The Maverick's Bridal Bargain

The woman who’d dreamed of being a dancer on Broadway before she’d fallen in love with a rancher from Montana. The woman who’d taught them all how to do a basic waltz and an electric slide before they were in sixth grade. The woman who used to stop whatever she was doing when the perfect two-stepping beat came on the radio, grab whichever boy was nearest to her and then laugh and sing as she twirled a kid around the house.

Diana Dalton would never get to dance at any of her sons’ weddings. The thought was like a punch to Cole’s gut.

“I am so sorry,” Vivienne began, but he held up a palm. Hearing her pity would only make the guilt twist deeper inside of him.

“Don’t worry about it.” He forced his tense lips into a casual smile, but his reflection revealed that it was more of an uncomfortable grimace. They were looking at each other through the mirror, and even though it wasn’t direct eye contact, it was still too much. He grabbed a towel off the rack behind him, buying himself a few seconds to regain his composure before he turned back.

Vivienne’s own hands had stilled under the stream, so he shut off the water and passed her the clean binder. His voice sounded normal enough when he said, “Here. Good as new.”

Then he reached for another brightly colored hand towel and held it out to her. She opened her mouth, but before she could apologize, he cut her off. “Don’t tell my brothers this, but when we moved to the Circle D, I purposely drew the short straw because I’ve always been partial to the color pink anyway.”

Then, as if to prove that everything was fine, he gave her another wink in the mirror before walking out.

Chapter Three (#ue802d78b-745f-5702-a152-ba5dc28e878c)

Vivienne lingered in the bathroom a few more minutes, mentally berating herself for slipping like that and bringing up Cole’s mother. Bracing her hands on the counter, she bent her head and tried to reason that she hadn’t technically been referring to his mother. Still, the angst that had flashed across his face was due to a freshly painful subject that she’d brought up.

She pinched her eyes shut. Vivienne was usually much more sensitive in her dealings with clients, even if they looked like ruggedly tough cowboys who were quick to tease. But she hadn’t been herself since the moment she’d driven up. When she’d gotten out of her car earlier, she’d been surprised to see Cole outside, his shirtsleeves rolled up and working with that horse like a hero out of some Western novel. Something had stirred inside of her and she’d tried to distract herself with the task of getting too many things out of her trunk at once.

Then she’d accidentally flashed him when her wraparound skirt had blown apart, and she’d dropped everything she’d brought, including her pride. She’d been speechless and muddy and completely vulnerable, which must’ve been the reason she’d willingly followed the man into his bedroom of all places.

It had taken every last bit of nerve she possessed to look Cole in the eye and make small talk with him as though having conversations with strange men in the tight confines of their bathrooms was the most normal thing in the world. Vivienne had been forced to focus on his face so that her eyes wouldn’t dart off and stare at the shower just behind where he’d been standing. She had done her best to maintain an ounce of professionalism while simultaneously imagining what he would look like all damp and steamy, wrapped in nothing but the small towel hanging on the hook beside the beveled-glass-door shower stall.

They had been inches apart at side-by-side sinks for goodness’ sakes! Was there ever a more intimate environment to be in with a man? How would she know? The few relationships she’d had in college were with guys who lived in different dorms, and she’d never seen a need to sleep over. After graduation, she’d made her job her top priority and had gone on only a handful of dates since then—none of which required the sharing of a bathroom.

Vivienne looked back at the boy-band poster taped to the wall behind her. Okay, so maybe this particular bathroom wasn’t that intimate of an environment. But Cole had been wearing those jeans and doing that lazy smirk, and her brain had gone all cloudy. Obviously, she hadn’t been in her right mind or else she never would have mentioned mothers at all.

Sure, he’d bounced back from her inept comment fairly quickly, graciously acting like nothing was wrong. He’d even delivered a saucy wink that was so believable she’d all but dropped her stupid binder a second time on the ivory-and-pink rag rug.

Vivienne frowned at the binder. She preferred to keep most of her work on an electronic tablet, but Estelle insisted on having hard copies of everything. The three-ring notebook made her feel as though she was back in middle school, a trusty Trapper Keeper in her arms the only thing separating her from the cute boy who had the locker right next to hers.

It also made her feel as though she was constantly lugging her boss around with her, a not-so-subtle reminder that she was supposed to be booking more clients. Not only did she need to be professional and do her job, she needed to do it well enough that others would be willing to hire her, as well. And flirting with the groom’s brother in the bathroom was not the way to accomplish her career goals.

Standing up straighter, she decided that she’d already hidden out in Cole’s bathroom long enough. Plus, she was pretty sure she heard voices coming from somewhere outside, so it was time to get to work.

Vivienne wished she had paid more attention to the house layout when she’d followed Cole back here. Instead, she’d kept staring at his jeans-clad rear end, and now she was stuck navigating her way back to the main area of the house. She made only one wrong turn, telling herself that every framed family photo on the wall was merely insight to better understanding her clients.

Relief flooded through her when she spotted Lydia and Zach in the front room. Thankfully, there was no sign of Cole.

“Sorry we’re late,” Lydia said.

Vivienne waved her off. “No, I was early.”

The three of them stood there for a few awkward moments until Vivienne finally asked, “Should we sit down somewhere?”

“Sorry,” Zach said, somewhat sheepishly. “I may be living here, but I’m not used to playing host. Why don’t we head over to the kitchen table?”

Vivienne followed the couple into the large, sunny kitchen and came up short when she saw Cole standing in front of the refrigerator with a big plate covered in foil. “Don’t mind me,” he told them. “I worked through lunch and wanted to grab a quick snack.”

“Does Aunt Rita have any of that lemon icebox pie left over from last night?” Zach asked his brother.

“She did,” Cole replied, before hiding the plate behind his back. “Finders keepers.”

Zach responded with a noise that sounded suspiciously like an oink, then lunged at his brother’s elbow, trying to pull his arm forward.

“I’m the pig?” Cole used his shoulder to deliver a powerful block. “Don’t you have a fancy tuxedo you’re gonna need to fit into?”

“Do I have to wear a tux?” Zach turned toward her and Lydia, causing Vivienne to let out the breath she’d been holding when she thought the two brothers were going to come to blows over a piece of dessert.

Lydia looked at her for the answer. Vivienne cleared her throat. “Not if you don’t want to. You can dress as formally or as casually as you like. But since we’re talking about outfits, have you guys thought about a color scheme?”

Vivienne opened the binder on the table and pulled out several pictures she’d printed after the first meeting with the couple. They spoke about suits and lace and blush pink and everything Vivienne easily discussed on any given day. However, her mind was completely elsewhere, and she found herself constantly losing her train of thought.

Cole opened cupboard doors and shuffled things around inside the fridge as though he were scavenging for more food. Yet he didn’t eat another bite. His mouth was too busy sputtering anytime Vivienne answered a question or made a suggestion. It was obvious he was not only listening to every word they were saying, but that he also had a completely differing set of opinions.

After Cole had snorted for at least the seventh time, Zach finally said, “Please ignore my brother. He thinks he’s an expert on everything, including event planning, apparently.”

“Pfshh. I’m an expert on not wanting to go to lame events.”

“Lame?” Zach repeated. “Back in high school, his idea of a party was to invite all of his junior lifeguarding buddies from the community pool over to our house for a refresher course in CPR.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed as his lips eased into another one of those slow smirks. “Maybe we just wanted an excuse to practice mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on some pretty teenage girls.”

“Yeah, right.” Zach chuckled before cupping his hand around his mouth to stage-whisper, “Shawn and I were spying on them and the only exchanging of saliva came when Rondalee Franks double-dipped her carrots in the ranch dressing. And even that was limited, since Cole launched himself at the dip bowl like it was a live grenade.”

“What can I say?” Cole shrugged. “I saved everyone from a potential outbreak of mononucleosis.”

“That’s right.” Zach pointed a finger at his brother. “Wasn’t she the girl who was absent from school for a couple of months?”

“Yes. And you’re welcome.” Cole made an exaggerated bow and Zach threw the crumpled-up piece of foil from the pie plate at him.

“If you really wanted to be useful, you could whip up a plate of brownies or at least set out some cheese and crackers for our guests.”

“For Lydia and Vivienne, I might be willing to rustle up something,” Cole said as he pulled a bag of potato chips out of the pantry. “But you should probably lay off the carbs if you plan to hire a professional photographer. I hear the camera adds ten pounds.”

Both Dalton men were six feet tall, with similar lean, muscular builds. While Vivienne was more appreciative of the way Cole filled out his jeans, neither one was at risk of needing to watch his calories. But that didn’t stop them from arguing over who was entitled to which snack.

Someone needed to pass Vivienne something to eat soon, because she couldn’t keep up this charade for long. Stress made her hungry, and while this was one of the easiest couples to work with, Cole’s constant presence wasn’t exactly relaxing, despite her comfortable seat at the long pine table. If the awkward moment in the bathroom hadn’t happened, she might be able to enjoy this family’s teasing camaraderie. But that wasn’t what she was getting paid to do.

“All this talk about food brings up another thing we need to be thinking about before we go look at venues,” Vivienne said in an effort to smoothly transition the conversation back to the purpose of their meeting. “Do you guys have a preference for a buffet, or would you rather serve a formal plated meal?”

“Hmm. I guess we have to feed our guests, don’t we?” Lydia put her elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand.

“Not necessarily.” Vivienne gave a discreet cough, attempting to block out Estelle’s voice in her head drilling her to always upsell. “Some couples prefer to save money by having only light refreshments and cake.”

Luckily, this particular bride and groom had already laid out their budget at the initial meeting, and she doubted that Zach and Lydia would be the type to skimp on their guests’ comfort. Still, she felt the need to always give people their options.

“Seems to me like you guys should just drive over to the courthouse, say the I do’s and be done with the whole thing.” Cole gestured at the binder. “That paper you guys sign is going to be the same whether you throw away all your money on this nonsense or not.”