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“It’s only for one day.”
Curtis’s eyes grew sober. “You’re sure about this marriage?”
“Positive.”
“Mitch is fit to be tied.”
Tessa remembered Mitch’s volatile reaction. “That’s Mitch’s problem, isn’t it?”
Her father smiled crookedly. “I suppose it is.” He eyed the mirror harshly. “Can I take this thing off now?”
“As long as you promise to put it back on tomorrow.” She breezed out of the room on the same cloud that had carried her, floating in happiness, for the past week. Never once in that time had any of the old doubts surfaced, and Denver had been wonderful. In only seven days, he’d rented an office building in Three Falls, had Ross Anderson draw up the papers to sell off his half of the engineering business to Jim Van Stern, straightened things out with her father and even planned a honeymoon in the Caribbean. The only glitch had been that the activity within the house at all hours while planning the wedding had left little time for them to be alone. But tomorrow that, too, would change. And then, she thought smiling secretly, she’d tell him her news.
If Mitchell was still harboring grudges, he’d have to work them out himself, she decided.
The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and chocolate and fruit. Milly had decided a bakery wedding cake wasn’t enough and had taken it upon herself to make enough pies, cinnamon rolls and fudge for the entire Third Battalion. All neatly wrapped for the next day, the spicy confections were spread upon the counter of the kitchen.
The first drops of rain began to spatter the windowpanes, but Tessa told herself she didn’t care. If it rained, the guests would just have to suffer a few cool drops drizzling down the back of their necks. Nothing could spoil her wedding day.
“You think this is enough food?” Denver mocked, startling her. Turning, she saw him standing in the archway between hall and kitchen, one shoulder propped against the wall as he gazed at the overladen counters.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe, my eye. We’ll have to raffle off pies at the reception. Each guest will win five.”
“You’re exaggerating,” she teased.
His smile was slow but suggestive as he sauntered across the room, rested a hip against the edge of the table and drew her into his arms. “Maybe a little.” Placing his forehead against hers, he sighed. “One more night. And then three weeks of warm water, hot sun and white sand.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?” She heard her father’s footsteps on the stairs.
“I can’t wait!”
Curtis walked into the room dressed in his dusty Levi’s, checked shirt and boots.
“More comfortable?” Tessa asked.
He snorted and lit a cigarette. “You’d better take some pictures tomorrow, because it’s the last time you’ll catch me in one of those damned suits again.”
The back door creaked open and Mitchell tossed off his jacket before flopping into the nearest chair. “Don’t you think you could cut your trip down to one week?” he grumbled.
“Too much work for you?” Tessa asked.
“I hate to admit it,” Mitch said, offering an off-center smile to his sister, “but for a little thing, you do pull your weight around here.”
“I’ll be back,” she reminded him.
“I’m going to run into town for a while—”
“You need to try on your tux,” she reminded him.
“It’ll fit.”
“Let’s find out tonight.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll be back in a couple hours. Don’t get all bent out of shape. Just remember who’s filling in for you while you’re busy playing baccarat and drinking mojitos on the beach.”
“I won’t forget,” she said as he left again.
