New Year's Wedding

UH, OH. He realized it would be wise to withdraw even as he leaned toward her. She wasn’t at all what he’d expected of a fawned-over celebrity. And the moment she’d turned to him for help, he’d run away with her. It was unsettling to know she’d had such an effect on him. He was as fun-loving as the next bachelor, but he wasn’t a thrill-seeker as a rule, or particularly reckless. He’d had a sick father; had to quit school. Life had been hard, but that had made him a practical man. “Well, no man worth his salt—even one with the wrong hair color—can resist a beautiful woman in distress.”

She stared at him an extra minute then pointed at the window to the heavy clouds around them. “I understand it rains all the time in Oregon.”

“Not all the time,” he corrected. “Just October to April, but climate change has made every year less predictable than the one before. Of course, I have only five years of Beggar’s Bay weather history to go by. I’m a transplant from Idaho, and we lived in Europe until I was in high school. My parents taught at American schools there—mostly in Italy and Spain. We went to Paris once, though I don’t remember much about it. But I’ve never been to New York, except at the airport. I’m happy in Beggar’s Bay.”

“I have seen many of the world’s most beautiful places—big cities, natural wonders, postcard views—and they’re a feast for the soul. But the heart needs something else.”

He kept his surprise to himself. The heart? Of course, supermodels had heart. He’d seen her in Texas with her rediscovered family and the children at the foster home in Querida. But this observation seemed to be about something else; something very personal.

“Your heart’s searching for something?”

“Isn’t everyone’s?”

She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, away from him. Hmm. Interesting woman. Impulsive and trusting, but holding a few secrets?

Well. Not his problem. After the wedding, she’d probably go back to Paris or New York or wherever the next shoot was and it would be as though their paths had never crossed. Just as well.

It was dusk when the pilot’s voice came over the speaker to tell them they were beginning to descend and asking that they fasten their seat belts. She’d been fidgety and restless most of the flight and had just dozed off a few moments before. He reached out to fasten her belt rather than wake her. The small movement woke her. She looked into his eyes and said sleepily, “I didn’t dream this. You are here.” Her grateful look pinned and melted him.

“I am,” he said easily, as though he ran off with supermodels every day.

* * *

DARKNESS HAD FALLEN when they began the drive home in a rented gray pickup he’d thought would handle the road better than the luxury car she’d suggested. It was raining hard, water from the winding, poorly lit road splashing around them.

Cassie imagined tomorrow morning’s articles.

Popular 25-year-old supermodel Cassiopeia, AKA Cassidy Jane Chapman, was killed on Highway 101 on the central Oregon coast when the car in which she was a passenger swerved off the wet road and into a tree. Before the scene in Ireland that might have ended her career, she was the face of Eterna Beauty, Belle Face Pharmaceuticals, Heart and Soul Perfume, as well as many other products. Clothing designer Josephine Bergerac of the award-winning Empress line of eveningwear wept as she told CNN, “There will never be another body like Cassie’s for my clothes. I am done.”

All right, so maybe Josie wouldn’t give up her work if Cassie died, but her friends and family would miss her. Her father would be devastated.

Grady slammed on the brakes as something large with four legs ran across the road just feet in front of them. Water flew around them as he skidded, and they finally came to a stop in the other lane. His bright lights illuminated a break in the trees through which the animal had disappeared. Cassie got a quick impression of a large brown body and a white rump.

“You okay?” he asked, catching her shoulder until she turned toward him. He looked her over.

“Yes.” Her voice was breathless, her heart hammering.

He expelled a breath then checked his rearview mirror as she watched the road for oncoming traffic. They seemed to be alone. Then a smaller version of whatever had raced past them loped across the road and into that break in the trees. This time she saw the first buds of antlers on a beautiful young head.

“I didn’t realize deer were so big,” she said as he turned back into their lane.

“Those were elk,” he replied. “Roosevelt Elk. When a doe goes by, there’s often a young one behind her. The Oregon Coast is full of them.”

“Do you see them in Beggar’s Bay?”

“I do. I live in an A-frame in the woods. They’re a little shy, but they like to eat the salmonberries on the other side of my backyard.”

She, on the other hand, didn’t live anywhere. At least, not tonight. Her hasty departure from Texas had left several details about the next few days unresolved. “When we get to Beggar’s Bay, can you just drop me at a motel, please? I’ll buy you dinner as a thank-you if there’s a restaurant nearby.” She made a face when she heard her own words. “Not that dinner could repay you for helping me.”

He shook his head, dismissing that idea as he turned onto a long, straight stretch of road. “We don’t have a motel. We have a couple of B and Bs, but they’re probably full because of the holidays.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “What about the next town?”

“It’s another ten miles. Why don’t you just stay with me? I have a spare bedroom and a bath. You’ll have privacy until the wedding. You know you’re safe with me because your brother would kill me if I let anything happen to you.” He was quiet for a moment and then he asked, “What are you going to do? I mean, ultimately. You can’t hide from the press forever, and you must have jobs lined up.”

“Workwise, I have a couple of months off, but I promised to do a charity show in early January,” she said. “Maybe I’ll travel around a little after. I’ve worked hard so I could pull together some weeks to relax. Turns out my timing was perfect. Meanwhile, the whole family’s flying home tonight on the red-eye, so it’s possible I can bunk with one of them.” She nodded gratefully. “But I’d appreciate staying at your place tonight if you’re sure it’s all right.”

“I’m sure. Just relax. We’ll be home in half an hour.”

Relaxing didn’t seem to be an option. Used to sitting in the back of a limo or a taxi, she was a little unnerved by the bumpy ride. The in-your-face view from the passenger seat was filled with tall trees and deep darkness, except for the path of his headlights and an occasional light suggesting a house some distance off the highway.

Grady drove with calm competence despite the near accident, and she kept quiet, appreciating his need to concentrate.

The headlights finally picked out a sign that read Welcome to Beggar’s Bay. Population 8,912.

The edge of town was heavily forested, but lights and signs of habitation began to thicken. Finally they drove through three blocks of a brightly lit downtown. He turned up a road and pointed past her to a construction site where a three-story building was going up. “That’s the assisted-living facility your brother Jack’s wife, Sarah, is heading up. I’m just another mile this way.”

Lights became spotty again and trees crowded the road.

He eventually turned up a side road for a short distance, then into the driveway of a tall, brightly lit A-frame house. It was trimmed in Christmas lights. She smiled in surprise. “When you said an A-frame, I imagined something simpler. The lights are beautiful.”

Grady’s home had a rustic façade with a central fieldstone chimney and high, wide, wedge-shaped windows on either side. Stilts supported a wraparound deck and, to the left of the house, terraced bricks held large pots with green plants.

“I got it for a steal when I moved here. It had been vacant for a year and a half, and the owner was anxious to get out from under two mortgages. I didn’t get a tree up before I went to Texas.”

He groaned as he pulled in beside a red-and-white Mini Cooper. “My mother’s here.” He turned off the car and gave Cassie a rueful smile. “I was hoping she’d still be in Reno. She’ll want to know all about you.”

Cassie smiled. “That’s okay. I have nothing to hide.” Mostly. She unbuckled her belt with a philosophical shrug. “While my father is kind and caring, he’s made poor choices in women in the past. I imagine that’s how I was born. It’ll be nice to meet a real mother.”

“Yeah.” His tone was doubtful. “You’re such an innocent, Cassie,” he teased, then frowned at the simple dress she wore. “I don’t suppose you have rain gear in your luggage?”

“I don’t. I was expecting to stay in sunny Texas. But I’ll be fine. It’s not that far to the front door, is it?” She peered through the windshield. “Where is the front door?”

“Halfway back on the left side. Just run for the shelter of the deck overhang. Here.” He yanked off the white cotton sweater he wore and held it over her head. She put her arms into the sleeves and he pulled it down. “It isn’t too much protection, but better than nothing.”

She was surrounded by the scent of male and something dry and spicy with a suggestion of pine. The cotton was warm from his body. “Thank you,” she said. He let himself out of the truck.

The rain was torrential—and cold. It struck her face and bare legs when she hesitated to get her bearings. Grady caught her hand and pulled her with him as he ran for the shelter of the overhang. She blinked against raindrops and followed, slowing as he did halfway up the walkway at the side of the house. A door flew open.

Cassie caught a glimpse of a woman in the doorway who was probably in her late fifties. She was wearing a beige turtleneck sweater and dark blue pants. She held the door open as Grady passed her in a rain-soaked T-shirt.

“Hi, Mom,” he said, pulling Cassie inside.

“Hi, Mrs. Nelson.” Cassie smiled into the woman’s suspicious expression as she tripped in after Grady.

Grady’s mother had permed gray hair without much style, brown eyes and a slightly pointy nose and chin. Her skin was beautiful and only lightly lined around her eyes.

“Hello,” she replied, frowning at the large sweater she must know to be her son’s. Then her eyes went to Cassie’s face—and stopped—and widened. She finally said in a stricken whisper, “Oh! My! God!”