A Beaumont Christmas Wedding (12 page)

“You’re stuck out here, man.” Phillip gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. “I know it’ll be a real hardship, but you can’t drive home on ice.”

Matthew looked at Whitney. She’d come to stand next to him. “Ice...wow,” she said in the same tone she’d used when she’d been exploring his apartment. “We don’t get ice out in California. Not like this!” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed.

He could stay the night. One night wrapped up in Whitney and then he could fall asleep with her in his arms. Wake up with her there, too. He didn’t do that often. Okay, he didn’t ever do that.

Only one problem. “I didn’t bring anything.”

“We have guest supplies,” Jo called out.

Phillip stood up straight and looked Matthew over. “Yeah, we probably still wear the same size.”

“Stay,” Whitney said in a voice that was meant only for him. “Stay with me. Just for the night. Call it...an early Christmas present.”

It really wasn’t an argument. He couldn’t drive home on ice and honestly? He didn’t want to. Suddenly he understood why Phillip had always preferred the farmhouse. It was warm and lived-in. If Matthew went back to his apartment— monster huge, as Whitney had noted, and completely devoid of holiday cheer—and Whitney wasn’t there with him, the place would feel...empty.

Lonely.

It’d never bothered him before. But tonight he knew it would.

“I’ll need to log on,” he told everyone. “We still have a wedding to deal with.”

“Of course,” Jo said. She was smiling, but not at him. At Whitney. “You do what you need to do.”

Matthew spent an hour answering the messages he’d ignored. Whitney had gone up to read so she wouldn’t distract him from his work. He knew he was rushing, but the thought of her in his room again—well, that was enough to make a man hurry the hell up.

When he opened his door, the fire was blazing in the hearth, and Whitney was in bed. She looked...perfect. He couldn’t even see Whitney Wildz when he looked at her anymore. She was just Whitney.

The woman he wanted. “I was waiting for you,” she told him.

“I’ll make it worth the wait.” Then she lifted up the covers and he saw that she was nude.

Thank God for ice.

Thirteen

T
he day of the bachelorette party came fast. Whitney got to stay on the farm for a couple of days, which should have made her happy. She was able to work with Jo and some of the many horses on the farm—Appaloosas, Percherons and Sun, the Akhal-Teke. Phillip treated her like a close friend and the staff on the farm was the definition of discreet and polite at all times. They made cookies and watched holiday shows. Even the farm manager, an old hand named Richard, took to calling her Whit.

By all rights, it should have been everything she wanted. Quiet. Peaceful. Just her and a few friends and a bunch of horses. No cameras, no gossips, no anything having to do with Whitney Wildz. Except...

She missed Matthew.

And that wasn’t like her. She didn’t miss people. She didn’t get close enough to people to miss them when they went.

Well, that wasn’t true. She’d missed the easy friendship with Jo when Jo had hitched her trailer back up to her truck and driven on to the next job.

But now, after only two days without him, she missed Matthew. And she shouldn’t. She just shouldn’t. So he’d made love to her that night, rolling her onto her stomach to do things to her that
still
made her shiver with desire when she thought about them. And so she’d woken up in his arms the next morning and they’d made love so sweetly that she still couldn’t believe she hadn’t dreamed the whole thing.

How long had it been since she’d woken up with a man in bed? A long time. Even longer since the man in question had made love to her. Told her how beautiful she was, how good she was. How glad he was that he’d stayed with her.

It was a problem. A huge one. This was still a temporary thing, a Christmas fling that would end with the toss of the bridal bouquet. If she were lucky, she’d get Christmas morning with him. And that’d be it. If she missed Matthew now, after just a couple of good days, how bad off would she be when she went home? When she wouldn’t have to wait another day to see him?

How much would she miss him when she wasn’t going to see him again?

It’d hurt to watch him get into his car and slowly drive away. He’d offered to let her come with him, but she’d refused. She was here for Jo and, anyway, Matthew had things he needed to do. Weddings to manage, PR debacles to control. Just another reminder of how far apart their lives really were.

To her credit, Jo hadn’t said much about the sudden relationship. Just, “Are you having a good time with Matthew?”

“I am,” Whitney had said truthfully. Although
fun
seemed as if it wasn’t strong enough of a word. Fun was a lovely day at an amusement park. Being with Matthew? It was amazing. That was all there was to it. He was
amazing
.

“Good.” That was all Jo said about it.

Now, however, Whitney and Jo were driving in to the Pub to meet the other women in the wedding party. Matthew would be out with Phillip and all their brothers—bowling, of all things. Although Whitney wasn’t sure if that was one of those fake activities Matthew had planned to keep the paparazzi guessing.

Whitney kept her hat on as the hostess showed them back to the private room. There were already several other women there, as well as a small buffet laid out with salads, burgers and fries.
Matthew
, Whitney thought with a smile as she took off her hat and sunglasses. Maybe he did know Jo better than she thought.

“Hi, all,” Jo said. “Let me introduce—”

“
Oh, my God
, it’s really you! You’re Whitney Wildz!” A young woman with bright red hair came rushing up to Whitney. In the brief second before she grabbed Whitney by the shoulders, Whitney could see the unmistakable resemblance to both Matthew and Phillip—but especially Matthew. The red hair helped.

“You really
are
here! And you know Jo!
How
do you know Jo? I’m Frances Beaumont, by the way.”

“Hi,” Whitney tried out. She’d known this was going to happen—and today was certainly a more controlled situation than normal. She had Jo and there were only a few women in the room. But she’d never really mastered the proper response to rabid fans.

“Yes, as I was saying,” Jo said in a firm voice as she pried Frances’s hands off Whitney’s shoulders, “this is Whitney Maddox. She’s a horse breeder. I know her because we’ve worked horses together.” She tried to steer Frances away from Whitney, but it didn’t work.

“You’re really
here
. Oh, my God, I know you probably have this happen all the time, but I was your
biggest
fan. I loved your show
so
much and one time Matthew took me to see you in concert.” Before Whitney could dodge out of the way, Frances threw her arms around her and pulled Whitney into a massive hug. “I’m
so
glad to meet you. You have no idea.”

“Um...” was all Whitney could get out as her lungs were crushed. Frances was surprisingly strong for her size. “I’m getting one.”

“Frances,” Jo said, the warning in her voice unmistakable. “Could you at least let Whitney get her coat off before you embarrass yourself and go all fangirl?”

“Right, right! Sorry!” Frances finally let go. “I’m just so excited!” She pulled out her cell phone. “Can I get a picture? Please?”

“Um...” Whitney looked around, but she found no help. Jo looked pissed and the other women were waiting for her to make a decision. She was on her own here. What would Matthew do? He’d manage the message.

“If you promise not to post it on social media until after the wedding.” She smiled at how in control that sounded.

“Of course! I don’t have to post it at all—this is just for me. You have
no
idea how awesome this is.” She slung her arm around Whitney’s shoulders and held the camera up overhead before snapping the selfie. “That is so awesome,” she repeated as she approved the picture. “Can I send it to Byron and Matthew? We always used to watch your show together.”

“I’ve already met him. Matthew, that is.” Suddenly, she was blushing in an entirely different way. And there was no hiding from it, since everyone in the room was staring at her.

Another woman stood up. “You’ll have to excuse Frannie,” this woman said with a warm smile. She looked nothing like a Beaumont, but beyond that, she was holding a small baby that couldn’t be more than a month old. “She’s easily excitable. I’m Serena Beaumont, Chadwick’s wife. It’s delightful to meet you.” She shifted the baby onto her shoulder and held out a hand.

“Whitney.” She didn’t have a lot of experience dealing with babies, but it had to be safer than another hug attack from Frances. “How old is your baby?”

“Six weeks.” Serena smiled. She turned so that Jo and Whitney could see the tiny baby’s face. “This is Catherine Beaumont.”

“She’s adorable.” She was actually kind of wrinkly and still asleep, but Whitney had no other points of reference, so the baby was adorable by default.

“Her being pregnant made getting the bridesmaids’ dresses a mess,” Frances said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Such a pain.”

“Said the woman who is not now, nor has ever been, pregnant,” Serena said. But instead of backbiting, the whole conversation was one of gentle teasing. The women were clearly comfortable with each other.

Whitney was introduced to the rest of the women in attendance. There was Lucy Beaumont, a young woman with white-blond hair who did not seem exactly thrilled to be at the party. She left shortly after the introductions, claiming she had a migraine.

Whitney also met Toni Beaumont, who seemed almost as nervous as Whitney felt. “Toni’s going to be singing a song at the wedding,” Jo explained. “She’s got a beautiful voice.”

Toni blushed, looking even more awkward. She was considerably younger than the other Beaumonts Whitney had met. Whitney had to wonder if she was one of Hardwick Beaumont’s last children? If so, did that make her...maybe twenty? She didn’t get the chance to find out. Toni, too, bailed on the proceedings pretty quickly.

Then it was just Jo, Frances, Serena and Whitney—and a baby who was sleeping through the whole thing. “They seem...nice,” Whitney ventured.

“Lucy doesn’t really like us,” Frances explained over the lip of her beer. She was the only one drinking. “Which happens in this family. Every time Dad married a new wife, the new one would bad-mouth the others. That’s why Toni isn’t comfortable around us, either. Her mom told her we were all out to get her.”

“And,” Serena added, giving Frances a sharp look, “if I understand correctly, you
were
out to get her when you were a kid.”

Frances laughed. “Maybe,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “There might have been some incidents. But that was more between Lucy and Toni. I was too old to play with
babies
by that point. Besides, do you know how much crap Phillip used to give me? I swear, he’d put me on the meanest horse he could find just to watch me get bucked off and cry. But I showed him,” she told Whitney. “I learned how to stay on and I don’t cry.”

Serena rolled her eyes and looked at Whitney. “It’s a strange family.”

Whitney nodded and smiled as if it were all good fun, but she remembered Matthew telling her how his older brothers used to blame him for, well,
everything
.

“Okay, yeah,” Frances protested. “So we’re all a little nuts. I mean, I’m never going to get married, not after having
that
many evil stepmothers. Never going to happen. But that’s the legacy we were born into as Beaumonts—all except Matthew. He’s the only one who was ever nice to all of us. That’s why Lucy and Toni were here today—he asked them to come. Said it was important to the family, so they came. The only person who doesn’t listen to him is Eliza, Chadwick and Phillip’s mom. Everyone else does what he says. And seriously? That man not only wouldn’t let me take you guys to the hottest club, but he wouldn’t even let me hire a stripper.” She scoffed while rolling her eyes, a practiced gesture of frustration. “He can be such a control freak. He probably even picked out your shoes or something.”

There was a pause, and then both Frances and Serena turned to look at Whitney.

Heat flooded Whitney’s cheeks. Matthew had, in fact, picked out her shoes. And her hairstyle. And her lipstick. Right before he’d mussed them all up. She wasn’t about to argue the control-freak part. But then, he’d also let her tie him up. He’d kept up the illusion even though her knot hadn’t held. Just so she could be in control.

“So,” Frances said in a too-bright tone. “You
have
met Matthew.”

“Yes.” The one word seemed safer. She wasn’t used to kissing and telling. Heck, she was still getting used to the kissing thing. She was absolutely not going to tell anyone about it.

“And?” Frances looked as if she were a lioness about to pounce on a wounded wildebeest.

Whitney hated being the wildebeest. “We’re just working to make sure that the wedding goes smoothly. No distractions.” She thought it best not to mention the shoes. Or the ties.

Serena nodded in appreciation, but Frances made a face of exasperation. “Seriously? He’s had a huge crush on you for, like, forever! I bet he can barely keep his hands off you. And frankly, that man could stand to get distracted.”

“Frannie!” Jo and Serena said at the same time. The baby startled and began to mew in tiny-baby cries.

“Sorry,” Serena said, draping a blanket over her shoulder so she could nurse, Whitney guessed.

“Well, it’s true! He’s been driving us all nuts with this wedding, insisting it has to be perfect. Honestly,” Frances said, turning her attention back to Whitney, “I’m not sure he ever just does something for fun. It’d be good for him, you know?”

Whitney was so warm she was on the verge of sweating. She thought of the way he’d ignored his phone while they cuddled on the couch, watching a Christmas movie. Was that fun?

“He had a crush on Whitney Wildz,” she explained, hoping her face wasn’t achieving a near-fatal level of blush. “That’s not who I am.”

They’d cleared that up before the clothes had started to come off. He knew that she was Whitney Maddox. He liked her for being her, not because she’d once played someone famous. End of discussion.

Except...Matthew was, in fact, having trouble keeping his hands off her. Off
her
, right? Not Whitney Wildz?

She didn’t want the doubt that crept in with Frances’s knowing smile. But there it was anyway. She couldn’t be 100 percent sure that Matthew wasn’t sleeping with Whitney Wildz, could she? Just because he’d called her Ms. Maddox a few times—was that really all the proof she needed?

“Sure,” Frances said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Of course.”

“You’re being obnoxious,” Serena said. Then she added to Whitney, “Frances is good at that.”

“I’m just being honest. Matthew’s way too focused on making sure we all do what he thinks we should. This is a rare opportunity for him to do something for himself. Lord knows the man needs more fun in his life. You two should go out.” She paused, a smile that looked way too familiar on her face. “If you haven’t already.”

This was it. After all these years, all those headlines and horrible pictures and vicious, untrue rumors, Whitney was finally going to die of actual embarrassment. She’d have thought she couldn’t feel it this much anymore—that she was immune to it—but no. All it took was one affair with a Beaumont and an “honest” conversation with his little sister and
boom
. It was all over.

Jo sighed. “Are you done?”

“Maybe,” Frances replied, looking quite pleased with herself.

“Because you know what Matthew’s going to do to you when he finds out you’re treating my best friend like this, don’t you?”

At that, a look of concern managed to blot out Frances’s satisfied smile. “Well...hey, I’ve been on my best behavior ever since you guys decided to get married. No headlines, no trouble. I leave that to Byron.”

And Byron had gotten into trouble only because Matthew had asked him to. For her. There was a moment of silence, during which Whitney considered getting her coat and going. Except she couldn’t leave without Jo. Damn it.

Then the silence was broken. “But what about—?” Serena said, joining the fray.