Beach Wedding Weekend Read online

  Then again, Tory also knew that good looks didn’t amount to squat.

  Kris’s brow had gathered into a frown at her words about his not being a star.

  That was rude, Tory.

  “Uh, I don’t listen to any music all that much, and when I do I like classics or Motown. No offense.” She pulled Edison’s leash as Kris pushed out of the underbrush. These woods extended toward a large lake on Salty Moffett’s land. Salty and Tansy had a love-hate relationship and people said they always had. Tory had often wondered if it had to do with a relationship gone bad, but she’d never asked. Tansy was very private and not open to personal questions. Tory hadn’t even known the woman had an injury until a week ago. Of course, that was mostly Tory’s own fault. She’d been stuck in her own blue world and hadn’t been out much herself.

  “It’s okay. I know not everyone listens to country music,” Kris said, emerging into the clearing, holding back a limb so she could pass.

  “Thank you,” she said, studying the still green patch of clover covering the slope and praying there were no stickers. Her mad dash barefoot had been unwise, but when Edison had turned toward Tansy’s and shot off like a rocket, she hadn’t had time to go inside and put shoes on. She’d stepped on a pinecone and knew she’d scraped her foot.

  Obviously, she and Edison needed to practice commands again. He’d done so well at obedience school but needed to have consistent practice. She’d slacked off over the last few months. Time for a refresher course on sit and heel.

  They arrived back on the graveled drive where Tansy waited. When she saw Kris carrying the draped bundle beneath his arm, her shoulders sank. “Oh, no. Not Loretta Lynn.”

  “She’s fine,” Kris said, patting the hen beneath the shirt. “I covered her so she wouldn’t see the dog and be scared.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” Tansy said, clasping a hand to her chest. Then she eyed Edison as he padded in front of Tory, tongue hanging, looking every bit as happy as a dog could look. Tory wished Edison would have the decency to be cowed, but no. Edison didn’t seem to ever feel shame.

  Tory shot Tansy an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Miss Tansy. Edison has been doing so well at his obedience training that I let my guard down. He loves coming to visit you…uh, and the chickens. You know he would never hurt them intentionally.”

  Tansy sniffed. “He’s a menace is what he is.”

  They all turned to look at the overgrown puppy with his shaggy coat, happy brown eyes, and smiling face. He looked nothing like a menace. In fact, he looked pretty adorable. He woofed and held up a paw.

  “See? He’s sorry,” Tory said.

  “Here, Aunt Tansy. Why don’t you take your chicken back…to wherever you keep her.” Kris handed the cloaked hen to his aunt.

  Loretta flapped beneath his shirt but settled when Tansy cooed to her. “It’s all right, Retta. You’re safe now.”

  Kris shot Tory a look. She was fairly certain it was a “has my aunt gone bonkers?” look. Tory gave a slight shrug as Tansy hobbled off carrying the chicken. She’d also taken Kris’s flannel shirt with her, leaving him clad in a thin t-shirt.

  With Tansy gone and the drama of Edison chasing Loretta over, Tory started toward her house. Her left foot hurt from the pine cone scrape and she tried not to hobble. A person had to have some dignity after running like a wild woman after her adorable but obedience-challenged mutt. “Better get Edison back home. Nice to meet you.”

  “You need a ride?” Kris called after her.

  “No. Edison would get your car dirty. He sheds a lot and that car looks—” she turned and glanced at his gleaming, granite gray Mustang GT, “very well taken care of.”

  He narrowed his eyes as if pondering what the dog hair would actually do to his leather interior. “It is, but you’re barefoot.”

  “I made it here. I can make it back. But thank you for asking.” Tory started across the large expanse of shaded yard, trying not to wince each time her foot struck the hard earth.

  “Looks like you hurt your foot,” Kris said, jogging to catch up with her. Edison’s tail thumped and he grinned up at the country music singer like he’d found his new best friend. Edison was fickle that way. He loved everyone, and life was big fun. Chasing a squawking, flapping Loretta, Tammy, or Dolly around the farm was a great game. Maybe Tory needed to adopt a new friend for Edison. Perhaps he’d stop thinking about playing with Tansy’s chickens if he had another pup to tug a rope with.

  “I’m fine. Probably a thorn or a little scrape.” She didn’t want to put this man out any more than she already had. She was embarrassed of her disheveled hair, ratty sweatshirt and bare feet in serious need of a pedicure. Ever since Patrick had dumped her, she’d let her beauty routine slide. Chipped toenail paint aside, she didn’t want to climb inside his fancy car with her hairy, drooling mutt.

  “Let me drive you back. I insist.” He placed a hand on her elbow, halting her.

  “No. I can make it. It’s less than half a mile.”

  “I know you can make it, but let me play the gentleman,” he said, with a smile that made her stomach do a loop-de-loop.

  Stop it, Tory.

  “It’s really not necessary.”

  “My Aunt Tansy would have my hide if I let you walk back barefoot. Come on. I can clean the seat if I need to.”

  Tory sighed. “Fine.”

  She hobbled beside him, praying Edison didn’t do something ridiculous like tear the leather seats or barf on the floormat. He was notorious for having bad timing. Once he’d done his business in the middle of the vet’s office right when the pastor of Charming United Methodist had asked her about her parents who lived a few towns over.

  Edison had been adopted from a local rescue. Tory had fallen in love with his exuberance and sloppy kisses on first meeting, but Edison’s past as an untrained puppy sometimes reared its head. Still, even polite dogs had accidents…and drooled.

  “You sure your foot is okay?” Kris asked, opening the passenger door for her. Her ex, Patrick, had never opened the door for her. He’d told her he believed in equal rights for women and that her arm wasn’t broken, was it? Of course, opening the door for a lady didn’t mean a man thought she couldn’t do it herself. It meant he was raised to be respectful. But in this case, it might be merely because she had a thorn or something in her foot and was trying to manage her overgrown canine who just happened to adore a car ride.

  “It’s fine,” she said, wincing as Edison bounded into the small backseat with the enthusiasm of a toddler at a playground. Kris clicked the front seat back and she lowered herself into the seat. The interior of the car smelled new and gleamed in the weak winter sunlight.

  Kris jogged around and slid into the driver’s seat. When he closed the door, the intimacy level went to threat-level ten. Tory shifted toward the passenger door to give herself some room. Kris smelled like pine trees and expensive cologne, both strangely inviting. She tucked her frizzy hair behind her ear and tried to make sure her elbow on the middle console was positioned beneath her dog’s drooling mouth without invading Kris’s space.

  He backed up, the car thrumming with power.

  “This is quite a car,” she said, trying to make conversation and catch the drool with her arm.

  “Yeah, I thought about a pickup truck. You know, country music bad boy and all, but I used to covet these bad boys when I was a kid. My parents had a ranch hand who had a vintage GT he liked to soup up and race all over the county. I thought that was the coolest thing I’d ever seen.”

  “It’s nice,” she said. Then she made a face. “You call yourself a bad boy?”

  He laughed. “No, but I liked the idea of the image. Like I was tough. That sounds lame, doesn’t it?”

  “I guess everyone wants to portray something.”

  They fell into silence as he pulled out onto the highway. The farm across fr
om Tansy’s had multiple blowup Christmas lawn ornaments at the entrance. The festive balloons bobbed in the afternoon breeze. Edison barked as the towering Santa dipped toward them. Kris made a neat right into her place and roared down the graveled drive.

  “Oh, you did do a great job with the house,” Kris said when her small farmhouse came into view. Tory was rather proud of the fresh bright white paint and black shutters. A swing hung on the front porch and she’d put bright patterned pillows in it. Ferns hung in between the rustic beams she’d used to support the porch. “But where are your Christmas blowup decorations?”

  His question had been teasing, but her response was the one she’d given everyone who had commented on the absence of her Christmas decorations. “I don’t have any. I’m not doing Christmas this year.”

  With that, she opened the door, flipped back the seat to let Edison bound out, and said, “Thanks for the ride.”