Every Yesterday (Boot Creek) (2 page)

“Megan! Finally!” Flynn, the teetotaler of the group, spun around in such delight that if Megan didn’t know better, she’d think she’d been sipping champagne, but that was highly unlikely for any of them in this bridal shop, since Carla was the preacher’s wife.

Carla moved through the room as if she were on roller skates. “Now that we’re
finally
all here, we can begin.”

“Sorry.” Megan was pretty sure Carla still hadn’t forgiven her for the time Megan had accidentally ridden her bicycle through the woman’s treasured rose garden. It had been no picnic for her either. Dr. Hansen had had to dig stickers out of half of Megan’s right side that day. The woman had been snippy with her for the next fifteen years. Talk about holding a grudge.

Megan lowered herself into an old velveteen Queen Anne chair. The hodgepodge of fine antiques and practical things, like the tall plastic oscillating fan, held its own kind of charm. The air-conditioning was no competition for the heat in this old drafty building. Wispy fabrics fluttered every time the fan made a thankful pass from left to right.

“Here we go.” Angie followed Carla into the bride’s dressing room. The heavy door clicked closed behind them. The elegant etched glass that adorned the back of the door had to have been from the early nineteen hundreds—the glass wavy and scratched.

Megan’s nerves fluttered as they waited for Angie. Katy and Flynn chattered about potato salad recipes, but Megan only half listened. Her mind was on Angie and the wedding. Jackson was so good for her best friend, but her own anxieties about relationships and weddings wouldn’t quit nagging at her. Why couldn’t she just be happy for Angie and not worry so much?

A moment later the mirrored door opened and Angie stepped out onto the raised, carpeted platform.

A collective hush fell across the room.

Angie’s smile was wide, but a nervous twitch played at her lips. She held her arms out and turned slowly, the ivory chiffon gently sweeping the floor. “What do you think?”

A simple sleeveless A-line, with subtle beading at the waist, looked as elegant as her dark hair, which Carla had swept up into a loose chignon.

“Oh, Angie.” Megan blinked.
Why am I so emotional today?
“You look beautiful. Jackson is going to fall in love with you all over again when he sees you in that dress.”

Carla walked around her, tugging and smoothing Angie’s gown. “Looks perfect. How does it feel?”

“Perfect,” Angie whispered.

“It sure is,” Flynn said, then reached over from the love seat to where Megan was seated and grabbed Megan’s hand. “I hope I’ll be as beautiful when I’m a bride.”

“You will be.” Megan hoped Flynn would find a suitor soon. Bless her heart, the girl was dying to be married. Why was it the girls who wanted to get married never attracted the settling kind, and yet it seemed like every guy Megan went out with wanted a committed relationship? And she was never going down that road again. She’d found her soul mate, and Kevin had not only broken her heart, but wrecked her soul. A loss she still carried around like it happened yesterday.

Angie pointed toward Katy. “I have a feeling Katy might be your next customer, Carla.”

Katy blushed. “We haven’t gotten that far yet.” Katy, the newest resident of Boot Creek, had made fast friends with Angie the first week Katy happened into town. And even though Katy had only meant to stop for gas in Boot Creek, she’d come on the day of the Blackberry Festival and met Derek Hansen. It had been the day she was running away from heartbreak, and what she’d found in Boot Creek was a second chance at love and a whole new career.

“You will,” Angie said. “I know Derek. And yeah, he was broken when Laney died, but he is whole again with you.”

“He completes me too,” Katy said. “We’re not rushing things, but when the time’s right, all of you will be there at my side too. Right?”

“Of course,” they all agreed.

Megan lifted her hands in the air. “Angie, I think it looks like I can check off final wedding dress alterations from the list.” Her goal was to complete every single thing on this project plan on time with zero problems. Yes, everyone kept saying that was an impossible goal, but she took her goals seriously and was determined to make that happen.

Angie pressed her hands together and raised her fingertips to her lips. “It’s all coming together. Thank goodness. I’d already told myself that if there were any hiccups, I’d heed the signs and throw this all in reverse.”

Megan certainly wasn’t going to be the one to start that. That limo would just have to be cancelled. “It’s going to all go according to plan, Angie. I promise.”

“And I put together all the paperwork and itineraries for the honeymoon,” Katy said. “I brought the packet with me. I’m jealous that y’all are going to Alaska for two whole weeks. That is so on my bucket list now.”

“We could never have planned a two-week honeymoon if you and Derek hadn’t offered to keep Billy. I’m still so anxious about leaving him so long,” Angie said. “I know he’ll be fine with y’all. He’s so excited. But . . .”

“And he’ll be fine. He loves Derek, and you know how I feel about him. The practice sleepovers have gone fine.”

“I know I’m a worrywart when it comes to him. I can’t help myself—he’s a handful. All boy. I don’t think you know what you’ve got yourself into.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m excited,” Katy said. “Derek and I are going to have a blast playing house. It’s good practice for us. And I’ve always wanted to go school shopping. Now I have Billy as an excuse. Usually I pretend I’m stocking up for children that I don’t have so I can take advantage of all the amazing deals. I mean really. Who doesn’t go gaga over school supplies?”

“True,” Angie said, her brows knitting together. “Maybe I could squeeze in taking him school shopping this week.”

“Don’t you dare steal my fun, Angie! You can do school prep with Billy for the next ten years. And you’ll be home in plenty of time for his first day of school.”

“I would have never been able to plan this wedding without y’all. I have the best bridesmaids ever.” Angie’s eyes glistened, and as much of a pain as Megan could imagine her own mother would be in planning a wedding with her, she couldn’t imagine not having her mom around to do it.

A tear spilled down Angie’s cheek. “I love y’all. You’re the best friends any girl could ask for.”

“As maid of honor, I forbid any sappy crying jags. Even though we are pretty awesome.” Megan stepped onto the platform and handed Angie a tissue. “Don’t be getting weepy on us, you’ll stain your dress.”

Angie dabbed at her eyes. “We might need some wine on Saturday. Do you think they allow wine in the brides dressing area? I’m suddenly very nervous.”

“Not like back out nervous. Right?” Megan asked.

“No. Not like that. Maybe nervous isn’t the right word. Excited. Anxious. Insanely lucky. Too-good-to-be-true lucky.”

“No such thing,” Megan reassured her.

Carla walked over to the door at the far side of the room, then clapped her tiny hands together. “Okay, ladies. Let’s get your dresses on and check them one last time for fit.”

“Y’all’s turn,” Angie said. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

Carla rushed the girls along.

Megan, Katy, and Flynn followed Carla into the large dressing room. Their blue gowns, the color of summer skies in Carolina, hung on shiny silver hangers from hooks, one next to the other, along the wall. In the center of the room, a tall pedestal table gave the girls a little bit of privacy as they changed.

As soon as Carla left the room, Flynn said, “I hope my dress fits this time. Carla took it in the first time and out the second. I swear she got the measurements mixed up with one of y’all’s. I hadn’t gained or lost a pound.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” Megan laughed. “Old lady Carla has to be pushing her late seventies. She did the alterations on my mom’s wedding gown and that was over thirty years ago.”

As a little girl, Megan used to stare at the bridal portrait of her momma that hung in the hallway of their home. She’d looked so beautiful. And Megan dreamed of wearing that pretty white dress with the layers of chiffon. That was a long time ago. And all of those fairy-tale dreams had been shattered that summer night seven years ago.

Megan was the last one to step into her dress. Katy zipped her up just as Carla came back in carrying a box of silk flower bouquets that had seen better days. Years-old dust caked the green silk leaves in the stand-in bouquets. Megan’s mouth twitched in amusement as she rolled ick off of one of the petals. Flynn’s shoulders rocked as she got a fit of the giggles over it too.

Katy and Flynn lined up at the door, and Megan fell in behind them. Megan wasn’t the cry-at-a-Hallmark-movie kind of girl, but she had to admit this was pretty exciting. And realizing how very different Angie’s life was going to be now filled her with joy.

The door swung open and the girls filed out of the dressing room.

Angie gasped, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Y’all look beautiful.” She swept at a tear with the balled-up tissue she held in her hand.

“You’re crying,” Flynn asked.

“Again?” Megan said.

“She’s fine,” Katy said.

“Happy tears, right, Angie?” Megan forced a smile. This was going to be one long week.

“Totally happy tears. It’s overwhelming. Everything is so perfect. After being married to Rodney, and the hell he put me through to get that divorce, I never thought I’d be happy again. And now, not only do I have a son who brings joy to me every single day, but also I have the best friends. Y’all are so special to me. And I have Jackson. He loves me. He gets me, and I love him. The perfect guy. Perfect family. Perfect wedding venue, caterer, flowers, photographer, and even the perfect car to drive off in after the wedding. Could it possibly be any better?”

Megan swallowed hard.
Probably not the perfect time to mention not letting Angie use the car.

“Not one red flag,” Angie continued. “I mean, it’s got to be some kind of sign when everything falls into place like it has. I know you remember, Megan. There was problem after problem planning that wedding. Right up to the day of. Why didn’t I see those snapping red flags?”

“Because you were in love with the idea of being in love, and the man you wanted Rodney to be,” Megan said. “Let it go. But I do remember you crying when the justice of the peace croaked on you the morning of the wedding, and you had to scramble for a new one. And that the cake was chocolate instead of almond, which I still say Rodney had something to do with.”

Angie’s lips curled. “Had to have been him. After all, it was his aunt who made the cake. You don’t just mix something like that up.”

“And why we’re not using her for your cake this time,” Flynn piped in. “You don’t have to worry about that nincompoop anymore.”

“Unfortunately, I still have to deal with him because of Billy, but my boy is worth every aggravation that man ever caused me. This time there aren’t any warning flags. Not one last-minute hitch.” She reached her hand for Megan’
s. “And that reassures me that things are going to be different this time. I really
am
this lucky.”

Megan’s heart shrank.
How can I let Angie down? She’d been so excited to use Daddy’s car for her wedding. What kind of maid of honor am I?
“I won’t let anything ruin your day.” Megan hugged Angie. “And I know Jackson is right for you. Don’t you worry.”

“Let me get a picture,” Carla said, waving her hand to get them to scoot in. “Smile, and say happy.”

“Happy,” they said in harmony.

Carla waved her arm toward the group, then clicked off a couple pictures. “Okay, you girls all go get changed. Angie and the rest of y’all, do you want me to have the dresses delivered over to the bridal area at First Baptist Saturday morning?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Angie said. “That’ll be a big help, Carla.”

Katy was the first to get changed and leave. Megan hung back, hoping to get a minute alone with Angie where she could discuss the car with her, but between Flynn talking about the arrangements for all of the out-of-town guests that would be arriving the next day to stay at her bed and breakfast and Carla running down a punch list of things with Angie, Megan finally begged off.

Probably a sign.

Megan still had to finish several special orders including the guest gift votives that Angie had asked her to make for everyone coming to the wedding, and that meant she was going to need to pick up an extra order of beeswax from the local apiary to fill the orders she’d get this week.

With a couple quick hugs, and promises to catch up later, Megan stepped outside. At least a slight breeze was kicking up now. In the last hour and a half, it had at least turned bearable out here. The breeze blew through her hair, cooling against the hot sun. It was during these dog days of summer like today that Daddy would have taken her for a ride in the Adventurer. There’d be no ride today, though. She hadn’t even had the heart to start the thing since the tow truck had delivered it and maneuvered it into the tight quarters of her garage bay.

Daddy, I wish I knew for sure what it was you wanted me to do with this car now that you’re gone, because riding in it will never be the same without you.

Chapter Two

Seated, as usual, in the first class section of the Boeing 757 in 2F, right side window, Noah Black would be off this plane and on the road before the last passengers disembarked.

The young girl next to him, who’d slept the whole coast-to-coast flight, stood and fumbled with the overhead compartment.

“I’ll get that for you.” Noah got up and opened it for her, handing her a bright pink leather tote bag and a matching rolling suitcase that easily weighed more than fifty pounds.

“Thanks,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” His black leather duffel bag felt like a pillow compared to her bag.

The flight had left California late, but made up time along the way, arriving early at the Raleigh-Durham Airport.

Noah traveled often, and it was usually his luck that when his plane arrived early, they’d get stuck sitting on the tarmac waiting on a gate. Not so today.

Their gate was open and they’d pulled right in. Ahead of schedule. Hopefully, Jackson would already be here. Noah would have preferred to rent his own car, but Jackson had been adamant about picking him up. And since Jackson was the whole reason Noah was in North Carolina, he’d saved the argument. Besides, Ford was supposed to be coming in today too. If he knew Jackson, they were in for a good time tonight.

It had been a while since he, Jackson, and Ford had all been together in one place at the same time. Nearly two years actually. They were long overdue for a good night of beer, brown liquor, and basking in stories of the glory days back in Nashville. Even if what brought them together was a wedding. Bad enough he was getting married after knowing the girl less than a year, but here? In a town with a population so small that every one of the townsfolk could fit in the Grand Ole Opry at one time?

Seriously, in a town that small how was a guy supposed to have any privacy? He snickered at the thought of dating in a town like Boot Creek. He loved women, but he also loved his freedom, and from what he found online about the town, it wasn’t big enough to keep a secret in. And with a dating pool that small, someone was sure to drown. And it would probably be him when he ticked some girl off. No, the last thing he wanted was a serious relationship. Been there, done that—twice—and he had no intention of starting a line of those T-shirts.

What the hell had Jackson been thinking? Maybe it was something in the water.

Note to self: Don’t drink the water. Probably tastes like old sweaty boots anyway.

He’d take Los Angeles and its quirks any day over a small town. Heck, he’d go back to Nashville, or his hometown of Franklin, before settling in a little town, and he hadn’t even left Nashville on good terms.

The airline attendant finally opened the door and cleared them to exit.

The couple and two businessmen from the first row filed out, and then Noah followed the girl with the pink luggage up the ramp toward the airport terminal. The air on the jet bridge held the pungent aroma of sweat and fuel. Holding his breath, he swept around the girl and then the old couple who were dawdling in the suffocating space, arguing about how to dial their granddaughter to come pick them up from their new smartphone. Text or call?

At least the air in the terminal was cooler. He wove between haggard travelers to make a pit stop in the men’s room. By the time he came out, darned if that same old couple from his flight weren’t just making their way through the terminal.

“I don’t know,” the woman said.

The old man’s head bobbled. He grumbled, but it sure wasn’t under his breath. “I told you to ask, Suz.”

“Didn’t need to. I read the booklet in the seat pocket like they told us too. It looked easy. There should be signs.”

“Well, clearly there aren’t, else we’d know which way to go.” The old man shoved his hands in his pockets. People nearly plowed into the old guy as they hurried past to make their next connection.

Noah could picture his grandparents trying to navigate the airport. Probably would have looked like this couple, although Granddad never would’ve flown. He loved to drive. Noah stepped in front of the couple. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The old man spun around, then slowly raised his head from his slumped stature all the way to meet Noah’s grin nearly a foot above him. “Why, yes. I think you can. Where is the baggage claim?”

“Easy,” Noah said. “Follow this long hallway all the way to the center. Then turn left.”

The old man glared at his wife.

Noah stifled a grin, about to even the score. “There are signs. It’s well marked.”

A smile spread across the old woman’
s face.
“You wouldn’t happen to know how to text, would ya?”

“Actually, I’m an expert at it.” Noah held out his hand and the old woman passed him her phone. “Who are we texting?”

“Flynn. My granddaughter”

“Interesting name.” Noah hit the contacts list and swept through the very sparse entries to one labeled Flynn Crane. He tapped the screen, which displayed a picture of a blonde woman who appeared to be about his age and not half bad looking, then typed in the message:
Plane is early. See you at baggage level carousel in Terminal 1.

A loud swoosh sounded as the text went out.

The old woman clapped her hands. “Thank you. She sent me this phone and I’m still figuring it out.”

“No worries.” Noah leaned down between the couple. “To send her another message, click here and type in the message, then hit this button. Got it?”

The man who’d been peering over the top of his glasses, pushed them back up on his nose. “Thanks, son.”

“You’re welcome.” Turning, he hitched his duffel bag up over his shoulder, making a beeline for the baggage claim area where he was supposed to be meeting Jackson and the guys.

Noah’s phone went off in a trio of alerts. He pulled it from his shirt pocket and thumbed through the messages.

Jackson: Yo CA Dreamer. Plane landed ten minutes ago. Where are you?

Noah: On my way.

Jackson: You schmoozing the stewardess or the girl seated next to you? Twenty dollar bet riding on you.

Then Jackson texted a picture of himself and Ford mugging for the camera waving twenty dollar bills.

Noah laughed. Boy, they’d be disappointed to hear the real reason he wasn’t down there yet. Stopping to take a leak and helping an old couple sounded more boy scout than he cared to admit.

The last time Noah and the guys had been together was in Vegas for the Barrett-Jackson car show. He had schmoozed the airline attendant and taken her out that night. So, the bet wasn’t a bad one.

That had been less than two years ago. There’d been plenty of schmoozing hot women on that trip, and although his life hadn’t changed since then, a lot had changed for his friends.

Back then, they’d all vowed their bachelorhood was the most important thing to maintain, aside from their friendship. And while they used to run four strong, one had gotten married to a girl he’d met on that Sin City trip, and since they were expecting their first child any day now, there’d only be three this time.

That was one of his biggest beefs with the whole marriage thing. People changed. At least he’d been lucky enough to realize that before he walked down the aisle and ended up losing half his stuff. He liked things just the way they were. Not a thing wrong with being single.

Noah and Ford had agreed to come in early for the wedding and stay an extra day to help get Angie moved in to Jackson’s house. Noah would bet a hundred bucks that place would look a lot different in just six months. Ruffles here. Girly colors there. Probably all of Jackson’s most prized possessions quarantined in what women liked to call the “man cave,” which was really a place to hide from the world all the good stuff men love.

The way Noah imagined the man cave, there’d be a turnstile instead of a door. The price of entry? Your man card. Never to be seen again.

Noah’s teeth ached. He opened his mouth, relieving the pressure on his jaw. Grinding his teeth had become a habit with all the recent talk of weddings. He’d never let a woman come between him and his stuff. She’d probably want to use the precious square footage of his garage as a guest room addition. No, ma’am. Not in this lifetime.

And now Jackson Washburn, who he’d thought would be the last one of their tightly knit group to marry besides himself, was getting married to a girl from this tiny North Carolina town.

Noah felt even more tied to his bachelorhood. He had a week to talk his best friend out of this crazy delusional state. Or at least slow him down. What was the hurry anyway? Jackson and Angie hadn’t even been together a year.

He stepped on the escalator down to the baggage claim area. From here he could see Ford holding a cardboard sign that read:
M
R
. N
UDE
A
MERICA
C
ONTESTANTS
.

And Jackson stood next to him with a fake movie poster with Noah’s face photoshopped onto some guy’s body, running from three women through a city street. One holding a gun, one with a wedding ring, and one carrying a baby. The movie:
The Bachelor.

“Funny.” Noah gave them a chin nod. Just like old times. There was hope. He stepped off the escalator and walked over to his friends. “How’ve y’all been?” Noah and Ford shook hands, and then Noah turned to Jackson. “I know how you’ve been. Brainwashed. What the hell?”

Jackson grasped Noah’s hand and slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t knock it until you try it. Not half bad having someone to cook, clean, and tell you you’re the best thing breathing every day.”

“You drank the Kool-Aid?” Noah fixed his gaze on Jackson. “You have time to come to your senses, ya know.”

“Shut the hell up, man.” Jackson laughed. “Thanks for being my best man.”

“Yeah, what was that all about? How did he get to be the best man?” Ford hitched his duffle bag up onto his shoulder.

“I picked Noah as the best man because I wasn’t sure if you’d even be able to make it all the way from Alaska. Besides, I figured it might be Noah’s only chance to get that close to actually doing the deed.”

“You’ve got a point,” Noah said. “Can’t argue with you there. But it also better mean I get to escort the hottest lady down the aisle. That
is
the only reason I’m here.”

Jackson shook his head. “Why would I waste her on you? Not like you’d make an honest woman out of her.”

“No. But she just might thank me for trying.”

Ford elbowed Noah. “Don’t be so sure.”

“Whatever. One of these days you’ll find the right woman, Noah, and all that smack-talking is going to have been a waste.” Jackson said.

“One thing that won’t be a waste is the extra days we came in to help you get settled. Or to talk some sense into you,” Noah said.

“Don’t waste your breath on that,” Jackson said. “I’m marrying Angie, and there’s nothing that would change my mind. As far as I’m concerned, I’m damn lucky to be marrying her. And her son, Billy, is the coolest kid you’ve ever met.”

Noah’s heart wrenched just a little too tight. Jackson really did seem happy. Not exactly what he’d expected to see and hear two minutes into the trip. He’d figured it would take Jackson all week to bring the hard sell. “You really are happy. I can see it in your face.” Noah extended his hand. “Put her there, man. I’m happy for you.”

Jackson relaxed into a grin, and his stride took on a more confident casual pace as they headed for the baggage claim.

“So where is this Podunk town where you found a girl who’s so danged special she’s got you jumping through hoops?”

“She’s not just any girl, she’s perfect. Damn near a goddess.”

“You’re a lost cause.” Noah groaned. “Let’s get the hell out of here before her father Zeus strikes us with lightning or something.”

“Let’s get.” Jackson led the way outside and across to the parking garage to his four-door GMC pickup truck. Jackson tossed his bag and Ford’s luggage into the back seat and then climbed behind the wheel.

“Nice truck,” Noah said.

“That’s a compliment coming from you.” Jackson navigated the parking garage and headed for the interstate. “What’s your latest project car? I saw the ’42 Ford coupe. That car was sweet. Angie found a YouTube video of it and showed it to me just last week.”

“We’ve done six or more cars since that one.” It surprised Noah that Jackson’s gal had been interested enough to look up a car video, though. “Since we’re doing restorations for other people, I don’t get as connected to them as I used to with my own. I sold that Ford coupe for a nice profit, though.”

“I’m not surprised. It was impressive.”

“Those videos really pay for themselves,” Noah said. “Just hired the guy that does the videos and social media. He’s working on the video for the latest project—a full-body-off restoration on a 1931 Bugatti Royale Kellner Coupe.”

“You have a Bugatti?” Jackson said. “Damn, you are doing good.”

“It’s not mine. It’ll take us a year to complete. Can’t say I’ll mind having that parked in the shop for a while. It’ll be a beauty. This guy has more money than he could spend in four lifetimes and is sparing no expense in getting that car perfect.”

“A Bugatti,” Ford said. “Not sure I’ve ever seen one. Sounds impressive.”

“Oh, it is. And this is the nicest one I’ve ever seen.” Noah pulled out his phone and thumbed through some pictures. “Here. Look at this. I’m telling you this car has some sweet lines. Look at the way that front fender curves. And a throaty engine that’ll make your heart race.”

“Sounds like you’re dating her.” Ford looked at the picture on the phone, then handed it over to Jackson. “I think you need to start thinking about women instead of cars,” Ford said. “You’re worrying me, man.”

Noah took the phone back and looked at the picture with a smile. Lately the cars did top his list of favorite things to do. “Hey, I find a girl with curves like that, who can make my heart race . . . then we’ll talk.”

“You’d probably just ask her to marry you and break it off again.” Ford said, and Jackson nodded right along with him.