There Goes the Bride, page 4
part #2 of Runaway Brides Series
An image that took on a life of its own in his head.
“Did you?” he asked mildly.
“I heard that a certain Ms. Lindsey Ballard disappeared from her own wedding,” she informed him. “A wedding I believe you were going to crash?”
“I wouldn’t call it crashing.” He kicked himself for telling her anything about it. But she’d taken an interest in the book that she didn’t want him to write, no doubt so she could ensure he didn’t bother anyone in Lara’s family with his research.
He’d hedged when possible, but he had admitted to the trip to Atlanta to meet with Lindsey.
“Let’s not play the semantics game.” She sighed. “I don’t believe in coincidence, Myles, and I know you’ve been trying to speak with Lara’s black sheep granddaughter, so I have to ask. Did you kidnap that Ballard girl from her own wedding?”
“I’d like to think you know me better than that.” He put the phone on speaker since the back of the car was soundproofed anyhow. That freed him up to use the device to look through his social media sites for an update on the news about Lindsey’s wedding.
“I know you better than anyone, which is why you’d better not have stolen that poor girl away from her nuptials.” Mary Louise Emory had relocated permanently to Paris five years before, where she still liked to sing in local clubs and dabble in jazz. She didn’t visit often and Myles’s work had kept him close to the States.
So it seemed sort of surreal that she could pick up the phone on the other side of the Atlantic to berate him for something he’d done a couple of hours ago.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about Lara’s family anymore.” He shifted the focus of the conversation, unwilling to lie to his mother.
“I didn’t.” She turned down the music in the background, one of her favorite clarinet players if he wasn’t mistaken. She’d never married his father, a fiddle player from Baton Rouge. “But when you won’t leave well enough alone, son, I thought I’d better call and make myself more clear. I don’t want you hassling Lara’s family. I told you I signed a confidentiality contract and I intend to uphold it.”
They’d been over this plenty of times, dating back to long before his book deal.
“But if it’s unfair to you—.”
“It’s perfectly fair to me, Myles. Don’t be such a know-it-all man. I’m more than capable of deciding what is fair in my life and what is not and this crusade of yours ends today.” She spoke fast, more fired up than usual. “You can start by bringing that nice girl back to her wedding.”
Scrubbing a hand over his face Myles thought about the nice girl sliding out of her white satin dress on the other side of a thin sheet of glass.
“She didn’t belong with that guy anyhow, Mom.” He still didn’t know what had happened in those few minutes when she’d met with her fiancé behind closed doors, but she’d exited the room with zero hesitation about her decision to bail on Beau William Greer. “I did her a favor by saving her from a media feeding frenzy.” He believed that.
Deep down, he thought maybe Lindsey did too.
His mother had gone quiet on the other end of the call. When she finally spoke, her words were slower and more deliberate.
“Lara’s story doesn’t belong to Lindsey Ballard, son. It’s not hers to tell.”
“Maybe.” Myles nodded slowly. “But as a musical icon, Lara’s story belongs to all of us. And I’m going to tell it.”
If his mother had played a larger role than what the world knew about, Myles would find out the truth and ensure Mary Louise’s name went into music history right next to Lara Kane’s. It was as simple as that.
Behind him, a sharp rap came on the partition glass.
No doubt, his runaway bride was ready to roll.
“Mom, I’ll call you tomorrow,” he spoke into the phone even as he hit the button to lower the partition. “Try not to worry.”
Disconnecting the call, he watched the window slide down to reveal Lindsey in a floral sundress. The square halter neck showed off her delicate collarbone and narrow shoulders.
“I’m ready,” she announced, hauling herself over the back of his seat.
Her hair spilled on his shoulder as she moved, an unexpected silky caress that shouldn’t have affected him so damn much.
Her green eyes slid to his once she settled in beside him.
“I hope you weren’t selling me out to the press just now.” She nodded toward his phone on the seat between them.
“It was my mom calling me to ream me out for kidnapping you.”
Lindsey’s expression faltered. “How did she know we’re together? Who else knows?”
“No one.” He shook his head, cutting her off before she panicked. “And my mother didn’t know anything, she simply called to see what happened at your wedding since she was well aware that I’d planned to attend. Which she thought was incredibly tacky, by the way. My mother loathes tacky.”
“You told her we were together?” She didn’t appear reassured.
“Yes, but my mother is the most private person you can imagine. She’d never share your secrets.”
“Unlike her son.” Lindsey sighed through tight teeth. “Good to know I have an ally.”
“I told her you were the one doing all the kidnapping.” He chucked aside the chauffeur’s cap he’d been wearing.
“Well if I’m in charge, I say let’s go.” She fastened her seat belt and retreated to her side of the car.
Myles turned back onto the rural county route and headed for the mountains. His mother’s call hadn’t dissuaded him from his mission. If anything, he was more determined than ever to give the real musicians in Lara Kane’s life the credit they deserved.
He’d give Lindsey a break on the trip home because he said he would. But sooner or later, he planned to unearth her secrets.
“Their menu says ‘comfort food with attitude.’” Lindsey read aloud from the website for the mountain lodge where they planned to make a pit stop. The choices for places to pull over were few and far between in this remote corner of the mountains, but Myles had followed through on his promise to take them to Nashville via the back roads.
As Lindsey stared out into the miles upon miles of Blue Mountains folding into one another on the horizon in the twilight, she had to admit the peace and quiet had soothed her nerves a bit since leaving her wedding. But now that she wasn’t running on pure adrenaline, she was suddenly starving.
“Should we risk taking a seat in the dining room, or do you want to try and order something to go?” Myles slowed at a stop sign on the winding road toward Bear Paw Lodge. A pair of adult coyotes darted to one side as the car eased to a halt.
“Whatever is faster.” Her stomach growled again. “I can’t remember the last time I ate.” She’d been too nervous to have anything at the rehearsal dinner the night before. And choking down anything this morning had been out of the question.
“I’ll scope out the dining area and see if I can find a seat in a quiet corner.” He tucked the limo into a space at the end of one row. “If that seems too risky we can always bring something out here and sit under the stars with the sunroof open.”
He stepped out of the car and she grabbed her purse to follow him. Rounding the back of the vehicle, she had to step over the cans and shoes that Myles had tied to the bumper a few miles back at a deserted pull-over.
“A limo camp-out sounds surprisingly good.” She took a deep breath of the mountain air, stunned by how nice it felt to be away from Atlanta and in the mountains. “It’s really beautiful here.”
The scenery already looked more like home with great blue heron flying overhead, lit by the setting sun as they winged their way toward the river. Crickets and night bugs called to one another over the sound of steel guitars and fiddles emanating from somewhere in the lodge.
The parking lot was quiet enough though with only about twenty cars scattered around the open spaces.
“It’s a far cry from most of the music scene in L.A., that’s for sure.” He extended his arm toward her. “Ready to be my blushing bride?”
Hell no, she wasn’t ready to step into the circle of those strong arms. But she’d seen all the hype online. She didn’t want to be recognized.
Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the feel of him. And gamely slid an arm around his waist while his banded around her shoulders.
“No one will look twice at a pair of newlyweds heading to Nashville for their honeymoon.” Myles’s voice rumbled in his chest, a warm vibration against her ear since he held her so close.
Damn it. But the more she hid her face, the better.
“It really is going to be a story for the grandkids,” he assured her as they walked toward the entrance. “Just watch your step here, darlin’.”
He paused before her foot hit the first of three big wooden log beams that served as front stairs. She was about to tell him he could dial down the newlywed act when an older couple called out to them from oversized wooden rocking chairs on the building’s deep front porch.
“Congratulations to you!” A frail, balding man raised a glass of beer in their direction.
“Best wishes,” echoed his birdlike wife, an equally thin woman who sat beside him. She lifted her glass too before they turned and clinked glasses with one another.
Thank goodness Lindsey hadn’t called out Myles just then. She smiled at them and hurried up the stairs.
“We can’t thank you enough.”
“Nothing like a mountain getaway for a honeymoon,” the old man told them. “I brought my bride here fifty-five years ago and never left.”
Myles paused on the welcome mat. “Here’s hoping we are that lucky, sir. Fifty-five years is something to be proud of.”
Lindsey glanced up at her supposed groom, surprised at the seriousness in his voice. She smiled at the wife and then tugged on Myles’s waist.
“We’d better make sure they held that reservation,” she reminded him before turning back to the older couple. “Many thanks for the good wishes.”
“Guess I’d better get used to who calls the shots.” Myles dropped a kiss on her head while the couple laughed warmly.
Guiding her inside the darkened lodge, Myles kept her under his arm. She waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. Also, she needed a moment to recover from the intimacy of his lips warm against her hair, his breath a soft caress along her scalp.
Why did the man’s physical presence affect her so darn much? She knew he was trouble. He wasn’t even a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was just a wolf. And still, her heart rate careened all over the place from those touches calculated to deceive the world.
Deceive her, too.
“There’s a restroom.” She spotted the sign for the ladies’ room and dashed away from him, desperate for the chance to pull herself together. Before she went inside, she stuffed her balled up wedding gown into a trash bin.
She couldn’t wait to put this day behind her.
Thanking her lucky stars the bathroom was empty, she made quick work of washing her face in the hunter green sink. She studied herself in the light cast by an antler chandelier dangling from the exposed beam rafters. She looked the same as she had the day before, the same as in her promotional photos for the fancy Atlanta salon where she worked. But she didn’t feel the same inside. She felt jilted, betrayed and taken advantage of.
First by Beau William and then, to a smaller extent, by Myles. She knew he was only helping her in the hope she’d let her guard down about her family. That she’d let something slip about her grandmother or maybe even decide he wasn’t such a bad guy and grant him a real interview.
But that was not happening no matter how much he tried to pretend he was a nice man with his kindness to sweet old couples or with his clever help in keeping her identity hidden. She just wished she still had a real friend in her corner now that her life was falling down around her ears. Her family would not be happy to see her. The Atlanta hair salon would probably be under siege with local reporters hoping to find out where she’d gone. The Lara Kane Fest promised to be a nightmare with Myles trying to make it a platform for proving his mother held a bigger creative influence in Lara’s life than music history revealed.
And the man who wanted to destroy her grandmother’s legacy seemed determined to use Lindsey’s crazy attraction to him to lure her into making a bad decision.
Searching through her purse, Lindsey found a hair brush and pulled it through the tangles left over from her updo. She made a quick braid to help her stay incognito since a photo of her with long blonde hair had circulated online.
Then, knowing she couldn’t avoid her fake groom any longer, Lindsey straightened her floral sundress and stepped out of the ladies room.
“Over here.” Myles called to her from the other side of the wide open lobby where the scent of pine and lemon polish hung heavy in the air. He stood near an open archway where country music was playing loud and live.
She hurried toward him, hoping that he had procured plates of food somehow. Maybe she’d be able to make sense of her life better once she’d eaten.
“Are we taking food to go?” She had no idea how far out of their way they’d travelled to take the remote mountain route to Nashville, but her home couldn’t be more than a few hours away.
“Your call. I ordered a bunch of house specials off the menu. But I thought we might hit the dance floor to avoid conversation with anyone while we wait.” He slid his arm around her again, his fingers brushing her hipbone and warming her waist through the sheer fabric of the silky dress she wore.
“Dance?” She saw a wide open dance floor under a big wooden gazebo where the six-piece band was playing.
Diners sat at tables along the back porch of the lodge, a thin strip of grass separating the gazebo from the main building. Out on the lawns, a few couples roamed manicured gardens dotted with picnic tables and rustic tiki torches. In the fading sunlight, she could see a narrow river in the ridge below the lodge and the mountains stretching out in the distance.
“You’re Nashville born and bred. If you can’t two-step, your mama didn’t raise you right.” He was already leading her down the porch steps and across the lawn.
Music and laughter floated on the night breeze along with the clinking of glassware as a busboy cleared a nearby table.
“My mother is a former debutante and I barely escaped the cotillion coalition myself. So... not exactly the two-stepping crowd. But I can probably waltz circles around you.” She chattered to ward off nerves from being close to him.
With any luck, that fluttery feeling in her belly was just hunger.
“I’d like to see that sometime.” He led her into the gazebo as two-stepping couples whirled past. “But for now, we might be safer to follow the crowd.”
She hung back. “How does a rock and roll producer know how to two-step? Or is this a big trend in L.A.?”
The band’s lead singer twirled during the song’s musical bridge, the hem of her short denim skirt lifting enough to make a few of the single guys whistle. Myles didn’t seem to notice though. He played the attentive groom far better than Beau William had, his eyes never leaving her.
“I was born in Baton Rouge.” He spoke the city’s name with a Cajun flair. “I could dance before I could walk.”
His fingers flexed on her waist, drawing her closer. Drawing her toward the plank floor. He was a big, powerful man. She couldn’t imagine him being light on his feet. But then he spun her with one hand and caught her with the other, surprising a gasp out of her.
Grinning, he anchored her in his arms and led her around the floor, keeping time with the music. Dipping her over one arm. He picked her up on his right and plunked her down on his left, still never missing a beat. It was so unexpected she could not help a breathless laugh.
Realizing she didn’t need to think—just follow – she did exactly that for a few simple moments. The whole day had been a battle for self-control, so to forget it all for two fast-paced minutes felt amazing.
Right up until she remembered she was supposed to have been taking to the floor for the first time as Mrs. Beau William Greer, III, right about now. Her first dance as a married woman.
Her steps slowed.
“Lindsey?” Myles leaned close to speak in her ear so no one could overhear. “You okay?”
She shook her head, unable to fire off a comeback.
“C’mon.” Taking her hand he led her out of the gazebo on the far side of the lawn, away from the porch full of diners overlooking the grounds.
As she walked, her heels sank into the soft earth, the shoes meant to be seen more than for actual walking. Why had she let her groom buy her honeymoon clothes?
“I’m such an idiot.” She halted in her tracks, unwilling to follow him any farther. “I’m going to head back to the limo. Maybe we should just look for a fast food place on the road.”
“There isn’t anything for miles. We need to head through more of the forest first.” He leaned against a vacant picnic table perched next to a split rail fence that prevented guests from walking down the ridge where the river ran through the property.
A flame flickered in a hurricane lamp on the table top.
“Well I can’t do this—dance and pretend to be on my honeymoon on the very same night I was supposed to be dancing and then leaving on my honeymoon. For real.” She hadn’t wanted to show him this hurt inside her, but maybe she was just too tired now to fake like she was anything but. “I think food would help. And quiet. I’d like to take you up on the offer of a limo picnic.”
“Of course. I gave the kitchen a healthy tip to speed them along. I’ll go check on their progress.”
“You don’t have to be so nice to me.” She frowned up at him, hating the weakness inside her that made her so close to tears.
She had never been a crier. She would not lose it in front of a guy who wanted to write a tell-all book about her family. But she’d lost her fiancé who was also her best friend all in the same day. Not to mention losing the dream of somehow finally having a functional, normal family of her own.
