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Kat frowned. “I didn’t pack a dress.”
He glanced down at her suitcase. From where he was standing, it looked as if she’d packed half her closet. Or maybe she’d only brought the short skirts and fancy underwear.
“Wear whatever you want,” he said, pushing aside his mental wish list of Things in Kat’s Bag. “According to my sister—she is the maid-of-honor—Georgia is so focused on her dress that she doesn’t care what the guests wear.”
“I can’t crash some poor girl’s wedding,” Kat protested. “She doesn’t know me.”
“Trust me, Kat. It will be fine.” His sister had been hounding him to bring a date, and Katie had roped Georgia into her cause. The bride would be thrilled he’d chosen a last minute plus one. And Eric didn’t care if all the guests bailed as long as he got to marry Georgia.
“I’ll pick you up at five,” he called over his shoulder as he headed for his truck. He climbed in and closed the door before she could object again. Watching her wheel her fancy suitcase into the hotel, each step betraying her irritation, he knew he’d made the right call by inviting her.
For one night, he wanted Kat to feel like she was a part of Independence Falls. He wanted to give her a new reason to like this place. And yeah, he could tell himself he was doing it for Josh, to make his brother’s doctor feel at home while treating him. But he knew that was a lie.
He was doing this for her. Wild, sexy Kat had gotten under his skin last night. And now he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was his. Maybe he couldn’t tie her to his bed and make her scream his name, but he could look out for her. He could be the one person in this town that she could count on to make sure that returning home didn’t hurt quite so much.
Chapter 8
NUMBERS NEVER LIED. Emotions on the other hand were like smoke screens. Hopes rose only to be crushed. And love remained an elusive, indefinable thing always out of her grasp. But the numbers, the cold hard facts, were always there for her. From the SATs to the MCATs, they shaped her world.
“There are only twenty people here,” she whispered, scanning the four rows of white plastic chairs. The intimate seating area faced a white wooden arbor lined with colorful wildflowers. Beyond the spot where the bride and groom would say their vows, fields of grape vines sloped up and down hills. The Cascade Mountains were a backdrop to the picture-perfect scene. Still snowcapped on a warm April day, the peaks were breathtakingly beautiful, even to a confirmed city girl who loved her skyscrapers.
Either the bride had blown her budget on the location and needed to cut the guest list by one hundred, or she’d planned a small wedding. After googling multimillionaire Eric Moore in her hotel room, Kat had a feeling it was option B.
“The groom runs the largest timber operation in the Pacific Northwest and he only invited twenty guests?” she said, running her hands over the sheer black pleated top layer to her skirt. Beneath the see-through fabric, the nude pencil skirt hugged her curves. She’d paired the off-the-runway piece with a bright blue silk blouse for a pop of vibrant color. The simple fact that she hadn’t packed a dress appropriate for a wedding demanded the skirt/shirt combination.
Glancing around at the other guests, she could have worn a simple shift and sweater. Most of the women had selected dresses for the occasion. One or two fit the label cocktail attire. The rest reminded Kat of Sunday services in Independence Falls. The family she’d lived with when she was eleven had taken her every week. And a couple of the outfits here tonight looked as if they dated back to that era. The men wore jackets, though one guest seated across the aisle had paired his sports coat with a Moore Timber T-shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots.
“Georgia recently returned from Afghanistan,” Brody said, leaning close and keeping his voice low. “She’s out of the army now, but large crowds make her nervous. She decided to keep the wedding to friends, a few coworkers, and family.”
The bride was a veteran with PTSD? That had to top the list of weddings not to crash.
“I shouldn’t be here,” Kat said.
Brody took her hand as if he thought she might run. It was tempting, but the last thing Kat wanted to do was startle the bride by racing away from her wedding ceremony.
Chad Summers claimed the empty seat on her right, the one bordering the pathway between the chairs. He smiled at her, his brown eyes brimming with mischief. “I heard a rumor that you’d decided to bring a date,” he said to his
brother. “I didn’t realize it was the new doctor.”
“I’m not his date,” Kat said quickly, pulling her hand free from Brody’s hold. “I was tricked into crashing.”
Chad’s eyebrows shot up. “By my big brother?”
“How’s Lena?” Brody demanded, in what she suspected was an attempt to shut down his brother’s curiosity.
Chad smiled at the woman’s name. “Ready to blaze a path down the aisle. She was getting Hero prepared to do his part when I left. He’s one good-looking flower dog.”
Traditional wedding music ended the conversation. The groom appeared at the front in a charcoal three-piece suit. Beside him stood an equally attractive gentleman. She didn’t recognize either one—though she guessed Mr. Three-Piece Suit was Eric Moore. Still, one look around the small wedding and Kat had to admit the single, female population of Manhattan might flock to small-town Oregon if they realized the abundance of droolworthy men.
Abandoning any hope of escaping this friends and family event, Kat turned her attention to the white runner leading to the arbor. A small boy, about three or four, appeared. He clutched a pillow with two rings tied to the top in one hand and a small plastic sheep in the other. Dropping the pillow, he raced to the front, heading straight for the groom.
“Nate, the rings!” an older woman, possibly the bride or groom’s mother, called to the child.
Eyes wide with surprise, the young ring bearer raced back, discarded the toy sheep, picked up the pillow and returned to the front.
The bridal procession continued with a golden retriever carrying a white wicker basket overflowing with rose petals. As the dog trotted toward the arbor, petals tumbled to the white runner. A blond woman who looked as if she belonged on the Fashion Week runway despite her somewhat ordinary tea-length green dress followed close behind. The animal paused by the abandoned sheep and cocked its head as if debating whether to drop the basket and continue on with the toy.
“Don’t you dare, Hero,” the blond woman murmured, and the retriever obeyed. Katie Summers followed in a matching dress, the green highlighting her red hair.
