Mary Leo – A Christmas Wedding For The Cowboy (страница 8)
“What’s the rush? I thought all the big stuff had been chosen already. Can’t these smaller decisions wait for a few more days?”
But Zoe didn’t answer. Instead, she headed out of the bakery. He stood, quickly grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and followed her to the front door past several customers ordering their sugar fixes. One of them was Doc Blake Granger, the local pediatric dentist, and his daughter Scout, who had won more trophies and ribbons at the county fair last summer than anyone had in its history.
Everyone said their hellos, and then Carson hurried to catch up to Zoe. Out in the bitter cold, he secured his hat on his head, buttoned up his coat, slipped on his thick wool gloves and mentally prepared himself for the rest of his day with one very determined wedding planner.
* * *
“I REALLY DON’T care what color roses are on the dinner tables or what color the tablecloths are and I especially don’t give a hoot if there’s a disco ball hanging from the ceiling when I take the bride out on the dance floor,” Carson said to Zoe. Connie Bates, the events coordinator at Pauline’s Inn, a two-story Victorian on the outskirts of town, and the only place in all of Briggs that Marilyn Rose would even consider for the reception, headed out of the room to check to see if they still owned a disco ball.
Carson had reached his breaking point, and Zoe knew it. “You only have one more decision to make and we’re done here.”
“The operative word is
Zoe didn’t want to tell him that not only did he have more decisions to make about the big-ticket items, but they also had to decide on what kind of wine to serve, and the seating chart. There were just under one hundred guests invited to the wedding, and as of yet there was no seating chart. They still had some time to decide on all these things, but Zoe found that the closer the bride and groom got to the actual day, the harder it was to pin them down to make decisions. Plus, Christmas had its own set of issues that might make these final three weeks a real challenge for everyone.
Zoe nodded. “Yes, a few more stops, but you’ve been a trouper so far. Don’t give up now.”
“Wouldn’t it save everyone a lot of time and money if we just called the whole thing off? I mean, if we had to, we could elope for a fraction of the price. Then we could throw a barbecue on my parents’ ranch when the temperature heats up and call it done.”
Zoe’s eyes went wide, and her pulse quickened at the mere mention of an elopement. If he pulled out of this wedding now, she’d have to take that counter-person job at Holy Rollers that Amanda was talking about. Her mind raced with ideas to keep Carson going, and short of calling his sweetheart and asking her to give him a quick pep talk, she decided on the next best thing...mom guilt.
“Do you really want to do that to your mom?”
His forehead wrinkled and a look of concern captured his otherwise serene face. Zoe had found his soft spot: his mom.
“What’s my mom got to do with this?”
“Everything! She was already cheated out of Kayla’s wedding, and now you want to cheat her out of her only son’s wedding? I doubt she’d ever forgive you for that one.”
Carson didn’t respond at first. He merely sat back in his fancy Victorian chair and slowly let out a breath. There was something about Carson Grant that Zoe couldn’t shake. Sure, he had all those rugged good looks going on enhanced by some gorgeous, thick, exceptionally silky dark hair and long eyelashes that shaded his steel blue eyes. She also knew he had a ripped chest hidden away under that gray shirt and sweater, but it was his demeanor and his cowboyness that set her heart racing every time she stood close to him. Not to mention how good he always smelled, like cut grass in spring, or a crisp morning in fall when the sun worked to soak up the dew.
With Piper busy decorating the town square, that left Zoe completely in charge of the Grant wedding.
Piper’s father, a third-generation potato farmer, had been voted in as Royal Tuber, president of the Royal Order of Local Spud Growers. For the second year in a row, he’d tapped Piper to head up the town square decorating committee. The Royal Order regulated what was acceptable for town square decorations, and that included any and all events that took place during the year. Piper never could say no to her dad, so on top of planning weddings, she also planned outdoor adornments.
Now Zoe would have to be the one to lead Carson around to all the vendors and guide him to make the right decisions. By the sound of his discontentment, that wasn’t going to happen for much longer. Zoe sensed a Carson Grant rebellion coming on.
Carson was notorious for his refusal to take a traditional route, which was part of what made him such a great rodeo athlete. He was one of those nonconformists who learned to ride a bucking horse on his own terms. He rode as if he and the horse were cut from the same cloth, and even though Carson was taking his time getting back in the saddle, Zoe, along with the rest of the town, felt confident that once he returned from his honeymoon, nothing would keep him from competing again. She only hoped bringing in the mom card would settle his current restlessness and they could continue on with the wedding plans.
“Fine, but I need a break from all these decisions. I have something I want to say and I don’t think it can wait much longer. This wedding is getting out of control, and if I don’t do something quick-like, I’ll be paying for it for more years than I might be wanting to.”
“What are you proposing?” Zoe asked as she collected her purse and notebook.
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER Zoe and Carson eased up on two wooden bar stools inside a crowded Belly Up Tavern. Carson took more time to secure himself on the stool. That injured leg of his still seemed to cause him a lot of pain. He leaned on his cane more than Zoe first thought he would. As the day had worn on, he seemed to be relying on it steadily.
Happy hour was in full swing and most of the twenty-one-and-older residents of Briggs liked to take advantage of the half-priced drinks, house wines and the bar menu, especially on Fridays.
Christmas decorations surrounded them, with pretty garland hanging from the beamed ceiling. The multicolored lights on the seven-foot decorated tree standing next to the glass front doors reminded Zoe that she hadn’t even begun to decorate her own apartment. She’d been too distracted by her financial woes to get into the holiday spirit this year.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Milo Gump said from behind the polished mahogany bar. “Good to see you up and about, Carson Grant. Last I heard, you were holed up in your house and never leaving. What finally got you out?”
Milo and Amanda had recently purchased the tavern and Milo liked to tend bar most days during the week while Amanda ran the bakery. He was a mountain of a man, weighing somewhere in the mid-two-hundreds. He always wore a pinch-front cattlemen’s hat indoors or out, winter or summer, rain or shine, a checkered shirt, jeans and Western boots. Today was no exception.
“Working on all the final wedding details,” Zoe said, answering for Carson, who seemed to be in his own world.
“That’s comin’ up fast,” Milo said. “Christmas will be here before you know it. What are we down to? About two or three more weeks?”
“Twenty-one days to be exact,” Carson said, shifting on his stool, then leaning his elbows on the bar.
“Where’s that woman of yours?” Milo asked. “Shouldn’t she be in on all these last-minute details? I heard she was in town, but then somebody said she left. I figured that couldn’t be true what with all that probably still needs to be done for your wedding. When Amanda and me got hitched, we were still makin’ decisions the morning of our wedding. It sure was one hell of a party, and if it wasn’t for Zoe here, I don’t think we could’a ever pulled it off. It don’t matter what anybody says, Zoe Smart really knows her stuff.”
Zoe thought he’d probably heard all the rumors swirling around about her business and she wanted to jump in and defend herself, but Carson suddenly woke up before she had the chance.
“And just what is everybody saying?” Carson asked while leaning on the bar. “Like you said, I’ve been holed up for a while and haven’t been privy to much town gossip.”
Milo’s gaze went to Zoe. “Sorry, I just assumed you knew, I mean... What can I get you guys?”
“A cold one in a long neck,” Carson told him, his gaze now focused on Zoe.
“Make that two,” she told Milo, who went off to retrieve the beers looking as if he was happy to get as far away as possible.
Carson adjusted his stool to face Zoe, his eyes catching the twinkling lights that surrounded him; a warm smile creased his lips and Zoe’s heart raced.
“So tell me, Zoe Smart, just what is it that everyone’s saying about you?”
Milo dropped off the beers and disappeared to the far end of the bar before the bottles settled on the napkins. Obviously, he wanted no part of the conversation.