Meet Me At The Chapel. Joanna Sims

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      “I know you’ll make sure he’s okay.” Casey was reassuring herself as much as she was reassuring Hannah. It was hard to let Hercules out of her sight. He was so small and vulnerable. But she had heard about Hannah’s affinity for animals from Taylor, and she had seen how kind she was with her own dog, Lady.

      Casey yawned several times, wiped the sleep out of her eyes and stretched her arms high above her head, before she scooted to the edge of the bed with a dramatic sigh. Rest time was officially over for her. Today, she had to go see how the Beast had fared in the storm, figure out how to get it towed if need be and then figure out whether or not she was just going to stay for a short visit with her sister and then head back to Chicago. She wanted to stay in Montana for the summer—it was too late to put in a request to work summer school. And she had been looking forward to this trip for months. She’d hate for it to all fall apart, but she couldn’t imagine staying with Taylor and Clint, in their small rental, for three months. Even though Taylor would try very hard to make her feel like she wasn’t a bother, she knew that she would, in fact, be an intrusion on the newlyweds.

      Casey went into the tiny attached bathroom to fix her hair, if possible, and wash her mouth out with mouthwash. When she got a load of herself in the mirror, she started to laugh. She looked like a redheaded Medusa. She had tried to tame her hair before bed, but it hadn’t worked. Now, it was even worse after a night of sleep.

      “Whatever.” Casey made a face.

      She took off the white undershirt Brock had let her borrow. After getting dressed, she made the bed, and then left the folded undershirt on the comforter, along with the pajama bottoms she hadn’t used. Brock’s pajama bottoms had just slipped right down her hips.

      Finally, she retrieved her beloved Jimmy Choo boots from beneath a nearby chair and stared at them sadly. They were ruined. Her beautiful, expensive, Jimmy Choo boots that she had vision-boarded for months, that she had saved a little every month to buy, were caked with red clay and still wet from the day before.

      “You poor, poor boots. You didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve this.” Today, she wasn’t even going to try to be careful with them. There was no use shutting the gate after the cow got out. Resigned to their untimely demise, Casey shoved her feet into the boots and headed downstairs.

      “Good morning.” Casey was met with a cornucopia of breakfast food smells when she entered the kitchen.

      “Mornin’,” her host greeted her. “Coffee’s hot, mugs in the drying rack are a safe bet.”

      “Bless you.” Casey poured herself a cup of coffee.

      “If you need milk or sugar, they’re somewhere in the fridge. Just fish around.”

      “I take it black.” She took her coffee to the table.

      Brock was manning the stove in a “Kiss the Chef” apron, while Hannah, who had already had her breakfast, was on the floor formally introducing Lady and Hercules in the light of day. They had met informally in the cellar, but this was the first time that they were nose to nose, so to speak. Lady was lying down on the floor, her head between her two outstretched front legs, obviously trying to do her best to make friends, while Hercules was yapping as loudly and as ferociously as he could manage in order to assert his dominance in the relationship.

      “Hercules—that’s not nice.”

      “How do you take your eggs?” Brock asked her.

      “Are they eggs from free-range chickens?”

      “The chickens live out back. Is that free enough for you?”

      “Lucy and Ethel!” Hannah supplied the names of the chickens.

      “I Love Lucy and ladybugs. That’s what she loves.” Brock looked over at his daughter.

      “And animals,” Casey added.

      Brock turned his body away from the stove and toward Casey. This wasn’t the first time he’d wanted to get a better look at her in his favorite shirt. It engulfed her, but it looked good on her. Her hair, seemingly more red than auburn in the daylight, was mussed and wild, and he could swear that she had the brightest green eyes he’d ever seen on a woman.

      “And animals,” he echoed her sentiment. Then, so he wouldn’t be standing in his kitchen ogling her like a teenage boy, he asked again, “How do you take your eggs?”

      “Scrambled works.”

      “How about some bacon made from free-range pigs?” Brock teased her.

      “No. Thank you. I’m a pescatarian.”

      Brock wasn’t exactly sure he’d heard her right, so after he got the eggs cooking, he turned back around.

      “Did you say you were a Presbyterian?”

      “No!” Casey laughed so easily. It had been a long time since he’d heard a woman laughing in his house. “Pescatarian. I don’t eat meat, except for fish. But I’m trying to give up fish, too.”

      “What for?”

      She smiled at him; she had deep dimples in each of her pale cheeks. Sweet.

      “Health mainly—bacon is full of fat and salt. High in cholesterol.” Casey wrinkled her nose at the thought of eating bacon.

      “Dad has high cholesterol and high blood pressure,” Hannah shouted from the living room.

      “Hannah—remember what we said about private information?”

      “But Dr. Patel says that he has the heart of a much younger man.”

      It was too late to cork that bottle—instead, Brock decided to ignore the fact that his daughter had just provided a near stranger with all of the recent results of his physical and finish scrambling the eggs. The only thing that she hadn’t shared, because she hadn’t been in the room to hear it, was the fact that he had a mildly enlarged prostate and needed to drop twenty pounds.

      Brock put a healthy portion of scrambled eggs on the plate, along with cheese grits and a couple of biscuits.

      “Eat it while it’s hot.” He put the plate down in front of her and then sat down on the opposite side of the kitchen table.

      “Mmm. Thank you. I’m so hungry.” Casey stabbed a couple of eggs with her fork. “What about you?”

      “I ate hours ago. We’ve been waiting on you.”

      Casey chewed her eggs quickly so she could ask, “Why didn’t you wake me up when you got up?”

      “I got up while it was still dark.”

      “Oh.” That was different. “Well, why didn’t you get me up sooner, then?”

      “No harm done. It’s my day off and I’m not looking forward to getting up on the roof to see how many shingles need to be replaced. You need salt or pepper for the eggs?”

      “No. I’m good. These eggs are delicious, FYI.”

      “That’s СКАЧАТЬ