Something Blue, page 23
After their drinks, Sawyer led her away from the dance floor and onto the soft grass of the orchard.
“I’m going to ruin these shoes.” Beth tippy-toed.
“Here.” Sawyer scooped her up into his arms, making her squeak, and kept walking.
“What in the world? You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Hardly. I’ve carried bags of feed your size.”
Beth laughed, tossing her head back, marveling at the clear night sky and the stars above.
She couldn’t believe her blessings. This wedding, this inn, this family. This man.
Just a few short months ago, they were either in jeopardy or nonexistent. Look at how much had changed.
“Here we are,” Sawyer said, and set her on her feet next to a peach tree strung with tiny, battery-operated lights.
“How did you—?”
He patted a bench that’d been placed by the tree. On the bench was a large, flat, rectangular package.
“What’s this?” she asked as she sat next to the package.
“Guess you better open it and see.”
She quirked her lips as she eyed him. “What are you up to, Sawyer Silva?” Beth tore into the package, always loving a present and a surprise.
Inside lay a canvas full of color. Vibrant greens and blues, brown and touches of orange. It was the painting of the peach orchard they’d seen at the festival that day, in the art booth.
“You didn’t!” She touched the corner of the canvas.
“I did. I could tell it spoke to you. I got myself one with the horses.”
“Oh, Sawyer.” She lifted the canvas from the package to hold it up in the light. “It’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.” She lowered the canvas back down to find Sawyer on one knee.
Her hands began to shake.
“You said it looked like home. Beth, you look like home to me. I’ll never forget that day, getting to know you, realizing there was something there. I didn’t know where things would go with us, but I knew I wanted to find out. And when I thought I’d lost you, I was miserable. I don’t ever want to be without you. I want to be there for you, and with you. I know I was full of doubt when it came to believing love could happen so quickly, but I was wrong. You’ve made me a believer. I want us to have a life together, full of joy and family, and even work and stress. All of it. I want to do all of it, with you.” He reached into his jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out a diamond ring. “Beth Shipley, will you marry me?”
She gingerly laid down her new painting, and then all but tackled him as she flew into his arms.
“Yes!” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes!”
She was somehow managing to laugh and cry as he kissed her, and her hands were still shaking when he slid the princess-cut solitaire onto her finger.
It was absolutely perfect.
“Whew!” he said, kissing her again as they got to their feet.
Beth laughed, burying herself in his hug. “What do you mean, ‘Whew’? Like I wasn’t going to say yes?”
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “Well, I was hoping and counting on you saying yes, but the ‘Whew’ was because I got through it without messing up.” He patted his breast pocket. “I didn’t even need my note cards either.”
Beth pulled away with a laugh. “Is that what Cece saw you practicing? We thought it was your best-man speech.”
“I know you did.” Sawyer winked. “Told you I’ll keep you on your toes.”
And she couldn’t wait.
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Coming Winter 2023
About the Author
Heather McGovern writes contemporary romance in swoony settings. While her love of travel and adventure takes her far, there is no place like home. She lives in South Carolina with her husband and son, and one Maltipoo to rule them all. When she isn’t writing, she enjoys hiking, scuba diving, going to Disney World, reading, and streaming her latest favorite on television.
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For a bonus story from another author that you’ll love, please turn the page to read A Wedding on Lavender Hill by Annie Rains.
Event planner Claire Donovan loves giving clients the weddings of their dreams. But that gets tricky when she has to work with the man who recently broke her heart—Bo Matthews. As the son of the groom and owner of the perfect venue in Sweetwater Springs, Bo will be impossible to avoid. But can Claire be this close to her sexy ex without falling for his charms all over again?
CHAPTER ONE
Claire Donovan had a bit of a reputation in Sweetwater Springs. She loved to shop.
As an event planner, she was always looking for a special item to make the big day just a touch more special. Last week she’d found a clown costume for a purse-size Chihuahua to wear to its owner’s eightieth birthday bash. It was a huge hit with the crowd; not so much with the little dog, who yapped, ran in circles, and tore at the shiny fabric.
The only shopping Claire would be doing this morning, however, was glancing in storefront windows on her way to meet with her newest client, Pearson Matthews. Claire’s reputation extended beyond shopping. In Sweetwater Springs, she was also known for being professional and punctual, and for putting on the best parties in town.
She passed Sophie’s Boutique and admired the window display, wishing she had more time to pop inside and say hello to the store owner—and try on one of those dresses that she absolutely didn’t need. Then she opened the neighboring door to the Sweetwater Café and stepped inside to a cool blast of air on her face. She was instantly accosted by the heavy scent of coffee brewing. Best aroma in the world!
“Good morning,” Emma St. James said from behind the counter. She had the smile of someone who’d been sniffing coffee and sugary treats since five a.m.
“Morning.” Claire glanced around the room, looking for Pearson. The only people seated in the coffee shop though were two twentysomething-year-old women and a man with his back toward her. Judging by his build, he was in his twenties or thirties and liked to work out. He wore a ball cap that shielded his face. Not that Claire needed to get a good look at him. If his face matched his body, then he was yummier than Emma’s honeybuns in the display case. Claire would do better to have one of those instead.
Pulling her gaze away from him, she walked up to the counter.
“Your usual?” Emma asked.
“You know me so well.”
Emma turned and started preparing a tall caffe latte with heavy cream and two raw sugars. “Your mom was here the other day,” she said a moment later as she slid the cup of coffee toward Claire.
Claire’s good mood immediately took a dive. She loved her mom, but she didn’t exactly like her. “Oh?” she said, her tone heavy with disinterest. “That’s nice.”
Emma tilted her head. “She asked about you.”
“Well, I hope you told her that I’m fine as long as she stays far away.”
“She said she’s going to AA now,” Emma told her as she rang up Claire’s items at the register.
Drinking had always been Claire’s father’s problem though. Nancy Donovan had so many other, more pressing issues to deal with, none of which Claire wanted to concern herself right now. She paid Emma in cash, took her coffee and bagged honeybun, then turned and looked around the shop once more.
“Are you meeting someone here?” Emma asked.
“Pearson Matthews. I guess he’s running late,” Claire said, turning back.
Emma shrugged. “Not sure, but his son is over there.” She pointed at the man in the ball cap, and Claire nearly dropped her coffee.
What is Bo Matthews doing here? She didn’t have anything against his father, but the youngest Matthews son ranked as one of her least favorite people in Sweetwater Springs. Or he would have if he hadn’t left town last April.
Bo glanced over and offered a small wave.
“Maybe he knows where his father is,” Emma suggested.
A new customer walked in so Claire had no choice but to step away from the counter. She could either walk back out of the Sweetwater Café and text Pearson on the sidewalk or she could ask his son.
You hate him, she reminded herself as attraction stormed in her belly. She forced her feet to walk forward until she was standing at his table.
Hate him, double-hate him, triple-hate him.
But wow, she loved those blue-gray eyes of his, the color of a faded pair of blue jeans. The kind you wanted to shimmy inside of and never take off.
“What are you doing back in town?” she asked, pleased with the controlled level of irritation lining her voice.
He looked up. “I live in Sweetwater Springs, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“You left.” And good riddance.
“I had a job to do in Wild Blossom Bluffs. But now I’m home.”
Like two sides of a football stadium during a touchdown, half of her cheered while the other side booed and hissed. She was not on Team Bo anymore and never would be again. “Where is your father?”
“I’m afraid he couldn’t make it. He asked me to meet with you instead.”
Claire’s gaze flitted to the exit. Pearson Matthews was her biggest client right now. He was a businessman with money and influence, and she’d promised to do a good job for him and his fiancée, Rebecca Long. Claire also had her reputation to maintain. She took her responsibilities seriously and prided herself on going above and beyond the call of duty. Every time for every client.
And right now, her duty was to sit down and make nice with Bo Matthews.
* * *
Bo reached for his cup of black coffee and took a long sip as he listened to Claire do her best to be civil. If he had to guess, the conversation she really wanted to be having with him right now was anything but.
“The wedding is two months away,” she said, avoiding eye contact with him. “We’re on a time crunch, yes, but your father could’ve called and rescheduled the initial planning session.” Her gaze flicked to meet his. “It’s not really something you can do.”
Bo reached for his cup of coffee and took another sip, taking his time in responding. He could tell by the twitch of her cheek that it irritated her. She couldn’t wait to get out of that chair and create as much distance between them as possible. Regret festered up inside him. He couldn’t blame her for being upset. He’d handled things with her all wrong last year. “There’s a problem with the wedding.”
Claire’s stiff facial features twisted. “What? Pearson and Rebecca called the wedding off?”
“No, unfortunately,” he said, although that would’ve made him happy. Bo had been certain his dad would eventually come to his senses about marrying a woman half his age. Then, a few months ago, the lovebirds had announced they were pregnant.
“If the wedding is still a go, then what’s the problem?” Claire lifted her cup of coffee and took a sip.
Naturally that brought his focus to her heart-shaped lips. He’d kissed those lips once—okay, more than once—and he wouldn’t mind doing it again. Clearing his throat, he looked down at the table. “Rebecca is in preterm labor. The doctor put her on hospital bed rest over the weekend. She’s not leaving there until the baby is born. Not for long at least.”
From his peripheral vision, he saw Claire lift her hand to cover that pretty pink mouth. “That’s awful.”
He nodded and looked back up. “She wants to be married before little Junior arrives, which could be a couple days to a couple of weeks from now, if we’re lucky.”
Women weren’t supposed to be beautiful when they frowned, but Claire wore it well. “So the wedding is postponed?” she asked. “Is that why Pearson sent you here to talk to me?”
“Not exactly. Dad and Rebecca want to speed things up a bit. Rebecca can get approval to leave the hospital, but only for a couple hours.”
“Speed things up how much?”
Bo grimaced. This was a lot to ask, but his dad was used to getting things done his way. Pearson Matthews demanded excellence, which was one of the reasons Bo guessed he’d hired Claire in the first place. “They want the wedding to happen this weekend.”
“What?” Claire nearly shouted.
“No expense spared. Dad’s words, not mine.”
She shook her head and started rattling off rapid-fire thoughts. “I don’t even know what they like or what they want. I haven’t met with Rebecca for planning yet. She’s the bride, it’s her wedding. Today is Thursday. That only gives me—”
“—three days,” he said, cutting her off. “They want to marry on Saturday evening.”
Claire’s face was flushed against her strawberry locks. Her green eyes were wide like a woman going into complete panic mode. He’d seen her in this mode when she’d woken up beside him in bed last spring, and that had been his fault as well.
She pulled a small notebook and pen out of her purse and started writing. “I guess I could meet with Rebecca in her hospital room to discuss colors and themes.”
Bo cleared his throat, signaling for Claire to look up. “About that. Dad doesn’t want Rebecca involved. No stress, per doctor’s orders. Dad wants you and me to plan it.”
Claire’s mouth pinched shut.
Yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea either. He had other things to do than plan a shotgun wedding that he didn’t even want to happen. For one, he had architectural plans to finish by Friday for a potential client. Having just returned to town, it was important to reestablish his place as the preferred architect in Sweetwater Springs.
“You and me?” She folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t think so.”
He shrugged. “Dad said he’d double your fee for the trouble.”
That pretty, heart-shaped mouth fell open. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes. “What’s in it for you? Aren’t you busy?”
“Very. But despite his poor sense in the love arena, Dad has always been there for me. He even bailed me out of jail once.”
Her gaze flicked away for a moment. Claire had told him about her family history during their night together last spring. Not that he hadn’t already heard the rumors. Her dad was a drunk, now serving time for a DWI. Claire’s mom couldn’t hold down a job and had a bad habit of sleeping with other women’s husbands. Most notably was her mom’s affair with the previous mayor of Sweetwater Springs. That had ensured that the Donovan family’s dirty laundry was aired for everyone to talk about.
Claire was cut from a different cloth though, and she did her best to make sure everyone saw that.
“Why am I not surprised that you would’ve spent the night in jail?” she asked with a shake of her head. The subtle movement made her red hair scrape along her bare shoulders.
“I guess because you have low expectations for me.”
She pinned him with a look that spoke volumes. “How about no expectations?”
Maybe that was another reason Bo had agreed to help with this farce of a wedding. Claire might never forgive him, but maybe she’d stop being angry at him one day. For a reason he didn’t want to explore too deeply, he hoped that was true.
* * *
Saying yes to this request would be insane.
Claire lifted her coffee to her mouth, wishing it had a splash of something stronger in it right now. “Okay, I’ll do it.” She’d never bailed on a job, and she wasn’t about to start now.
Even if the wedding was in three days. And she had to plan it with Bo Matthews. And… “Oh no.”
“What?” he asked.
“There aren’t going to be any venues available. You can’t book a place three days out. Everywhere in town will be taken. I wouldn’t even be able to empty out a McDonald’s for them to get married in with this short a notice.”
Claire’s hands were shaking. The best and nothing less was her personal motto. But she wasn’t going to be able to deliver this time. There was no way. Her eyes stung with the realization.
“What about the Mayflower?” Bo asked.
That was a popular restaurant that she sometimes reserved for less formal events. “It’ll be booked.”
“The community center?”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Such a male thing to say. No woman dreams of getting married at the local community center.” Claire dropped her head into her hands. Think, think, think.
She listened as Bo rattled off some more options, and shot them all down without even looking up.
“A wedding should be about the people, not the place,” he said a moment later.
She looked up now. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a romantic.”
He smiled, and it went straight through her chest like a poisonous barb. “It’s true. If two people are in love, it shouldn’t matter where they are. Saying vows under the stars should be enough.”
She swooned against her will, immediately imagining herself in his arms under said stars. She’d danced with him at Liz and Mike’s wedding reception last year. And he’d smelled of evergreens and mint. She remembered that when he’d held her in his arms, she’d thought he was the perfect size for her. Men who were too large put her head level at their chests. Too small put them face-to-face, which was just awkward.
But in Bo’s arms, her head was at the perfect height to rest on his shoulder. Close enough to where she had to tip her face back to look into those faded denim eyes behind the Clark Kent glasses.
Bo reached for his coffee. “I couldn’t care less where they get married. They’ll be divorced within the year if my dad maintains his track record.”
