A December Bride (A Year of Weddings Novella) Read online

  “You can call me Seth, you know.”

  She shrugged.

  “You used to.” She used to do other things with him too. Like laugh and touch and make small talk.

  “Jack always called you Murphy. I got used to it.”

  The other two couples slid away from their table to join the growing throng on the dance floor.

  “So your house is in the Tour of Homes?” Layla asked a moment later.

  “How’d you—”

  “I overheard your conversation with Marsha.”

  “Ah. Yes, unfortunately, I succumbed to the pressure.”

  “Why unfortunately?”

  He gave her a wry smile. “I’m pretty clueless when it comes to decorating. I don’t even have—” An idea occurred. A pretty brilliant one. “You wouldn’t be interested in helping me out …”

  Her lips turned down. Her eyes dimmed as she turned away.

  “I could pay you—”

  “Hey, cuz!” Jessica sidled up beside them.

  The four of them reconnected, their greetings as artificially sweetened as a can of Diet Coke.

  “So are you guys, ah, together?” Jack asked.

  Jessica swatted his shoulder. “Oh, honey, I’m sure they’re not actually together. Layla’s not his type.”

  Her implication was clear. Seth would never date a low-life like Layla. Never mind that her groom had.

  Seth reached for Layla’s hand, closing it around her clenched fist. “Actually, we are.”

  “You don’t mean dating …” The disbelief on Jessica’s face made Seth want to shake her again.

  His gaze toggled to Layla. “Yes, dating.”

  Jessica gave an unladylike snort and looked at Seth like he was missing a screw. “Seriously?”

  “Jessica …” That was Jack’s lame attempt to rein in his bride.

  Layla’s nose flared and her eyes flashed. Her lips parted.

  Seth knew that look. “Engaged, actually.”

  Layla’s head spun toward him.

  “Just recently,” Seth said, leaning in conspiratorially. “We haven’t told anyone yet.”

  A moment of silence was punctuated by the pain of Layla’s nails digging into his palm.

  Jessica scowled, her eyes toggling between them and resting on Seth. “You are not engaged.”

  “Wow.” A genuine grin spread across Jack’s face. “Just … wow. Congratulations, guys. What a … wow.”

  “Jack, stop it,” Jessica said. “There’s no way he’s marrying Layla.”

  The way she said Layla’s name brought Seth an inch off his chair.

  Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “When?” Her tone challenged.

  “Christmas Eve.” Pain radiated from his palm.

  “That’s so great,” Jack said. “Wow.”

  Jessica’s maid of honor approached and said something in her ear before walking away.

  “Duty calls,” Jessica said, looking between them with a frown marring her perfectly made-up face. Then she seemed to shake it off. “It’s cake-cutting time, baby.” She planted a kiss on Jack’s lips and gave Layla a syrupy smile. “We’ll chat later, cuz.”

  Layla jerked her hand from Murphy’s. “What. Have you. Done.”

  Murphy took a swig of his drink. His face gave nothing away. Maybe his eyes would, but he wouldn’t look at her. And no wonder. He’d just announced their engagement to her ex-fiancé and the cousin he’d betrayed her with.

  “Murphy.”

  He set his drink down. A shadow flickered across his clean-shaven jaw. He ran his hand over his face. Finally his eyes drifted to hers. “I couldn’t help it.”

  “You couldn’t help it?”

  “She was being awful. And you were about to go off on her, don’t tell me you weren’t.”

  “So you told them we’re engaged?”

  He flinched. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”

  “Well it did!”

  “She didn’t believe it.”

  “Well he did!” Hadn’t Murphy seen Jack’s big ol’ smile? Heard the hearty congratulations? She’d never seen him so relieved.

  “It’ll … blow over.”

  Layla stared at him, speechless. Something like this did not “blow over.”

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like you’re crazy?” Layla drew a deep breath. Exhaled. She was vaguely aware of the activity around the cake table. Words being said into a mike. Laughter.

  “Look,” Murphy said. “It was an impulse. I’m sorry.”

  “You gave them a wedding date. A wedding date that’s less than four weeks away.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll talk to him. I’ll pull him aside when he’s done up there. Explain.”

  “Explain that you felt sorry for me and were trying to make me look less pathetic?”

  His eyes softened. “Nobody thinks that. I’ll tell him the truth. That Jessica set me off with her … cosmetically engineered nose stuck up in the air like it always is.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to help.” She took a sip of her drink. “Though I’d like to see Jack’s face when you say it.”

  He looked at her, those blue eyes like a direct laser. “I’ll fix it, Layla. You have my word.”

  “… and that’s why we’d like to make one more toast this evening,” Jack was saying into the mike.

  Layla halfheartedly turned her attention to the front of the room and the elaborate cake the bride and groom had just fed each other.

  Jack held up his glass, his eyes honing in on Layla and Murphy.

  Layla stopped breathing. A niggle of dread wormed up her spine and settled heavily in her throat.

  “To my good friends, Murphy and Layla. Happy engagement, you two. We’re very happy for both of you.”

  Three

  The rumble of the engine cut through the silence inside the cab. Seth gave the Silverado some gas as he eased onto 65 North. Snow covered the road and traffic had slowed, but he drifted to the left lane and accelerated, the tension in the truck driving him faster.

  He was afraid to look at Layla. Could almost feel the steam coming off her. Once he uncapped the bottle, she was going to blow. He hadn’t thought he could make things worse between them, but somehow he’d managed.

  They’d slipped from the reception hall shortly after the announcement. What else could they do? They had to figure out how to handle this. But so far she was uncharacteristically speechless.

  “Layla … listen, I know you’re mad—”

  “You think?”

  “—but I’ll figure something out. Maybe we can just say it was a misunderstanding and—”

  “My whole family was there!”

  He let out a breath. “Okay. Let’s think this through. Beckett and your dad are the only family who live in town. I’ll call them tonight and—”

  “Don’t forget Jessica. And what about Daniel? The town mayor? And Stanley Malcolm and his wife? And William and Francis Wellington? It was a flipping Who’s Who of Chapel Springs in there!”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll call them all tomorrow. I’ll … tell them it was a mistake. A misunderstanding. My fault.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday. Everyone’ll be at church, and the gossip will fly.”

  She was probably right. “Well … good news doesn’t spread as fast,” he offered.

  She gave a wry laugh. “Are you kidding? You and me? This is the juiciest kind of gossip.”

  She was so jaded. “I’ll call tonight. I’ll stay up until I’ve reached everyone.”

  “And wake them? That’ll make them happy.”

  “I don’t care about them.” He cared about her. More than she’d ever know. More than he’d ever admit—what good would it do?

  He dared a glance at her in the darkened cab. The glow of a streetlight streaked across her face, lighting her rigid features. There was something in her eyes. More than anger. She cro
ssed her arms over her stomach, a protective gesture, and lifted her chin.

  Wasn’t it bad enough she was looked down on for reasons beyond her control? Now she had to face another humiliation because he couldn’t control his big mouth. You’re an idiot, Seth.

  Layla white-knuckled the dashboard. “Can you slow down, please?”

  “Relax, this isn’t your car. It’s a—”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He couldn’t win with her. He sighed. “It means it’s a four-wheel drive, and it handles just fine in the snow. If you could just take that chip off your shoulder for two seconds.”

  He remembered earlier when Stanley Malcolm had all but snubbed her, and he went a little soft inside. He eased off the gas. “You have a pen and paper?”

  “What for?”

  “We have a list to make.”

  Layla was shedding her dress when another text came in. Her brother had already blown up her phone. She hadn’t responded yet. Didn’t know what to say.

  She ignored the text and checked her e-mail instead. A few had come in since she’d left home. Her eyes honed in on one from Stanley Malcolm.

  Layla, congratulations on your engagement! So glad we got the chance to speak about your business tonight. I’d like to meet you for lunch on Monday to continue our conversation. Why don’t you bring your fiancé with you?

  Layla gaped at the words. He wanted to meet her for lunch! He hadn’t seemed interested at the reception—or the other time she’d spoken to him. She’d felt like a nuisance, but maybe he’d given it more thought. Or maybe he was just standoffish by nature.

  She reread the e-mail, smiling, then noticed the part about Murphy. Why would he ask her to bring him along? No doubt they ran in the same circles, but—

  Layla frowned. Had her supposed engagement to Murphy somehow lifted her in Stanley’s eyes? Made her worthy of his attention?

  She thought back to the two times she’d stopped into his office. The first time he’d spoken with her briefly, and she’d felt brushed off. The second she’d been told he was in a meeting. Their conversation earlier tonight had been pretty one-sided. He hadn’t even glanced at her business card. He’d seemed only too eager to part ways when Daniel Dawson had approached. And now he suddenly wanted to have lunch. Now that she was engaged to the wealthy and reputable Seth Murphy.

  She flung her dress onto the bed and jabbed her feet into her pajamas. She should be used to it by now. Still, it wasn’t right. Her work should be taken at face value. She was good. She’d worked hard to earn her credentials. Her four clients had sold their homes quickly and had given her excellent references. She’d spent all her free time on her business, every spare dime on props.

  But there were always some people who couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t see her for who she was, only where she’d come from. Never mind that her dad had gone through rehab and come out sober. Never mind that she now lived on the right side of the tracks. Barely.

  She picked up her phone and stared at the e-mail, then scowled as she dug her phone book from the junk drawer in the kitchen. Seth couldn’t have started making his calls yet. She hoped.

  Four

  Seth spotted Layla in a darkened corner of the café and made his way to her. He blew on his cold hands as he wove between full tables. The snow had stopped sometime during the night, but the temperatures hadn’t made it into the double digits yet this morning.

  After Layla’s call last night he’d hardly slept. She’d raised more questions than she’d answered. His mind had spun all night with the kind of restless hope that could only lead to heartache. But that didn’t stop him from dreaming.

  He shrugged from his coat as he neared the booth. Judging by the shadows under Layla’s eyes, he guessed she hadn’t slept well either.

  But her eyes brightened at the sight of him.

  It was enough to give a guy a little hope.

  “Morning.”

  “More like afternoon,” she said.

  “I overslept, missed church.”

  She squeezed a lemon into her water. “I didn’t go at all. Too many questions I’m not ready to answer.”

  “Speaking of questions …”

  Her eyes found his. Something he’d never seen flickered in the green depths. Uncertainty? Vulnerability? She looked away before he could decide.

  A waitress approached, and they quickly settled on the special.

  When she left, Seth tucked the menus behind the condiment caddy. “So what’s this all about?” All she’d said last night was not to make those calls just yet.

  Layla plucked the saltshaker from the caddy and balanced it on its beveled edge. Her long dark lashes swept down over her olive skin. She bit the inside of her lip, making it pucker. What he’d give for just one taste of those lips.

  He longed for the summer they’d worked together on the play. Back when she talked to him. Back when she laughed with him and touched him, however fleetingly. Back before his best friend had beaten him to the punch.

  Layla moved the shaker in circles. “I need a favor.”

  “What is it?”

  Her eyes bounced off him, then focused on the saltshaker. “I got a text from Stanley Malcolm last night. He wants to meet me for lunch tomorrow to discuss doing some work for him.”

  “That’s great, Layla. Your networking paid off.” He couldn’t help feeling a little proud of her.

  “He, uh, wondered if you might like to come along.”

  “To your business lunch?” He lifted a shoulder. “You want me to?”

  The saltshaker thwacked the table as it fell on its side. Grains of salt scattered.

  Layla set the shaker in the caddy and brushed the salt into a tidy pile with her long, slender fingers. “Here’s the thing. I, uh, think his interest in Superior Staging hinges on something else.”

  “Like …”

  She nailed him with those big green eyes. When she looked at him like that, he’d do anything for her. Lunch. Yard work. Armed robbery …

  “Like our being a couple.”

  The server set down his OJ and bustled away, but Seth couldn’t take his eyes off Layla’s face. Off the color blooming on her cheeks.

  “Come again?”

  Her fingers flittered around the salt pile, taking all her attention. “I’ve been thinking about it all night. He didn’t give me the time of day until our … engagement was announced. I think he sees our association, such as it is, like some kind of endorsement. If I’m good enough for you, I’m good enough for him, I guess.” Her chin notched up.

  He didn’t even like her thinking that way, much less anyone else. He frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Well, it’s the truth. Otherwise, why the sudden change?”

  “He probably just wants to keep it friendly. Comfortable for you.” But Seth was never going to change Layla’s mind. And why should he? Another hour with her was another hour. “Sure, I’ll go. No problem.”

  “That’s not all.” She swallowed hard. Turned a sheepish look on him. “I might need you to, uh … hold off on breaking our engagement.”

  He turned his head to the side, eyeing her. “Hold off …”

  “Just until I …” She swept the salt off the table and curled her arms over her stomach. “Look, I need to get my business off the ground. I need a realty group to hire me, and there’s none more prestigious than Malcolm’s. He specializes in the big stuff—the fancy historical homes and riverside estates.”

  “I bought my home two years ago from one of his agents.”

  “So you know what I’m talking about.”

  “But how’s this going to work? People will think we’re—”

  “Just for a little while. If the lunch goes well, and he hires me, I’ll be able to show him what I can do. Once he sees my work, he’ll be satisfied.”

  There was nothing he’d like more than an extended fake engagement. Unless it was a real one. How much time would this give him?
He remembered the hardened look on her face when she’d first spotted him in Cappy’s yesterday.

  Not nearly long enough, Seth.

  “Maybe only a few days,” Layla said. “I mean, once he gives me an assignment, I’ll get right on it. He’ll give me a contract, and poof—engagement over.”

  Nice. A few days wouldn’t buy him nearly enough time. A few years was probably pushing it. And after the lunch there’d be no need for her to come around.

  He needed to leverage this somehow. This was his chance to make things right, earn her trust, maybe even see if someday she could feel the same for him.

  Layla’s eyes darkened. Her arms shifted, crossing higher, over her chest. She leaned into the table, her eyes sparking. “Look. You got us into this mess. The least you can do is this tiny little favor.”

  Favor.

  An idea formed in his head. One that would keep Layla around awhile. Maybe long enough to shift things between them. Only sheer willpower kept a triumphant smile from forming on his lips.

  “Okay then,” he said. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  She pressed her lips together, narrowed her eyes. Her trust in him was overwhelming. “What kind of deal?”

  “Remember when we talked about the Tour of Homes last night? I really could use your help.”

  “How much help?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll do the heavy lifting …”

  “In other words, all of it. Do you have any idea how many hours a project like that takes? I think you’re forgetting that you already owe me.”

  She didn’t have to spell out all the reasons why. “Think of your portfolio. Decorating a home for the tour is prestigious. People come from all over the region, and they’d see your work.” He was making this up as he went, loving that it was a win-win.

  She leaned back, considering.

  “You can even put up signage and leave business cards. No telling how much work you could get off this alone.”

  She took a sip of her water. Rearranged her silverware. “Do you have the decorations? I don’t have any Christmas props.”

  He wasn’t going to mention the mildewed cardboard box in his attic. “I’ll buy whatever you need.”