Beautiful March Page 5

  I smile. Yeah, I drew up the plans myself. Ava loved those cats that we had, and I felt bad that they didn’t have a better home. I guess it is my way of making sure the strays have a nice place to find some shelter.

  “This isn’t bringing up any old feelings is it, Tyler?”

  I wince at my mom’s question and blow out a deep breath. “No, Mom, I promise. I can handle it.”

  Old feelings? Sure. I lived a nightmare. Hell, I still have nightmares about it, but I’m not about to lay that burden on the woman who gave me a second chance at life. A woman who renewed my faith in humanity. Nope, I’m not laying that burden on my mom.

  “Well, I suppose we’ll see you tomorrow at Reed and Sage’s wedding.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll buy you a glass of chardonnay.”

  She laughs. “And I’ll let you. Have a good day, honey.”

  I say goodbye to my mother and set the phone on the bar top. Jace appears by my side refilling my coffee mug and shoving a plate in front of me along with some silverware.

  “This looks great, Jace. Thanks.”

  “No problem, boss. Just holler if you need anything else. I need to get back to prepping for the lunch crowd.”

  I unwrap the silverware and then shovel a large bite into my mouth. Delicious as usual. We don’t serve traditional breakfast. Although, if Jace had his way, we’d be open at six a.m. and he’d be making omelets and slinging hash browns. He’s very passionate about omelets.

  Before I can finish my breakfast, my phone vibrates again, this time an email.

  Subject: I’ll be in town this weekend.

  Tyler,

  I’m sure that you already have plans this weekend, but I’ll be in town and I was wondering if you’d like to meet up at my hotel? I’m staying at that new boutique one. I had so much fun with you the last time and, well, I wouldn’t mind doing it all again.

  Stella xx

  Stella’s fun, lives in New Orleans. Knows a hell of a lot about food and wine. She owns a little boutique hotel, and every so often she travels up here to Bourbon Country to sample the latest recipes. After she signs the contract and drops a ton of cash, she drops her panties for me. But I think the days of Stella and me are long over.

  I smile and type a response.

  Subject: Re: I’ll be in town this weekend.

  Hi, Stella,

  Unfortunately, I have plans—all weekend is booked. One of my best friends is getting married. I’m officially on groomsman duty. Hope you enjoy your time in Mayfield.

  —Tyler

  I send the email and go back to my french toast.

  Haven

  We make it through the tea without any hassles or shenanigans. Sage and I trek along the cobblestone pathway toward the barn where the two of them will exchange vows. “Are my parents coming to your wedding?” I ask.

  “They can’t come to the ceremony, but they’ll be at the reception.” She stops short of the barn doors and turns to face me. “Do you ever talk to your parents?”

  I laugh a nervous laugh. “What? Of course.”

  She shakes her head. “You know, you should really come back more often, Haven. Your parents miss you.”

  I hold up my hand. “Stop. This weekend is about you, not me.”

  Before she can say another word, her phone vibrates in her hand. “It’s Anna, I gotta take this.”

  My gaze drifts across the field toward the hilltop and the bourbon distillery that my family owns. Just below is my family’s home—Belcourt Estate. The smell of molasses hangs heavy in the hot afternoon air.

  “No, oh no, Anna,” Sage shouts, and her fingers splay across her forehead. “I can’t believe it . . . no, I understand, truly.”

  Shit. That does not sound good.

  Just as I walk toward where Sage is standing, Reed and Tyler emerge from around the corner. Tyler gives me a wink and lifts his wrist just a fraction enough that two long fingers extend which can be considered a wave of sorts.

  Tyler is dangerously good-looking. He’s wearing a black suit jacket with a white-collared shirt and the first two buttons are casually undone. His black pants stretch across his yummy thighs and my eyes land on his bulge.

  Did I just use the word yummy to describe a man’s thighs?

  My eyes snap up when I hear Sage’s voice crack.

  “Oh no, please, don’t be sorry. But I do appreciate it.”

  “What’s going on?” Reed asks, his gaze swings from Sage to me.

  I shrug. “She’s on the phone with Anna and that’s all I know.”

  Reed walks away leaving me standing next to Tyler.

  “And how was your day,” he asks.

  “Fine, we had a bridesmaid’s lunch and . . . tea.”

  “Yeah, you look like you could use something stronger.” Tyler produces a silver flask from the inside of his jacket pocket. “It’s Cardwell bourbon, I think you’ll like it.”

  I roll my eyes taking the flask from his hand. “Thank you.”

  Tyler smirks. “What do you suppose is up with Anna?”

  I lift the flask to my lips and swallow. “After lunch, Sage surprised us with manis and pedis and when Anna was done, she went to Sage’s place to check on Oliver. So, maybe something with the cat?”

  Tyler’s eyes screw shut. “I hope not. I really like that cat.”

  Guests start to filter around the grounds. A few members of the bridal party walk over to where Sage and Reed are standing, but the two of us remain rooted to our spot.

  I hand the flask back to Tyler. “Hmm, I didn’t think men cared much for cats.”

  His fingers brush against mine and I swear I feel a burst of electricity zap through my skin. With that observation, I can practically hear everyone rolling their eyes.

  I’m officially nuts.

  “Well, I happen to be a guy who likes the feline species. In fact, I have a cat of my own, his name is Harley.”

  “Is he a calico or a ginger?”

  Tyler grins. “He’s a ginger cat. You should meet him . . . unless you’re allergic.”

  “If I were allergic, I wouldn’t be staying at Sage’s place.”

  He tips the flask to his lips taking a long swallow. “Right, I forgot about that.”

  When Sage ends the call, Reed pulls her into his arms.

  “Man, it’s not a good sign to cry before you get married,” Tyler remarks.

  Straightening my shoulders, I inhale a deep breath. “Let’s go, best man, duty calls.”

  We walk across the lush green grass and Sage’s eyes meet mine over Reed’s thick shoulder.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Anna’s daddy was in a car crash and they don’t know if he’s going to make it. He’s in surgery and her momma is just beside herself. Anna’s flying home.”

  My palm presses to my chest and I hear Tyler blow out a deep breath.

  “How can we help?” Tyler asks.

  Sage pulls back, and I hand her tissue from my purse. “Well, first things first, we pray. Then, we get this show on the road.”

  I laugh. “Yep, let’s fix your face.”

  Tyler shifts and looks at Reed. “Let’s go tell Father Cain what’s going on.”

  Reed nods and the two of them walk toward the barn.

  “Where’s the bridal room?”

  Sage wipes under her eyes. “This way. Aside from being down a bridesmaid, there’s another problem.”

  My heels sink into the grass as we walk toward the tack house. “What’s that?”

  “Anna was supposed to take care of Oliver for me.”

  Crap. That’s right.

  We push through the heavy wooden doors and walk along the beautiful brick walkway. “Wow, this place is gorgeous.”

  Trophies by the dozens fill glass cases and old photos, framed in black, line the walls. The smell of leather and hay mix together, hanging thick in the air. Smells like home—my Kentucky home. The only thing I’d add is the scent of bourbon.

  “Isn’t it?
The Stratton family spent a fortune remodeling the barn and the tack house. When I saw how they transformed the space I just knew this was the place I wanted to get married.”

  Sage thrusts open two large, white, sliding barn doors and behind them is the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen—in a barn.

  “Now this is a great bridal suite,” I comment, running my hand along the long wood counter.

  “Don’t you just love this makeup bar?” Sage asks, pulling out her compact.

  “It’s breathtaking,” I answer, taking a seat on the plush ivory couch.

  Sage takes a seat in the middle of the vanity. Seven padded stools accompany seven antique mirrors and two ornate chandeliers hang above us. On the opposite wall, several hooks with padded hangers are affixed to the wall and an additional built in rack is situated to the left.

  My eyes meet Sage’s in the mirror. “Are you okay?”

  She tucks an errant strand of her brunette hair behind her ear. “I will be. I just don’t know what to do about Oliver. I can’t stand the thought of boarding him for a month.”

  “Can your mom look after him?”

  “Doris is allergic . . . allegedly. When she comes over to visit, she’s totally fine until Oliver enters the room then she pretends to cough and wheeze.”

  I roll my eyes. “Your mom is so dramatic.”

  Sage turns to face me, and I already know the question before it flies out of her mouth.

  I hold up my hand. “Sage, I can’t. I have to be back in Los Angeles. I have clients that need me and I’m desperately trying not to think about all the emails piling up in my inbox right now.”

  She lowers her gaze giving me a sad pout. “You can work from here. You never come home, and I know for a fact that you spend the summer working from your place in East Harbour.”

  Busted.

  She isn’t wrong. I do spend almost my entire summer in the Hamptons. But my company has offices in New York City so it’s convenient if there are any emergencies as I can easily to get to the city.

  I stand and cross the room toward the long mirror leaning against the wall. “Ask Tyler, rumor has it—he loves cats.”

  A smile marks her freshly glossed pink lips. “So, he told you about his cat, Harley. You two must have had quite the chat.”

  “He just told me about his cat, for crying out loud.”

  “Hmm,” she sighs, one long painted fingernail sweeps across her forehead. “I saw the way he was looking at you before.”

  My arms fold against my chest. “Will you quit trying to play matchmaker?”

  Sage is a hopeless romantic, always pulling for love and happiness. Her bookshelves are lined with romance novels—historical, contemporary and even the erotic. Her DVR is loaded with rom-coms and she never misses an episode of The Bachelorette.

  Sage stands and her palms smooth over her red cocktail dress. “Never. I think there’s a spark between the two of you.” She steps forward looping her arm with mine. “Please help me out of this jam? Please, you’re my only hope.”

  I laugh. “You’re laying it on thick and that’s a dirty trick using a Star Wars quote on me.”

  Sage and I were obsessed with Star Wars when we were kids. For three years in a row she was Princess Leia for Halloween. I begged her to let me be Princess Leia for Halloween just once and she finally agreed. Even though half-way through our fifth-grade school dance she did a costume change. Imagine my surprise when she showed up beside me at the refreshments table looking like my twin.

  That was the last Halloween party we attended together because my parents shipped me off to private school that next year. So, the two of us are really good at this long-distance friendship thing.

  “Fine,” I concede. “I make no promises, but I will try and negotiate with my boss.”

  “Yay, oh thank you,” she squeaks. “My house is your house. Seriously, borrow any clothes you need.”

  Inwardly, I groan. I need to contact Beatrice and my boss as soon as possible.

  But that will wait. Because tonight, we party.

  Tyler

  “La Perla?”

  The waitress looks at Haven as if she’s speaking a foreign language.

  “You’re at a strip club in small-town Kentucky not a ritzy bar in Los Angeles.” I lift my chin in her direction. “Order a beer or a bourbon.”

  She shoots me a smirk. “Fine, Haven’s Hill bourbon and make it a double.”

  My brows lift. “I’ll have the same.”

  Once the waitress leaves, Haven sits back in her seat. “I can’t believe I let you and the lovebirds talk me into coming here. If anyone recognizes me, my mother will be down here in no time and drag me straight to church. Wouldn’t want to tarnish the family name.” She points to the neon sign above the entrance. “Sinners Welcome” flashes in hot pink.

  Maybe I’m a few seconds away from that myself. I’ve never really given my family legacy a thought. As far as legacies go, my dad has mentioned on occasion passing Nichols Corp onto my kids one day. I don’t even know if I want to have kids. Never thought of myself as the marrying kind.

  Family legacies, I guess they mean something different to everyone. I’m their only heir—a teenager they adopted from a house of squalor. I owe them so much for saving my life. I have a life because of them. The two of them keep my real identity safe because they don’t want anyone from the Woodward family to find me. I’m more worried about one of them finding me and exploiting my parents for money.

  “Pour Some Sugar on Me” blasts through the speakers and a gal wearing white lace and a cowboy hat takes center stage.

  Haven rolls her eyes. “Is this like the strippers’ anthem?”

  “Funny, I always thought that ‘Girls, Girls, Girls’ was the stripper anthem.”

  “Good one, I guess that song is the true ode to the G-string.”

  “So,” I drawl, trying very hard to not let my gaze fall to Haven’s long legs, “Rumor has it that you might be sticking around here for a little while?”

  Haven’s head bops up and down. “I need to call my boss, Frankie, tomorrow morning. I don’t think it’ll be a problem because I have plenty of vacation time. But hopefully she’ll let me work from here.”

  I watch the inside of the club as people move like shadows under the neon lights. I knew a gal in college who was a stripper. The job paid for all her bills and tuition. Nice gal, heard she became a doctor.

  “Two double-bourbons.”

  I nod, and the waitress places the tumblers on our individual napkins.

  When she walks away, Haven lifts the glass to her lips. “I better not get Hep C or something worse.”

  I shake my head. “Everything is above code. I can assure you of that.”

  She cocks her head. “Oh, and how do you know? Are you a regular patron?”

  “The county health inspector is a real hard-ass. You can’t even get away with as much as a water spot on a glass or he’ll shut you down. And no, strip clubs aren’t really my scene.”

  “Hmm, I can appreciate the inspector’s attention to detail,” she muses, before taking a swallow. “Seriously, how long does it take to get a couple’s lap dance?”

  I laugh and take a long slow drink. “Twice as long as a regular lap dance, I assume.”

  She eyes me over the rim of her glass. “Smart ass.”

  “You know what they say.” I lean forward placing my elbows on my knees. “Couples who go to strip clubs together, stay together.”

  “I don’t think that’s a saying.”

  Her phone vibrates against the tabletop. When she glances at the screen a frown paints her lips.

  I dip my head to meet her eyes. “Everything okay?”

  She blows out a breath, her bangs fly upward. “I forgot to turn my Google alerts off and I just got a notice about Scott’s tour kick-off. Apparently, he and Dalton McCoy were spotted hanging out down in Nashville at some bar. The crowd cheered for them to get on stage and play a few songs.”

&n
bsp; “I’m sorry Scott did what he did to you. It was shitty.”

  Haven gives me a small smile and then returns to her focus to the main stage. I should throat punch Scott for dumping Haven the way that he did.

  She deserves better. Hell, anyone deserves better than getting blindsided.

  Fame has obviously gone to his head. I was under the impression that he was planning a proposal. Something must have happened, or someone.

  Haven

  “Haven?”

  I glance over my shoulder and my heart crashes into my stomach.

  “Maybelle?” My voice squeaks and I lick my dry lips. I take a long swallow of bourbon and then place my glass on the napkin in front of me.

  No. This isn’t happening.

  “Well, this is cozy,” she muses, her gaze darts between Tyler and me. “I heard you were in town.”

  My eyes shift to Tyler and then back to Maybelle. Tyler swallows a drink of bourbon, unfazed by my cousin’s sudden appearance.

  Her brows rise, suspicion written all over her face. “Mister Nichols,” she coos, swiping her blond hair over her shoulder.

  She. Fucking. Cooed.

  “Miss Cardwell, how are you?”

  “Well, I’m just wonderful now that I’ve seen you here. You’ve made my night.”

  I can feel the bile rising in my throat. Apparently, these two are friendly—formally. Not enough intimacy to address one another by their first names.

  “Mister Nichols, I hope you don’t mind,” Maybelle drawls, placing a hand on her hip. “I’m going to borrow my cousin. We’ll be on the dance floor.”

  Tyler juts his chin. “Go ahead. I’ll be just fine here.”

  She grasps my hands pulling me off the velvet couch. As I follow Maybelle, “God Is a Woman” vibrates from the sound system. Five women dressed in only pink lace panties take the stage.

  The dance floor is right off the main stage putting us on display as well. Maybelle turns to face me. Once our heels click against the slick floor, she begins moving her hips to the sway of the beat.

  My gaze swings to Tyler. When the lights pass over his face, his eyes meet mine and a smile spreads across his lips. I didn’t expect something inside me to jerk as our eyes meet—a need. It’s a flash. A short-lived moment. But the smoldering look in his eye matches everything that I’m feeling.