How to Be a Blissful Bride Read online

  “I’ve actually been considering taking on a different role at the foundation,” Alexa said, speaking her thoughts out loud for the first time to an audience who didn’t know her well enough to judge. Who wouldn’t limit her possibilities with all a Mayhew did not do. “I’d like to be more hands-on and work with the charities to come up with financial plans for how to best use the funds raised. Finding a way to maintain donor interest in those projects might help the public realize charities don’t just need money during fund-raising drives or at the holidays.”

  Embarrassed by her own unexpected outpouring, Alexa cut herself off and reached for her glass of water. “Sorry, I’m probably getting a little far ahead of myself.”

  But Lindsay only shook her head. “That sounds like a really good idea. In fact, I’d love to do some brainstorming with you while you’re here. That is if you don’t mind.”

  “And I can set up something with Jarrett and Theresa if you want to take a look around their rescue and see what they’ve accomplished so far,” Sophia offered.

  “I wouldn’t mind at all,” Alexa said, surprised and pleased by how readily the other women had embraced her ideas. Starting out small would be a great way to get her feet wet as well as an opportunity to give back to the small town she was coming to love.

  The sound of a muffled ringtone had Sophia pushing back from the table. “Oh, excuse me for a second,” she said as she dropped her napkin on the chair and answered her cell.

  The three women talked a bit more about Lindsay’s position at the chamber of commerce as well as the town’s areas of need before Sophia returned to the table. “Sorry about that. Jake, my husband, has been out of town. I thought he’d be back tonight, but he’s been delayed.”

  “Is everything okay?” Lindsay asked.

  “He has assured me ‘not to worry.’ Which means that’s all I’ll be doing until I hear from him again.”

  “What does your husband do?” Alexa asked, recalling what the other woman had said earlier about her husband’s frequent travels.

  “He’s a private investigator.”

  The unexpected answer had Alexa setting her sandwich aside. “Wow. That sounds interesting.”

  “Jake swears it’s not, and that ninety percent of the time, it’s totally boring. It’s that ten percent that keeps me up at night.”

  “I don’t imagine it’s much like they show on television.”

  “Don’t even get him started on those comparisons! Although my brothers love to tease him. For his last birthday, they all bought him Hawaiian shirts in tribute to Magnum, P.I. You know, that popular detective show from the eighties? Believe me when I tell you Jake is not a Hawaiian shirt kind of guy.”

  “Still, it must be hard when he’s gone.” Alexa tried to imagine her son or daughter calling a man other than Chance “da-da” and didn’t think she’d handle it nearly as well as Sophia had.

  “It is.” The brunette’s smile trembled a bit, revealing that it wasn’t as easy as she made it seem. “But I have friends and family to help out, and I know he misses me as much as I miss him. But this is more than a job to Jake. It’s so much a part of him that I can’t imagine him doing anything else.” Her dark eyes brimmed with emotion as she added, “His love for me has always been completely and irrevocably unconditional. How can I possibly deserve that unless my love for him is the same?”

  * * *

  Though Chance was sure Rory thought otherwise, he did occasionally listen to his sister. And when he did, more often than not, he was forced to admit she was right. Which probably accounted for why he didn’t listen more often.

  He hated admitting she was right. He especially hadn’t liked it when she’d pointed out how lacking his proposal to Alexa had been.

  Were there flowers? Music? A ring? Didn’t you see Alexa at the reception, willing to dance with perfect strangers just to make them smile? This is a woman who’s looking for romance and longing for a man to sweep her off her feet.

  Alexa deserved all of that and more, but other than that first weekend together, he’d shown her very little of it. Something he was trying to make up for as he led Alexa down the gravel path from the cottage.

  “Are you sure your eyes are closed?”

  “I’m sure, although why they are closed, I don’t know,” Alexa said, her hands to her face. “Is this some kind of payback for leaving you to babysit Kyle?”

  “You do know what they say about revenge being sweet,” he teased. He did still owe Rory for that whole bait and switch she’d pulled the other day. “I cannot tell you how much energy that kid has.”

  After two hours, he’d been exhausted and overwhelmed—but so excited to meet his own kid, he didn’t know how he was going to wait another five months.

  Of course, he couldn’t blame Alexa if she wasn’t quite so eager. He’d seen the look on her face when she’d walked into the cottage. Every toy, every piece of clothing, every diaper had been tossed out of the oversize diaper bag. Kyle had had a field day playing with all of it—but none of it for more than fifteen seconds at a time.

  From there, he’d moved on to a stuffed bear left over from Rory’s childhood. A perfectly suitable plaything, Chance had thought, until the little boy pulled off one of the bear’s button eyes and popped it into his mouth. Panicked, Chance had scooped up the baby, holding him upside down until he spit out the button much to the little boy’s dismay.

  Figuring if the kid was hungry enough to eat inedible objects, lunch ought to be a piece of cake. After a scene involving pureed peas that would have done the special effects artist from The Exorcist proud, the cottage was soon littered with the majority of Chance’s wardrobe as he’d had to change his shirt. Three times. By the end of the meal, both he and Kyle were half-naked. The little boy keeping on his long-sleeved T-shirt, diaper and one sock while Chance settled on wearing just his jeans.

  Finally, after having been sufficiently worn out, Kyle had settled down in Chance’s arms for a nap. Which was where Alexa had found them an hour or so later.

  Alexa, he had to admit, had been a trooper. She’d helped him redress Kyle, pack up his numerous belongings and return him to his mother—more or less in the same shape as when she’d left him.

  “Poor baby,” she commiserated now.

  “Me or the kid?”

  “Oh, you. Definitely you.”

  “I just hope Kyle didn’t end up eating his other shoe. I’m telling you, I have no idea where that thing went.”

  “I have a feeling it will turn up somewhere.”

  “Okay, we’re here.” Positioning Alexa for the best vantage point for his surprise, he said, “You can open your eyes.”

  Dropping her hands, she let out a gasp as she caught her first glimpse of the gazebo. A table draped in white sat in the middle of the platform. Covered dishes gleamed in the twinkle lights draped overhead, and colorful pots of burgundy, orange and yellow mums lined the steps along with garland draped on either side of the stair railings. “Oh, Chance. How beautiful!”

  “I thought after the busy day we’ve both had, that a nice quiet dinner would be just what we needed.”

  A nice romantic dinner, he could almost hear Rory whispering in his ear.

  He’d bungled his proposal to Alexa. Badly. While he might not be ready to put his heart on the line, Alexa was a woman who deserved candlelight dinners, wine—or for now sparkling cider—and flowers.

  “We’ve kind of gone about this all backward,” he admitted as he guided her up the steps. “To say we rushed things in Santa Barbara might be a bit of an understatement.”

  “You think?” she teased, the candlelight reflected in her eyes as she sank into the chair he pulled out for her.

  “And I certainly rushed that proposal the other night, so I was thinking that maybe we could not start over, but just a few steps back and take things a bit slower t
his time.”

  Her lashes lowered as she ducked her head almost shyly. “I think I’d like that.” And then dispelling any sense of shyness as well as most of the thoughts from his head, she added, “Although I was looking forward to another cooking lesson for dinner.”

  “Well, there’s always breakfast in the morning.” Which left so many possibilities open for tonight.

  All of which would once again fall into the “rushing things” category.

  * * *

  “Are you warm enough?” Chance asked sometime after they had finished the mouthwatering meal from the hotel restaurant. He had to hand it to Evie, who’d somehow convinced the up-and-coming chef to leave San Francisco to come work at Hillcrest. The man had outdone himself with roasted Cornish game hens, sautéed asparagus and brown sugar sweet potatoes.

  Alexa had wanted a better view of the stars while they ate their dessert, so Chance had switched off the lights and carried the plate over to where she’d taken a seat on the stairs. She had her arms wrapped around her knees, and although he had warned her to dress warmly and brought two propane heaters out for the occasion, he wanted to make sure she was comfortable.

  “I’m fine,” she reassured him as he sat down beside her.

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders—just to be safe—and felt something sweet and powerful settle into his chest as she rested her head against his shoulder.

  “Mm, pumpkin cheesecake,” Alexa almost groaned as he offered her the dessert, the sound sending a burst of heat straight to his gut. And when she closed her lips around the fork, it was all he could do to form a coherent sentence.

  “Evie’s all about offering guests a seasonal menu.”

  “Everything was wonderful.”

  “Not bad for a first date?”

  She laughed a little at that. “Not bad at all.”

  They sat in a comfortable silence as she dug into the crumbly graham cracker crust. She had just set the plate aside when she pointed to a streak across the night sky. “Oh, look! A shooting star...” She sucked in a breath, and though the movement was slight, Chance felt her pull away. Her shoulders slumped as she drew her legs up onto the next step, curling into herself as if trying to shield her heart.

  He tightened his arm around her, an instinctive urge to protect her from anything, everything, rising inside him. “Alexa? What’s wrong?”

  “That’s what my grandmother sometimes called my parents. Shooting stars.”

  “Do you want to tell me about them?”

  “They were like Christmas and New Year’s and the Fourth of July—fun and exciting.”

  And only came around a few times a year. Alexa didn’t say the words, but he heard them in the wistfulness in her voice. His heart broke a little as the moonlight touched on the sad smile on her beautiful face. Reaching over with his free hand, he threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “It was a long time ago. Twenty years ago.” Her shoulders straightened slightly as she turned to face him. “The day you called was—that was the anniversary of my parents’ death, Chance.”

  “Oh, Lexi...”

  “I spent the first half of my childhood waiting for them to call, to come home. I saw myself falling into that same pattern with you, and I didn’t want to be that little girl again.”

  “And so you told me it was over.”

  “Yes.” That abrupt conversation still stung, but Chance felt he understood better now. “I’m sorry...”

  “I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry. I want to hear that it’s not true.” Chance heard the touch of desperation in his own voice and forced his grip on her slender hand to relax. “That maybe that weekend meant more than a meaningless fling...”

  “It meant...enough to scare me. To leave me feeling vulnerable.”

  “Just like that phone call left me feeling. All that talk about different lives. I saw you that night at the hotel, surrounded by some of the wealthiest people in California, and there I was—a high school dropout who’s spent most of his adult life living out of a beat-up backpack, thinking to myself, ‘What the hell am I doing here?’”

  “But that—that’s not what I meant!” It was her turn to tighten her grip, the skin-to-skin communication mattering as much as the words. “Not at all! Chance, you’re talented, successful, famous! That’s why you were invited to that benefit. That’s why half the people were in attendance, to meet you!”

  He gave a rough chuckle. “I’d say half is a definite exaggeration. But the point is, you belonged there, and I didn’t.”

  “You’re so confident, so at ease in your own skin, I honestly can’t imagine a place where you wouldn’t belong.”

  It had suited him well over the years, his ability to adapt, to fit in. But Chance wasn’t sure he’d ever felt as truly comfortable, as completely in the present as he had with Alexa by his side. He wasn’t working an angle, wasn’t digging deeper to uncover some hidden truth. He’d allowed himself to simply enjoy the moment, to accept the chemistry and connection for what it was.

  “The only time I felt like I belonged that night was when I held you in my arms.” Alexa glowed in the soft moonlight, but Chance still saw the shadows from a childhood where she’d been so easily left behind. “I wanted to carry that feeling, to carry a piece of you with me, Alexa. That’s why I didn’t give the butterfly hairpin back.”

  “So you had it with you...the whole time?”

  “The whole time,” he echoed. It had become his touchstone, a good memory to combat all the bad.

  “And you still think it’s lucky?”

  “I know it is,” he said, thinking back to the day when the small memento had saved his life.

  He’d been moments away from stepping inside a building to interview an outspoken political dissident. After paying off the guide who had led him to the meeting place, Chance had stuck his hand back into his pocket. His fingers had brushed against the butterfly, and in an instant he’d been taken back to that weekend. Back to Alexa.

  His head hadn’t been anywhere near where it should have been—preparing for the interview—something that in another place or time might have gotten him killed. But in that moment, with Alexa filling his thoughts, he’d taken an extra moment to refocus. He’d waited outside a minute. Maybe two. But long enough that when the building some twenty feet from him exploded, he was far enough away to survive.

  He had Alexa to thank for that, but the story wasn’t one he planned to share with her. Not now. Not ever.

  But almost as if reading his thoughts, she asked, “Can—can I ask you about your work? If you don’t want to talk about it—”

  “No, it’s okay. What do you want to know?” But even as he asked the question, he braced himself. His job had always been a sore spot. First with his parents and later with Lisette.

  “When did you first realize you wanted to be a photographer?”

  The easy question caught him off guard, and he felt himself relax. “When I was still a teenager, not too long after my dad gave me one of his old 35 millimeter cameras.”

  “Your dad?”

  “He’s a photographer, too.”

  Alexa was silent for a moment before she said, “I noticed some tension between the two of you. At first I thought it was about the baby, but it was there even before you made your announcement.”

  “It isn’t you, Alexa, or the baby. It’s me. It’s always been me. I’m—I’m not who my parents want me to be.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They love me, I know that, and I love them. And if I was a different person—maybe a better person—then maybe I could change. Maybe I could put aside my own dreams and do what they want me to do. But ask anyone. I’m selfish. Always thinking of myself first and my family second. Or to hear my father tell it, not thinking of them at all.”
/>   Not thinking of Alexa or the baby at all. That was what his father had said after pulling him aside in the final moments before they drove off. And that accusation hurt more than Chance wanted to admit. Because his father thought so little of him? Or because deep down, he couldn’t help wondering if the words were true.

  “What do they want you to be?”

  “When I was a kid, I was always the wild child. The one who thought the word no simply meant I should do what I want without getting caught.” He gave a short laugh. “Only I almost always got caught—doing stupid stuff, mostly. There wasn’t a dare I could back down from or a chance I wouldn’t take even as a little kid.”

  “So you were...you. Even then.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s one way of looking at it. I thought I was invincible until I was twelve or so and found I wasn’t as hardheaded as everyone thought.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was messing around on a skateboard. Trying a trick on a half-pipe that I was nowhere near skilled enough to complete. I landed wrong, hit my head and...ended up in a coma.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  Chance heard the shock, the concern in Alexa’s voice. Just a fraction of the emotion that his parents must have felt, but as for Chance, he didn’t remember the accident or the weeks and months that followed. He hadn’t understood how he could wake up one day only to discover everything had changed.

  “I fully recovered, but in a way, I’m not sure my parents ever did. Not completely. After the accident, they couldn’t protect me enough. For the longest time, they didn’t even want me out of their sight.”

  “And you hated that.”

  “Hated it, rebelled against it. Fought even harder to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. And then when I was fourteen or so, I started to get interested in photography. At first they were all for it. I think they hoped if I channeled all my energy into photography, I’d be happy taking pictures of, I don’t know, kittens and puppies. But I was still me. I still wanted to be out hiking and climbing and biking—only with a camera in hand.