to the cheek.
“Her, possibly.” Drew looked at Mags. “You? Only if I issue the command, and I’m feeling altruistic today. We’ve declared beauty queens to be non–life threatening in most instances.”
“Former beauty queen,” she reminded him, and then gave him a hug. “It’s nice to have you home, Drew.”
Kimberly’s heart tightened.
So did Drew’s face. “It’s where the job brought me. I was just telling Kimberly that if you’d rather handle Shelby’s wedding, we’d be fine with that.”
Emily’s look of fear was only half in jest. “Not in this lifetime. Kimberly gets lead on this, totally. I don’t mind helping out with things, but I’m the schmoozer of the family. When Kimberly steps on toes...”
Kimberly tapped a toe on the floor, unamused.
The toe-tap did nothing to deter the middle Gallagher sister. “I jump in to smooth ruffled feathers, but major events like a presidential candidate’s daughter marrying a country star?” She put her free hand up, palm out. “Out of my league. Kimber takes lead on Shelby’s event while I’m helping her handle the fall regatta, three weddings, several bridal and baby showers, two corporate dinners and a fall festival dinner dance. I consider that a fair trade.”
Kimberly would trade off in a heartbeat if she could, but Emily was right. She’d commanded top dollar in Nashville for putting together major events. To thrust that on Emily would be unfair to her and probably spell disaster for the Vandeveld wedding.
Emily backed toward the door with the Yorkie. “I’m taking Mags upstairs with me so that...?” She raised a brow, silently asking the shepherd’s name.
“Rocky.”
“So Rocky can go the rounds with you guys undisturbed. He’s beautiful, Drew.”
“Thank you.”
The door swung noiselessly shut behind her.
“Well.”
“Well.” He took a seat as Kimberly rounded the desk to her mother’s chair. She opened the portfolio and started to withdraw her mother’s notes. Drew laid one big, strong hand on the portfolio and shook his head.
She raised her eyes, confused. “You don’t want to see the plans?”
“No need because we’re going to change the plans,” he told her, “which means Shelby will most likely hate me. I’m willing to risk it to keep her and her guitar-picking husband and their guests alive.”
“Change the plans?” Kimberly indicated the desktop calendar in front of her, dumbfounded. “The wedding is two months away. You can’t—”
“Can, will and must.” He moved his hand, but he didn’t relax into the chair like most people would. He sat, back straight, shoulders squared, head high, on alert. “Rick Vandeveld is most likely going to be our president-elect in nine short weeks. The reason I couldn’t make the original planning meeting with your mother was because threats against him on the campaign trail kept me tied up. An open affair like Shelby planned?” He shook his head. “Indefensible. The stakes changed the minute Rick actually became the party candidate. That means we start again. From the beginning.”
He couldn’t be serious. The Finger Lakes had become a go-to destination for weddings and events. Changing a date on a huge affair like this would be impossible. “Do you have the authority to change it?” she squeaked the words in disbelief, because this couldn’t get worse.
Kimberly had organized major galas for stars and corporate bigwigs in Nashville, but she’d cut her event-planning teeth in her mother’s primarily bridal business. Crossing a bride was never in anyone’s best interests. But what would a single guy like Drew Slade know about that? Nothing. “Look, Andrew.”
He didn’t wince when she used his whole name. She’d wanted him to; she wanted him to know she wasn’t letting bygones be bygones. Their childhood familiarity had dissolved when her brother lay bleeding on a cold, wet asphalt parking lot a decade ago because Drew had pulled into the sting a few minutes late. The first rule of police work was “cover your partner’s back.”
Drew failed and Dave died.
He met her gaze, cool, calm and collected, totally take-charge, but this wasn’t realigning a parade route for visibility’s sake.
This was a wedding. The senator’s daughter’s wedding. One of the most important days in a woman’s life, so Drew could—
“I not only have the authority—I have the final say. Nothing about this wedding gets done without my approval. There are no ad-libs. There are no unapproved breaks in the itinerary. There are no unexpected last-minute changes.”
Drew Slade needed a major reality check. “Those things are a given in a wedding.”
“Not this time.” He nodded toward the portfolio her mother and Shelby had threaded together several months before. “Everything gets handled differently now that Rick is the party’s candidate. Shelby’s a politician’s daughter. She’ll understand.”
He was half-right.
As a politician’s daughter, Shelby would understand the need to prioritize safety. Kimberly had organized tight security at numerous Nashville events. The merging of a country star with a senator’s daughter warranted security to the max with just the guest list, not to mention the main-event players.
But no bride on earth would hand over carte blanche control of her wedding day to a security employee, no matter how amazingly handsome, rugged and wounded he was. “Andrew, I appreciate your stand, but I really can’t make any changes in Shelby’s wedding itinerary without her permission.”
He withdrew a phone, hit a number and waited. Her rebuttal hadn’t angered him, probably because he ran into security snags and unwilling people regularly in his job. But changing a wedding?
Not on her watch.
He handed her the phone. “Shelby would like to speak to you.”
She reached out to take it.
Their eyes met. Their hands touched, and for fleeting seconds that one-sided high school crush barreled back, teenage emotions of falling for big brother’s best friend. Andrew and Dave, always together. Childhood friends, high school teammates, college roomies and then cops together on the streets of Rochester. Until Dave was just...gone.
Focus on the phone.
She brought it to her ear and turned slightly away from Drew’s intensity. “Shelby? It’s Kimberly Gallagher from Kate & Company. How are you?”
“Exhausted, muddled and wishing my wedding day was a thing of the past, right along with this election. But that’s off the record, Kimberly! In the press I’m smiling and pleased and delighted to be here, supporting my dad.”
Kimberly knew the feeling well. “I hear you. So, listen, Andrew Slade is here and he’s—”
“I know exactly what he’s doing.”
Kimberly’s
