Taste for Trouble (2 page)

“
What
?”

A
hot breeze snatched at her veil which yanked unmercifully at her scalp but she
breathed through the pain. Her veil was beautiful. It was perfect. It was
exactly what she’d envisioned. So it hurt like the fires of hell. So what? Perfection
cost, yes, but Bel didn’t mind paying. The swans might do well to remember
that.

She
tucked the end of the veil carefully under her arm and said, “Annie, please. I
still need to approve the flowers, assemble the cake, and get through makeup. Then
I have to okay camera placement for the ceremony itself and get sewn into my
dress. I don’t have time to counsel a pair of traumatized water fowl out of
whatever neuroses they’ve hatched in the past two hours. They’ll need to be
tranquilized. Can you get the breeder on the phone?”

Annie
stared at her from under a short chop of bangs. “You want to drug
fidelity
and
everlasting love
into a photogenic stupor? That’s just wrong, Bel. It’s
all
wrong. Can’t you see that?”

“Don’t
be melodramatic.” Bel dug her iPhone from the front pocket of her shirt and
began scrolling madly for the swan guy’s number. “They’re just swans, for
heaven’s sake. The world’s not going to come to an end if we—”

“This
isn’t about the damn swans!” Annie shouted. “Will you listen to me?”

A
shock of surprise lifted her stomach, and her fingers froze mid-scroll. Because
Annie had just shouted at her.
Annie
. As Bel’s personal assistant and
best friend, Annie told her no all the time. Of course she did. Every time Bel
tried to double-book herself, overshoot the budget or work through another
weekend, Annie was right there with the not-so-fast. It was her
job
to
tell Bel no. But that was the thing. That was why Bel adored and appreciated
her. Annie was
good
at no. Calm, efficient, practical. Annie’s no was
utterly drama-free.

And
Annie had just shouted at her.

“Of
course.” Bel put her phone away. “I’m listening.”

Annie’s
eyes slid toward the water, then back to Bel’s. “You can’t do this,” she
finally said, twin spots of color burning in her pale cheeks.

“Do
what?”

“Marry
Ford. I’m serious, Bel. This is a sign. You can’t go through with this.”

Bel’s
eyebrows came together. “Because my swans have some kind of stress disorder?”

“Because
you don’t love him. And he doesn’t love you.”

Love.
The word dropped a cold stone of distaste into Bel’s stomach. The very last
thing in the world she wanted was to be in love.

“Ford
and I have something better than love,” Bel said, her voice carefully calm and
assured. The breeze snatched her veil out of her grip again, lifted the tail
and dropped it on top of Annie’s firecracker-colored head. Annie swatted it
away.

“Better
than love,” she said, her mouth a skeptical knot. “Like what?”

“Like
compatibility,” Bel said. She unwound Annie from her veil and pinned it under
her arm again. “Similar temperaments, goals and lifestyles. A great deal of
mutual respect and affection. We have a
partnership
, Annie. A good,
lasting one. Marriage simply takes it to the next level.”

“I
hate how you do that. Make it sound so rational and justified.” Annie gave her
head a hard shake. “No. Compatibility, my ass. It’s cold-blooded and it’s wrong
and you know it. People need to be
loved
, Bel. High esteem and great
affection just don’t cut it. You’re cheating yourself, and worse, you’re
cheating Ford.”

“Cheating?
Please.” Bel gave a weary chuckle. They’d covered this ground ad nauseum. But how
were you supposed to explain reasonable prudence to the fearless? “Love is
nothing more than an excuse to be fickle, impulsive and selfish. People
shouldn’t build a lunch date around it, let alone a marriage. I don’t feel
deprived, and I doubt very much if Ford does either.”

“Only
because you’ve convinced him that this is as good as it gets. And it’s not.” She
spat the words like they were poisonous. “I don’t know who hurt you so badly,
Bel, who broke your heart or whatever. And if you don’t want to get over it, fine.
Your choice. But this is bigger than you. Now Ford’s in it, too, and he’s a
sweet guy. He deserves better.”

Bel
stared at her assistant through the early September sun that poured down in
rich, buttery waves. It bathed the afternoon in exactly the sort of light Bel
had known it would. The pictures would be perfect. So would the cake and the
flowers and her hair and the dress and the three hundred and forty three guests
arriving in an hour. They, along with the entire
Kate Every Day
at-home
audience, would see that perfection. Would bear witness while Bel finally
achieved the life she’d been planning since that day twelve years ago when she’d
stumbled onto an episode of
Kate Every Day
while waiting for her mother
to come home.

Her
mother hadn’t come home—not for three days that time—but that was all right. By
the time she did, Bel had found a new home. An imaginary one, sure, but at
least it was available every day from three to four, eastern.
Kate Every Day
had taught Bel everything she knew about the good life and how to build it.

And
after today’s ceremony, Bel’s life would be very good indeed. She’d have job
security, a solid relationship, and a stable, predictable life. She’d have a
future that stretched out toward the horizon in a beautiful, straight line. Everything
was going to be perfect. And she wasn’t about to let some rogue waterfowl—or
her best friend’s disapproval—get between her and that future.

“Annie—”
she started.

“Oh,
God, the
be reasonable
voice.” Annie slumped inside all that purple satin,
defeated. “Okay, fine. Here’s me being reasonable. Ready?”

Bel’s
lips twitched in spite of herself. “Ready.”

“You’re
my friend, Bel. I care about you and I want you to be happy.” She fixed Bel
with shrewd, troubled eyes. “But I don’t see how that’s going to happen when
you don’t love your husband.”

Affection
flooded her and Bel let go of her veil. “Oh, Annie.” She snatched the shorter
woman into her arms and hugged her hard. The veil streamed out in the breeze
and pulled viciously at her scalp but she didn’t care. “I love
you
. Is
that good enough?”

“No.”
Annie pulled back and glared. “Because you love Ford just the same way.”

“Of
course I do. He’s my other best friend.”

“Yeah,
well, most people want to feel something a little warmer than friendship for the
guy they’re going to sleep with for the rest of their lives.”

She
grinned cheerfully. “Not me.” She checked her watch and stopping grinning. “Oh,
yikes. Annie, listen. Thank you for yelling at me. I know you love me and want
what’s best for me, but you’re going to have to trust me on this. Ford and me? We’re
good. We really are. And we really,
really
don’t have time to discuss it
anymore. The swans—”

“—are
a sign,” Annie said through her teeth.

“No,
they’re not. They’re just—”

She
stopped when a golf ball sailed over the box hedge that separated their lawn
from the neighboring estate. It whistled in from the east and detonated in the pond
like a hand grenade. The swans wheeled madly and sent up a chorus of betrayed
honks.

Bel
and Annie stared speechlessly.

“Oh
my lord,” Bel said finally. “Was that a golf ball?”

“Looked
like.” Annie squinted into the pond. “Well. This explains a few things.”

CHAPTER THREE

“It
came from the Annex,” Bel said. Not a question.

Annie
frowned over the hedge. “Yep.”

“James
Blake and his insane brothers are
at home
?”

Annie
scratched her nose as they watched another golf ball scream over the bushes and
explode into the water. “Must be.”

“At
home and
using my wedding for a driving range
?” Bel tried to modulate
her tone but dismay vibrated inside her, with fear sneaking in underneath on
slippery little feet. She’d planned this out very carefully. The nouveau riche
red-neck neighbors
should not be home
.

“Miss
West?” The florist appeared at Bel’s elbow, his bald head sweaty in the afternoon
sun. Too sweaty. A dash of foreboding swirled into the nerves already churning
in her gut.

“One
second,” Bel said to him. She turned back to Annie. “I thought you said the
Statesmen were playing in LA this weekend.”

Annie
frowned down at the swans, who were heaving themselves out of the pond with
offended dignity. “They are.” She lifted open hands. “At least that’s what it
said on the internet when I checked their schedule. I don’t really follow
professional soccer so maybe I misunderstood, but it said
Statesmen vs. the
Galaxy
, LA, one p.m. Which, adjusted for the time change is—” She glanced
at Bel’s watch. “—about now.”

“So
what is their star forward doing
teeing off on my swans
?”

Annie
didn’t have an answer for that one.

“What’s
this? We have a tee time?”

Bel
turned and found Ford striding down the manicured green carpet of the lawn
toward them. Hunt House rose up behind him, as solid and square as Ford
himself, and the sight of the two most dependable things in her life steadied
her.

The
florist tried again. “Miss West,” he said, his plump hands clenched together,
his face round and unhappy.

“I’m
sorry, just one more minute.” She held out her hands to Ford who took them in
his big warm ones.

“Hello,
Bel,” he said. “Are we going golfing?”

She
kissed his cheek. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He
laughed and patted her veil. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He winked at Annie,
then just stared.

“Good
lord, Annie. Is that you?”

Color
rushed into Annie’s cheeks. She closed her eyes and gave her bare shoulders a furtive
pat as if verifying that she was, indeed, displaying several times more skin
than usually met with daylight in a calendar year. “A great deal of me, yes,”
she said, her smile weak.

“That
dress,” Ford said seriously. “It’s...a revelation.”

The
blush deepened. “Bel’s idea.”

“Of
course. She’s always putting unusual ingredients together and making them into
something delicious.” He put an arm around Bel’s shoulders and gave her a fond
squeeze, his brown eyes crinkled with laughter. “She’s famous for it, isn’t
she?”

A wave
of gratitude swept over her. She wasn’t in love with Ford, no, but she
absolutely loved him. How could she not? Kindness ran through his character
like an underground stream, as deep as it was predictable. If Bel’s life was a
ship, Ford was her safe harbor. And she planned to drop anchor permanently in
less than an hour now.

“Even
my magic has its limits,” she said on a sigh. “Because I can’t think of a
single ingredient in my kitchen that would make this situation taste better.”

Ford’s
brows lifted. “What situation?”

“Evidently
the Blake brothers are playing—”

She
broke off as another golf ball sailed over the bushes and landed in the pond. The
swans honked their displeasure from the safety of the shore, then turned
speculative eyes on the catering tent. Fresh alarm clutched at Bel’s chest and
she swallowed an ugly word or two.

“—hooky.”

“I
see.” Ford squinted. “Actually, that looks like golf.”

“It
is.” Bel smiled grimly. “Only they’re supposed to be playing soccer today. In
California.”

“Ah.”

“Miss
West?” The florist tried a third time. “Please, if I could just—”

“Sorry,
one second more.” She turned to Annie. “Will you
please
see about the
swans? Keep them out of the catering tent if nothing else?”

Annie
jerked one shoulder. “Yeah, okay.” She trudged down the hill, her pale shoulders
squared.

“And
me?” Ford said, his eyes trailing Annie to the edge of the pond. “How about I
go next door for a little man-to-man?”

Bel gripped
his hands gratefully. “Would you? It would be such a favor.”

“Not
at all,” Ford said, his hands warm and solid inside hers. “It’ll be nice to
feel useful for a change.”

She
blinked, uneasiness tightening her smile. “I’ve made you feel useless?”

“Honey,
no.” He gave her a wry smile. “That wasn’t a slap. You’ve been a dream bride,
honestly. I’ve barely lifted a finger. Men the world over only wish they were
me.” He put a kiss on the end of her nose and Bel thought fleetingly of Annie.
People
usually want to feel something more than friendship for the guy they’re going
to sleep with for the rest of their lives
. “But dealing with unruly
neighbors? That’s a man’s job. Leave it to me.”

She
laughed. “Right. Okay. Go man it up, then.”