The Wedding Rescue Read online

  Mama laughed, then winked. “Do tell.”

  “A sassy mother in the house. Just what every daughter needs.”

  “After listening to three daughters carry on all these years, I figure it’s my turn and then some.”

  Bride-to-be Savannah breezed out from the kitchen, refreshing as a glass of iced tea on a scorching summer day. A cookie-cutter image of Mama.

  “You wouldn’t believe who dropped into town. Tanner. I was on the phone with Nathan when he noticed his plane landing over at Thistledown. His very own bush plane all the way from Alaska.”

  Charity sniffed a sprig of dried lavender. “It’s a Cessna. They’re everywhere.”

  “You don’t understand because you hate to fly. Anything higher than the back of a horse gives you the creeps.” Savannah stuck a dried pink rose in her hair, enhancing her already perfect appearance. “I’m engaged, and I love Nathan with all my heart, but think of the exciting things Tanner has done.”

  Charity watched her sister pout her perfectly full lips into a little bow that no male within a hundred miles could resist. That was the whole problem and had been since she’d turned thirteen. She sighed. “Once I had dreams like that, but I’ve just stayed put here on the Ridge.”

  Charity’s eyes rolled to the top of her head. “What about that year in New York?” Where the sleazebag agent had tried to take advantage of her. “And the six months in L.A.” Where some jerk had promised her a film career for favors. Of course, there was also Billy Ray. Savannah’s choice of men had left much to desire…until she’d woken up and discovered that the man of her dreams lived next door. Hallelujah!

  Savannah gazed out the window. “I was young then.”

  “You’re only twenty-nine now. Gray hair and Metamucil are a long way off,” Charity quipped.

  “Well, this is now, and Tanner Davenport’s a true inspiration.”

  Charity’s stomach tightened, her eyes crossed. She could barely breathe. Inspiration? Not another inspiration. Savannah’s inspirations always came at the expense of good sense. Charity reached for a mint. “Tanner lives in an igloo and chews whale blubber. That’s not inspiring. It’s just cold.”

  “He doesn’t live in an igloo, and I’m sure he never chewed blubber.”

  “You’re going to have a great life with Nathan. You’ll live in a big house and the only ice you’ll have to think about will be in your mint julep on Derby day. Forget Alaska.”

  Savannah rolled her shoulders—shoulders men had lusted after along with her lips. “You have no imagination.”

  “I can’t afford imagination.”

  “Of course you can, and I for one can’t wait for Tanner to tell us his stories about Alaska. Think I’ll have dinner at Thistledown tonight. Least I can do is spend an evening with my future husband and brother-in-law.” Savannah tipped her perfect chin toward the kitchen. “I have a pot of chamomile brewing. Anyone care for a cup?” Savannah turned and sashayed back into the house.

  Charity threw her hands in the air. She whispered to her mother, “Did you hear that? After a few Tanner-does-Alaska stories, Savannah will be on a road trip to heaven knows where. Then some loser guy will sweet-talk her out of her money, what’s left of the farm, and end up breaking her heart again.”

  “Least the share-of-the-farm thing only happened once.”

  “Once was more than enough.” Charity stood and paced. “Savannah’s marrying Nathan. Period. It’s the best decision she’s ever made. We all know it and she does, too. But what if she gets…sidetracked?”

  Charity raked her hand through her hair. “Why couldn’t Tanner be an accountant instead of an Alaskan bush pilot? Then Savannah wouldn’t want to hear any of his stories or care diddly what he’d been up to since she can’t balance her own checkbook.”

  Footsteps on the stones called her attention to the screen door and her approaching younger sister, Patience. At least, Charity thought it was Patience. Who else would be buried behind stems and leaves and roots dripping dirt everywhere other than the resident biologist home from college on spring break? Charity, Savannah, Patience. Oldest, middle, youngest. Horse farmer, beauty queen, plant nut. Sisters. Go figure.

  Charity watched Patience pry open the door with the toe of her scuffed hiking boot and set the growth on the table. She wiped her hair from her cheek, leaving a brown smudge. She might be five-ten, willowy and gorgeously blond but, like Charity, Patience hadn’t inherited the neat gene, either.

  She beamed. “Look what I found. Prunus serotina growing in the lower pasture, or was it the upper? It was one of them. The dry spring brought them out in force. Thought I’d transplant some of the new starts by the front of the house.”

  Charity picked a leaf. “Looks like a black cherry tree with white stuff on the leaves.”

  “I just said it was a black cherry and that’s larvae. It’s spring, Charity. There are bugs.”

  “It’s a fine tree. None better. Wonderful by the house, bugs and all.” She looked at Patience. “But right now we have a bigger problem. You need to give me ideas on how to get Tanner Davenport interested in me.”

  Mama’s jaw dropped. Patience’s eyes bulged. Together they said, “Huh?”

  Patience added, “Define ‘interested.”’

  “How about ‘enthralled.”’

  “Oh, brother. Why are you suddenly ‘enthralled’ with Tanner?” Eyeing Charity’s dirty jeans and shirt, Patience gave her a suspicious look.

  “I’m not. But it’s our only hope to keep him from Savannah.” Charity waggled her eyebrows at Patience. “Unless you want to do the honors.”

  “Not in a million. Why keep Tanner away from Savannah? They’re friends. I didn’t even know he was back on the Ridge.”

  “Well, he is. And I have to keep him busy for the next two weeks because if Savannah listens to his grand stories about Bigfoot or whatever else is up in Alaska, she’ll get a sudden attack of wanderlust and change her mind about marrying Nathan. You know she’d regret that decision for the rest of her life.”

  Charity spread her arms wide. A little melodrama never hurt. “It’s a great idea. Right? We’ll start with dinner tonight. Savannah’s going to Thistledown, so we’ll get Tanner over here.” She beamed. “Tanner would go anywhere for Mama’s fried chicken and corn bread.”

  Patience plucked a piece of hay from Charity’s hair and straightened her collar. “Fried chicken and corn bread might tempt Tanner Davenport for dinner, but the enthralled part…” She let out a deep sigh. “If he was a horse, you’d have him, but Tanner’s no horse. Have you considered kidnapping? We could just keep him in the barn for two weeks.”

  “Don’t know about kidnapping, but I’ll think of something.”

  Twenty minutes later Charity rode Ranger over the back path that, for as long as she could remember, had connected Thistledown to MacKay Farms. She stopped at the main house and was told Tanner was staying in one of the back cottages. She pulled Ranger up there, smoothed back her hair and straightened her clean blouse…now spotted with dust. If Puck hadn’t taken the wagon into town, and if the pickup hadn’t been on the fritz—again—and Savannah gone into work, Charity could have driven to Thistledown. Not that she minded riding, but once—just once—she needed to look nice. Nice enough to tempt Tanner.

  She studied her rough hands and uneven fingernails. Okay, forget nice. The best she could hope for was presentable. And what chance did presentable have with Tanner Davenport, who undoubtedly had the entire female population of Alaska snapping at his heels? Slim to none, that’s what. Being three years older than him didn’t help, either. No fresh young thing here. Mama’s chicken better have some darn good distracting powers.

  Charity dismounted, tramped up the wooden steps and onto the porch, pulled in a deep breath, crossed her fingers and knocked. “Tanner? You in there, Tanner? Open up.” No one answered, so she banged again. “Tanner?”

  The door flew open and a sleepy-eyed, bare-chested, muscled Tanner stood in the entran
ce. “Charity?” His eyes widened. He rubbed them, then looked again. “What are you doing here?”

  Salivating over you.

  “Charity?”

  A sprinkle of tan hair fell across his pecs and bisected his middle into two quadrants of fine, firm muscle. She swallowed. “Dinner.”

  “What about dinner?”

  The soft curls disappeared below the waistband of the zipped but unbuttoned jeans that rode low on his narrow hips. “I have no idea.”

  “We’ll talk later, when you make sense and I’ve had some sleep. I’m bushed.”

  He started to close the door, but she put her hands against it to stop him. She pulled her attention from his very fine torso to his face…rugged, unshaven, sleepy, sexy as all get-out. Concentrate…and not on Tanner. “I’ve come to ask you to dinner. Tonight. You said you loved Mama’s fried chicken and she wants to welcome you into the family.”

  Charity eyed the front porch of the neat white clapboard cabin where she stood. Looking at him was not good for her equilibrium. Until this moment she hadn’t known she had equilibrium. “Why aren’t you staying in the main house?” She nodded at the big redbrick Georgian that his great-granddaddy had built more than a hundred years ago.

  “It’s better this way. Nate understands. You could have called, you know, and I’d really rather spend the night sleeping.”

  She pointed to the inside. “You can sleep back in Alaska. And the phone was busy,” she lied.

  Truth was, she didn’t call at all because if Nathan had picked up, she hadn’t wanted him to know about the invitation. He’d have told Savannah and then she would have wanted to stay home to talk to Tanner all night. Not to mention the fact that if Charity had called instead of dropping over, she would have missed this delicious encounter.

  Tanner ran his hand over his face and shook his head as if trying to wake up.

  “Mama’s really counting on you coming.” She was not above resorting to a little guilt-tripping to make this wedding happen. Once Nathan and her sister had tied the knot, there would be no more guys to treat Savannah like dirt. No more sleazebags to pay off with MacKay land. Nathan Davenport was a prince and would treat Savannah like a princess. And, he had enough land already.

  Charity looked back at Tanner. His eyes were a bit more focused. They weren’t as dark as before, more the shade of hot chocolate. Snuggling up with hot chocolate on a cold winter’s night was wonderful; snuggling with Tanner would be even more wonderful. Of course, that would never happen, so why did she even think about such a thing? Tanner was a hunk, she was a…spinster? Well, not totally a spinster yet, but in a few years she’d have it nailed.

  “Okay, I’ll come. Wouldn’t want to disappoint Mama Kay. And we’ll have a chance to talk.”

  She spread her arms wide. “What do you call this?”

  “About the wedding.”

  “Still no ideas on the gift, huh? We’ll come up with something.”

  He gave her another of those long, steady looks. “Yeah, I really do have to come up with something. Maybe I can convince you to help me. See you at seven.”

  Charity mounted Ranger and turned in the direction of home. She looked back at Tanner who stood in the doorway—tall, magnificent, yummy. Common sense and good upbringing said, Okay, Charity MacKay, it’s time to turn around. Enough staring at the handsome man, this is really embarrassing.

  Ranger took the right bend in the lane and she turned a little farther left so as not to lose sight of Tanner…no shirt, no shoes, no idea what he did to her hormone level. She waved, he waved; then she turned a little more, lost her balance and slid clean out of the saddle, landing smack on her pride in the gravel. She hadn’t fallen off a horse since…ever.

  Tanner ran her way, concern on his face. She held up her hand to stop him as she got up, dusted herself off and called, “I’m fine. Terrific. Not hurt at all.” Except for my ego. “See you tonight.”

  She forced a grin while thinking, Ouch, ouch, ouch, as her bones realigned. She remounted, missing the stirrup on the first try, and said to Ranger, “Don’t you dare laugh, horse, or it’s gruel for dinner.” Whatever the heck gruel was.

  She nudged Ranger into a trot and headed home. What was wrong with her? So Tanner Davenport was back. So he was a mouthwatering male. So he was the first male who had piqued her interest in thirty-two years, other than Tommy Jones. She and Tommy were pretty good together; for a while she had thought he might be the one. Then Golden Rod had come down with colic, and there’d been no time for Tommy. He hadn’t understood that horses came first.

  But this was now, and Tanner was not Tommy, but he was still all wrong for her. That’s the part she had to remember. A struggling horse farmer in Kentucky with latent acrophobia and enough responsibilities to last two lifetimes was no match for an adventurous, handsome flyboy from Alaska.

  All she had to do was to keep Tanner away from Savannah until she married Nathan. After that Tanner could take his great body, dynamite smile and intriguing brown eyes and fly back to his iceberg. Then everything would return to normal.

  Chapter Two

  The late-afternoon sun inched toward the horizon as Tanner approached the white brick MacKay farmhouse, which was surrounded by pink azaleas and purple rhododendron. Green sprigs of weeping willow drifted on a breeze and the old magnolia by the kitchen sported white blossoms bigger than his hand.

  As he headed for the barns, the aroma of Southern-fried chicken wafting through the back door made his mouth water in anticipation. Saturday-night dinner at the MacKay farm, how great was that? Then he thought of Charity and her creamy skin and sparkling eyes and knew it was damn terrific.

  She intrigued him, but he didn’t need intriguing. He needed to talk to her about the wedding and to not get involved with her in any other way because he wasn’t staying. Alaska was his home now—the place that made him happy when Kentucky never could. He pushed Charity from his mind and concentrated on the aroma of fried chicken. That’s what he’d do from here on, replace thoughts of Charity with food. He spotted Puck and Charity by the stables as she scowled and kicked a rock across the driveway. “Blast that man!”

  “For once I’m innocent,” Tanner countered. “I just got here.” He nodded a greeting at Puck, who was tall, lean, forever wise and the best horse trainer in the state. Not to mention the best friend the MacKays had ever had. Hell, he was the best friend Tanner had ever had…besides Nate.

  Puck chuckled. “You’re off the hook this time, Alaska. It’s Billy Ray who’s got Charity’s dander up. She just came back from a less-than-pleasant meeting with the man.”

  Charity’s eyes smoldered. “I’m going to strangle my ex-brother-in-law with my bare hands.” She looked at Tanner. “And you’re early.”

  Her hair hung in tangles, as if she’d ridden like the wind from wherever she’d been. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes stormy. This went beyond intriguing and straight to sexy as hell.

  No, no. He couldn’t think about Charity as sexy. He’d get himself into another embarrassing condition impossible to explain. Think food. Crispy-fried chicken, tons of gravy. “I’m early because somebody woke me out of a sound sleep and I couldn’t go back. And I wanted to see if you were all right since your fall off Ranger. What’s your beef with Billy Ray?”

  Puck’s gray eyes widened. He gaped at Charity, then stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “You fell off a horse?”

  “Billy Ray’s my ex-brother-in-law, as of two and a half years ago. He and Savannah were married for six months, the longest six months in the history of mankind.”

  Tanner shook his head. “Billy Ray’s a jerk, always wanting something for nothing. Can’t count the number of times he tried to con me out of my biplane. Why would Savannah marry him?”

  “I imagine the marriage proposal went something like, ‘Come with me, baby, and see the U.S.A. on the back of my Harley.’ She was young and naive and went with him, but the only thing she saw was his mis
erable excuse of a farm and a lot of grief. At the time we didn’t have two dimes to rub together, so I gave him fifty acres of prime MacKay land in the divorce settlement just to get him away from her. I’m trying to buy it back. Rumor has it he’s selling it off…to somebody else. Won’t even consider my offer. Blast that man!”

  Puck scowled. “He treated Savannah pitiful. One of these days somebody’s going to take him apart. Hope I’m around to see it.” He looked to Charity. “You really fell off Ranger?”

  She gave him a slit-eyed look. “Bet Mama needs help in the kitchen. There’s rice pudding for dessert. Bet you could sneak some.”

  Puck turned for the house, saying, “Rice pudding might save you now, but not forever, Charity MacKay.”

  “I know, I know. For the next thirty years I’ll be hearing about falling off—”

  “Ha, you’re not getting off that easy.”

  Charity smiled but a worry line still creased her forehead, and Tanner was sure it had nothing to do with falling off Ranger. It was the fifty acres. Losing part of her farm must have been like losing part of herself.

  He wanted to hold her, to sooth the worry away. But he didn’t know how to erase the burden of years of so many responsibilities. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger against her cheek for a moment because he felt the overwhelming need to do something for her, no matter how insignificant.

  She looked at him, her emerald eyes filled with surprise, her lips parted just a breath. Oh, how he wanted to kiss those soft, sweet lips. He wanted it bad. But that sure as hell wouldn’t keep his mind off her. Her body seemed to be leaning toward his, her eyes luring him closer. Just one little kiss? Bad idea. “When…when do we eat?”

  “Eat?” Her eyes flew wide open and she took a step back as if she, too, had suddenly realized what they’d been about to do was a really bad idea. “Ah…soon.” We should do something in the meantime…like check on the horses. Come with me and meet Misty Kay. The pride and joy of MacKay Farms.”

  He fell into step beside Charity, keeping his mind on dinner and not on her fine shape or the way she held her head just so. They rounded the old wooden water trough and headed for the second stable. She seemed shorter, more fragile. His chest tightened a fraction. Charity MacKay was a lot of things, but he never remembered her being fragile…till now. “Tell me about Billy Ray.”