Resisting Mr. Tall, Dark & Texan

“Need me? For what?”

“Corey told me all about your family’s bakery in Midland. He said you’re planning to open a new bakery there.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, how about opening one here instead?”

Lizzie was flattered. “I’m honestly touched that you think I’d fit in here.”

“I don’t think it. I know it.” Erin turned and took both of Lizzie’s hands. “I’m only saying, you know, just consider it, give it some thought?”

It wasn’t going to happen. But then again, Lizzie was finding she really did like this charming mountain town and the people who lived in it. Why jump straight to an unqualified no? “Sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Great—and I’ve got to get moving.” Erin grabbed Lizzie in one last hug. “Hair. Makeup. It never ends. So … six?”

“I’ll be there. I can’t wait.”

Lizzie went back to the house, which she found empty.

Still no sign of crabby Ethan, which was fine. Until she figured out how to smooth things over with him, and make him see that he had to get real and accept that she was not giving up on her lifelong dream, well, there wasn’t much point in dealing with him anyway.

They would only end up getting into another argument.

She went to work cleaning up the kitchen. And when that was done, she took a long, lazy bath. She put a lot of straightening gel in her hair, blew it dry and took a long time with the flat iron. It turned out great, falling in soft waves to her shoulders, smoother and sleeker than she’d dared to hope. She also lingered over her makeup, getting it just right.

Her dress was a vivid royal blue, sleeveless, with a V-neck and a swingy hemline. She had gorgeous dressy blue sandals with very high heels to go with it and some fabulous chandelier earrings with cobalt-blue stones.

Lizzie was a realist. She was no great beauty and she knew it; her nose was too big, her jaw a bit too strong. Her maman had been petite and lovely. Lizzie, though, took after her tall, broad-shouldered dad.

“Stand up straight, ma chère,” her maman always used to say. “Be proud. There is no beauty like that of a tall, proud woman.”

Lizzie had always tried to take her mother’s advice to heart. Tonight, in five-inch heels, she would tower over a good portion of the men at the reception. So be it.

When she checked herself out in the full-length mirror on the back of her bathroom door, she felt totally satisfied with what she saw. She twirled in a circle and loved the way the hem of her blue dress swung out around her.

Yeah, she would definitely do. With a last wink at her own image, she hustled into the bedroom to grab her blue satin clutch.

The light tap came at her door just as she was about to open it. Her heart rate accelerated at the sound.

Sheesh. No reason to get all breathless and fluttery just because Ethan had decided to be a gentleman after all and not make her go to his brother’s wedding alone.

She pulled the door wide.

And there he was in all his gorgeous, manly splendor. Freshly shaved and showered, looking like a GQ cover model in a tux that must have cost a bunch. “Ready?”

She laughed and did a little twirl right there in the doorway and the dress swirled out around her like the petals of a flower. “What do you think?”

“You look terrific.” He said it in a grouchy tone, but somehow also managed to sound as if he actually meant it.

“Why, thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” She reached for his arm. He surprised her and gave it, tucking her fingers companionably just below the crook of his elbow, over the rich, dark fabric of his jacket.

Yes, she felt that thrill again, the hot little shiver that formed at the point of contact and kind of quivered its way up her bare arm, leaving goose bumps in its wake. But it wasn’t so bad, really, now that she was getting used to it.

In fact, if she were honest with herself, she would have to admit that it felt kind of nice.

Wait. Scratch nice. It felt better than nice. It felt pretty wonderful.

It was the wedding of the year, everyone agreed.

Or at least, of the year so far.

Lizzie thought it was wonderfully romantic.

The handsome old, white clapboard church was decorated with thousands of bright summer flowers and every pew was full. Corey’s brothers and stepdad stood up with him. And Erin’s bridesmaids looked like summer flowers themselves, each in a different-colored bright satin gown. Erin was a vision in white as she floated down the aisle to meet her groom.

More than one sniffle could be heard from the pews during the exchange of vows. And an audible sigh went up when Corey finally kissed his bride.

The minister announced, “May I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Corey Traub.”

Lizzie, in a back pew, heard somebody down the row whisper, “Who’s that?” as the bride and groom turned to face their wedding guests.

“I don’t know,” was the murmured response.

Lizzie glanced over her shoulder to see a tall, lean man silhouetted in the open doors from the vestibule. He wore old jeans, a wrinkled shirt and a black Stetson with the brim dipped low, hiding his face, so that all she could see was a square jaw stubbled with beard.

More people were starting to whisper.

“What in the world …?”

“Never seen him before …”

There were rustling sounds everywhere as the guests turned to see what all the whispering was about.

The mystery man stepped back. He disappeared from the open doorway. And then Dillon Traub, the best man, came striding down the side aisle, slipping out after the stranger.

The organist started playing again and everyone faced front once more as the radiant bride and her handsome groom walked back up the aisle arm in arm.

The reception, in the flower-and-satin-bedecked resort ballroom, was fabulous, Lizzie thought. Dinner was served at eight.

Lizzie, as Ethan’s de facto date, was seated with him and the rest of the wedding party at the main table. Everyone made a point to greet her and tell her what a splendid job she’d done on the cake.

Ethan seemed to have put aside his frustration with her, at least for the evening. It was almost like old times, she thought, like back before she’d ever even hinted that she might be moving on. He joked with her and they shared the knowing glances they used to share all the time.

She realized she’d missed their friendship lately, during the pitched battle over her right to define her own future. She’d missed the way they laughed at the same things, the way they could look at each other and know what the other was thinking.

Right after the food was served, she heard Pete Wexler asking Dillon about the mystery man who’d appeared at the back of the church. Dillon said something about a very old and dear friend who was “going through a rough time.” Lizzie noticed the speaking glance Dillon shared with his wife. The look on Erika’s face said she knew exactly what was going on with guy in the black cowboy hat.

Lizzie waited for Pete to ask more questions.