Falling for the Best Man (Sisters of Wishing Bridge Farm, #1)(2)
“I could ask you the same question. I didn’t think airports were your thing.” From his dry tone, he clearly hadn’t forgotten their last encounter. Emmy gulped, once again pushing the memories away. Besides, even if she wanted to think about her decision (which, for the record, she most definitely did not), there wasn’t time.
She was here to work.
She had a wedding to plan, a bank manager to appease, and two annoying sisters who needed to be proved wrong. There was no time for distractions. That includes Christopher Henderson and his delicious man-smells. She needed to push that all to one side and think about it later. Preferably thirty or forty years from now, when she was better equipped to deal with it.
“And I didn’t think boring rural towns were yours,” Emmy replied with more spirit than she really felt. In response, he lifted his hands and grinned. Not what she had been expecting.
Then again, she hadn’t been expecting to see her hot fling, either.
“Touché,” he said, giving her a disarming smile. Emmy’s heart sped up in a way that couldn’t possibly be good for her. She swallowed hard and tried to remember she was a rational person who couldn’t be swayed by a smile, but it wasn’t until his curious gaze swept over her that she realized he was waiting for her to speak. As in, use proper words, possibly all in a row.
Her pulse fluttered. Pepper, with her smart, lawyer’s tongue, would no doubt say something withering and cool, while free-spirited Bec would just flirt and do that twisty thing with her hair. But Emmy wasn’t like them.
She was sensible and quiet.
She was the one who had cared for Ivy before she died.
She made jam and patchwork quilts. Witty rejoinders weren’t really her forte. Not to mention that, judging by Christopher’s casual demeanor, it was obvious he was completely indifferent to her presence.
What a depressing thought, and a good reason why she had to finish this conversation as quickly as possible. Self Preservation 101. She took a deep breath.
“I really need to go…work…stuff…busy. So, bye.” She clutched at the handwritten sign and tried to edge away from him and his disturbing presence.
“I thought you were a bookkeeper for a local vineyard?” He followed as she tried to get back through the thinning crowd so she could once again see the arrivals gate. Up close, his eyes were the color of the velvety moss that covered the boulders at the bottom of the wishing bridge.
Why had no one written about this in the Wedding Planner’s Survival Guide? It was a serious oversight.
“I am. I mean, I was—” Emmy corrected, surprised he remembered what she did. “What I mean is, I still help Rachel and Jackson out, but I’ve turned the farm into a wedding venue, and my first big event is on Sunday. So, if you don’t mind, I really need to—”
“Wait!” His mouth twisted in amusement, and he let out a throaty laugh that sent a flurry of sensations through her veins. “You’re the wedding planner?”
“What’s so funny?” Emmy’s embarrassment was momentarily forgotten. She might be the quiet one of the family, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable. In fact, if capable had a cheerleading squad, then she’d be on the banner—with stars around her name. “We can’t all go to exotic locations at the drop of the hat. Some of us have to keep things running smoothly. What we’re offering is a very valid service designed to help give a couple their dream vintage wedding, complete with a covered bridge that would make any bride weep with joy, and if you don’t think—”
“Whoa!” Christopher took a step back. “I’m not suggesting your covered bridge isn’t designed to make even the most hardened bride cry like a baby.”
“Oh.” Some of the fire left her as an uneasy sensation rose in her chest. And why had he said “the” wedding planner not “a” wedding planner? “Why were you laughing, then?”
“I was laughing because the universe has a pretty strange sense of humor.”
“W–what do you mean?”
“I was told the wedding planner would be here to meet me. I just never thought it would be you.”
Emmy stared at him. “No.”
“Yes.” He stared back as he held out his hand, his amusement seeming to be in equal measure to her horror. “Wedding planner, meet the best man.”
“It’s not possible,” Emmy insisted, as she waved the handwritten sign in front of his nose and tried to ignore the desperate edge in her voice. “The best man is Kit Sheppard. See, it’s written right here. There’s no mistake. Melinda even spelled it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find him.”
Christopher’s lips were still twitching with amusement. “It’s no trick. Back in the day, everyone called me Kit.”
“What about the last name?” Emmy croaked as she vaguely recalled Kit hearing used as a nickname for Christopher. This was a disaster. It was also a cautionary tale on the perils of falling for someone you barely know, since it appeared they could turn up anywhere, with a different name and the same dark green eyes, all capable of turning a person’s stomach to mush.
Oh, this was bad.
“Sheppard’s my legal last name but…well, let’s just say I was never a fan of it, so ever since I got my first byline I’ve been using my mom’s maiden name. Henderson.” His smile dimmed, as if a mask had slipped, but he quickly replaced it as he produced his wallet and showed her his driver’s license. “Exhibit A.”