The Wedding Audition (16 page)

“I think that’s a compliment,” he said, hauling her closer, cupping her hips in his hands. “But it’s not reassuring me. Don’t mistake a backbone for recklessness.”

Damn but he wanted her again. Now.

Last night hadn’t come close to filling his hunger for her.

She looked up at him through long lashes that didn’t need all the makeup she wore for her show. “Will my leaving here put you in danger?”

The concern in her voice slid right past his defenses, making him feel things for her that he definitely didn’t want to be feeling. Steeling himself, he released her so they could keep on walking.

“Not unless you talked to your mother about who I am.”

“Of course not. I just want to take her to the nursing home to see my grandmother so we can solve some family business. She doesn’t even need to see you again, so there’s no problem.” She climbed up on an old tree root, balancing on a narrow, fallen tree for as long as she could until she teetered.

He caught her, taking his time for a thorough feel of her before he set her on her feet. Her cheeks were pink, he noticed.

“See, there we disagree,” he said finally, wishing things were as simple as she’d tried to make them. “I worry that I am the one putting you in danger, which means I can’t let you go to that nursing home again unescorted.”

She kicked at a rotted part of the fallen log with the toe of her suede boot.

“If you escort me though, that means you’d have to leave the apple farm.” That concern wove through her words again, and he knew he needed to stop liking that so damn much.

For her, he’d take a calculated risk.

“Have you already forgotten?” He traced a long line down her spine through the thin sweater she wore. “You’re not the only one with a backbone.”

‡

“A
nnamae? Did you
plant flowers outside the carriage house?”

Wynn stopped the pickup truck in front of her new, temporary home. She followed his gaze to the window boxes she’d nailed together out of some boards she’d found in one of the old barns. And she’d done it with no one watching. Satisfying.

Fun.

“Aren’t they great?” She admired the view of the carriage house while Bagel bounded out of the passenger side door to circle a favored tree. “Those wildflowers are growing like mad around an old fountain in back so I figured I’d transplant some. I know they’ll probably wilt soon from the trauma of moving, but I’m sure they’ll come back.”

“Have I mentioned your DIY streak is really hot?” He kissed her neck and she forgot that she was supposed to be getting out of the truck.

Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the moment and the man. How delicious was it to do something because you wanted to and not because you were supposed to? Here, she could linger. She wasn’t on a schedule. Here, she could run out without makeup and no one cared. Wynn thought she was sexy from her dark blonde roots to her do-it-yourself efforts around the farm.

“You’re going to make it difficult for me to leave,” she murmured, shivering when he did something erotic with his tongue just beneath her ear.

“You’re not allowed to leave.” His mouth worked lower, nudging aside her sweater along her collarbone. “This is going to be a Beauty and the Beast thing where I hold you captive in my private lair and keep you all to myself.” He paused his kissing trek. “Unless you’re having second thoughts about breaking up with that ex-fiancé of yours?”

Had he been worrying about that? She ducked to look into his eyes and realized, yes, he had. At least a little. They hadn’t talked about Boone much at all, which should have said damn plenty, considering she’d been naked with this man last night.

She stroked both sides of his face, the stubble deliciously bristly against her palms as their gazes met. “I can assure you, one hundred percent, I am not having second thoughts about breaking up with Boone. There may be a lot of things I’m confused about in my life. But that decision? I’m dead certain it was the right one.”

“Okay, then.” He tipped his head to resume nuzzling her neck.

Her sweater was already sliding off her shoulder, exposing her tank top and a bra strap. He slipped his finger beneath both straps and tugged them down.

Desire sparked. Flamed. She debated stretching out on the bench seat of his old pickup right now.

“You forget my mom is inside that house, waiting for me.” She wasn’t crazy about the idea either, but there it was.

Slowly, he straightened. Kissed her shoulder and reassembled her clothes. “I’ll come back and kidnap you when she’s sleeping tonight.”

“Or I can just sneak out.” She wanted another night in his arms. Another week or ten.

“I’m counting on it. If you’re not in my bed at midnight, Cinderella, I’m coming to get you.”

“You’re mixing up your fairytales.” She kissed his bristly jaw. His cheek.

“You’re my first fairytale kind of girl.” He shrugged. “Give a guy a break.”

“In that case, you just go right on mixing it up.” She was already regretting not getting naked on the front seat with him. But she edged back, buying herself a little breathing room to collect herself. “I’ll see you before tonight though if you’re going to the retirement center with us?”

“What time?” He checked his watch.

“Six?” She pulled a folded brochure out from her purse. “I picked up a bunch of literature that day I went to see her before and this was in there.”

She pointed to the ad for a hoedown dance tonight—a mixer with the residents from another retirement center from the next town over.

“We’re going to a hoedown?” He scratched his head.

“I’ve only met Hazel Mae twice and I already know she’ll be there. I have a good feeling my grandmother wouldn’t miss a hoedown.”

Wynn squeezed his temples. “I hope we can get her outside.”

“Of course. But I’ll go incognito, just in case.”

“Really?” He brightened, liking that idea, apparently.

“I make a sexy brunette,” she promised. “Especially in jean shorts.”

“You’ll incite heart attacks in record numbers, Red. Not a good idea.”

“I’m teasing.” She slid across the seat and levered the door open wider. “About the jean shorts anyway. See you tonight.”

*

“This is utterly
ridiculous, Annamae.”

Her mother glared at her as they walked underneath an arch made of hay and threaded with daisies. Red bandanas served as centerpieces on every table in the facility’s transformed auditorium. A country music tribute band played tunes from the late, great Lara Kane while a few couples two-stepped around the dance floor.

“I think it’s adorable,” she whispered back, accepting a plastic cup of lemonade from a server dressed in a leather fringe skirt and plaid western blouse. “I hope I’m still dancing in my advanced years.”

“I don’t mean them,” her mother grumbled. “I mean us.”

Annamae hid a snicker, knowing perfectly well why her mother was miffed. She hadn’t been out of the house in an outfit that wasn’t approved by her stylist in a decade.

“You refused to change your hair color, so you had to have the cowgirl hat. End of discussion.” Annamae had resurrected her red scarf from her bargain store shopping spree on her way into Alabama. She’d given her mother a chambray shirt she’d bought that day too, but her mother was more upset about her homemade skirt.

“Burlap and recycled lace curtains do not add up to clothing in any universe,” her mother shot back. “I’m actually grateful for the white straw atrocity on my head to ensure no one sees my face in this sack you call a skirt.”

“Scarlett O’Hara wore curtains, mom. Embrace your southern side.” Annamae passed a window on the exterior wall of the room and peered out to look for signs of Wynn. He’d driven them to the retirement center and walked them into the party, but promptly disappeared to take a look around outside.

As much as she’d like to wish he were paranoid, his constant vigilance made her wary. She didn’t like doing things that could draw attention to him or his farm so no matter how much her mother groused, they were remaining incognito tonight.

“Besides,” she continued. “At least this way I can be sure you’re not secretly filming footage to send home.” Annamae searched the crowd for a Hazel Mae sighting but didn’t see her grandmother. “I know you’d never appear on television that way, although I think you look great.”

The musicians changed the tempo. Slowing things down with an old Patsy Cline song. As the party quieted, a loud laugh caught her attention. And her mother’s too. Their heads turned as one to see Annamae’s grandmother stride through the hay and daisy arch with a younger man on her arm.

“Will you look at her?” Delilah shook her head and sipped her lemonade. “You should thank your lucky stars you got her genes. I’ve never seen such good skin on a woman older than me. Although why she always insisted on that horrid color for her hair—.”

“Mom.” Annamae turned on her. “Stop it. You are not on camera. No one wants to hear catty comments. In the real world, it’s not entertaining. It’s just mean.”

She kept her voice pitched low, but she couldn’t take any more
Acting Up
behavior in Beulah.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed as if she debated going in for round two. But she took another sip of her lemonade and said, “Fine. Just fine. Let’s go get this family party over with, okay?”

As concessions went, it was practically graceful.

Not wanting to push her luck, Annamae headed through the crowd toward her grandmother and hoped that she could pull her away from the party discreetly.

“Hazel Mae,” she said softly just behind her grandmother’s ear.

Making the older woman jump.

“You scared me, young lady!” Hazel Mae looked ready to start a scene, her hand clutching her chest, when she seemed to recognize Annamae. “Er—watch yourself, dear. You should go check out the laser light show outside. If you go early you’ll get a good seat.”

Annamae nodded. Her grandmother could have a second career working undercover. For all Annamae knew, Hazel Mae might have. She was still a mystery. And probably a far better actress than her.

Heading back toward her mother, Annamae linked her arm through hers and explained their destination. For a moment, the gesture of walking with her mother minus the cameras, felt normal. As if this was what it was like to be mother and daughter. As if this was what she had been missing for years. Family sans cameras. “We’re meeting outside. I’ll get your sweater.”

Sidling out of the hoedown through a side door, Annamae almost ran into Wynn stalking along the wide porch in his black Stetson and an old leather duster. He looked like he’d just stepped off a Western film set. Or like he’d finished a set on stage for a country music show. Even in disguise, he was hot.

“Excuse me,” Annamae mumbled as she brushed past him, knowing better than to speak to him. He’d schooled her on how things would go this evening before they left the house. He was driving them. He was looking out for them.

But they were to have as little contact as possible.

Annamae averted her eyes and kept walking with her mother. She forced the memory of last night—and the promise of tonight—out of her mind. It was time to focus on family. She’d deal with her feelings for Wynn later.

Her mother harrumphed under her breath, but Annamae, in turn, had schooled her mom on the etiquette required for staying in Beulah. No antics. No cameras. No revealing their identities at anytime, to anyone.

It didn’t matter that the town knew Annamae had been there. As far as anyone else was aware, she’d already left. And it needed to stay that way for her sake. For Wynn’s safety.

She swallowed hard as she led her mom out onto the back lawn where chairs were set up for the light show. They were empty except for one amorous-looking couple off the side. Annamae was debating where to sit when Hazel Mae exited the building from another door and stalked off toward the garden.

Perfect.

“This way.” She led her mother past the water-spouting angels. Only a few trees were lit at night, leaving most of the garden in darkness. She took a different path than her grandmother, but she had the feeling she knew where they’d both end up.