8
Holt had known Cayla had skills. She’d bootstrapped her event planning business from nothing into a venture that made enough money to support both her and her daughter. But watching her put together a last-minute wedding reception cookout in three days was nothing short of awe-inspiring. It helped that she had an in with basically all the vendors in town. Even the Reynolds sisters, who owned The Misfit Inn and Spa, had been happy to allow her to use the inn as a venue for the party—something they seldom did, he was told.
As the weather was gorgeous, they set up outside, taking advantage of the space normally utilized for the weekly summer Jam Nights the inn hosted for area musicians. Extra string lights had been hung above what constituted the dance floor. Misty had made centerpieces for the mixed assortment of picnic tables, and Cayla had done something with ribbon on chairs, porch rails, and food tables that somehow pulled the look together into a cohesive whole. It all held a relaxed, festive vibe, though most of the attendees didn’t know the true purpose of the party. They’d all RSVPed to an e-vite to a showcase for the bakery—again her idea. He figured it was a good sign for their business that nobody had turned it down.
The scent of grilling meat permeated the air. Tables groaned beneath the weight of a myriad of appetizers and desserts. In keeping with the expected theme, he and the guys had provided a big chunk of those. The rest had been subsidized by Athena Reynolds Maxwell, Eden’s Ridge’s very own award-winning chef. And on a table near the dance floor was the three-tiered chocolate wedding cake he’d slaved over for the past two days. Even though this party was a calculated move to control the story surrounding their marriage, he’d wanted to give Cayla something special from him. Cakes were his specialty, and he wanted to wow her.
What he’d done, it seemed, was cast a spell over Maddie. She was circling the table like a shark before a feeding frenzy. When he spotted her little hand reaching for one of the carefully crafted white chocolate roses, he swooped in, scooping her up. “Not so fast. It’s not time for cake yet.”
Her bottom lip rolled out, her eyes going glassy with crocodile tears. “But you promised you’d make me cake.”
“Yep. And you get to have some. Later. But everybody’s got to have a chance to see the cake first.”
“But there are so many.” She dragged the last word out by several syllables of whine. “They’ll eat it all!”
“It could be worse, kid. Why don’t you go find Mimi?” He set her down, aiming her toward Donna, where she stood across the yard in conversation with someone he hadn’t met.
After much discussion, he and Cayla had kept the guest list limited to friends and family, rather than opening the doors to the biggest gossips in town. She had reasoned the news would spread fast enough as it was. Holt was still relatively new in town. Other than his partners, Rebecca, and some of the other Rangers in the area, he didn’t have other friends here yet, so the vast majority of people circulating on the lawn were friends of Cayla’s. That was something to see all on its own.
She was so much a part of the fabric of this place. There were so many people, and she had a smile and a kind word for all of them. She was every bit as much of a bumblebee as her daughter, moving from cluster to cluster, spreading her sunshine. He couldn’t help but be a little in awe of that. That sort of connection didn’t come easy for him. It certainly wasn’t how he’d grown up.
A hand slid through the crook of his arm. “I spy, with my little eye, a man who can’t take his eyes off his woman.”
Holt glanced down at Rebecca, his surrogate mom since he’d moved to Eden’s Ridge. “You know what’s going on.” He’d given her the update himself as she’d cut his hair just before the wedding.
“That doesn’t make it any less true. You two look good together.”
Because he liked the sound of that way too much, he grunted. “We’re pulling things off.”
She squeezed his arm. “Enjoy tonight, Holt. Regardless of circumstances, it’s for the two of you.”
Before he could form a retort, she looked off toward the dance floor, where Jonah was taking a microphone from Flynn Bohannon, one of the Reynolds sisters’ husbands. “Looks like it’s about time for things to get started.”
A muffled thump came over the sound system. “Is this thing on? Oh, there is it. Hey everybody! I’m Jonah Ferguson, and on behalf of Bad Boy Bakers, I’d like to thank all y’all for coming out tonight.”
In accordance with the plan, Holt and Brax began moving toward the stage to join him as applause rippled through the crowd.
“I’d like to introduce my business partners, Brax Whitmore and Holt Steele. They’d like to say a little something.”
Brax took the mic. “I’m Brax. As Jonah said, thank you for coming out tonight. And thank you for all the early support you’ve shown our bakery. We look forward to a big turnout at our grand opening in a couple of weeks.”
He passed the mic to Holt, who had to swallow before speaking. “Hi. It’s great to see everybody here, and I hope you enjoy the sampling of our food and the party that Cayla worked so hard to put together. Cayla, why don’t you come on up here and take a well-deserved bow?”
She joined them under the cafe lights, beaming a smile as she made a curtsy and took the mic from him. “Thank you, gentlemen. And thank all of y’all for coming out tonight to support Bad Boy Bakers.” She waited for the applause to die down before continuing to speak. “Now, here’s the part where we make our confession: This party isn’t actually about the bakery, although they did absolutely supply the lion’s share of the food.”
A murmur ran through the assembly as everybody looked at each other, trying to figure out what was really going on.
“See, the thing about being an event planner is that you’re usually so busy planning everyone else’s special occasions that you don’t have time to plan your own, and you kinda squeeze things in as you can.” With a smile, she held her hand out, and Holt took it. “Like spontaneously eloping on a Tuesday. This is actually our Surprise! We’re married! reception.”
There were hoots and hollers and a few “Holy shit!”s.
Cayla laughed, and the sound was its own music, not coming off the least bit staged. “I know this comes as a tremendous surprise since we basically didn’t tell anyone we were dating. But, well, when you know, you know.”
Her eyes met his, and all Holt could think was, Yeah.
“—so we pulled the trigger.”
He knew that this speech was largely performative. She was setting the stage, getting the word out. But he couldn’t resist pulling her back against him, tucking his head over her shoulder to press a kiss to the strip of skin along her collarbone. She trembled a little, her hand rising to comb through his hair. The microphone caught her little sigh.
Somebody let out a wolf whistle.
Cayla cleared her throat. “Right, so, we wanted to invite all of you here tonight to celebrate, have some cake and some dancing, and share in our mutual joy. Thank you for coming!”
She tossed the microphone without even looking and spun into him.
A laughing Jonah apparently caught it. “Congratulations, you two! How about we have the first dance?”
Cayla’s fingers dug into his shoulder as she looked up at him with unmistakable heat. Though he’d shared her bed every night after the first, he hadn’t pushed for more. She’d been manipulated in horrible fashion by her ex, and he didn’t want to do the same, no matter how much he wanted her. But he was grateful for the excuse to hold her close now. Thrilled to have reason to keep his hands on her.
“So Cayla’s daughter Maddie helped with the playlists for tonight, and she was very particular about what the first dance song should be.”
“Did you know anything about this part?” Cayla asked.
“No.”
When the steel drums sounded over the PA, followed by the smooth high strings, they both laughed, and he nudged her into a gentle sway. “‘Kiss The Girl’. Of course.”
Cayla’s eyes sparkled. “Didn’t know you’d be doing the first dance serenaded by a Disney crab, did you?”
He grinned. “I think we’re being match-made by the five-year-old.”
“That does appear to be the case.” Her pupils sprang wide, even as much of the crowd picked up the song and began to sing along. “So, are we gonna give the people what they want?”
It was his turn to swallow. He knew the cursory cheek kisses weren’t going to sell this. But he didn’t want to sell it. He wanted to live it. He wanted his wife to want him. “I’m a whole lot more concerned with giving you what you want.”
Her cheeks flushed and her voice went husky as she whispered, “Then kiss me.”
He was giving that kid the biggest slice of chocolate cake ever.
Lowering his head, he took her mouth, intending to only have a taste. Something appropriate for the audience that wouldn’t do more than draw out an awww or raise a brow or two. But Cayla opened for him, softening and blooming against him until the flavor of her soaked into his blood and set him on fire. He was absolutely lost. But also found. She was everything he’d hoped and so much more. He needed an island with total privacy for at least a decade or so to slake this devastating need she roused.
The dim, distant sound of whooping and cheering reminded him they were most definitely not on a desert island. And the song was evidently long over. With the reluctance of waking from the best dream, he lifted his head.
Cayla’s cheeks were gorgeously flushed, her lips red and swollen from his, her eyes glazed with lust. “We have to actually stick around for the party, don’t we?”
“Probably.”
“Damn,” she whispered.
Holt grinned and held her close. “We’ve got time. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her arms tightened around him. “Good.”
And as they braced themselves to face their guests, he hoped like hell that this was actually the start of something instead of more of their game of real-pretend.
* * *