?”

He looked so forlorn she almost felt sorry for him, but talking about sex would just head them straight back to her being in his arms, which wasn’t wise. “I’ll go make those drinks.”

“Yeah, you do that.” He fell backward onto the bed, his moan of frustration echoing loudly behind her.

As she waited for the water to boil she hugged the feeling close that although he wanted her, he respected her right to say no. Despite the fact that her second impression of him as a misogynist had been completely erased, this was the first building block of her new picture of Luke. She wanted to add to that picture. So, after they’d talked and she’d worked out exactly what made Luke Anderson tick, maybe then she could risk kissing him again. After all, they were adults and if they agreed beforehand and limited themselves to just kissing, they could finish the evening in a most delicious way.

With her plan all set and the water boiled, she returned carrying the two steaming mugs along with a packet of chocolate cookies tucked under her arm. “Here we are.”

She’d expected Luke to be sitting up watching the sports channel but he was still lying down. “Luke?”

A gentle snore was his only response.

Disappointment streaked through her.

She set down the drinks and grabbed a throw rug, settling it over him. As she tucked it under his chin, she couldn’t help but notice the lines of strain around his eyes. She remembered the rigid set of his shoulders earlier in the day. For someone who lived the supposedly carefree country life, he wore strain on him like a cloak. It took one hand holding back the other not to smooth the skin with the tips of her fingers, and it took almost superhuman effort not to crawl in next to him and snuggle up.

With a silent sigh, she picked up the spare quilt and trudged out to the sofa. Sleeping on an old, lumpy sofa with Luke Anderson mere feet away was the perfect definition of an oxymoron.

Chapter Seven

“
And it’s gonna be a perfect day today with clear skies with the temperature hitting eighty-five.
”

Luke listened to Gary, from Whitetail’s Bait, Tackle and Beer, who not only sponsored the local weather on the radio, but also got to write his own copy.

“
So get down to the lake early or late
,
bring the bait and kick back with some beers.
Spotted Cow six-packs are today’s special and there’s a free one to anybody who brings in a walleye weighing over thirteen pounds.
”

Vernon grunted. “Gary knows his beer is safe.”

This was only the second time his father had spoken since Luke had entered the milking parlor. On his arrival, he’d greeted Vernon with a nod. “Dad.” Vernon had replied with “Luke” accompanied by a pointed glance at the clock.

Yes, he’d been late but he’d made it to the parlor by 6:09 and he thought that was a fair effort given he’d only woken up at 6:01. By 6:02 he’d known he wasn’t in his bed or in his room—the sight of one of Erin’s cameras on the bedside table along with the scent of her perfume on his skin from her sheets being big clues. He’d automatically stretched out his arm only to hit crisp, early morning air and stone-cold sheets.

That had jerked him awake fast and then he’d remembered.

The family argument after supper. The company of Jack. Going to Erin’s cottage.

You know you want it.

He silently groaned again at the memory of his behavior last night, just as he’d groaned when he’d woken up
.
Very smooth
,
Anderson.

By 6:04 he’d been on his feet, the ancient floorboards creaking under his weight and the sound had caused Mac, who must have slept on the deck, to bark. Erin’s dog had immediately joined in with scratching and whining on the other side of the closed bedroom door and he’d expected Erin to appear, tousle-haired, arms crossed over her pert breasts and with eyes rolling at the fact he’d fallen asleep moments after declaring he wasn’t drunk.

Only she hadn’t appeared and he’d been the one to open the door to let her dog out. As the white fluff ball had shot between his legs, he’d looked toward the couch and glimpsed the curvaceous line of Erin’s hip and her ass. A line he’d badly wanted to trail last night, first with his fingers and then with his mouth.
Just last night?
Who was he kidding? In the dawn light, he’d still wanted to do it, only, unlike last night, he’d had the presence of mind not to even try.

Now, as he attached the milking cups to a docile Holstein’s udder, he wished that the routine of work could vanquish the humiliation of last night.
Good luck with that.
So far nothing was working. Not the cross-pasture run to the parlor, not his single-minded focus on the list of today’s jobs, which was a mile long, nor the elephant in the room that was milking alongside his father.

As a single man in the dating pool, he prided himself on being charming and entertaining, and all the while focusing solely on the woman he wanted to bed, making her feel unique and special. Which she was. All of the women he’d been with over the years had been unique and special in their own way. The fact he didn’t stay with any woman for very long was more to do with him but it didn’t make any of them less singular. Over the years, he’d perfected a seduction style and he knew what worked for him and what didn’t. As a result he never deviated from it.

Except for last night.

Except for last night when he’d screwed up big-time. With women, timing was everything and he’d let the memory of one kiss upset his timing and lead him down the wrong path. A path that had ended in briars and a sink hole of sucking mud. A hole he had to dig himself out of and still keep his dignity intact. Exactly how, he had yet to work out.

“Why have you got sunflowers growing in the top field?” His father’s voice broke into his thoughts.

Luke’s hand paused on the trigger hose he was holding to clean the cow’s teats. Erin wasn’t the only mistake he’d made last night. “To increase milk production.”

“Humph.”

“You disagree with my decision?”

“You gave up a field of corn to do it. Come winter, you’ll miss it.”

He breathed in slowly, like he always did when the older farmers in the district questioned him. “Maybe, but then it will be my mistake, Dad, not yours.”

His father faced him for the first time. “I might have been okay with that if I wasn’t the one who was going to have to step in after you and deal with your mess.”

Vernon’s words hit him in the chest. Unlike Wade, Luke had always shared a close relationship with his father—one cemented by his decision to follow in his father’s farming footsteps. “I’m not asking you to come out of retirement.”

“The hell you are.” His father twisted the suction hose to release the milking cups, catching them with his other hand. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Luke, but right now the cows are more organized. I’m on Arizona time and I managed to get up at five. What’s your excuse?”

A picture of chestnut hair, emerald eyes and the lushest mouth he’d ever experienced on any woman formed in his mind.

You forgot attitude.

True, Erin had that in spades. Either way he wasn’t telling his father any of it and his carefully controlled temper unraveled. “Jeez, Dad. Nobody held a gun to your head to make you get up early. You were the one who told Brett he could take the mornings off for the next week because you wanted to milk.”

His father glared at him as if Luke had asked him to give up his vacation to work on the farm. “Your priority is this farm, Luke. Since you were ten, it’s what you’ve always said you wanted. I waited for you to grow up, go to college, travel and sow your wild oats before you returned to farm. You have no right to walk away from it now.”

Before Luke could reply, the milk truck blasted its horn and Vernon stomped off into the dairy.

The lead mass that had been pressing hard against Luke since spring intensified, gaining more weight.

* * *

“And finally, I want to thank you all for the warm welcome to Whitetail.”

Tony Lascio gathered up his papers to the sound of polite applause from the town meeting. He was about to step down from the lectern when John Ackerman leaned into the mike and said, “So any questions for our new fire chief?”

An older woman with short gray hair tipped in pink rose to her feet. “I’m not surprised you wanted to come to Whitetail after living on the Jersey Shore. We might not have the ocean but we have a lovely lake and you’ll be much better off here.”

Tony was a bit taken aback. Surely the senior knew the television show wasn’t the real Jersey and yet her expression hinted at a caring pity and a real joy that he’d got out. He spoke into the mike. “Ah, thank you. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

He glanced around expectantly, encouraging anyone else to step up and ask a question.

“And have you come to Whitetail alone?”

His head swung back as his mind was telling him he must have misheard the blatantly non-PC question. “Excuse me?”

The woman, who looked to be in her late sixties, continued to beam at him. “Are you married?”

Not anymore.
“No.”

“A bachelor in the wedding town.” The woman sighed with delight. “You do know Whitetail’s all about weddings, don’t you?”

Tony was seriously questioning if he’d moved galaxies rather than just across six states. Back in Jersey, he’d been a fireman for a lot of years and the community had only ever questioned him on protocol and safety. This woman, with her benign looks of a sweet, elderly lady, was more terrifying than fighting a roaring inferno. Next she’d be asking him his jock size.

“Mrs. Norell,” a quiet voice spoke from the back of the hall. “I’m sure the chief’s well aware of Weddings That Wow.”

Tony instantly recognized Nicole’s voice. He hadn’t seen her since he’d driven away from the park, although he’d thought about her. Thought about her way too much given she had a child and wore a wedding band on her left hand. Two big signs that said
not available
,
leave well enough alone.

For a time, his marriage breakdown had totally screwed with his head and his ethics, and he’d done some things he wasn’t proud of, but coming out here to Wisconsin was a new start. He wasn’t risking that by hooking up with a married woman in a town the size of a pocket handkerchief. Only there was a vulnerability about her that had touched something deep down inside him. Something he’d locked away two years ago.

Nicole stood up, her white-blond hair brushing her shoulders. “If no one else has any questions that are pertinent to Chief Lascio’s
job
, perhaps we can wrap this up now? I know a lot of people are keen to try your chocolate beet cake, Ella.”

“Oh, yes, good idea, Nicole. I’ll make sure you have the first slice, Chief.” Mrs. Norell waved at him before hurrying away to the reception room where he knew a scrumptious spread of food lay waiting.

The sound of chair legs scraping against the wooden floor filled the meeting room and chatting people drifted through the now open concertina doors. Tony found himself ushered forward by John, presented with coffee and instantly surrounded by a group of older ladies. They pressed platters of sandwiches and cake on him, and peppered him with questions such as where he grew up, how long he’d served as a firefighter, what was his favorite food and did he want to get married. He was also introduced to a Melissa and an Emily and their single status was emphasized vehemently and often.

He quickly realized that dealing with these women of Swedish descent wasn’t any different from how he treated his nonna’s friends at the senior center. With some gentle flirting, complimenting each lady on her baking prowess and then shoving food into his mouth, he managed to dodge the super-personal questions, although at this rate he’d be bench-pressing well into the night to burn off the massive calorie load. The words of his ex-chief rang in his ears about firefighters going country and going soft.

“So, Chief,” Mrs. Norell said with genuine concern in her voice, “aren’t you lonely living out on old creamery lane? I mean it’s quite removed from the buzz of the town.”

Somehow, he managed not to inhale the moist, rich beet cake as he stifled a laugh. Whitetail was basically six blocks by nine, with scattered housing beyond that and a permanent population of around twelve hundred. Buzz didn’t come close to describing it, which was exactly why he was here. He wanted quiet. He needed peace and quiet after the high-octane drama of life with Loretta.

“It’s fine, Ella,” he said with a wink. “And if I ever get lonely, I can always come into town and visit you.”

“Oh, you’re a wicked one,” she said, giggling like an eighteen-year-old.

When he’d finally tasted something that every senior had made, he managed to excuse himself and as he strode around the table toward the exit, he met Nicole.

“And after that baptism of fire, Chief, I think you’ve survived your first town meeting.”

The smile in her voice made him grin. He put his arm under hers, propelling her forward another few steps until there was some distance between them and the seniors so their conversation couldn’t be overheard. “Is it always like this?”

“An inquisition with a food chaser? Absolutely.”

She laughed and the tinkling sound washed over him, making him think of the chimes his
nonna
kept in her trees. Wind chimes? God, next he’d be breaking out into song.

You’ve only been out of Jersey two weeks.
Stay tough
,
man.

“Exactly how often do I have to attend?”

Still laughing, she patted his arm as if he was a small child needing reassurance. “Once a month.”

Her honey-tanned hand looked pale and tiny against his swarthy forearm and he had an overwhelming desire to cover it with his and keep it safe.

She’s married
,
genius.
Ask about her kid.
“How’s Max?”

Her hand instantly fell away. “Except for bed and bath time, he hasn’t taken that hat you gave him off of his head.”

“Good to hear.” Tony loved kids. Loved seeing the enthusiasm and joy on their faces that life hadn’t yet crushed out of them. “You should bring him over to the station one day so he can sit in engine seven. It’s a real fire truck.”

Her laughing eyes instantly sobered and she suddenly looked embarrassed.

Hell.
Had he crossed a line talking about her kid?

She tugged at her ear. “Perhaps you can talk to the vacation camp coordinator.”

Oh
,
yeah
,
he’d crossed the marriage line.
“Sure. I’ll talk to her and organize it.”

“I’m sure the children will love it.” She checked her watch and then gave him a brisk nod, as if she was concluding a business meeting. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Chief.”

And the moment of connection he’d felt sure they’d shared at the start of the conversation had disappeared and it was as if it had never happened.
Chief.
That’s all she’d ever called him, despite the fact he’d introduced himself as Tony the first time they’d met. It was a line in the sand. A place keeper.

As he watched her walk away, hips swinging and her black pencil skirt skimming her sweet behind, he knew he was going to be adding a long run and a cold shower to those bench-presses.

* * *

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?” Nicole glanced up from studying the seating plan of the Ambrose wedding, wondering what Jenna was thinking sitting her divorced sister at the same table as her now ex-husband and his new girlfriend.

She turned her attention to Max who was looking at the photo album she’d made for him after Bradley died. She’d gathered together as many photos as possible that had been taken of Max and Bradley together, although in the past couple of years, there hadn’t been many. “Why isn’t there a photo of you and Daddy in here?”

She couldn’t stop the flinch of pain that caught her under her ribs.
Because your father stopped loving me.
“Because it’s your and daddy’s special album.”