Texas Two Step: Texas Montgomery Mavericks, Book 1 (3 page)

Olivia slid from the car and glanced toward the valet holding her door. “I won’t be staying. Just dropping off.”

“I’ll meet you at registration.” Mitch handed the luggage bellman some folded bills from his wallet and watched for a moment as the man rolled the cart toward the lobby. Mitch walked around the car to Olivia. “Thank you for the ride.”

His voice was formal and distant, and strangely, she was relieved. She needed some emotional distance between them to survive the weekend.

“You’re welcome, Mitch. I’ll see you tonight.”

After he gave her a quick kiss on the lips, he tapped his finger on her nose, winked and walked away.

Olivia touched her lips with her fingertips. Her heart tattooed painfully against her ribs. Exactly like old times. Some flirting, a few laughs, and then an exit without a backward glance.

She watched him enter Grayson Mansion through revolving doors then momentarily shut her eyes. Not again. She steeled her resolve. She wouldn’t let him get to her again.

The wedding obligations were for Friday and Saturday only. Two days. She was mature enough to handle Mitch Landry’s presence for that long.

Mitch tipped the bellman and shut the door to his suite, grateful for the quiet. Exhaustion was kicking his ass. He’d been up most of the previous night with a difficult calving. But saving the mother and her calf was worth losing a night of sleep. If he wanted to be the least bit sociable tonight, he needed a short nap.

Stripping off his clothes, he headed for the cream-colored, marble-tiled shower in the lavish bathroom befitting the luxurious suite décor. As he stepped under the hot, pounding water, he couldn’t stop thinking about Olivia. Seeing her at the airport had thrown him for a loop. Of course, he’d known he’d see her this weekend. He simply hadn’t prepared himself for seeing her the minute he stepped from the plane. He grimaced. He hadn’t looked his best when they’d met, but damn, she looked good.

Most of their conversation was a blur, but two facts stood out in his mind—her divorce and her current single status.

He frowned as he rubbed the soap bar over his tightening chest. How had he not known about her marriage? His mother and hers had been college sorority sisters and gossiped all the time.

Did his mother know? Of course, she did. She had to. The question was, why hadn’t she mentioned it? A subject for their next conversation.

Olivia wasn’t seeing anyone. That thought made him smile. Their break-up had been painful…for both of them.

He shoved his face under the showerhead and let the pounding water bounce off his head. He hated that he’d hurt her, but hell, at the time he’d thought he was doing the right thing. One of these days he’d learn not to decide what was best for everyone else and do what was best for him, regardless of how selfish that sounded.

He stepped from the shower and rubbed a thick towel over his body. An inkling of jealousy ticked his psyche as he remembered the phone call from someone named Adam. Her voice had been affectionate during the telephone conversation, even when it seemed as though she wasn’t happy with whatever Adam was telling her. Who was this Adam person? He sorted through his memories of her circle of friends for the name. He didn’t know an Adam, did he? None came to mind.

Slipping between the soft sheets, he hoped his mind would turn off and his eyes would slam shut as soon as his head hit the pillow. No such luck. Instead, memories of Olivia circled his brain as though set on a continuous loop. Her laugh…her smile…her kiss.

She’d looked great, hell, more than great. He’d underestimated his reaction to seeing her again. He wanted her. Desired her. Craved her touch.

With a groan, he punched his pillow and rolled to his side. She, on the other hand, seemed cool…friendly but distinctly cool.

He flopped onto his back and threw his arm over his head. Of course she was cool. Hadn’t he been the utmost ass when he’d left her? He covered his eyes with his arm and groaned at the memory of that phone call about marrying Joanna. Guilt gnawed inside, driving the acid up the walls of his stomach.

Even though he would be in Dallas until Monday, his wedding duties would only tie up Friday and Saturday, leaving him all day Sunday free. Would it be possible to make it up to her with a little fun and extra attention this weekend? Maybe they could even recapture some of the old magic.

This weekend was all the free time he had. He had to go back to the ranch and his life there. She would return to her life here. Their lives would go on as before, but it would be nice to part as friends and be able to leave his guilt in the past.

Seven hours later, Olivia threw the car into park and checked her face in the rearview mirror. Lips red, no telltale chocolate hiding in the teeth, nose powdered. She studied her face in the mirror. She could see guilt etched in every wrinkle, every shift of her eyes. Hopefully, no one else would look that close tonight.

A diamond-covered heart locket around her throat glittered in the fading evening sun. She lightly stroked the gift Mitch had given her on her twenty-second birthday. Prying it open with a fingernail, she looked down at the man’s face on the left and her son’s face on the right. Carbon copies. Had she made a mistake wearing the necklace tonight?

When she’d dressed, she’d hesitated before fastening the locket around her neck. Would Mitch read anything into her wearing his gift? Was she subconsciously sending him a message?

No, she wasn’t. The locket was the nicest piece of jewelry in her collection.

And not looking her best tonight would be criminal, the imp on her shoulder whispered.

Her breathing was quick, not panting, but shallow and rapid. Nerves had that effect on her. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the seat and concentrated on slowing her breaths, calming her nerves and stashing her tractor-trailer load of guilt in the far recesses of her mind.

After a couple of minutes, she drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly then opened the driver’s door. She stood, letting the black silk dress slither down her body until the hem skimmed the skin above her knees. The sliding silk caressed her overheated skin inch by inch, stirring up the butterflies in her stomach. She pressed her palm against her abdomen and waited for the nervous tension to abate. As she straightened the diamond locket necklace, she strengthened her resolve.

Facing a firing squad had to be easier than facing an old lover.

As she hurried through the lobby to the Promenade, her three-inch strappy heels clacked on the white and black tile of the foyer. Hosiery and she were not close friends. Heck, they were barely acquaintances. Normally, she avoided wearing stockings when she could, but for tonight, thigh-high black silk stockings made a sexy swoosh sound as she race-walked. She liked it.

“Sorry,” she called to Emily as she hurried to join the other members of the wedding party.

Emily waved and then turned to a tall, reed-thin woman standing beside her. The pinched-face woman clapped her hands for attention. “Okay. Listen up. We’ll go through this a couple of times. I suspect most of you know what to do, but please pay attention.”

The gossiping and whispering undertones stopped with the handclap, and the bridal party stilled, listening to the wedding planner’s instructions.

“Bowing to tradition of bad luck, the bride and groom have decided not to walk through the wedding. Olivia?” The wedding planner looked around, eyebrows raised.

“Here.” Olivia dropped her purse into a chair and hurried forward.

Wolf whistles from the groom and his groomsmen produced a wide grin on Olivia’s face and a reassurance that her dress selection was exactly right.

“Good. Emily would like you to walk through her paces as the bride. She’ll take your place as maid of honor, that way you’ll know your role tomorrow.” Her gaze scanned the group of men. “Now, where’s Mitch?”

Mitch stepped from the herd of men leaning against a wall. Dressed in a black pinstriped suit, dazzling white shirt, red tie and black cowboy boots, he could have been the groom from the top of a wedding cake. If the facial expressions of the other women were any indication, several of them would have volunteered to help clean the icing off his boots…while he was removing the rest of his duds.

His long black hair from this morning had been trimmed. Shorter, but still long enough to make Olivia’s fingers twitch to run through the strands. Her heart swelled with a familiar emotion that, until today, she’d thought dead. She licked her lips as her hands clenched into fists.

For Olivia, Emily was family. Olivia adored her three brothers, but she’d always dreamed of having a sister to gossip with, practice hairstyles on, shop with, and all of the other activities Olivia imagined sisters did together. Meeting Emily in first grade was like finding her lost sister.

When Olivia had found out Mitch would be the best man, she could have made her excuses and skipped being in the wedding. Emily would have understood, but the idea of not being with Emily on the day she married was inconceivable. Olivia had assured Emily that Mitch being in the wedding wouldn’t be a problem. After all, they’d both moved on with their lives.

But she’d been wrong. Seeing him, touching him, even hearing his laugh was tearing her to shreds. Now she was being asked to play bride to his groom.

Her nails made half-moons in the palms of her hands. Why couldn’t he be fat and bald instead of tall and hunky?

Chapter Two

“Mr. Landry, Wes has asked that you stand in for him during rehearsal. Okay? Good.” The wedding planner didn’t wait for an answer.

Mitch’s gaze met Olivia’s. He arched an eyebrow as if to ask if she was okay with this.

Olivia shrugged one shoulder. Did she—or he—really have any choice but to go along with the bride and groom’s wishes? Any reaction other than cheerful participation would put a damper on the whole weekend and her best friend’s wedding—something Olivia wasn’t going to do. Stiff upper lip and all that nonsense. She would get through this weekend and get back to her routine on Monday.

Mrs. Peters clapped her hands again. “Okay, people. Let’s get started.”

The bride and groom each had five attendants. As Mrs. Peters walked the first two bridesmaids down the aisle demonstrating the pace, Emily slipped up alongside Olivia. “I am so sorry I had to send you to pick up Mitch this morning. Wes couldn’t find any of his groomsmen to go. I swear. You were my last resort.”

“I didn’t mind,” Olivia lied. “I knew I’d see him this weekend anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal.” If her name had been Pinocchio instead of Olivia, her nose would now be a tree.

“Thanks for being my stand-in tonight. I know it’s foolish to be so superstitious, but…” Emily bumped her shoulder into Olivia’s, “
…
I’m taking no chances.”

With a lump in her throat, Olivia hugged her friend. “Not a problem,” she lied again. “I’m glad to help. Besides, you and Wes are made for each other. Nothing could jinx y’all.”

“I wish Adam could have been the ring bearer. He’d have been darling in a mini-tux. But I know that’s impossible.”

Tamping down the panic that rushed at the mention of her son’s name, Olivia took a quick glance around to ensure Emily and she were far enough from the others not to be overheard. She managed a stiff smile and whispered, “I do too.”

“You still haven’t told him, have you?” Emily didn’t have to spell out for Olivia who the
him
was.

Olivia shook her head. “I can’t. Too much time has passed, and well, maybe it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.”

“I hate I don’t live in Dallas anymore. I miss you and Adam so much. He is growing up to be so handsome, not that I’m surprised with his gene pool.” Emily clasped Olivia’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for not hating me for letting Wes ask Mitch to be his best man. I couldn’t tell him he couldn’t without explaining why not. And I haven’t—and won’t—tell him anything until you tell me I can. I promise.”

Before Olivia could reply, Mrs. Peters clapped her hands. “Bride. Maid of honor. You’re not paying attention.”

Olivia and Emily exchanged embarrassed glances and the grins of guilty children.

“Sorry, Mrs. Peters,” Emily said.

“Sorry, Mrs. Peters,” Olivia echoed and stifled a smile. She and Emily had received many such reprimands back in their high school days. They hurried over to where the wedding planner stood waiting.

“I want you both to walk with me down the aisle,” Mrs. Peters explained. “That way you can get a feel for the speed I want you to enter the room for the ceremony and…” she looked at Olivia, “…since you aren’t actually practicing your role tonight, you can see exactly where you need to stand tomorrow. Then I need you, Olivia, to walk in again as the bride so the attendants can practice turning as a group. Got it?”

When they nodded Mrs. Peters said, “Great. Let’s go.”

Mrs. Peters walked the bride and her maid of honor down the aisle at the pace she wanted them to proceed during the actual wedding. As soon as Emily stepped into the designated maid of honor’s position, Olivia hurried to the back of the room to be the stand-in bride.

“Now,” Mrs. Peters announced to the group, “the attendants will continue facing toward the audience and not turn until the bride reaches the front and stops. Then you will all turn as a group toward the couple. Start walking,” she said to Olivia. Olivia had taken one step when Mrs. Peters thrust a bouquet of silk flowers in her hand. “For practice in handing off.”