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

She wasn’t going to stand in the way of that even if it rocked a few boats. She’d lost her own true love almost six years ago in Afghanistan. She knew the deep, abiding loneliness of being left behind. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But arguing with Patsy was futile, so she nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll talk to her.”

“Good. Now, what’s this I hear about Reverend St. Pierre eating his breakfast at Bread, Butter, and Beans the last few days?”

Ashley went cold. She had no explanations for the sudden chill in her relationship with the minister who lived across the street. She still made oatmeal for him, but he evidently didn’t want it anymore. She didn’t know why, and she couldn’t confess her fears to the Piece Makers because Micah’s sudden coolness had started with their argument over the scratch-made cakes she baked for the quilting group every week.

Why did she suddenly feel cornered? And why did she let these women make her feel that way?

 “Reverend St. Pierre is free to have breakfast wherever he wants.” She met Patsy’s accusatory stare.

“Oh, darlin’, don’t be so defensive. I wasn’t casting aspersions on your cooking. I’m just curious as to whether anyone knows why he’s been spotted at the coffee shop every morning since Palm Sunday,” Patsy said.

“Why do you care? He can eat where he wants to,” Sandra said.

“But why would he want to?” Karen asked in a querulous voice. “Ashley’s biscuits are better than Brooklyn’s scones any day.”

“Micah usually eats oatmeal,” Ashley supplied, then regretted sharing that information.

“Well, he’s not eating oatmeal now,” Patsy said. “I wish I knew why.”

“Because, dear friends, Brooklyn Huddleston owns Bread, Butter, and Beans,” Donna said with a twinkle in her eye and a slightly smug grin.

Everyone looked in Donna’s direction, while a strange sensation worked its way through Ashley. What the heck? Was Micah interested in Brooklyn? And here she’d been wondering for days and days whether it had been something she’d said or done that had driven him away. Good grief, how could she have missed this?

“Oh my goodness,” Patsy said. “He’s courting Brooklyn?”

“Well, she’s about his age, and she’s available. And they smile a lot at each other. I was over there just yesterday. He was flirting with her.”

“Oh, no. We can’t have that. She’s a Methodist,” Patsy said. “Ashley, we need to put a stop to this right now.”

Chapter Eighteen

Dylan called on Wednesday morning during the inn’s breakfast service and left a message on Ella’s voice mail. “I’ve made a reservation for tonight’s sunset champagne cruise on Synchronicity Too,” he’d said. “I’ll pick you up precisely at five o’clock, and please dress appropriately.”

What the hell did that mean? And she was kind of disappointed that he’d called when she’d been at work. Because she wouldn’t have minded talking to him.

Which was the problem right there. A girl could fall in love with Dylan Killough, and what a disaster that would be, because he’d made it pretty clear that whatever was going on between them was nothing more than a summer fling.

And she didn’t blame him for thinking that way. She’d told him that was all she wanted. But then again, sleeping with Dylan had been mind-altering. More important, there had been that moment at Granny’s when he’d leaned in and told her that she’d missed a spot on that casserole dish.

Yeah. That had been sexy as hell. No, not merely sexy. It had been endearing. It had been the sort of thing that wormed its way into a woman’s heart.

So yeah. She liked him. More than was wise. More than she could ever admit.

And he didn’t understand. He thought they could sneak around, have a fun time, and it would all be okay in the end. But that wasn’t possible. There would be heartbreak if she let herself fall all the way. And that would ruin everything for Mom and Jim.

She couldn’t do it.

She needed to discourage him. She needed to discourage herself. And that little tag at the end of his message was a good place to start. Did he think she dressed inappropriately?

Her mind flashed hot on the memory of his long fingers deftly working the buttons of the dress she’d worn on Easter Sunday. It hadn’t been an overtly sexy dress, but he certainly hadn’t had a lot of trouble getting her out of it.

She opened her closet door and considered a wardrobe filled with dresses exactly like the one she’d worn on Easter. Maybe she needed something more like a chastity belt.

Or maybe he was sending a signal that he was ready for more fun times between the sheets.

What did appropriately mean, exactly? She stared at her paltry collection of dresses and decided she had nothing “appropriate” to wear tonight. What she needed was something that would discourage him. Like a high-necked, long-sleeved, ugly thing that maybe a grandmother—not Granny, of course—might wear to a funeral.

A shopping trip was required, but she had no car, no time, and, really, no clue. So she flopped down on the bed and called Granny. “Dylan and I are going on the champagne sunset cruise tonight.”

“What?” Granny sounded concerned.

“Yeah. We’re checking it out as a party venue.”

“Oh. That’s a novel idea. You know Brenda and Jim’s first date was on Synchronicity Too.”

“So I heard.”

“But that boat isn’t nearly big enough.”

“That’s good, right? We can pare down the list.”

“I guess. I think Brenda might like the idea.”

“I hope so, because I’ve run out of ideas. But, Granny, I have a problem.”

“Oh dear.” Granny sounded even more concerned.

“It’s not that big of a problem, Granny.”

“Oh, good. What is it, sugar?”

“Dylan left a message on my voice mail. He told me to dress appropriately for this thing tonight. Any idea what that means?”

“Uh…no. Not really. I haven’t ever been on the sunset cruise. I’m afraid I’m too old for that sort of thing.”

“You are not. But anyway, I just looked at my closet and you know I’ve got