Blind Dates and Other Disasters: The Wedding Wish

‘You are one surprising woman, Holly Denison.’

Definitely time to go back to her party.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ONLY when Holly made to follow her departing group did she find herself still attached to Jacob’s arm. Flicking him an apologetic smile, she released her steel grip. But he pulled her back until she was flush against him.

‘Not just yet, Ms Denison. Before I let you go, I have a question I simply must have answered.’

His voice was low and husky. His face was in shadow, and his dark hair in a halo of sunlight as he stood with his back to the sun.

‘Ask away,’ she said, her voice reedy.

‘What on earth are you wearing on your feet?’

Holly blinked. Looked at her feet. And grinned. In all the confusion, she had plum forgotten.

‘Haven’t you even seen a pair of galoshes before, Mr Lincoln?’

‘Of course. I have even seen ones that yellow before. But not, I must admit, on a grown woman, otherwise dressed to the hilt as you are. Is this some kind of fashion statement?’

‘Hmm. You have been away too long, haven’t you? Bright yellow galoshes are Melbourne’s must-have fashion item this winter.’

‘Throw out the little black dress?’ he asked.

Holly brought her spare hand to her heart and gasped in mock shock. ‘Gosh, no. Never. But wear with the little black dress? Of course.’

Jacob nodded, his expression deadly serious, as though impressed by her wealth of fashion knowledge. He eased her into a slow ramble towards the grandstand steps.

‘Now you’ve answered the what, do I get to hear thewhy?’

Holly paused a moment for effect. ‘So my feet don’t get wet.’

Jacob glanced at her sideways and raised one unconvinced eyebrow.

‘Okay. After last night’s downpour, I arrived this morning to find the ground below my marquee ankle-deep in mud. Rather than have guests whose only memory of the day would be their wet feet, and without having to move the whole shebang up to a dreary old conference room with no view of the track, I brought in enough galoshes and warm socks to shoe my entire guest list.’

As her tale unfurled Jacob stopped watching the group ahead of him, and concentrated fully on her, his eyes growing bright with delight.

‘And besides you, did anybody actually dare to wear them?’

‘Sure. Everybody.’

Holly pulled Jacob up short as they had reached the fence line that separated the crowd from the track. Jacob looked about for the rest of their group and finding them heaving themselves awkwardly over the fence several metres away, he tried tugging her in their direction.

But Holly tugged him back.

She beamed at him proudly, then slipped effortlessly through the concealed hole in the fence that the others did not know was there. Jacob watched in amazement before following her through.

They trudged across the muddy dirt track, nearing the huge white marquee, which glowed brightly in the midday sun, the canvas roof flapping softly in the light breeze. The sounds of clinking glasses and happy chatter wafted across the way.

Holly smiled inwardly. Jacob looked so dubious. His expression was like a child’s on Christmas Day, just before opening his present from Grandma. Would it be the monster truck he had been promised or would it be tartan hankies again?

Jacob’s doubt was written so clearly across his face that Holly’s inward smile twisted with sadness. She had the feeling that he probably always doubted good things could happen until he saw them with his own two eyes. This was a man who knew disappointment.

The men ahead of them lifted the flap and headed inside. Holly and Jacob came close on their heels. Enjoying the moment intensely, Holly made sure she got there first. She grabbed a hold of the big flap and feeling like a ringmaster, opened it with a flourish.

Jacob was astounded.

Inside the marquee were glass-topped tables, candlelight shimmered from every spare surface and even from makeshift chandeliers hanging low from the ceiling. Heaters were scattered discreetly throughout the tent. The walls crawled with ivy interweaved with daisies and daffodils. The effect was like a mirage, a dash of springtime in the middle of the gloomy, muddy oval outside.

He scanned the faces of the people in the room. Many familiar, several famous. All laughing and drinking and obviously having a ball. And all were wearing bright yellow galoshes.

He turned to Holly, who was watching him with a satisfied grin splashed across her lovely face. ‘I am impressed.’ ‘And your feet?’ she asked.

Jacob lifted one foot and saw the kid leather was wet through and through. ‘Ruined. Even my socks are soaked.’

Holly gave a quick nod to someone outside Jacob’s field of view and within a couple of seconds a waiter arrived, the tray in his arms laden with a pair of brand new galoshes and a pair of thick cotton socks, both in size extra large.

‘Do I have to?’ he asked.

‘What do you think?’

In answer Jacob grabbed the galoshes and pulled up a spare garden chair. He held up his wet leather lace-ups and the waiter swapped the ruined shoes for a cloakroom ticket and disappeared to look after other guests.

‘There,’ Holly said. ‘Now you fit in. Now you’re one ofus.’

She turned away to give instructions to an earnest young man with a clipboard. She was efficient. She liked being in control.

And then he realised: she was happy because he had done what she wanted him to do. He bristled, hating the feeling of being constrained, of being dared to make a choice not his own.

He was a free man with nothing and no one holding him down. He had lived that other life, being beholden to someone else’s needs and wishes. And he never wanted to go that way again. Then he stopped himself.

Relax. It’s a pair of shoes. This is one afternoon. You cangive over to someone else’s wishes for one afternoon. It’s not like you will be giving over the decision-making to the woman for a lifetime.

A lifetime. And he remembered. She was on the hunt for a husband and had convinced Ben to help her.

Why? She was gorgeous. Slim, with curves in all the right places and the sort of lush dark hair any man would love to run his fingers through. And he knew those legs of hers were long, lithe, and smooth, though right now half hidden beneath those ridiculous rubber boots.

She had been attracting plenty of interested looks since she had walked in, and earlier his men had practically tripped over each other for the sake of one of her smiles.

Jacob observed a couple of well-dressed sorts on the other side of the tent obviously talking about her. And he felt an unexpected urge to go to her. To shield her from their view. To defend her against their scrutiny.

She must have caught him watching her as she raised her eyebrows in question. She held up a finger to tell him she would only be a moment.

Her face was so open. She smiled, she frowned, and every thought was out there for all to see. And as he watched her face became more familiar and comfortable every second. It was not long before he felt as if he knew every expression her lovely face could generate.

Finally, she came over and slumped into a chair beside him and at once in such close proximity, away from the beer and the sweaty men, a sudden sweet scent drifted his way. It was heady and rich, like jasmine. It was her. And it rocked him.