1
CHLOE
This weekend is goingto kill me.
I sit in my car outside of the gorgeous B&B where my cousin Georgia is getting married. It’s so perfect for her. The vineyards surrounding us, the sprawling scenery. Her level of rustic whimsy is right up there with Joanna Gaines. White roses climb the facade of the picturesque storybook home, blooms so fragrant I can smell their slightly sharp floral scent through my slightly open window. I haven’t seen my cousin in years. Not since we both went away to college. Me to Central Washington University, her to Sarah Lawrence. When she called me and asked if I’d be a bridesmaid in her wedding, I expected it to be somewhere on the East Coast. Nope. She’d chosen our home state, a location three hours from our hometown, because of all the men she could’ve met, she found her future in a guy we’d grown up with.
So far, I’ve struck out in that department. Two serious relationships. Two serious heartbreaks. Lots of meaningless flings to fill the emptiness in my heart.
Pushing aside thoughts of my situation, I step out of the car and walk around to the trunk. My small bag is heavy with everything I need for thisepic wedding weekendGeorgia has planned. Wine tastings, a bachelorette party, dinners, and of course, brunch.
I grab my garment bag from the backseat of my trusty little Honda, the weight of the three dresses on the hangers making me laugh. It’s ridiculous. I’m at home in jeans and cowboy boots, not lace and stilettos.
“Chloe!” my aunt Karen squeals from the garden path to my left. She rushes toward me, holding out her arms. My hands are full, but I let her engulf me in her abundant embrace. She’s just as I remembered, soft, comforting, and smelling of every flower you could possibly mix to create perfume.
“Aunt Karen,” I say through a cough as the overpowering perfume assaults my senses.
“We thought you’d never get here.”
I frown and start to argue, but let it go. I’m an hour later than the earliest possible check-in time. “Traffic was a bitch,” I mutter.
“Oh, watch your language, young lady.”
“I’m twenty-seven years old.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You’ll always be younger than me.”
“Am I the last one to arrive?”
One hand goes to her ample hip, and she rolls her eyes. “Not by a long shot. We’re still waiting for two of Porter’s groomsmen.”
“Oh, good. That’ll get me off your shit list then.”
She opens her mouth, likely to scold me, but stops and grins. “My list is long enough for all three of you. Come on, I’ll show you where your room is.”
I pull my suitcase behind me through the gravel driveway, past the main house until we reach a smaller structure. It looks like a two-story cottage with stairs on the outside leading to a door on the second floor. I’m really hoping I get the upstairs so I won’t have to hear my neighbor.
“We put you in the upper suite. It’s bigger than the rooms downstairs.” She hands me a key then stares at my cut-off shorts and cowboy boots. “I hope you brought some different…more appropriate attire for the next few days.”
I bristle, but only a little. I was prepared for this. “What do you mean? Cowboy boots go with everything.” Her face blanches because the woman thinks I’m serious. So, I put her out of her misery. “I’m kidding. I’ve got everything I need. Promise.”
She sighs. “This wedding is going to be the death of me. Between you and Porter’s friends, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at a pair of cowboy boots without having a stress reaction again.”
That piques my interest. “Porter’s friends are cowboys?”
“A few of them work on a ranch or something. They had the nerve to ask if they could wear their boots with their tuxedoes. Can you believe it?”
Excitement builds in my chest. Maybe they will be people I can talk to. Porter is in the financial business. Investment banking, I think. I expected most of his friends to be part of that same crowd. Rich, polished, perfect. It’d be nice to be able to explain my job, my passion for training horses, to someone who’d understand.
“Chloe?” Aunt Karen asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “One hour. Cocktails in the parlor. Then dinner.”
I nod. “I’ll be there.”
She walks away, and I climb the stairs, stopping on the deck to admire the view. In the distance, a truck rumbles down the driveway toward us, and I wonder if this might be the wayward groomsmen.
In forty-five minutes I’ve cleaned myself up from the three hour drive and am dressed in a tightly fitted black dress that hits me an inch above the knee. Tasteful and elegant are the words that come to mind, but I’m sure Aunt Karen will find something wrong with it. I put a jeweled headband in my hair and pin my long dark waves to the side. Deep plum lipstick finishes off my look, and I have to admit, I’ve gone from country girl to city siren in short order.
My shoes are too tall and I wobble as I walk, which is a problem considering the flight of stairs and gravel path I’m about to navigate. So, I slide my feet into the pair of moccasin slippers I brought with me and carry my shoes in one hand as I head to cocktails and dinner.