Big Sky Wedding

“No problem,” Zane replied, hiding a grin. “Do you run into a lot of that?”

* * *

“SOMEBODY TOLD MRS. BEAUMONT,” Clare accused, on Monday morning, standing in Brylee’s office at Décor Galore, hands on hips. “And she told my mom and dad, so now I not only don’t get to go on the bus trip, but Luke’s in trouble, too.”

Brylee, sitting behind her computer, straightened her spine. “Really?” she asked, pretending innocence.

Fat lot of good that would do.

“I thought the top of my dad’s head would blow off when he found out Luke was nineteen. He’s already tracked him down and told him to stay away from me if he doesn’t want to go to jail or become a candidate for reconstructive surgery. Or both.” She paused, but only to suck in a furious breath. “If that wasn’t humiliating enough, Luke told Walker he’d written a song that would be a sure hit if Mom recorded it. He wasn’t interested in me, he’s just starstruck, that’s all. He said straight out that he was just trying to meet Casey Elder and pitch his stupid ballad to her. All of which means, he was using me, the whole time!”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Brylee commiserated. “But isn’t it better to know the truth, painful though it may be?”

Tears sprang to Clare’s eyes. She bit her lip and nodded in reluctant agreement. “But what if nobody ever likes me because I’m me? What if all that ever matters to anyone is that I’m Casey Elder’s daughter?”

Brylee pushed back her desk chair, stood and went to put her arms around her niece’s shoulders. “Oh, baby,” she said, choked up. “Lots of guys will like you—even love you, I promise—and it will be because you’re you, Clare Elder Parrish, not because your mom is a superstar.”

Clare clung to her aunt, and a shuddering motion of her shoulders indicated that she was crying, even though she didn’t make a single sound.

And that broke Brylee’s heart, because Clare was so trusting. How long would that last, though?

“This hurts,” Clare said, face buried in Brylee’s shoulder. “I thought Luke liked me for myself,” she despaired. “I should have known this was really all about Mom, and what a legend she is, and not about me at all.”

“Of course it hurts,” Brylee responded, remembering how she’d felt after Hutch Carmody called off their wedding. She’d hurt plenty then, even knowing, on some level, that Hutch was right—they were all wrong for each other. She’d left that little church in Parable, a spurned bride in the wedding dress of her dreams, with her heart in pieces, her pride in tatters. “But things will get better, sweetheart. I promise.”

Clare sniffled. “That’s what Mom said,” she admitted.

“Your mom is one smart lady,” Brylee assured her niece. “When the right guy comes along, he won’t care who your mother is, or your dad, either. He’ll be interested in you, period. But don’t try to hurry things along, Clare—take time to grow up, to become the woman you want to be, to pursue your own goals. That way, when the time to fall in love for real comes, you’ll be ready.”

Clare drew back, gazed earnestly into Brylee’s eyes. “Do you really believe that?” she asked. Of course Clare knew about the Hutch disaster—everyone did.

Brylee was wounded, though she was fairly sure Clare hadn’t intended that. With one broken engagement behind her, though, was she any kind of authority on love and marriage? Hardly. Still, she was intelligent, and not entirely dysfunctional. “Yes,” she said honestly. “I believe there is someone for everybody—but we need to be open to the fact that this person might not be the one we’ve been expecting.”

It was impossible not to think of Zane in that moment, although Brylee would have preferred not to, for sure. She’d believed that Hutch Carmody was the man for her and, since he’d fallen head over heels in love with Kendra Shepherd, she, Brylee, was just plain out of luck. She’d missed the last bus, so to speak.

Now, she’d begun to wonder if the whole heartbreaking experience of being dumped at the altar hadn’t been a good thing. Hutch was happy with Kendra, and vice versa, and they were building a family together.

But was there a man out there for her—one she was meant to love with her whole heart, and share her life with?

Zane Sutton, perhaps?

Ridiculous. Of course not. She had nothing in common with the man. Nothing at all.

Except, of course, for an undeniable inclination to rip the man’s clothes off his perfect and very masculine body and have her way with him on the spot.

“Am I going to feel better anytime soon?” Clare asked plaintively.

Brylee smiled and kissed her niece smartly on the forehead. “Trust me,” she said. “You will definitely feel better, and sooner than you think.”

“Did you tell Mrs. Beaumont about Luke and me?”

Brylee sighed. She played a mean game of dodgeball, but she never lied. “Yes,” she admitted.

Clare smiled a shaky, watery smile. “Thanks,” she said.

Brylee laughed and hugged her niece again, hard. “You’re welcome,” she replied.

After Clare left the office, Brylee couldn’t seem to get back on board her former train of thought. So she logged off the computer and woke a slumbering Snidely with a soft whistle.

“How about a walk, big guy?” she asked.

Snidely stretched and got to his feet, panting eagerly. Like ride and car, he knew the word walk, and he was all for the idea.

They moved through the busy warehouse, woman and dog, and out into the woodsy area behind the building.

Brylee gazed at the tree line. The adjoining property had been vacant for so long that she and Snidely had developed a habit of wandering there.

To trespass or not to trespass, that was the question.

Brylee came down on the side of bending the law just a little.

She headed straight for Zane Sutton’s property line, her dog at her side, and made her way toward the creek.

CHAPTER FOUR

BRYLEE SAT ON the creek bank, with her bare feet dangling in the water, and soaked up the afternoon sunlight and the outrageously blue sky. Snidely was off in the woods somewhere, playing the great hunter, though in truth, that silly dog didn’t have an aggressive bone in his body. He was most definitely the diplomatic type—a lover, not a fighter.

When the other dog appeared, floppy-eared and thin, Snidely returned to Brylee’s side and sat vigilantly beside her, though he didn’t make a sound—not even a warning growl. His tail switched back and forth, just briefly, and Brylee knew he was hoping for friendship, though he’d do battle in her defense if he had to.

She stroked his sleek head and murmured, “It’s okay, buddy,” and if Snidely didn’t understand her words, he did comprehend her tone, because he relaxed.

The black dog, painfully skinny, with a dull coat, stood on the other side of the creek, watching Brylee and Snidely. He seemed calm and, at the same time, poised to flee if he sensed a threat of any kind.

Brylee was surprised when she spotted a collar around the newcomer’s neck, complete with tags. He looked like a stray, not somebody’s pet.

Anger surged inside her. What was up with the symptoms of starvation and the timid manner? Whoever this dog belonged to— And it was no great stretch to figure that one out, since she knew every cat and dog and horse within a twenty-mile radius of Three Trees and she’d never so much as glimpsed this fellow before.

The poor creature had the misfortune to belong to none other than Zane Sutton, knee-meltingly handsome movie star. Major land owner.

Arrogant, self-indulgent, shallow jerk.

Brylee pulled her feet out of the creek, tugged on her socks and shoes and stood up. “Hey, boy,” she said to the dog on the other side. “Are you lost?”

The dog eyed her, eyed Snidely and sat down in the tall grass to await his fate.

Brylee made her way to the line of flat rocks that bridged the creek—she’d been crossing that way for so long that she could have done it with her eyes closed—while Snidely plunged valiantly, if reluctantly, into the water and paddled across.

The black dog didn’t move, though it gave a little whimper of fretful submission as she drew near.