A Wedding on Lilac Lane Hope Ramsay (general ebook reader TXT) 📖

would musicians have more experience?” She gave him a frown that underscored the resemblance between mother and daughter.

“I don’t know. You were on the road all those years.”

“I was on the road with Cody all those years.”

Wait, what was she saying? He straightened, staring at her, not daring to ask the obvious question. Had she only been with Cody until…?

Damn.

Did that make him special or just the guy she’d decided to experiment with? Either way, he felt gut punched.  He was grateful when Ella started popping the lids on the food. Maybe he could stuff his face and avoid inserting his foot into his mouth a second time.

And besides, food was a great way to sublimate his desire. So he helped himself to a couple of chicken legs and some sides. His first bite of the chicken was revelatory. He’d never eaten fried chicken that was as crispy or as delicious or as golden brown as that drumstick.

“This is good,” he said with his mouth half full.

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “So, what do you think about Paradise Beach now? I want you to imagine a pretty tent with some informal flowers and plenty of fried chicken legs and champagne for the guests.”

“So, are you planning to fry up the chicken yourself? For one hundred people?”

“Well, no. We’ll obviously have to find a caterer.”

“Too bad, because this chicken is really good.”

She blushed again, as if this smallest of compliments was something new for her. “Thank you,” she said in a tiny voice that the breeze blew away. She looked out at the ocean. She was so beautiful.

“So,” she said, barely above the sound of the surf, “are you willing to have the party here?”

“You’re acting like it’s my decision.”

She turned toward him then, her eyes big, expressive, and maybe a little sad. “It is your decision. I mean, I like the idea, but you’re the one who needs convincing.”

He put his empty plate aside and inched closer to her. “I guess it’s okay. If it doesn’t rain.”

“It won’t rain.” Her words were barely above a whisper, and the sea breeze carried them off.

If only he could be so sure. Maybe he needed to take a chance on the weather. Maybe he needed to take a chance on her.

What would happen if he asked her another personal question? Would she pull the conversation back to party planning? If she was any other woman on the face of the planet, he might have asked her about her childhood, or probed to discover her favorite color, or asked any of a million other little questions.

His original plan had been to probe her for all of Brenda’s secrets. He still wanted to know the secrets. But not for any nefarious plan. Now he simply wanted to know the answers. Just because.

But Ella wasn’t any other woman on the face of the planet. She was Brenda’s daughter. And it seared him to think that one day he would probably know all her secrets, but she would forever be the one just beyond his reach.

*  *  *

Ella tried not to look at Dylan. She studied the surf, and the darkening sky, and the colors of the sunset. But every once in a while, she glanced at him. The sea breeze lifted his curly hair, blowing it over his forehead and making him look decidedly Byronic.

She wanted him to say yes to the beach party, but more than that, she wanted him to talk about himself. He never did that.

Why? Was it because there was nothing to share, or did he keep all those things close? Was he shy? She had a feeling he was shy. And reserved. She liked that about him.

She suddenly wanted to know what it had been like growing up without a mother. She wanted to compare notes because she’d never known her father as a child.

But she kept her mouth shut. Letting him into her heart would be a huge mistake. She needed to set aside this crazy attraction and move on with her life. Besides, she was terrified that falling for Dylan would bring nothing but misery to her mother.

The silence grew, becoming a living thing that threatened to strangle her. She sat there fighting for breath, when suddenly he said “ow” in a loud and annoyed tone.

He leaned forward, inspecting his bare ankle. “Damn,” he said, getting to his feet as if he’d been scalded by a cattle prod. He turned in her direction. “Get up, before you’re eaten alive.”

“What?”

“No-see-ums. They’re everywhere. We’ve probably already been bitten. We just don’t know it yet.” He started packing up the food without explanation, snapping lids on containers and throwing stuff into the picnic basket and cooler. “That does it. We can’t have the party here. We’ll get chewed up and spit out.”

What the hell was he talking about? She hadn’t been bitten. There was no bug problem at Paradise Beach. She’d enjoyed the sunset out here many times over the last couple of months. “What, are you afraid of a few bugs?”

He stopped throwing things into the picnic hamper and stared at her, evidently just now realizing that she’d done nothing to help him. “You probably have bites all over you. Sometimes it takes a while to feel the sting. Wait until tomorrow. You’ll be covered in welts. Come on, help me with this quilt.”

She got up. “I get it. I know we made a mistake last night, but you don’t have to resort to a trick in order to push me away.” She turned her back on him and strode up the beach toward Mom’s house. If the damn man had to resort to a gambit like this to end the evening…Well, he could go ahead and fold the quilt and carry the cooler and basket all on his own; he was certainly strong enough for the job.

He caught up to her as she reached the deck attached to her mother’s home. The sky had turned a fabulous shade of magenta as