way was she having the I want to jump your bones, but hey, I get that you’re just not that into me conversation. Not tonight. Not ever again. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Yes, she did. So what now? Truth or lie?
Lie, definitely. “No, really. There’s nothing.” She faked a yawn and hid it behind her hand.
He fell for it. “Tired?”
She lied some more. “Exhausted. It’s—what? One in the morning in Montedoro. I’m just going to finish this amazing stew and go on up to my room...”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I am. Really. Just a little tired is all.”
And that was it. He let it go.
After the meal, she helped him straighten up the kitchen. Then she went upstairs, had a nice bath and called Clara’s house. Clara wasn’t there, so Rory left a message saying she’d arrived safely after an uneventful flight and would see her in the morning for the final fittings. They were all—bride and bridesmaids—meeting at Wedding Belles Bridal on Central Street at ten.
Rory hung up and climbed into bed. She was certain she would lie there wide-awake for hours stewing over her inappropriate interest in her very good friend Walker. But she turned out the light and snuggled under that old quilt and smiled because the pillowcase smelled like starch and sunshine.
And the next thing she knew, thin winter sunlight was peeking between the white cotton curtains. She sat up and stretched and realized she felt great. Lucky Lady sat at the end of the bed, lazily licking her paw.
Rory beamed at the big black cat. All those weird emotional knots she’d tied herself up in the night before? Untied.
Honestly, if she still had a little bit of a crush on Walker, so what? She didn’t have to get all eaten up over it. It just wasn’t that big a deal.
* * *
Walker drove her into town. He found a parking space right on Central Street in front of Wedding Belles, under a streetlamp all done up for the holidays with an evergreen wreath covered in bright colored Christmas ornaments and crowned with a red bow.
Rory unhooked her seat belt. “I’ll call you when we leave the shop.”
He didn’t fall for it. “I’ll see you inside.” He went to feed the meter.
Still hoping that maybe he’d give up and go hang with Ryan or something for a while, Rory entered the shop.
Wedding Belles was everything the name implied. Big, beautiful dresses in a delicious rainbow of colors hung on racks along the walls. More dresses tempted the buyer from freestanding displays. It was a truly girlie kind of place, and the final fitting was just supposed to be Clara and her attendants.
Best man not included.
Walker came in anyway. He assumed the bodyguard position, out of the way, near the door.
Clara was already there. She stood in the center of the shop, all in white, on a round white fitting platform in front of a silver-trimmed cheval mirror, her brown hair loose on her shoulders. She had her head tipped down at first, a pensive expression on her pretty face. Her dress was a gorgeous thing, with a layered organza skirt, three-quarter length lace sleeves and a fitted lace-and-beadwork bodice. Clara looked adorable in it. Another woman, probably the shop’s owner, was busy fussing with the layers of fluffy organza hem.
As always, Rory had a camera with her. She whipped it out and snapped a few quick shots of the bride, who seemed lost in a world of her own, and the seamstress kneeling at her feet.
Clara looked up, her faraway expression vanishing as if it had never been. She beamed and held out her arms. “Rory!” The other woman stepped aside so Clara could hike up those acres of skirt and jump down from the platform for a hello hug.
Rory stuck her camera back in her tote and ran over to wrap her arms around her favorite cousin, who smelled of a light, flowery perfume—with just a hint of coffee and pancakes. Clara must have been at her restaurant, the Library Café, already that morning. “God,” Rory said. “It’s so good to see you.” They grinned at each other.
Clara kissed her on the cheek and jumped back up on the platform. “This is Millie. She owns the place. Millie, my cousin Rory.”
“Hey,” said Rory. “We’ve met. Sort of.” She’d talked to Millie on the phone a couple of times, giving the shopkeeper her size and measurements so her dress could be made up and ready for today.
The woman dipped a knee in a fair approximation of a curtsy. “Your Highness. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person. It’s an honor.”
Clara laughed. “Just call her Rory. She gets cranky when people treat her like a princess.”
Millie gave Rory a questioning look.
And Rory said, “That’s right. Just Rory.”
“Fair enough. Rory.” The shop owner straightened her pincushion bracelet and knelt again at Clara’s hem.
Clara was watching Walker, who remained by the door. “I hate to break it to you, Walker. But this is a no-groomsmen-allowed kind of thing we’re doing here.”
He shrugged—and didn’t budge. “You look beautiful, Clara. My brother’s a lucky man.”
“Thanks. You can go.”
“Sorry. Can’t do that. Pretend I’m not here.” He stared out the window—on the lookout for kidnappers, no doubt.
Clara muttered to Rory, “What is going on with him?”
Rory grumbled, “My mother hired him to be my bodyguard for this trip.”
Clara blinked. “No kidding.”
Rory shook her head. “And as you can see, so far, he’s taking his new job very seriously.”
“I guess I should have noticed that you’re minus security.”
“Oh, but I’m not. I’ve got security. And his name is Walker. I’m staying out at the Bar-N, so he can protect me even when I’m sleeping.” She gestured grandly toward the man in question. “Wherever I go, Walker goes.”
“Hmm.” Clara’s green eyes gleamed and she pitched her voice even lower. “This could get interesting...”
“Don’t even go there,” Rory threatened. Clara knew too much. She was Rory’s favorite cousin, after all. And a couple of times over the years Rory had just happened to mention that she had a sort of a thing for Walker. She really wished she’d kept her mouth shut—but both times there had been wine involved, and girls will be girls.
Clara flashed her a way-too-innocent smile. “Don’t go where, exactly?”
Right then, the little bell over the door chimed, distracting Clara, so that Rory didn’t have to answer any more of her
