The Cowboy Takes a Bride (33 page)

T
he Daniels clan sat around the dinner table, and immediately after Joe’s father said grace over the meal, the conversation went to the futurity as everyone dived into the food. They passed plates around the table family-style.

Mariah had watched big extended families having Thanksgiving dinner over the years, but she’d never belonged to such a group. She’d always been the outsider trying to fit in. Everyone was warm and friendly. Joe, who was sitting across the table, winked at her.

How nice it would be to fit in here. It was something she’d always longed for, but feared could never exist for her. A place where she belonged.

The whole time Joe was talking horses and cutting and the futurity with his father and Dane.

He sounded so much like her father. Love of horses shone in his eyes, and she thought about what Gamma had said. She wanted to let herself go, to follow her heart, but she was so afraid of ending up with a younger version of her dad. Unable to love anyone as much as he loved horses.

“Where’s Ila?” Margo asked.

“She left,” Rick said. “Pass the potatoes, Gamma.”

“Want some hellfire sauce?” Gamma asked to the room at large.

“No!” everyone chorused.

“Why did Ila leave?” Margo asked, taking the hellfire sauce off the table.

“She and Cordy had a fight,” Rick supplied.

“Ila’s seeing Cordy?”

“Not anymore. Their fight was as interesting as a thunderstorm.”

“They’ll get back together,” Gamma predicted. “Ila’s in love with him, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Gamma claims to be psychic,” Kimber explained to Mariah.

“No claiming to it. I am psychic. Didn’t I predict there was a new woman coming into Joe’s life? Who knew it was gonna be Dutch’s little Flaxey.”

Flaxey
.

It felt strange that these people knew more about her father than she did. Knew that he’d called her Flaxey.

Then Gamma was off, talking about Dutch and how much she missed him, and the rest of the family was soon chiming in. She knew they were trying to make her feel welcome, but hearing all these things she never knew about her father only made her feel more distant from him than ever.

But she smiled and ate turkey and pretended to fit in, and all she could feel was the fear that none of this wonderful life, this wonderful family could be real.

Chapter Eighteen

A cutter’s gotta do what a cutter’s gotta do.

—Dutch Callahan

T
he futurity took up all of Joe’s time, and while he wanted to be with Mariah, planning Prissy and Paul’s wedding took up all her time. In spite of Joe being distracted by Mariah, Dutch’s horse was smoking the competition, winning event after event. Joe was more certain than ever that the stallion
was
going to take the Triple Crown Futurity. The only other horse and rider who came close were Lee Turpin and his horse Dancer.

He wished Mariah didn’t have to work so hard. That she could be there to watch him. To see her father’s horse excel time and time again. She’d promised to go to the remaining events after the wedding was over. Part of him hated being away from her for so much time, but another part of him was relieved. It gave him some cooling-off time. He’d been rattled by his growing feelings ever since they’d watched
Sleepless in Seattle
.

He was falling in love with her, but he still had the fear that it was simply because she reminded him of Becca. Especially after she’d confessed to him that she wore a mask whenever she was around people, doing whatever it took to fit in. Was she just trying to fit in here in Jubilee? Or did her heart really belong in Chicago? He didn’t want her to settle for anything less than what she truly deserved.

In the end, he decided to put it out of his mind and just ride Miracle to the win. Once the Triple Crown Futurity was behind him, once the wedding was behind Mariah, they’d both have a chance to examine things more closely and see if they truly had what it took to make their relationship work.

O
n the day of Prissy and Paul’s wedding, Mariah was surprised by how calm she felt. She’d never been this calm about a wedding, but everything seemed to fall into place.

Thanks to Joe, his hands, and the Jubilee Cutters Co-op, the chapel was finished on time and looked resplendent in simple elegance with a cowboy stained-glass window. The barn had been converted into a reception hall large enough to hold two hundred guests comfortably.

Nothing went missing. No one was late. The crowd was jovial. The weather was perfect. The bride glowed in her Western-cut bridal gown and cowgirl boots. The groom showed off in his Texas tuxedo (tuxedo jacket with tails and new black jeans with razor sharp creases down the legs). Pastor Penney performed a traditional ceremony.

The decorations were understated but stylish. The bride’s and groom’s cakes, made by Lissette Moncrief, were intricately beautiful. Prissy’s colorful wildflower bouquet carried out the inexpensive but tasteful cowboy theme. The Mesquite Spit catered the barbecue meal.

After the ceremony was over and the reception was in full swing, and everyone was dancing to “Cotton-Eyed Joe,” a well-dressed older woman came up to Mariah. Mariah knew the woman had money. She’d learned to spot wealth a long time ago.

“Hello, I’m Grace Bettingfield, Paul’s aunt from Chicago. I understand you’re from Chicago as well.”

“Yes,” Mariah said, and shook her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Well, I simply have to tell you that I never imagined it was possible.”

“What’s that?”

“An elegant cowboy wedding. When my sister told me that the reception was being held in a horse barn . . .” She paused. “Well, you can imagine my dismay. I thought,
Shades of
Green Acres
. What is my nephew marrying into?
”

“There is a bit of a culture difference from Chicago to Jubilee,” Mariah admitted.

“But this . . .” The woman swept a hand at the reception hall. “It’s beautiful. Even if they do insist on playing that music.”

“They’re having fun,” Mariah pointed out. “Cotton-Eyed Joe” was as obligatory at a cowboy wedding reception as “Y.M.C.A.” was to an L.A. bash. “Wait until they do the hokey-pokey.”

The aunt groaned good-naturedly. “Thank you for making this experience memorable in a good way.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Where did you learn to put on such a well-oiled affair?”

“I used to work for Elegant Weddings in downtown Chicago.”

“You worked for Destiny Simon?” Grace Bettingfield sounded awed.

“I did. Do you know her?”

“I am acquainted with Destiny, and I must say she’s been having some business trouble lately. Now I wonder if it’s because her right-hand woman was wooed to Texas.”

“I never said I was her right-hand woman.”

“You didn’t have to.” Grace winked. “It’s obvious. Do you have a card?”

Mariah pulled one of the cards she’d had printed up from her pocket and passed it to Grace. It would have been human nature to gloat at the news that things weren’t all peaches and sunshine for Destiny, but instead, Mariah found herself feeling sorry for her old boss. She was just happy that everything had turned out well for Prissy and Paul.

Grace Bettingfield wasn’t the only one to pay compliments on the wedding. By the end of the night, more than a dozen people had asked for her business card. Satisfaction over a job well done settled in her stomach along with the Texas-grown sparkling wine that had turned out to be as tasty as champagne—and a whole lot cheaper. She didn’t for one second regret following her own dream instead of Dutch’s and turning the place into a wedding venue instead of an equine facility.

Ah, Joe. Just thinking of him made her smile.

When had Joe become such a bright spot in her life? Every time he walked into a room, her gaze went straight to him. When he smiled at her, Mariah’s heart skipped. Whenever she was alone in bed, she’d reach across to the cool, empty spot beside her and imagine him in it.

Joe Daniels had slipped under her skin in a way she’d never thought possible. She’d tried not to fall in love with him because she knew he was still holding on to Becca. Knew also that they didn’t have much in common beyond chemistry.

Joe.

The bride and groom had ridden away on the groom’s cutting horse and most of the guests had already gone, but here was Joe, helping out. He grabbed hold of a big plastic trash bucket and was busy busing tables.

She kicked off her high heels and padded over in bare feet. “You don’t have to do this.”

“And leave the whole thing to you? No way.”

“I’m a businesswoman, I can handle it.”

Joe surveyed the mess. “It’ll take you until three in the morning by yourself.”

“It’s my job, it’s what I get paid for.”

“There’s that independent streak again. Do I have to give you another lecture on the virtues of accepting help? Just say, ‘Thank you, Joe.’ ”

She smiled. “Thank you, Joe.”

“You’re welcome, Little Bit.”

She grabbed a plastic tub for the dishes and started loading them up. The barn door opened, and Ila and Cordy wandered in.

“Are they back together?” she murmured to Joe.

“Yep. Ila and I had a long talk. We got some things straightened between us. She decided to stop overlooking Cordy because he’s not as tall as she is, and Cordy’s so crazy for her he can forgive her anything.”

“Hi guys,” she called out to them. “What’s up?”

“We came to help,” Ila said.

Now that surprised her.

“Say, ‘Thank you, Ila,’ ” Joe whispered.

Mariah grinned. “Thank you, Ila and Cordy. I do appreciate the help.”

“See there,” Joe said. “You’re getting the hang of this. Before you know it, you’ll be one of the gang.”

One of the gang
. It had a nice ring to it, but she was still afraid to get too invested in that thought. She’d turned the place into a wedding chapel because she needed money, and planning weddings was the only skill she possessed. It wasn’t the way she’d imagined her life going, but she had to admit, she loved being in charge. Loved running her own wedding planning business rather than working for someone else. All those years she’d worked for Destiny Simon, never daring to dream that one day she could be just as successful if she found her own milieu.

Was Jubilee her milieu?

She looked around. She hadn’t wanted it to be her milieu. Not when she’d first arrived. She’d been resistant to the cowboy way of life. In her mind, the cowboy lifestyle had stolen her father from her. But there was something to be said for living close to land, for taking pride in the small things, for not showing off, for appreciating what you had.

Ila and Cordy worked together like they’d been training for an Olympic event. They were so much in unison, a true team. Watching them together, anyone would think they’d been a couple for years.

She wished she and Joe were more like that. More in sync instead of still feeling each other out.

“They’re good together, huh?” Joe said, coming over to slide his arm around her shoulder.

“They are.”

“I’m happy for them. Ila’s the best and Cordy’s a great guy.”

“Ila wasn’t too taken with me in the beginning.”

“But she accepts you now, and that’s a big step in my book. Ila doesn’t let you into her inner circle unless she trusts you with her life.”

“I’m not in her inner circle.”

“She’s here, isn’t she? You gotta remember that people in small towns can get stuck in a rut. Sometimes we need an infusion of new blood to blow us out of our comfort zone.”

“And here I thought everyone believed I was the Unabomber.”

“A few people did.” He grinned. “Cooter Johnston, for instance. But then he’s a conspiracy theorist and paranoid to the bone. ’Course, getting hit by lightning three times might have something to do with it.”

“He’s been hit by lightning three times?”

“He golfs in the rain.”

“I can see why he might be paranoid. Maybe someone
is
out to get him.”

Joe laughed, and Mariah realized that, oddly enough, she was having fun.

In less than an hour, Joe, Ila, Cordy, and Mariah had cleaned up the barn. It would have taken her three times longer on her own. Maybe Joe was right. Maybe asking for help wasn’t such a bad thing. A warm, sentimental feeling crept up on her.

“Night.” Cordy tipped his hat as he and Ila made for the exit.

“Good night, Ila, Cordy. Thank you so much.”

“You’d do the same for us,” Ila said.