Cattleman's Courtship (9 page)

“Sorry about the mess,” Nicholas was saying as she stepped into the kitchen.

Cara blinked. Mess? All she saw were some coffee cups on the table and a couple of magazines.

If Nicholas truly wanted to see a mess, he should come to her aunt’s place.

This kitchen, though showing signs of age, was clean and tidy. The countertop gleamed and the stove shone. The old wooden table, though scarred and worn, held a ceramic bowl with a bunch of apples.

Cara’s mind flashed back to the modern, expensive furniture filling her aunt and uncle’s home. The money, which was no problem for Aunt Lori and Uncle Alan, couldn’t replicate the homey comfort of this worn but clean kitchen.

This could have been mine,
she thought, the idea lacerating her hard-won composure.

Cara pressed her lips together and marshaled her defenses. Over. Past.

She pulled a wooden chair back from the table, dropped into it and pulled out a pad of paper from the briefcase she had taken along.

And then, almost against her will, she glanced in Nicholas’s direction.

He wore an old shirt, his sleeves rolled up as he measured coffee grounds into a coffee press. While she watched he rinsed a cloth and wiped the already clean counters. He poured boiling water into the press, set out cups, found a plate in the cupboard and a bag of cookies and put that out, as well.

She tried to imagine her uncle working as efficiently in her aunt’s kitchen. The picture didn’t gel.

Lorne and Trista were huddled together, whispering and giggling like a couple of teenagers, their previous tiff obviously forgotten. Cara cleared her throat to get their attention. “So how many people will be coming?” she asked.

Trista pulled away from Lorne, then bent over, pulling a folder out of a bag she had taken along. “We’re keeping it small. Just family and close friends.”

“And how many is that?” Cara asked. As Nicholas set her mug in front of her, she noticed he had put cream in it. Just enough to give it a faint caramel color. He remembered, she thought, the idea giving her heart a silly lift.

Old acquaintances. That’s all.

“Not sure,” Lorne said.

“Let’s see your list?” Cara asked. Trista handed her a paper from the folder.

“We don’t really have time to send things out in the regular mail,” Trista said, “so I thought we could e-mail whoever has an e-mail address and phone the people who don’t.”

“So how many people would that be?” Nicholas asked as he sat in an empty chair beside Cara. She caught the scent of his cologne and the faintest hint of hay and straw from the barn, and she noticed the silvery line of a scar along his forearm that she didn’t remember being there before.

An accident at work? Or at the ranch?

Focus, you silly girl.

“About sixty, we guessed?” Lorne said.

“I’d like to ask some girls from work,” Trista said.

Lorne frowned. “I thought we were keeping the wedding small.”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve worked with them for the past four years—”

“Then I should ask some friends from my work, too,” Lorne put in.

“Of course,” Trista said.

“So that makes it, what, eighty now?” Cara wrote the number down at the top of page one.

“Only if my brothers don’t bring escorts,” Lorne added.

Cara couldn’t help a quick glance at Nicholas, who was rolling his eyes.

“Let’s get a firm list down now. Trista, you send out the e-mails as soon as possible and give people a week to reply,” Cara said, feeling like a schoolteacher. “Then we’ll follow up with the people we haven’t heard from. In the meantime we need to think about the meal.”

“Nicholas suggested we have a barbecue,” Lorne said. “Do it ourselves. Get the relatives to all bring something—like a bit of a potluck.”

Cara stifled a groan and chanced a look at Nicholas. “Did you suggest that?”

Nicholas shrugged, looking a bit baffled himself. “I did, when we were talking about only thirty people.”

Cara imagined herself, in her bridesmaid dress, whipping up a taco salad between the ceremony and dinner. “I think if we can get someone else to do the meal, we should definitely look at that.” She made another quick note.

An hour and a half later they had a list of people who would be attending, a tentative plan for the service and a rough concept of how Trista wanted the yard decorated and set up.

“So, is that good enough for now?” Lorne asked, shifting in his chair.

“What about the supper menu?”

Lorne blew out his breath and got up. “If you’re getting a caterer, they can take care of that, can’t they?”

Cara bit back a sigh and chanced a look at Nicholas, who was rolling his eyes again. Then their gazes caught and she let slip a smile of commiseration.

“We live a ways out of town for a caterer to come,” Nicholas said. “We could get one of those people with a portable barbecue thing.”

“Sounds good.” Lorne looked relieved.

“It’s a bit casual,” Nicholas warned.

“Casual is what we’re going for, right, babe?” Lorne said, with a wink in Trista’s direction.

She smiled back, nodding. “Yeah. But I still want it nice.”

“It will be nice,” Lorne said. “Nice and easy.” He glanced from Cara to Nicholas. “So what else do we need to talk about?”

“The ceremony?” Cara asked.

“We’re meeting with the minister on Tuesday.”

“Sound system?” Nicholas put in.

“My brother has one. From his band days.”

Lorne seemed to have an answer for everything, Cara thought, but his remarks were so glib and offhand. As if he were simply going through the motions of planning this wedding so he could get on to other things. “And photographer?”

“That’s why I wanted to go riding,” Lorne said. “So we could find a place to take pictures. I don’t want the usual studio stuff.”

“But you’d have to bring the photographer out there, too,” Cara said, puzzled at his insistence that they go out on horses to find the perfect spot, when there were some equally lovely places here on the ranch.

“That’s fine,” Trista added, seemingly okay with the plan. “The photographer suggested it himself when he found out where we were having the wedding.”

“So you’re good with all of this?” Cara asked.

Trista nodded, but Cara could see faint lines of tension around her mouth.

“Then I think we got everything we need,” Cara said, sensing her friend needed a break. “I guess you guys can go look for your picture spot.”

“I want you to come, too,” Trista said to Cara.

“Why?” Cara hadn’t figured on that.

“I need your advice. Maid of honor, remember?” Trista tossed Cara a pleading look.

Cara remembered another time she had gone riding with Nicholas. They had ridden up into the mountains and had a picnic overlooking a lake nestled in the valley. And had shared numerous kisses, which had more than made up for the slight fear she had felt while riding. She loved working with horses on the ground, not so much in the saddle.

“I don’t think—”

Trista cut of her protest. “Please come. Please?”

Cara pushed down the memory of the kisses, avoiding looking at Nicholas for fear he would notice the flush in her cheeks.

“Okay. I guess I can come,” she conceded, sensing Trista needed the emotional support.

“Are you sure we got everything covered?” Nicholas asked.

“We can talk a bit more on the ride if we need to,” Cara said.

“Lorne and I will get the horses ready then,” Nicholas said, getting up from the table. “So you’re coming riding?” Nicholas glanced at Cara.

She nodded, wondering if she would regret doing this.

“That’s great. I’ll saddle up Two Bits,” he said, a smile teasing one corner of his mouth. “You’ll be okay on him.”

“I hope so,” she said.

“You can trust him.”

She knew he was talking about the horse, yet sensed an underlying meaning that created a tiny frisson of expectation.

“You coming, Chapman?” Lorne called out from the porch.

“Trista and I will clean up,” Cara said, gathering up the mugs.

Nicholas held her gaze a split second longer than necessary and then left.

Trista was already filling the sink with water, staring out the window overlooking the yard. Cara could see Lorne and Nicholas walking toward the corral, Nicholas’s long strides easily catching up to Lorne. It looked as if he could be talking to Lorne and Cara hoped, for Trista’s sake, he was asking him about his offhand treatment of this wedding.

Because the frown on Trista’s face ignited Cara’s concern.

“Is everything okay?” Cara gently asked.

Trista tugged her gaze away from the men and gave Cara a quick smile. “Yeah. Just feeling a bit confused.”

“Over the wedding?”

Trista turned off the taps and dropped the mugs into the soapy water. “A bit.”

“And how about Lorne. How does he feel about it all?”

“He’s just…well…he doesn’t like all this planning stuff.”

“Does he like all this marrying stuff?” Cara slowly wiped a mug, wishing she knew how to proceed.

“Of course he does. Lorne loves me.”

Cara didn’t imagine the tone of indignation in Trista’s voice, but behind that she also heard a hint of fear.

“I’m sure he does.” Cara fought her own urge to caution her friend. But she knew she had to talk to Nicholas later. Find out if he knew what was going on with Lorne.

“And if you’re insinuating he’s only marrying me because I’m pregnant—”

“No. I’m not.” Cara caught Trista by the shoulder, concerned by the sparkle of tears in Trista’s eyes. “I just…I just want to make sure everything is okay with you two.”

Trista swiped her eyes and gave Cara a trembling smile. “This pregnancy is making me really weepy and emotional and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel overwhelmed.”

“Let me take care of some of this,” Cara urged.

Trista sniffed. “I can’t do that. You’ve got enough going on—”

“Tell me what still needs to be done,” Cara urged. “I want to help.”

Trista sighed. “The cake needs to be done. Mom’s sister was going to bake it, but she’s not feeling well and begged off. I loved your idea about the buckets of flowers, and the nursery is clearing out their stock this week but I don’t have time to go get the plants and take care of them. And I need to figure out if I want to put something on the tables.” Then she sniffed again. “I just feel like it’s all getting to be too big and too much.”

Cara thought of her own busy schedule, but then looked at Trista’s face and made a quick decision. “Tell you what. Aunt Lori and I will take care of the cake. I’ll go to the nursery this week and pick up the plants.”

“That’s too much—”

“No. It isn’t. Things are getting a bit quieter at the clinic and I know Aunt Lori would love to help out.” Cara gave her friend a quick smile. “And if we get Uncle Alan to water the flowers every day he’ll have something to do, as well.”

Trista looked down at the soap bubbles clinging to her hands. “That would be great.”

Cara wiped the last mug and set it on the counter. “We’re done here, so let’s go outside and enjoy this beautiful day,” Cara said, hanging the dish towel on the bar of the oven, glancing around the tidy kitchen with the smallest flicker of envy. This place seemed more like a home in some ways than her own uncle and aunt’s place.

By the time Cara and Trista joined the men, the horses were saddled and ready.

The sun’s warmth surrounded them, the air held a soft breeze and as Cara looked up, a flock of sparrows swooped and played on the wind. A perfect day for a ride.

“You should shoot those things,” Lorne was saying, looking up at the sparrows. “You’ve got tons of them.”

“They don’t bother me, I don’t bother them.” Nicholas laughed.

Lorne saw the girls and grinned. “Let’s get going,” Lorne said, looking and sounding a lot more cheerful than he had inside the house.

He helped Trista into the saddle and as he adjusted her stirrups, he was laughing up at her and smiling as if everything were fine.

And maybe it was, Cara thought.

Nicholas stood holding Two Bits, another horse tied up to the fence behind him.

“So you ready to go?” he asked, leading Two Bits toward her.

Cara looked at the huge chestnut with some trepidation. The one time she had gone riding with Nicholas, she had been on a much smaller horse, a mare named Blossom. Nicholas had ridden Two Bits and his horse had dwarfed Cara and her mount. But she’d felt quite at ease not being so far from the ground.

“He’s a great horse. I trust him with my life,” Nicholas said by way of encouragement. “And, more important, I trust him with yours.”

Thus assured she stretched up to grasp the pommel but couldn’t lift her leg high enough to reach the stirrup. Then before she could think of how to solve this, Nicholas had her foot in his hand, his other hand on her waist and he lifted her easily up.