One Hot Summer (32 page)

“Cambelle's wedding.”

Remedy's laughter echoed off the trees. Just like that, she knew how to fix the wedding from hell. Carina had been right. This was what they paid Remedy the big bucks for. This was going to be a wedding for the ages. She lay back again and got to work dreaming up the details of her plan.

She wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been lying on the riverbank when she heard footfalls crunching over sand. She boosted herself up on her elbow and cocked her head toward the tree line. Micah.

He seemed leery of approaching her, so she smiled, a peace offering. “Hi.”

“Hi. I didn't know this was where I was going until I ended up here,” he said.

She swirled her foot through the water. “Story of my life. One blind turn after another, living by feel. Which is how I ended up sitting in the river with all my clothes on.”

His long shadow stretched across the sand to her as he walked her way. “I figured you'd fallen in.”

“One might think that, given my track record.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“I was hoping you would,” she said.

He kicked his boots off, then shoved his jeans to the ground and stepped out of them. His shirt was next. Dressed in his boxer briefs, he walked to her and stood in the water.

At the sudden shock of cold water, goose bumps sprouted on his legs. She couldn't resist smoothing her hand over his thigh, tracing the muscles below his hairy, tanned skin. He sat next to her, inhaling sharply when his hips sank into the water.

He didn't seem to be in a hurry to talk about what had happened that afternoon and neither was she, but she couldn't go a moment longer without knowing where they stood as a couple.

She flexed her fingers, then reached her hand across the inches that separated their bodies. Had she ever felt so vulnerable as she was right now, reaching for the man she cared about, wanting him to care enough about her that he was willing to keep trying? As the backs of her fingers brushed the side of his hand and he flinched, she closed her eyes.
Please, Micah.

Then his hand covered hers and held it tight. He threaded their fingers, locking their hands together.

“Micah, I'm sorry I—”

“You can stop right there.” Releasing her hand, he roped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “How am I going to be the noble one who apologizes first if you beat me to it?”

Relief washed through her. Everything was going to be all right. “That is a conundrum.”

She wiggled closer, until her cheek rested on his shoulder. He planted a lingering kiss to her hair. She closed her eyes and concentrated on just being, still and peaceful next to her man on a quiet riverbank. The very spot at which they'd first met.

“Loving you is turning out to be a wild ride, California.”

A confusing, overwhelming ache intensified within her. They were the sweetest words she'd ever heard, but she had no idea what to do with them. Could this really be love? Was she seriously considering giving up on her dream of returning to California because of a gun-carrying, toothpick-chewing, Alpha Bubba good ol' boy? If only Micah were as simple as he'd appeared from the outset, her answer would be easy. But Micah was so much more. He was smart, funny, generous, and kind. And he was so good to her, good for her.

Rather than try to pick the right words from the storm of them whirling through her head, she cupped his cheek and showered his stubbled jaw with kisses. There was nothing saying she had to return to Los Angeles anytime soon. She could wait until she was good and ready, and the longer she waited the more time her reputation in the industry would have to recover.

“Does this mean your offer for me to meet your family this weekend still stands?”

“Of course it does. And speaking of family, I got to thinking on my way here about a lot of things,” he said. “About you, and your parents, and about your family friends who are getting married that Ty Briscoe is salivating over.”

She had no idea where he was going with this, but unease slid up her spine. “Okay.”

“I'm not sure how polite this question is, but I think you and I are past politeness now.”

“Agreed,” she said.

“Okay, here's the question. Exactly how loaded are you?”

Remedy's breath stuttered out of her on a laugh, the question was so random. “What?”

“Money. How much money do you have at your disposal? Because despite every indication that you have enough to buy the whole town of Dulcet and turn it into your own personal amusement park, you haven't bothered installing an air-conditioning unit that works worth a damn and you're working a crappy job that basically forces you into servitude for a bunch of entitled rich jerks, and with an asshole boss. It doesn't add up.”

Ah.
They were back to the same old question again. “You're still wondering what I'm doing in Texas.”

“I am.”

“You've been asking me that same question off and on since the day we met.”

“I haven't gotten an answer that makes sense yet,” he said. “Most people have jobs because they have to. Until you mentioned a trust fund, I figured you worked because you need the money, just like the rest of us. But now, after hearing the way Ty talked down to you and the way that idiot bride and her mother talked down to you, I wonder why you take that crap. You have a trust fund. So I'm back to square one, asking that same question. What are you doing here, with this job?”

She heard the unspoken follow-up question in his words plain enough.
How long are you planning to stay?
That's what he was getting at, and damn it all if she didn't have an answer for him.

“My parents set up a trust fund for me when I was born, to be bequeathed to me when I was twenty-five.”

“And you're twenty-nine now. So how much money are we talking about?”

Disclosing money specifics was an uncomfortable conversation for her that invariably called into question her motives for talking about what she was worth, as well as the motives of the person asking. But Micah loved her and, just as surely, she was falling in love with him. He didn't care about her wealth and so she shouldn't mind sharing this other part—this constant beating heart of the family she'd been born into—with him.

“Twenty-five,” she said. “One for every year of my life.”

“Thousand or million?”

She raised her eyebrows. That he'd asked only highlighted what different worlds they lived in.

Shock rippled across his face before he schooled his features. “Twenty-five million dollars? Sweet Jesus.”

“The money's either gone or accounted for,” she rushed to add before biting her lip to keep herself from explaining herself away or apologizing for who she was.

He made a strangling sound.

“What does that noise mean?” she said.

“Nothing. I … The money's gone? What did you do to blow twenty-five million dollars in four years? You're not the type of person to waste a fortune like that on material goods, so that makes no sense.”

“You're right, I'm not that person.” Had anyone ever seen her so clearly as Micah? She sincerely doubted it. “When my parents released the money in the trust fund to me, they said, ‘Don't let this make you lazy.' I knew it wouldn't because I grew up with my parents as role models and they're two of the hardest-working people I know. They worked constantly, long hours and often overseas, and all while keeping their marriage healthy and raising me. I work because that's the kind of person I want to be. Someone who values an honest day's work.”

He rolled to his side and propped his upper body up on an elbow. His free hand splayed over her belly. “So then, where did all your money go?”

She rested her hand over his and let her fingers explore the bones of his wrist. “A lot of places. I created five funds with a million in each, one each for any future children I might have.”

He blinked down at her. “You want five kids? Xavier has two and that seems daunting enough.”

“I like the idea of two kids, but you never know. I remember thinking when I set the funds up, what if the person I marry already has kids from another marriage and then with our two we have five. Stuff like that happens all the time.”

He curved down and angled his lips over hers in a sweet, closed-mouth kiss. “Well, I don't have any kids from a previous marriage, and I think five kids might be three too many, for the record.”

His earnest response melted her heart. She looped an arm around his neck and pulled him to her for another kiss, this one deeper. His tongue teased the edge of her lower lip until she gave herself over to him and opened her mouth. He pressed her body back until her head rested against the sand.

“Back to your money and where it all went. We've now accounted for five million. Twenty more to go.”

His prompt evoked a smile. Her discomfort about sharing her financial specifics all but vanquished by his disarming earnestness. “I used one million in the first year or so, give or take, for fun and administrative expenses, a new car, a personal assistant, and so forth. And I donated fifteen million to various charities.”

There was that strangling sound again. “That's a lot of money.”

“Not really. There are a lot of people in this world who need help. Fifteen million doesn't make a dent, but it's a start. And the last four million I invested. I use the interest from the investments to live on. And then every year I cut the investment amount back down to four million and split the rest among my favorite charities. I like having that cushion of money, the four million. My fallback fund. Having a safety net has helped me take more risks in my career. It's one of the reasons I think I've been so successful as an event planner.”

“I can't wrap my mind around that kind of cushion. Money was always elusive for my family. There was never enough, and my dad worked himself to the bone for thirty-five years as a welder. After we lost everything in the fire, the settlement from the insurance was barely enough to cover the cost of rebuilding and new furniture. There was never anything left over. I worked to pay my own way through college and struggled to pay off student loans until I was thirty.”

“Money would have solved a lot of your family's problems, I know. But please believe me when I say it brings with it a whole new set of problems.”

He stroked her cheek. “I would've never believed that before I met you, but I can see now how it would. Here's the thing, though. When the Zannity scandal happened, why didn't you give the finger to the wedding-planning industry and move to some tropical beach?”

“I did take a big break from the industry when that all went down. I rented a yacht and traveled the Virgin Islands with my friends. After a month, I was bored silly. It was time to get back to work.”

“But why here?” he pushed.

Tamping down her annoyance that their every personal conversation circled around to that same question, she rubbed her temple. “We're back to that again.”

“Yes, we are, because it doesn't make any sense why you would want a job with so much drama, working for that asshole Ty Briscoe. You have a multimillion-dollar nest egg. You don't need to put up with all this.”

“You're right. I don't.” Especially if working at Briscoe Ranch started to harm her reputation even more, as some of Ty's veiled threats had insinuated. “But I told you why I'm here. I want to fix my reputation. This was always supposed to be temporary.” God, she hated the way that sounded, even if it was the truth.

He settled on his back again and gave a frustrated shake of his head. “You've been up-front with me about you being a short-timer here in Texas from the get-go. I thought I'd be content just to have you to myself for a little while, before you moved on. That some time with you was better than no time. I don't feel that way anymore and it scares the piss out of me that this situation with Ty is going to drive you away even faster.”

He was so honest and he deserved an honest answer in reply. “I don't know what I'm going to do. I keep thinking this feud with Ty will blow over. My plan was to stay here long enough to make a name for myself in the industry. I thought I had years, not weeks. I don't want to leave yet. You and I are still unfinished business.”

He turned his head and looked into her eyes for a long time; then he pulled her into his arms. “On paper, we're all wrong for each other. We should have never happened in the first place.”

He was right. “We don't make sense, except that we do.”

“I'm asking you not to quit your job yet. I'm asking you not to leave. Will you give me a chance to make this right for both of us with Ty?”

“Micah, you're the one whose job is on the line. I can't stand by and watch your career fail. Love doesn't work like that.”

Love?
She bit her lip.

He wrapped his arms more tightly around her. “No, it doesn't. Which is why I'm asking you to let me take the lead on this one. Let me see what I can do before you think too hard about quitting before you're ready.”

She peppered kisses on his chest.
Such an alpha.
“My friends back home warned me about falling for the charms of a cowboy.”

“I'm no cowboy, but merely a humble public servant.”

She brushed her thumb over the five o'clock shadow on his cheek. “Lose the word
humble
and you'll be on the road toward the truth.”

“You think your parents are going to approve of your public servant boyfriend? I'll get to meet them in a few weeks at this celebrity wedding you're putting on, I do believe.”

The ache inside her from the thought of leaving Micah and Texas behind morphed into a rock in her stomach. “That's true. I can't even imagine it, you and them in the same room. Heck, I can't imagine the two of them in the same room together, for that matter. They're the embodiment of everything you despise. Forget about them approving of you. I don't see how you could approve of them.”