The Best Man Takes A Bride. Stacy Connelly
She might not know the whole story of how Lindsay and Ryder had worked out a decade of differences, but she’d seen for herself how in love the couple was. The way Ryder looked at Lindsay—
Rory pushed aside the pinpricks of envy jabbing at her heart to embrace the positive. If Ryder and Lindsay could overcome such odds and find their way back to each other, then surely there was hope for her. True love was out there somewhere, but right now her focus was Hillcrest House and helping her aunt. Her own happily-ever-after would wait.
“I know. Things are going so well, but I can’t shake this feeling that something’s going to go wrong. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“And you think that shoe’s a size-eleven Italian loafer?”
Lindsay laughed. “You noticed that, huh?”
“I think it’s safe to say Jamison’s strung a bit tight for a guy who’s supposed to be on vacation.”
And was it any wonder she was determined to ignore the instant, unwanted attraction? If Rory had a type, she certainly didn’t want it to be Jamison Porter. He was a corporate attorney, for heaven’s sake! A shark in a suit when she was looking for more of a—a puppy.
Someone sweet, lovable...loyal. Someone willing to defend her and stay by her side.
“From what I’ve heard from Ryder, Jamison doesn’t do vacations. Ryder really had to push him to take this time off. I guess Jamison has some big deal in the works, but I think if he would take a day or two to relax, it might give him a different perspective on the whole wedding and, well, on me.”
“Lindsay, Ryder loves you. And as for Jamison, I think he and Ryder need to go out for a couple of beers and a game of pool over at the Clearville Bar and Grille. They can do the whole high-fiving, name-calling, competitive guy thing, and all will be well.”
Even as she said the words, Rory had a hard time picturing Jamison Porter at the local sports bar. He seemed like her ex, Peter, who was more interested in being seen by the right people in the right places. But then again, so much about Peter had all been for show...
“And Ryder’s asked, but Jamison won’t go. He doesn’t want to leave Hannah.”
And that did not sound like Peter at all. Maybe Rory had been too quick in making her comparisons.
“She’s had a hard time since the accident.”
“Accident?”
Lindsay nodded, sympathy softening her pretty features. “A car accident a few months ago. Hannah sustained a mild concussion and a broken arm, but she was the lucky one. Her mother was killed instantly.”
“Oh, no.” That lost look she’d picked up on in Hannah...and in Jamison. Rory had assumed it was nothing more than a single dad on his own with his daughter, far away from the comforts of home. She should have realized it was something deeper... “Poor Hannah. And Jamison, to lose his wife.”
“They were separated, and from what Ryder’s said, things hadn’t been right between them for a long time. But still...”
“I guess you can’t blame him if he has his doubts about love and marriage.”
“That’s what Ryder keeps telling me. Not everything going on in the world revolves around our wedding.”
“You’re the bride, Lindsay. Everything does revolve around the wedding.”
Lindsay dropped what was left of the mangled napkin on the table and leaned forward with a relieved smile. “I knew you’d understand, Rory! You’re the best wedding coordinator ever, and I knew I could count on you to help.”
Rory’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly am I helping with?”
“Well, with Jamison, of course. I thought if you could show him around town, spend some time with him—”
“Wait! What?” she asked in alarm. “Why me?”
“You have such a way with people. Of keeping calm and helping them relax. Not to mention how taken Hannah is with you. You saw that, and I know Jamison did, too.”
Yes, Rory had noticed Hannah’s shy fascination. Knowing the little girl had lost her mother added a sense of heartbreak to the tiny fingers that had wrapped around her hand. But it wasn’t enough to erase the memory of the dark, disapproving clouds brewing in Jamison’s gray gaze.
She’d dealt with enough parental disapproval in her relationship with Peter to last a lifetime.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Lindsay. With everything Hannah and Jamison must be going through—”
“That’s why this is so perfect!” her friend insisted. “Back home they’re surrounded by memories, but Clearville—and you—are a clean slate. I know this isn’t some miracle fix for what they’ve lost. No one expects that. All I’m asking is for you to show them around town. Give them a tour of Hillcrest House. You’re always saying how magical the place is.”
“So no miracles required, just performing a little magic,” Rory said wryly as she sank back in her chair. But she was already caving despite Jamison’s disapproval, despite her own reluctance to spend time with a man who made her heart skip a beat even when he was frowning at her.
Because once upon a time, Rory had found magic at Hillcrest House, and while her belief might have wavered a time or two over the years, it had never left her.
And when she thought about Hannah and the seriousness in her big brown eyes, Rory couldn’t help thinking that belief in happily-ever-after was what the little girl needed.
As for Jamison... Well, there was some magic Rory wasn’t sure even a fairy godmother could perform.
* * *
As a corporate lawyer at Spears, Moreland and Howe, one of the most prestigious firms in San Francisco, Jamison Porter was at the top of his game. He was vying for a promotion that would make him the youngest junior partner in the firm’s history. He had a track record of success and negotiated million-dollar deals for breakfast.
So why was it he couldn’t win an argument with his daughter when it came to eating breakfast?
“I want pancakes.”
Still in her ladybug pajamas, her hair a tangled mess of curls—proof of another battle he’d already lost this morning—Hannah slouched in the dining room chair in a classic pout.
“Hannah...”
The key to winning any negotiation was coming to the table from a place of power, and in this, Jamison had none. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Not after he’d given in to her request for pancakes the day before.
But how was he supposed to say strong when his daughter’s willful tantrum broke down and she’d whispered, “Mommy let me have pancakes,” with tears filling her eyes?
And so he’d given in and learned the hard way a sugar rush was not a myth. Hyped up on the sweet stuff, Hannah had talked almost nonstop after leaving the bridal shop—mostly about the very woman Jamison was trying so hard not to think about.
“Rory says I can wear ribbons in my hair.
“Rory says I’ll get to carry a basket filled with roses and can throw them like it’s raining flowers.
“Rory says...”
But no matter how much his daughter talked, it was Rory’s voice Jamison heard. Her smile that flashed through his mind time and again. Her challenge to him to reassure Hannah that everything would be okay and her misplaced confidence that he would succeed.
His daughter didn’t need him to encourage her to walk down the aisle and be the best flower girl she could be. Rory had done all that on her own. Jamison doubted there was much the woman couldn’t talk a person into if she tried.
Sometimes