I’m sure we can take care of in no time.”
Piper slid back in her chair and let out a skeptical sounding, “Uh-huh.”
Zoe ignored her. Carson apparently hadn’t noticed Piper’s petulance and instead seemed to be zeroing in on Zoe’s optimism. His striking face brightened. The change in his demeanor was astounding and Zoe felt the tension she’d had in her shoulders relax.
“Can I get you anything before we start?” Zoe asked Carson. “Water? Coffee? Beer?”
He hesitated and briefly cleared his throat. “A cup of black tea with milk would be great.”
Piper stood. “Comin’ right up,” she said with a touch of snark to her voice. “Tea for the cowboy.”
While Piper busied herself with Carson’s tea, a beverage Zoe never guessed a rough-and-tumble guy like Carson would ever drink, Zoe brought up their website and began showing Carson possible floral arrangements for the church. The weird thing about being that close to Carson Grant was the fact that if he wasn’t her client and getting married in a few weeks, she would be swooning all over him.
She’d had a crush on Carson ever since they were kids. The town was big enough that she had never known him personally when they were growing up, but she’d seen him around enough to be drawn to him even then. Plus, his riding abilities were legendary. When he became the grand marshal for the annual Fourth of July parade three years ago, she couldn’t help but be attracted to him sitting up there on that majestic black stallion.
He’d always been the town catch, even if she’d never seriously been in the running.
Piper had told her to make a move on him back then, and she had, but it hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped. Asking for his autograph was not exactly what Piper had had in mind, especially when Zoe had been just one of many women who’d stood in line that day.
When he’d shared some family secrets with her at Kayla’s rehearsal dinner and then assured her that he’d get his sister to the church for her wedding, Zoe had felt they’d made a connection, at least on a friendship basis. But when he’d driven right past the church with his sister crying in the backseat, all thoughts of friendship quickly faded. If they had been friends, he surely would have stopped and allowed her to talk to Kayla.
Now he was getting married to the darling of the rodeo circuit, and Zoe was planning their wedding. She was thankful for the business, but if she had a choice, she would rather be preparing a wedding for just about anybody but the man sitting next to her.
Still, if there was any truth to what Piper had said about him and his fiancée being on the skids... But that was impossible. What woman in her right mind would give up on Carson Grant?
Certainly not his fiancée, his soul mate, Marilyn Rose.
“I haven’t told anyone yet,” Carson said to his cousin Father Beau Grant, one of the priests at St. Paul’s. “No, wait, that’s not entirely true. My eighty-two-year-old neighbor Sal knows.”
St. Paul’s Catholic Church had been built to reflect the art of the day, with a high, ornate ceiling, gilded gold-leafed cornices and a long railing that separated the sanctuary from the rest of the church. The pinnacled, decorated altar stood under a colorful stained-glass window reminiscent of the rose window in Notre Dame Cathedral in France. The limestone building with its arched, colorful windows depicting St. Paul in various stages of his life was one of the first churches built in the Teton Valley. A fact Carson had learned from his cousin Beau during his altar boy days when Beau had chosen to spend most of his Sunday mornings inside the church rather than helping out on the ranch. It was right around that time when Beau had confided in Carson that he wanted to be a priest, preferably at St. Paul’s.
His dream came true two years ago when Father George, who’d been getting up there in years, requested a smaller parish from his bishop, and Father Beau was finally able to come back home.
“You confided in your neighbor,” Father Beau reasoned, “but you can’t tell your wedding planner?”
Father Beau, a full three years older than Carson’s twenty-nine, had grown up on the Grant ranch with Carson, but hadn’t taken to full-time cowboying. Instead, he’d only ever wanted to be a priest. Carson never understood the calling, but always admired his cousin for believing in his dream and carrying it through.
“I’m sure white poinsettias would look best,” Zoe said as she stood near the altar, just far enough away so she couldn’t hear what Carson was saying to his cousin. He nodded his agreement while he held his cream-colored Western hat in his hand. “And some white hydrangeas, and maybe some white baby’s breath along the stairs to the altar, where you and Marilyn Rose will be standing.”
“Sounds good,” Carson said, raising his voice so she could hear him. The large church propelled his reply back to Zoe and sounded almost heavenly.
“I can’t condone lying,” Father Beau reasoned. “That’s just wrong on so many levels.”
Father Beau stood at the same height as Carson, six feet three inches tall, with the same slim build, and aside from their different attire—Father Beau in his black cassock and white collar—they both wore black Western boots. Nothing could take the cowboy entirely out of Father Beau, no matter what clerical garment he wore.
“I’m not asking you to lie, exactly. I’m merely asking you to keep your distance from Zoe so you won’t blow it for me until I’m ready to come clean. Besides, you owe me.”
Carson didn’t think that was too much to ask considering their history. Beau had skipped out in the middle of the night on more than one occasion to meet up with friends when they were teens and Carson had always covered for him. The way Carson had it figured, life had come full circle.
“And why aren’t you ready now? Seems like this is the perfect time. You’re in a church. I’m a priest. And Zoe Smart is gearing up for a wedding that isn’t going to happen. She’s been down this road with the Grant family before. Do you really think it’s okay to do it to her again?” Father Beau stared at Carson as a curious look washed over him. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to attempt to change Marilyn Rose’s mind. You’re not seriously thinking you can win her back, are you? You tried that once in high school with Lana Thomson and she ended up cheating on you the entire time you two went steady.”
Secretly, Carson had to admit there was a part of him that believed Marilyn Rose would come to her senses and run back to him, pleading for a second chance. That it was just some kind of ploy to get him to pay more attention to her and stop feeling sorry for himself. Both of which she’d told him the previous night. Harsh, but more truth than not. He’d been feeling sorry for himself, big-time, and he’d been ignoring her for some reason. But he’d been certain both of those things could have been talked out, dealt with and put behind them so they could go on with the wedding. And maybe they still could be worked out, if he called her or, better yet, flew to Vegas to persuade her in person. Perhaps that was the real reason why he couldn’t seem to find the right moment to spill the truth. Somewhere deep inside, he thought he and Marilyn Rose would get back together.
Or not...
“Nope, once burned and all of that... Look, I know you never liked my choice of women, but we won’t get into all of that now. Marilyn Rose and I haven’t been, well, you know, together since my accident. I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did. That woman’s a hellion in b— Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about sex to you, especially while we’re inside a church.”
Even though Beau stood right there in front of Carson, dressed in his black cassock, Carson couldn’t help but talk to him as he always had—like a trusted friend. “I’m a priest, not a prude,” Father Beau said. “I believe I remember a little something about the relationship between a man and a woman. You can say you two haven’t had sex since your