preferred.
Nor was she loaded with experience to help her cousin. Unlike Taylor, Brynn had never been swimming in admirers. As a teen she’d been needed at home too much to date. Her family obligations had lightened up over the years but it still seemed there were more crises than relationships. And oddly enough, whenever she did dip her toes back into the social pool, there didn’t seem to be many guys who could keep up with her no-bullshit approach to life.
So no, she didn’t have a lot of personal knowledge of matters of the heart. But she had the desire to help and the ability to make a plan and carry it through. Those, she was sure, were the skills that would go furthest in helping Taylor. They had always worked so far.
Her mind made up, Brynn grabbed a block of cheddar, tossed it on a plate and added a sleeve of crackers. Then, her mother’s admonitions in her head, she removed the crackers from the paper, arranged them in a circle around the cheese and balanced a knife on the side.
Martha Stewart was undoubtedly quivering in her hand-tooled Italian leather boots.
She poured Taylor’s beer into a mug, shoved her own bottle in one pocket of her sweatpants and the opener in the other, grabbed everything with ease—thanks to a college career spent waiting tables—and sailed back to the sofa. The good news was that Taylor had stopped crying. The bad news was that she still looked as wan and lifeless as if she’d been plucked from the mondo snowbank that loomed outside Brynn’s window, pressing against the glass like it was contemplating a career in breaking and entering. Ah, the joys of winter in eastern Ontario.
Spring couldn’t come fast enough.
Brynn set the food and drinks on the old trunk that served as her coffee table, opened her beer and indulged in a long, steadying swallow. Then and only then did she trust herself to respond with the brisk compassion she knew was needed.
“Okay. This is a pickle, no doubt about it, but we can fix it.”
“I can’t think how.” Taylor eyed her beer. “Except maybe with mind-altering drugs.”
“You only wish. The answer is going to be harder, but trust me, it’ll be worth it. All we have to do is make you fall in love with Ian again.”
Taylor choked on her drink. Oops. Maybe that hadn’t been the best timing.
“Haven’t you heard anything I said? I don’t love Ian. I probably never did. I’m in love—”
“With Carter. Yes, I know. But, Tay, come on. Don’t you think it’s suspicious that you never started seeing Carter in this new and dazzling light until Ian was gone?”
Taylor’s eyes reddened, but at least she didn’t start crying again. Nor did she have an answer.
“You said yourself, you think that the things that attracted you to Ian are the parts of Carter that hadn’t bloomed yet. Well, maybe you got it wrong. Maybe the things you liked about Ian are what you were really looking for.”
“I don’t think that made any sense.”
“Of course not. That doesn’t matter. Do you trust me?”
Taylor nodded, though without as much vigor as Brynn would have liked.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. You said you don’t want to break up with Ian while he’s gone, right?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to—not that I do want to, of course—but I can’t do that to him now. He’s doing such good work there helping people start their own businesses, but he’s all by himself. No family, no real friends. I can’t do that to him when he has no one to help him through it.”
Personally, Brynn saw that as a sign that deep down, Taylor wanted to stay with him, but this wasn’t the moment to mention that.
“Totally understandable. When is he coming home?”
“The middle of May.”
“So that gives us four months. I propose we use that time to get you back on track. You think you aren’t in love, but my bet is that you are and it’s just...hibernating.” She waved a hand toward the snow-covered windows. “We just have to wake you up.”
“There’s nothing—”
“Taylor Belle Hunter, stop yourself right there. You can’t tell me you have absolutely no feelings for Ian.”
“Well, of course I do. I might not be in love, but he’s a great guy and I still care about him.”
“Good to his family?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thoughtful and considerate?”
“Definitely.”
“Good in bed?”
“Brynn!”
“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.” She snagged a piece of cheese and popped it in her mouth. “The thing is, he’s an awesome guy, you do have positive feelings for him, and they probably run a lot deeper than you think. All we have to do is rekindle what’s already there.”
“But I—”
“Taylor. What is your plan?”
“Wait until he comes home. Fake my way through a week of hell while he gets back on his feet and the family throws a giant centennial celebration for the dairy. Then tell him the truth, pack my bags and leave town.”
“What about Carter?”
Taylor drew in a long breath that turned into a choking kind of sob. Brynn gaped at her.
“You weren’t going to tell him?”
“What would that accomplish? I’m doing enough damage as it is. I’m not going to rip the family apart that way.”
Brynn sank slowly back into the recliner. She was far too familiar with the hurt that came with families falling apart. Taylor was right.
“What about you?”
Taylor’s shrug didn’t fool Brynn for a minute. “It’s not like I’m the first woman to find herself in love with the wrong man, right?”
Hell and damnation. Brynn hauled herself out of the chair and over to the sofa, where she put an arm around Taylor’s shaking shoulders and pulled her close.
“Oh, sweetie,” she whispered as she rocked Taylor like a child. “Let me help you. Let me make this right for you.”
“I’ve tried, Brynn. I really have.”
“I know you have, honey. I know you don’t want anyone to get hurt. But just...let me try. I don’t know how yet, but I promise you, I will come up with something. All we have to do is make you want Ian again. That’s the key to fixing this mess. To make you love him.”
“I don’t know, Brynn.” Taylor wiped her cheeks. “You’re the queen of organizing and all that, but I don’t think even you can
