A Cadence Creek Christmas

The laughter really picked up during Bridal Pictionary, which pitted Taylor against Angela as they attempted to draw “wedding night” without getting graphic. After they took a break to stuff themselves with snacks, they all returned to the living room for gifts.

Taylor sat back into the soft sofa cushions and examined the woman who was about to become her sister-in-law. Avery was so lovely—kind and gentle but with a backbone of steel. She was a fantastic mother to her niece, Nell, who was Callum’s biological daughter. Taylor couldn’t have handpicked a nicer woman to marry her brother. It gave her a warm feeling, but also an ache in her heart, too. That ache unsettled her a bit, until she reminded herself that she was simply very happy that Callum had found someone after all his troubles. A love like that didn’t come along every day.

Her thoughts strayed to Rhys for a moment. The man was a contradiction for sure. On one hand he was full of confidence and really quite bossy. And yet he was satisfied with taking orders from someone else and moving back to this small town with very few options. It didn’t make sense.

It also didn’t make sense that for a brief moment earlier in the week, she’d had the craziest urge to kiss him. The snow had been falling on his dark cap of hair and dusting the shoulders of his jacket. And he’d been watchful of her, too. There’d been something there, a spark, a tension of some sort. Until he’d turned to go and she’d gone up the walk and into the house.

She hadn’t seen him since. Not at the diner, not around town.

Avery opened a red box and a collective gasp went up from the group. “Oh, Molly. Oh, gosh.” Avery reached into the tissue paper and withdrew a gorgeous white satin-and-lace nightgown. “It’s stunning.”

“Every woman should have something beautiful for their wedding night,” Molly said. “I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

Taylor watched as Avery stood and held the long gown up to herself. The bodice was cut in a daring “V” and consisted of sheer lace while the satin skirt fell straight to the floor, a deep slit cut to the hip. It blended innocence with sexy brilliantly.

She took another sip of cocoa and let her mind carry her away for a few blissful seconds. What would it be like to wear that nightgown? She would feel the lace cups on her breasts, the slide of the satin on her thighs. She’d wear slippers with it, the kind of ridiculous frippery that consisted of heels and a puff of feathers at the toe. And Rhys’s dark eyes would light up as she came into the room, their depths filled with fire and hunger...

“Helloooo, earth to Taylor!”

She blinked and focused on the circle of women who were now staring at her. “Oh. Sorry.”

“I was just going to say thank you for the bath basket, but you were in another world.” Avery was smiling at her.

“You’re welcome! Goodness, sorry about that. Occupational hazard. Sometimes it’s hard to shut the old brain off.” She hoped her flippant words were believable. What would they say if they knew she’d been daydreaming about the only groomsman who wasn’t married or a relative?

“Right,” Amy said with a wide grin. “I know that look. You were thinking about a dude.”

Damn her for being astute. Who had said she wasn’t smart, anyway?

Melissa burst out laughing. “Were you? Come on, do tell. Do you have some guy hiding away in Vancouver?”

“No!” The word was out before she realized it would have been the most convenient way out of the situation.

Avery came to her rescue, though. “We’re just teasing. Seriously, thank you. It’s a lovely gift.”

She reached for the last present on the pile and removed the card. “Oh,” she said with delight. “It’s from Martha. I wonder if she’s going to part with her coconut cream pie recipe.” Everyone laughed. Martha Bullock never shared her pie recipes with anyone. Even Rhys had mentioned that at dinner the other night.

Avery ripped the paper off the box and withdrew a plain black binder. Opening the cover, she gasped. “It is recipes! Look!” She read off the table of contents. “Supper Dishes, Breads and Muffins, Cookies, Cakes, Salads, Preserves.” She lifted her head and laughed. “No pies.”

Excited, she began flipping through the pages when Amy interrupted again. “That’s it!” she called out, causing Avery’s fingers to pause and the rest of the group to stare at her in surprise.

“That’s where I saw you last,” Amy continued, undaunted. “It was at the diner. You had dinner with Rhys!”

Six more sets of eyes swiveled Taylor’s way until she felt like a bug under a microscope.

“It wasn’t a date. We both ended up needing to eat at the same time. We just met outside on the sidewalk and, uh, sat together.”

“It sure didn’t look that way,” Amy answered, a little too gleeful for Taylor’s liking. “Now that is news. Rhys hasn’t shown up anywhere with a date since...”

She suddenly blushed and turned her gaze to something over Jean’s shoulder. “Well, it doesn’t matter how long since.”

It was uncomfortably quiet for a few moments until a small giggle broke the silence. Clara was trying not to laugh and failing miserably. Angela and Molly joined in, followed by Jean and Melissa. Even Avery’s mouth was twitching. Taylor frowned a little, wondering what the joke could be.

Amy had the grace to look chagrined. “Okay, I know. My track record sucks.”

Angela spoke up. “Honey, Rhys Bullock is one tough nut to crack. Someday the right guy’s gonna come along.”

Amy’s eyes glistened. “Just my luck I won’t recognize him when I see him.”

Everyone laughed again.

Then Avery spoke up. “That’s what I thought, too, Amy. Don’t give up hope. You just never know.” She looked at Taylor. “And I know for a fact that Rhys is smart and stubborn. Sounds like someone else I know. Keep us posted, Taylor.”

“Yeah,” Clara added, her hand on her rounded stomach. “The old married women need some excitement now and again.”

“I swear I bumped into him outside. Literally. Ran smack into him and nearly broke my phone.” She brought her hands together in demonstration of the collision. “It was dark, it was dinnertime and we had pot roast. End of story.”

But as the subject changed and they cleaned up the paper and ribbons, Taylor’s thoughts kept drifting back to that night and how she’d almost reached out to take his hand as he walked her home.

It was such a simple and innocent gesture to think about, especially in these days of casual hookups. Not that hooking up was her style, either. That philosophy combined with her long hours meant she hadn’t had time for personal relationships for ages. Not since the early days of her business, when she’d been seeing an investment planner named John. He’d wanted more than a girlfriend who brought work home at the end of a twelve-hour day and considered takeout a sensible dinner. After a few months in, he’d walked. The thing Taylor felt most guilty about was how it had been a relief.

She balled up used napkins and put them in the trash. Time kept ticking. A few days from now was the rehearsal, and then the wedding and then Callum and Avery would be away on their honeymoon and Taylor would move out of the B&B and into their house until Boxing Day, where she planned on watching movies, reading books and basically hibernating from the outside world. It was going to be peace and quiet and then a family Christmas.

Complications in the form of Rhys Bullock would only ruin her plans.

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS TAYLOR’S experience that if the rehearsal went badly, the wedding was sure to be smooth and problem free. A sentiment which boded well for Callum and Avery, as it turned out, because nothing seemed to be going her way.

First of all, everything was an hour late starting thanks to a winter storm, which dumped enough snow to complicate transportation. The minister had slid off the road and into a snowbank. The car wasn’t damaged but by the time the tow truck had pulled him out, the wedding party was waiting and quite worried by his absence. Then Taylor opened the box that was supposed to contain the tulle bows for the ends of the church pews to find that they’d been constructed of a horrible peachy-yellow color—completely unsuited for a Christmas wedding!

The late start and the road conditions also meant canceling the rehearsal dinner that had been organized at an Italian place in the city. Taylor was just about ready to pull her hair out when she felt a wide hand rest on her shoulder.

“Breathe,” Rhys commanded. “It’s all fine.”

She clenched her teeth but exhaled through her nose. “Normally I would just deal with stuff like this without batting an eyelid. I don’t know why it’s throwing me so much.”

“Maybe because it’s for your brother,” he suggested.

He might be right. She did want everything just right for Callum’s wedding. It wasn’t some corporate dinner or celebrity party. It was personal. It was once in a lifetime.

God, there was a reason why she didn’t do weddings.

“What can I do to help?”

She shrugged. “Do you have a roll of white tulle in your pocket? Perhaps a spare horseshoe I could rub for good luck or something?”

He grimaced. “Afraid not. And you rub a rabbit’s foot, not a horseshoe. I’m guessing our plans for dinner have changed.”

She looked up at him. He was “dressed up” for the rehearsal—neat jeans, even with a crease down the front, and a pressed button-down shirt tucked into the waistband. His boots made him look taller than ever, especially as she’d decided on her low-heeled boots tonight in deference to the weather. There was a strength and stability in him that made her take a deep breath and regroup. For some reason she didn’t want to appear incapable in front of him. “I’ve had to cancel our reservations.”

“I’ll call my mom. It won’t be as fancy as what you planned, but I’m guessing she can manage a meal for a dozen of us.”

“We can’t have a rehearsal dinner at a diner.”

His lips puckered up like he’d tasted something sour. “Do you have any better suggestions? I guess you could pick up some day-old sandwiches at the gas station and a bag of cookies. You don’t exactly have a lot of options.”

“It was supposed to be romantic and relaxing and...” She floundered a little. “You know. Elegant.”

He frowned at her and she regretted what she’d implied. “What would you do if you were in Vancouver right now?” he asked.

“This kind of weather wouldn’t happen in Vancouver.”

He made a disgusted sound. “You’re supposed to be so good at your job. You’re telling me nothing ever goes off the plan?”

“Well, sure it does, but I...”

“But you what?”

“I handle it.”

“How is this different?”

“Because it’s family.”

The moment she said it her throat tightened. This wasn’t just another job. This was her big brother’s wedding. This was also the chance where she would prove herself to her family. She could talk until she was blue in the face, but the truth of the matter was she still sought their approval. The Shepards were driven and successful. It was just expected. She knew she’d disappointed her dad in particular. He thought what she did was unimportant, and the last thing she wanted to do was fall on her professional face in front of him.

“This isn’t Vancouver, or Toronto, or New York or L.A.” Rhys spoke firmly. “This isn’t a big-city event with a bunch of rich snobs. It’s just Cadence Creek. Maybe it’s not good enough for you but it’s good enough for Callum and Avery and maybe you should consider that instead of only thinking about yourself.”

His words hurt. Partly because he was judging her without even knowing her and partly because he was right, at least about things being simpler here. How many times had Avery said they didn’t need anything fancy? Taylor had insisted because it was no trouble. Had she messed up and forgotten the singular most important rule: Give the client what they ask for?

“Call your mother, then, and see if there’s any way she can squeeze us in.”

“Give me five minutes.”

The words weren’t said kindly, and Taylor felt the sting of his reproof. Still, she didn’t have time to worry about Rhys Bullock—there was too much left to do. While the minister spoke to Avery and Callum, Taylor fished poinsettia plants out of a waiting box and lined them up on the altar steps in alternating red and creamy white. The congregation had already decorated the tree and the Christmas banners were hung behind the pulpit. The manger from the Sunday School play had been tucked away into the choir loft, which would be unused during the wedding, and instead she set up a table with a snowy-white cloth and a gorgeous spray of red roses, white freesias and greenery. It was there that the bride and groom would sign the register.

The altar looked fine, but the pews and windowsills were naked. In addition to the wrong color tulle, the company had forgotten to ship the candle arrangements for the windows. This would be the last time she ever used them for any of her events!

Her father, Harry, approached, a frown creasing his brow. “What are the plans for after the rehearsal?”

Taylor forced a smile. She would not get into it with her father tonight. “I’m working on that, don’t worry.”

“You should have insisted on having the wedding in the city, at a nice hotel. Then the weather wouldn’t be an issue. Everything at your fingertips.”

She’d had the thought a time or two herself; not that she’d admit it to her father. “This will be fine.”

He looked around. “It would have been so much easier. Not that the town isn’t nice, of course it is. But you’re the planner, Taylor.” His tone suggested she wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“It wasn’t what Callum and Avery wanted,” she reminded him. “And it’s their day.”

He smiled unexpectedly, a warm turning up of his lips that Taylor recognized as his “sales pitch” smile. “Oh, come now. A smart businessman knows how to convince a client to come around.”

Businessman. Taylor wondered if counting to ten would help. She met her father’s gaze. “Callum isn’t a client, he’s my brother. And he’s giving you the daughter-in-law and grandkid you’ve wanted, so ease up.”

Anything else they would have said was cut short as Rhys came back, tucking his cell phone in his pocket as he walked. “Good news. Business is slow because of the weather. Mom’s clearing out that back corner and she’s got a full tray of lasagna set aside.”

It certainly wasn’t the Caprese salad, veal Parmesan and tiramisu that Taylor had planned on, but it was convenient. She offered a polite smile. “Thank you, Rhys.” At least one thing had been fixed.

“It’s no trouble.”

With a brief nod, Harry left the two of them alone.

“Everything okay?” Rhys asked.

She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Yeah, it’s fine. Dad was just offering an unsolicited opinion, that’s all.”

He chuckled. “Parents are like that.”

“You’ve no idea,” she answered darkly. “I still wish I knew what to do about the pew markers. There’s no time to run to Edmonton for materials to make them, even if it weren’t storming. And the candles never arrived, either.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect. No one will know.”

His words echoed from before, the ones that said she was too good for this town. She dismissed them, because she still had a certain standard. “I’ll know.”

Clara heard the last bit and tapped Taylor on the shoulder. “Why don’t you call Melissa and see if she can do something for the pews with satin ribbon?”

“At this late hour?”

Clara nodded. “Worst she can say is no. I have a feeling she’ll try something, though. She’s a whiz at that stuff. And I might be able to help you out with the windowsills.”

Taylor’s eyebrows pulled together. “What do you mean?”

Clara laughed. “Just trust me.”

“I’m not in the habit of trusting details to other people, Clara. It’s nothing personal—it’s just how I work.”

“Consider it a helping hand from a friend. You’re going to be here before anyone else tomorrow anyway. If you don’t like what I’ve done, you can take it out, no hard feelings.” She smiled at Taylor. “I’d like to do this. For Avery. She’s like family, you know?”

Rhys’s hand touched Taylor’s back. It was warm and felt good but Taylor got the feeling it was also a little bit of a warning. “I’m sure Taylor’s very grateful for your help, Clara.”

Dammit. Now he was putting words in her mouth. Perhaps it could be argued that this was “just family” but to Taylor’s mind, if she couldn’t manage to get the details of one small country wedding right, what did that say about her business?

Then again, in Vancouver she had staff. She could delegate. Which was pretty much what Clara was suggesting. She was just asking her to trust, sight unseen. And then there was the word “friend.” She was a stranger here, a fish out of water for the most part and yet everyone seemed to accept her into their group without question. She wasn’t used to that.

“Thank you, Clara,” she said, but when Clara had gone she turned on Rhys. “Don’t ever answer for me again.”

“You were being rude.”

Now he was judging her manners?

“Look, maybe Callum and Avery are family but I still hold to a certain standard. This is my job. And it’s all carefully planned down to the last detail.”

She’d had things go wrong before and it wasn’t pretty. She’d been determined never to fail like that again. It was why she dealt with trusted vendors and had a competent staff. She’d pulled off events ten times as complicated as this without a hitch.

Knowing it was like sprinkling salt in the wound.

He put a finger under her chin and lifted it. Considering how abrupt he’d been earlier, the tender touch surprised her. “You don’t have to control everything. It’ll be fine, I promise. It’s okay to accept help once in a while.”

“I’m not used to that.”

“I know,” he said gently. “You’re stubborn, strong, bossy and completely competent. But things happen. Call Melissa, trust Clara, pretend to walk down the aisle for the rehearsal and then go stuff yourself with lasagna. I promise you’ll feel better.”

She didn’t like being handled. Even if, at this moment, she suspected she needed it. It was so different being here. More relaxed, laid-back. She was used to grabbing her non-fat latte on her way to the office, not sipping from china cups in a B&B dining room while eating croissants. Maneuvering her SUV with the fold-down seats through city traffic rather than walking the two blocks to wherever. Definitely not used to men looking into her eyes and seeing past all her barriers.

Cadence Creek was a completely different pace with completely different expectations.

“Rhys? Taylor? We’re ready for the walk-through,” Avery called down the aisle, a happy smile on her face. Despite the wrinkles in the plans, Taylor’s soon-to-be sister-in-law was beaming.

Well, if the bride wasn’t worried, she wouldn’t be, either. She looked up at Rhys. “I’ll call Melissa when we’re done. But if this goes wrong...”

“I expect I’ll hear about it.”

The other members of the wedding party joined them at the end of the aisle—first Clara and Ty, then Sam and Angela, Jack and Avery’s friend Denise, who’d flown in from Ontario just this morning and thankfully ahead of the storm. Rhys held out his arm. “Shall we?” he asked, waiting for her to take his elbow.

She folded her hand around his arm, her fingers resting just below his elbow as they took slow steps up the aisle. It was just a silly rehearsal, so she shouldn’t have a tangle of nerves going on just from a simple touch.

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