It Happened One Wedding (8 page)

AFTER UNPACKING, SIDNEY
and Isabelle curled up on Isabelle’s bed with a stack of bridal magazines and got down to work.

Over the next couple of hours, they decided on the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses, finalized the guest lists for the bridal shower and bachelorette party, and pulled together several magazine clippings with photos of table centerpieces to show the florist. Sidney was about to move on to the next item on the agenda—potential locations for the rehearsal dinner because that needed to be booked ASAP—when she looked over and saw that Isabelle had fallen asleep, her head tucked into the crook of her arm.

Quietly, Sidney got up and grabbed the throw blanket that had been folded across the bottom of the bed. She laid it over Isabelle, whose expression was one of serene contentment as she napped with a bridal magazine lying open on the bed in front of her. Seeing that, Sidney felt a pang of something bittersweet. She, too, had once felt that happy and hopeful about her own wedding—before she’d been unexpectedly yanked out of the fantasy by the appearance of her fiancé’s
lover
.

Shoving the unwelcome memory aside, she tiptoed out of the room.

Once inside her own room, Sidney caught up on e-mail and texted Trish the photo of the
actual key
the innkeeper had given her.

I THINK I’M IN MAYBERRY,
she typed.

A few seconds later, she received Trish’s reply.
I HEAR SMALL TOWNS HAVE HOT SHERIFFS. GO SPEED THAT MERCEDES DOWN MAIN STREET AND GET YOURSELF A DATE.

Sidney smiled. If only it were that easy.

Deciding that a more casual look would be appropriate for dinner, she changed into jeans, flat sandals, and a flowy, white embroidered camisole top. She let her hair down from the twist she’d pinned it into that morning, let it fall into messy waves, and used a curling iron to touch up the ends. She was just finishing up when she heard a knock at her door.

Isabelle shuffled in, yawning. “Simon just texted me. He said he’ll pick us up in twenty minutes.” She looked Sidney over. “Wow. That’s the most non-businesslike I’ve seen you look in years.”

Sidney scrutinized her reflection in the mirror on the back of the closet door. “It’s missing something. Do you think they sell cowboy boots in town?”

“Not ones that are made by Manolo Blahnik,” Isabelle said teasingly.

Well, that was indeed a crime.

 • • • 

FOR DINNER, KATHLEEN
diverted from the traditional Irish traditions and instead made chicken with lemon, green olives, and couscous—which seemed to agree much better with both Isabelle and the peanut. Sidney sat with her sister to her right, and Kathleen, at the foot of the table, on her other side. The mood was boisterous, with everyone talking every which way, and Sidney found herself chatting quite a bit with Kathleen.

Over coffee and dessert, a delicious pistachio chocolate chip cake that was another favorite of “the boys,” the conversation took a turn that Sidney supposed was inevitable.

“I noticed you haven’t mentioned anything about a boyfriend,” Kathleen said to her. “Does that mean you’re single?”

The din around the table suddenly quieted, and five pairs of eyes focused on Sidney.

Well. Nothing like putting her on the spot again.

“Yes, I’m single,” she said.

“I don’t understand that.” Kathleen gestured to her. “How is it that a smart, pretty girl like you hasn’t been snatched up by some good man?”

“Mom,” Vaughn said. “I’m sure Sidney doesn’t want to be interrogated about her personal life.”

Deep down, Sidney knew that Vaughn—who’d obviously deduced that she’d been burned in the past—was only trying to be polite. But that was the problem, she didn’t
want
him to be polite, as if she needed to be shielded from such questions. That wasn’t any better than the damn “Poor Sidney” head-tilt.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind answering.” She turned to Kathleen. “I was seeing someone in New York, but that relationship ended shortly before I moved to Chicago.”

“So now that you’re single again, what kind of man are you looking for? Vaughn?” Kathleen pointed. “Could you pass the creamer?”

He did so, then turned to look once again at Sidney. His lips curved at the corners, the barest hint of a smile. He was daring her, she knew, waiting for her to back away from his mother’s questions.

She never had been very good at resisting his dares.

“Actually, I have a list of things I’m looking for.” Sidney took a sip of her coffee.

Vaughn raised an eyebrow. “You have a list?”

“Yep.”

“Of course you do.”

Isabelle looked over, surprised. “You never told me about this.”

“What kind of list?” Kathleen asked interestedly.

“It’s a test, really,” Sidney said. “A list of characteristics that indicate whether a man is ready for a serious relationship. It helps weed out the commitment-phobic guys, the womanizers, and any other bad apples, so a woman can focus on the candidates with more long-term potential.”

Vaughn rolled his eyes. “And now I’ve heard it all.”

“Where did you find this list?” Simon asked. “Is this something all women know about?”

“Why? Worried you won’t pass muster?” Isabelle winked at him.

“I did some research,” Sidney said. “Pulled it together after reading several articles online.”

“Lists, tests, research, online dating, speed dating—I can’t keep up with all these things you kids are doing,” Adam said, from the head of the table. “Whatever happened to the days when you’d see a girl at a restaurant or a coffee shop and just walk over and say hello?”

Vaughn turned to Sidney, his smile devilish. “Yes, whatever happened to those days, Sidney?”

She threw him a look.
Don’t be cute.
“You know what they say—it’s a jungle out there. Nowadays a woman has to make quick decisions about whether a man is up to par.” She shook her head mock reluctantly. “Sadly, some guys just won’t make the cut.”

“But all it takes is one,” Isabelle said, with a loving smile at her fiancé.

Simon slid his hand across the table, covering hers affectionately. “The right one.”

Until he nails his personal trainer
. Sidney took another sip of her coffee, holding back the cynical comment. She didn’t want to spoil Isabelle and Simon’s idyllic all-you-need-is-love glow.

Vaughn cocked his head, looking at the happy couple. “Aw, aren’t you two just so . . . cheesy.”

Kathleen shushed him. “Don’t tease your brother.”

“What? Any moment, I’m expecting birds and little woodland animals to come in here and start singing songs about true love, they’re so adorable.”

Sidney laughed out loud. Quickly, she bit her lip to cover.

When Vaughn’s eyes met hers across the table, she realized that for one brief moment, they were on the same page.

“So,” Kathleen said, picking up the cake cutter. “Who wants seconds?”

 • • • 

AFTER THE DINNER
dishes were cleared away, Kathleen disappeared for a few minutes, then came back into the kitchen carrying a stack of photo albums.

“Oh, crap, no,” Vaughn groaned.

“No way, Mom,” Simon said definitively. “Not the photo albums.”

“What? I’m sure the girls would love to see these. You boys were so cute when you were younger.” She shooed them away. “Go work on the shed while we talk.”

The three women moved into the family room, and Kathleen walked Isabelle and Sidney through the photo albums. She shared funny anecdotes about the family, and turned nostalgic when she opened Simon’s baby book. “I wrote everything down, knowing he was going to be my last. Adam and I had planned to have a bigger family, but there were complications when Simon was born. I’d always wanted to have a daughter.” She looked up from the baby book and smiled at Isabelle. “At least now I get to have a daughter-in-law. Finally.”

Isabelle returned the smile. “I realize that Simon and I have only known each other a few months, but I hope you know that my feelings for him are completely sincere. I think he’s just . . . wonderful. He’s funny and sweet and caring, and such a
good
man. I can’t wait to marry him and start a family, and begin building memories of our own, just like these.” She gestured to the photo albums on the coffee table in front of them.

Kathleen’s eyes were misty. “Well. I think that’s just about the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.” She laughed, wiping her eyes. “I’d say this calls for a hug.” She pulled Isabelle in and squeezed her.

Sidney felt a tightening in her chest, watching the two women embrace. Isabelle had missed out on so many moments like this, both of them had. But happy though she was for Isabelle, seeing her sister bond with her future mother-in-law served as yet another reminder of the place she had always assumed she, too, would be in at this point in her life.

Careful,
warned the pragmatic voice in her head.
That’s starting to sound a bit like jealousy.

Sidney stood up from the armchair. “I’m going to grab a glass of water. Anyone else need anything?”

“Actually, Sidney, if you don’t mind, grab a couple bottled waters from the refrigerator and bring them out to the boys,” Kathleen said. “And find out how much longer they plan to be.”

Thinking that some air would do her good, Sidney nodded. “Sure, no problem.” She grabbed three bottled waters from the fridge, then headed out to the backyard and followed a row of colorful flowers to the white painted shed. She could see Simon working on a section of the roof close to the ladder, so she called his name and held up the bottled water. “Your mom wants to know when you guys are wrapping up.”

He climbed down the ladder and took one of the bottled waters. “I think we’ll probably call it a day. It’ll be dark soon, anyway.” He shouted up to Vaughn, who poked his head around the peaked part of the roof. “I’m heading in.”

Vaughn nodded and went back to his hammering.

Not about to stand around all night waiting for him, Sidney set his bottled water on the grass next to the ladder. She turned to follow Simon, but then hesitated.

Perhaps she could use just a teeny tiny break before heading back inside to the most adorably-in-love couple this side of Chicago.

She noticed a path to the left of the shed. Seeing that it led into the woods adjacent to the Robertses’ house, she decided to check it out. Closer to the trees, the path split in two. Mindful of the approaching darkness, she ignored the path that led deeper into the woods and chose the other one, which took her to a small clearing. She slowed her stride as she neared the top, struck by the picturesque view. The Robertses’ property was at the top of a hill, and from the clearing she could see down into the valley. The deep blue of the sky was streaked with brilliant hues of red, burnt orange, and yellow as the sun began its descent behind the hills.

Seeing that she still had time while it was light outside, she took a seat in the grass. She tucked her knees and rested her chin on her forearms, soaking in both the view and these few brief moments when she was blissfully free of all wedding talk.

DON’T EVEN THINK
about following her.

Vaughn repeated this mantra in his head as he pounded away with the hammer. When he finished the row of shingles he’d been working on, he decided to call it quits for the evening. He and Simon had more work to do tomorrow, but they were making good progress—over half the roof was done.

He wiped his brow with his arm, then climbed down the ladder and cracked open the bottled water Sidney had left him.

She had a new look tonight, he’d noticed. Hair down, jeans that molded to her every curve, and some summery top that hugged tight to her chest and draped loose around her waist. He could practically feel his fingers tracing along her soft skin, trailing a slow path over the curve of her waist and up to the tantalizing swell of her breasts.

Christ
.

Taking a frustrated swig of water, Vaughn swallowed and looked over at the path that led to the clearing. She’d been gone only a few minutes now, and he knew she couldn’t go far. Although . . . there
was
always the possibility that she could stumble into some poison ivy. Or an angry badger. Or she could slip in those strappy designer sandals and tumble headfirst down the hill and into an entire
nest
of angry badgers.

Probably, he should check on her. Just to be safe.

That decided, he followed the path through the short stretch of woods that he knew like the back of his hand, and spotted her sitting near the edge of the clearing. She looked over her shoulder, eying him warily as he approached.

He stopped beside her. “So. How many things are on this list of yours?”

She watched as he helped himself to a seat in the grass next to her. “Thirty-four.”

“
Thirty-four?
You can’t be serious.” Vaughn doubted any man could pass such a test.

Perhaps that was the point.

She sat up straighter, going on the defensive. “A few things are redundant, maybe, but overall it seems like a pretty solid list to me.”

Well, now he was curious. He beckoned with his hand. “All right, lay it on me. Let’s hear this list of so-called signs that say whether a man is ready for a commitment.”

She cocked her head, feigning confusion. “And remind me—why is it that I care what you think?”

He raised an eyebrow challengingly. “Afraid I’ll tell you the list is complete BS?”

She held his gaze defiantly, and then began ticking off her fingers. “He can’t be hung up on a prior relationship. Must be available on weekends. Settled in his career. On stable emotional footing with his parents. Have friends who are in committed relationships.” She paused, as if trying to remember the other things on her list.

Vaughn frowned. “I hope you’ve got more than that. Because you just described
me
.”

Her eyes widened, her expression akin to abject horror.

Then after a moment’s pause, she smiled. “Ah. But you fail the number one rule, the most important one of all: he
tells
you he’s not looking for a serious relationship.”

Vaughn exhaled. Thank god for the number one rule. Stupid test or not, he didn’t need to be giving off any signs of “commitment-readiness.” That was fine for other guys, but he enjoyed his life the way it was, thank you very much.

Sidney sighed in relief. “Whew. That freaked me out for a moment there.” She gestured at him. “I can’t be having any of your type sneaking in undetected.”

Now that remark got under his skin a little. “For the record, my type doesn’t try to ‘sneak in.’ I’m always upfront about the fact that I’m not looking for a long-term commitment.”

Her smile was sweet, her tone dry. “Aw, and that makes you such a good guy. Because you’re
honest
about being a womanizer.”

And . . . now she was getting under his skin
a lot
. “So you’d rather I lie?” He angled his body to face hers. “That I date a woman for a couple months, string her along, and
then
tell her that I don’t want anything serious? Would that make me a good guy?” He leaned in closer to her. “See, this is why I don’t date women in their thirties. You’re jaded. And ornery. And you have a checklist with thirty-four goddamn things on it!”

She turned toward him, her cheeks flushed pink as she, too, raised her voice. “Don’t put this on me. There’s a reason women like me need a thirty-four-item checklist—to protect ourselves from all the guys like
you
out there.”

“What’s so terrible about a guy like me? Here’s the way I see it: if you’re looking for happily-ever-after, there are a lot better guys out there for the job. But if you want a good time, then I’m your man, baby.”

“I’ll say this, you’re nothing if not confident.”

Hell, yes, he was—and for good reason. He peered down into her eyes. “I would rock your world, Sinclair, and you know it.”

It was about right then that he noticed they were sitting just inches apart on the grass. But she didn’t move, and neither did he.

“Ah, yes. Your supposed ‘moves.’” She emphasized the word with a saucy tilt of her head. “That certain . . . something that puts the ‘special’ in Special Agent Vaughn Roberts.”

That
mouth
. Her sarcastic words pushed all his buttons, but he nevertheless couldn’t stop staring at her full, tempting lips. He lowered his head, his voice dipping lower. “Want to know what I think?”

She paused for a moment, as if taking in his proximity. He could hear the quickening of her breath.

“Not especially,” she said.

The words were quintessential snarky Sidney Sinclair, but the husky tone of her voice was something new. Something that drew him in even more. “I think you’re worried that if I kiss you right now, you might actually like it.”

Her eyes flashed—with anger, no doubt, but also with a heat that came from somewhere else.

And before Vaughn even thought about what he was doing, he kissed her.

He pressed her lips open as his mouth moved demandingly over hers, all his frustration, his irritation, and his aggravation pouring into this one kiss. His tongue swept roughly around hers—not bothering with either sweetness or sophistication—and he felt her hands press against his chest. He braced himself for the shove, for her to push him away, but instead she gripped his T-shirt and pulled him closer and
oh sweet lord
she was kissing him back.

All of his restraint just . . . broke.

He grabbed her and pulled her into his lap, her denim-clad legs straddling his thighs. He tangled his hand in her hair as their mouths furiously melded together. She bit his lower lip, then sucked on the spot and licked her tongue over it in a way that had his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.

He growled low in his throat and pushed her to the ground.

She moaned when he settled between her legs, and the sound only incited him more. He took her mouth possessively, voraciously, one hand gripping the nape of her neck as she battled him kiss for kiss. Needing to taste more of her, he angled his head and trailed his lips along the smooth skin of her neck, tugging her hair back to expose more. She dug her nails into his back, through his T-shirt, so he nipped her with his teeth, right at the base of her neck. She gasped and arched her back, then bent one knee, settling him deeper between her legs, and slowly she began rocking her hips against his throbbing erection.

Fuck
.

His breath was a ragged hiss, his mouth claiming hers once more. She pushed her breasts eagerly against his chest, and all he could think about was sucking one of them into his mouth as he shoved her jeans down, yanked open his fly, and took her hard against the ground, making her scream his name as he—

“Vaughn!”

The voice—Simon’s, coming from the backyard—made them both jump and pull apart.

They stared at each other, panting and wide-eyed.

“Oh, no,” Sidney said. “You and I can’t . . . I mean, we so,
so
couldn’t . . . you know.” She gestured between them, her lips swollen from his kisses, her cheeks flushed, and her glorious auburn hair spilling wildly over her shoulders.

Vaughn touched his mouth, still trying to wrap his mind around whatever the hell had just happened.

Simon called his name again, sounding closer this time.

Instantly, he moved into undercover mode. “Just act natural,” he told Sidney. He reached over and picked a few wildflower petals out of her hair, speaking calmly. “We’re two people looking at a nice view. That’s all. You and I fell into a conversation about the wedding, and we started talking about the possibility of coordinating the dates for the bachelor and bachelorette parties. We thought that Isabelle and Simon might want to have them on the same night, given the time crunch.”

“Right. Bachelorette party. Got it.” Sidney exhaled, gathering herself.

Vaughn’s gaze fell to the curve of her neck. “You have a red mark.” He fixed her hair, moving it forward over her shoulders. “You might have to keep your hair down for the rest of the weekend.”

He caught Sidney’s glare as they resumed their positions. “Save the look, Sinclair. You bit me first.”

She blushed as Simon stepped into the clearing.

Vaughn grinned. “Hey, bro. We were just talking about you.”

 • • • 

FOR THE REST
of the weekend, Sidney made sure she was never, ever alone again with Vaughn.

It wasn’t as difficult a task as she’d feared: between Isabelle, Simon, and Mr. and Mrs. Roberts, there were lots of people around, and with a little bit of finessing, Sidney made sure one of them was always around
her
. She and Isabelle went back to the hotel shortly after Simon found her and Vaughn in the clearing, and they didn’t return the next day until late morning, after the worst of Isabelle’s morning sickness had passed.

By the time they arrived at the house on Sunday, Vaughn was already up on the shed roof, hammering away. Simon joined his brother on the roof, the menfolk finished their project, and then they cleaned up.

During lunch, Sidney and Vaughn exchanged all of about two words—although she did catch him looking at her at one point when she brushed her hair off her shoulders. Luckily, the red mark on her neck had already disappeared—and with it, all traces of her strange, hot tryst with Vaughn in the woods.

A tryst, she vowed, that was never to be repeated.

After lunch, it was time to say good-bye and hit the road.

“I’m so glad you joined us this weekend,” Kathleen said, pulling Sidney in for a hug as they said their farewells on the driveway. Then she joined her husband on the front porch, and the two of them waved good-bye as Vaughn and Sidney’s cars pulled out of the driveway.

“And . . . scene,” Isabelle said, as the pretty white ranch grew smaller in Sidney’s rearview mirror. She exhaled in relief. “I think we pulled it off. Not to get all Sally Fields here, but I think they liked me.” She looked over gratefully at Sidney. “I hope the weekend wasn’t too boring for you.”

For a split second, Sidney was tempted to tell her sister everything.
So here’s a funny thing: I kissed Vaughn
. But then Isabelle would want to know whether the kiss had meant anything—and since it absolutely, one-hundred percent had
not
, Sidney figured it was best not to mention it at all.

“Not at all. It was fun,” she assured Isabelle.

Isabelle reclined her seat and closed her eyes, mumbling something about taking a nap. With the radio on low, Sidney followed Vaughn’s car through the now semi-familiar maze of woods, hills, and valleys that eventually led to the highway.

After they’d driven for about fifteen minutes, Isabelle sat up. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Sidney looked over. “Do you need me to pull over?”

“Yes—hurry.”

Sidney came to a stop at the side of the road, and Isabelle scrambled out of the car and ran for some trees. Ahead of them, Vaughn’s car slowed down, did a U-Turn, and came to a stop parallel to Sidney’s, on the other side of the road.

Simon got out, with a sheepish smile. “She sometimes gets a little carsick,” he said to Vaughn.

“Mmm-hmm,” Vaughn said through the open driver’s side window.

Simon trotted off toward the trees to tend to Isabelle, who was bent over and doing her thing.

Sitting in their cars on opposite sides of the road, Sidney and Vaughn looked at each other, neither of them making any move to get out.

Then they both turned away, the gray concrete highway a comforting gap between them.