The Best Man Takes A Bride. Stacy Connelly

“I’ve had Hillcrest House facts drilled into my head since I was a little girl. I could recite this information in my sleep. A couple of times, in the midst of wedding madness, I think maybe I have!”

      “Not just the tour. I mean the way you dealt with the guests and the staff earlier. You’re friendly and encouraging but firm enough to get your point across.”

      “I—thank you,” Rory said, far more pleased by the compliment than she should have been. She didn’t like thinking of herself as hungry for approval, but after her failure at the interior design firm in LA, finding success—especially at Hillcrest House—was so important to her. “I didn’t expect...”

      “Expect what?”

      She gave a small laugh. “You and my cousin Evie have quite a bit in common when it comes to the whole wedding thing.”

      Jamison and her by-the-book cousin likely had more in common than their negative views on weddings and marriage. A CPA, Evie was smart, well educated, as razor sharp as the blunt cut of her dark, chin-length hair. She was practical, pragmatic and more than a little cynical—the kind of woman Rory figured would impress a successful businessman like Jamison.

      Ignoring the stab of jealousy at the thought of Jamison and her cousin forming their own mutual-admiration society, Rory said, “Evie’s a genius when it comes to handling the books and the last person to believe in fairy tales, but sometimes she acts like I pull off these weddings with nothing more than a wave of a magic wand. She doesn’t seem to notice the hard work that goes into them.”

      “Look, Daddy!” Hannah’s impatient tug on their hands brought the conversation to a halt as they reached a curve in the pathway. An intricate lattice-arched entry led to the rose garden—a favorite spot for many brides and grooms to say their vows. Pink, red and white blooms unfurled amid the dark green bushes and the thick, rich lawn.

      Turning to Rory, Hannah asked, “Is that where you grow the flowers for the flower girls?”

      Not about to ruin the moment for the child, especially when she saw some of that curiosity shining through in her big brown eyes, Rory said, “It sure is. Why don’t you go look for the perfect flower? But don’t touch, okay? Some of the roses have sharp thorns.”

      Hannah’s pale brows furrowed as she glanced between the rose garden and back again. “Will you stay right here, Daddy?”

      “I’m not going anywhere, Hannah Banana.”

      A small smile tugged at the little girl’s lips, and Rory swore the sweet expression was somehow tied to the strings around her heart. She couldn’t help smiling as Hannah tucked her hands behind her back before racing—somewhat awkwardly—over to the garden.

      But it was Jamison and the unabashed tenderness in his eyes as he gazed at his daughter that had Rory’s emotions all tangled up in knots.

      He was a guest. And like any other guest who passed through Hillcrest House, Rory would quickly forget all about him. She’d forget all about this day, about walking with Jamison and Hannah beneath a cloudless sky. About the warmth of his skin as his arm brushed against hers. About the rich, masculine scent that tempted her to move closer and breathe deeper. About the longing to reach out and take his hand, knowing how something as simple as entwining her fingers with his would form a bond she would feel right down to her bones...

      Yes, indeed, she would forget all about that. Might just spend the rest of her life forgetting all about that.

      The strict talking-to had Rory straightening her shoulders and adopting a polite smile, neither of which were any protection against the power behind Jamison’s gaze.

      “I’ll say it again, Rory. You’re good at what you do,” he repeated, the intensity behind his words preempting any denial she might have made. “Anyone who doesn’t appreciate you is a fool.”

      * * *

      “Like this, Miss Rory?” Hannah asked over her shoulder as she placed a single rose petal on the verdant green grass.