Read Online Second Chance With the Rebel: Her Royal Wedding Wish by Cara Colter - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cara Colter
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you’re off the approved list for renting the yacht club.”
He had a sense that wasn’t the whole story between the two women, but he played along.
“Boo-hoo,” he said, and they were both laughing again.
“I haven’t laughed like that for a long time.”
She hadn’t? Why? Suddenly, protecting himself did not seem quite as important as it had twenty minutes ago when he had come across her lawn to give her her money back.
“It’s really no laughing matter,” Lucy said, sobering abruptly. “Now I’ve gone and ticked her off—”
“Royally,” he inserted, but she didn’t laugh again.
“And I’ve got a caterer coming from Glen Oak, but they have to have a kitchen that’s been food-safe certified. The school won’t do.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll fix it.”
“We?” she said, raising an eyebrow at him, but if he wasn’t mistaken she was trying valiantly not to look relieved.
“I told Claudia I came back for the party.”
“But you didn’t.”
“When I saw Mama’s place falling down, I realized I might be here a little longer than I first anticipated.”
“Her place is in pretty bad repair,” Lucy said. “I was shocked by it when I first came home. I’ve done my best.”
“Thanks for that. I appreciate it. But don’t quit your day job.”
“She would love it if you were here for a while. Being at the gala would be a bonus. For her, I mean.”
Mama would love it. But staying longer than he’d anticipated was suddenly for something more than getting Mama’s house back in order. When he’d seen that barracuda taking a run at Lucy, he’d felt protective.
He didn’t want to feel protective of Lucy. He wanted to hand her her money and go. He wanted to savor the fact she was on the outs with her snobbish friends.
But he was astonished to find that not only was he not gloating over Lucy’s fall from grace, he felt as if he couldn’t be one more bad thing in her day. Mama Freda would be proud: despite his natural inclination to be a cad, he seemed to be leaning toward being a better man.
Lucy seemed to realize she was in her housecoat and inappropriately close to him. She backed off, and looked suddenly uncomfortable.
“Claudia is right. I’m embarrassed. What made me behave like that? You, I suppose. You’ve always brought out the worst in me.”
“Look, let’s get some things straight. Claudia is never right, and I never brought out the worst in you.”
“You didn’t? Lying to my parents? Sneaking out? You talked me into smoking a cigar once. I drank my first beer with you. I—” Her face clouded, and for a moment he thought she was going to mention the most forbidden thing of all, but she said, “I became the kind of girl no one wanted sitting in the front pew of the church.”
“That would say a whole lot more about the church than the kind of girl you were. I remember you laughing. Coming alive like Sleeping Beauty kissed by a prince. Not that I’m claiming to be any kind of prince—”
“That’s good.”
“I remember you being like a prisoner who had been set free, like someone who had been bound up by all these rules and regulations learning to live by your own guidelines. And learning to be spontaneous. I think it was the very best of you.”
“There’s a scary thought,” she said, running a hand through her short, rumpled hair, not looking at him.
“I think the seeds of the woman who would paint her house purple were planted right then.”
“You like the color?” she asked hopefully. “You saw my sample when you came in, didn’t you?”
He hated it that she asked, as if she needed someone’s approval to do what she wanted. “It only matters if you like the color.”
“I wish that were true,” she said ruefully.
“I remember when you used to be friends with Mrs. Billy-Goat Johnson,” he said.
“I know. But I think the statute of limitations has run out on that one, so I won’t accept responsibility for it anymore.” She tried
He had a sense that wasn’t the whole story between the two women, but he played along.
“Boo-hoo,” he said, and they were both laughing again.
“I haven’t laughed like that for a long time.”
She hadn’t? Why? Suddenly, protecting himself did not seem quite as important as it had twenty minutes ago when he had come across her lawn to give her her money back.
“It’s really no laughing matter,” Lucy said, sobering abruptly. “Now I’ve gone and ticked her off—”
“Royally,” he inserted, but she didn’t laugh again.
“And I’ve got a caterer coming from Glen Oak, but they have to have a kitchen that’s been food-safe certified. The school won’t do.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll fix it.”
“We?” she said, raising an eyebrow at him, but if he wasn’t mistaken she was trying valiantly not to look relieved.
“I told Claudia I came back for the party.”
“But you didn’t.”
“When I saw Mama’s place falling down, I realized I might be here a little longer than I first anticipated.”
“Her place is in pretty bad repair,” Lucy said. “I was shocked by it when I first came home. I’ve done my best.”
“Thanks for that. I appreciate it. But don’t quit your day job.”
“She would love it if you were here for a while. Being at the gala would be a bonus. For her, I mean.”
Mama would love it. But staying longer than he’d anticipated was suddenly for something more than getting Mama’s house back in order. When he’d seen that barracuda taking a run at Lucy, he’d felt protective.
He didn’t want to feel protective of Lucy. He wanted to hand her her money and go. He wanted to savor the fact she was on the outs with her snobbish friends.
But he was astonished to find that not only was he not gloating over Lucy’s fall from grace, he felt as if he couldn’t be one more bad thing in her day. Mama Freda would be proud: despite his natural inclination to be a cad, he seemed to be leaning toward being a better man.
Lucy seemed to realize she was in her housecoat and inappropriately close to him. She backed off, and looked suddenly uncomfortable.
“Claudia is right. I’m embarrassed. What made me behave like that? You, I suppose. You’ve always brought out the worst in me.”
“Look, let’s get some things straight. Claudia is never right, and I never brought out the worst in you.”
“You didn’t? Lying to my parents? Sneaking out? You talked me into smoking a cigar once. I drank my first beer with you. I—” Her face clouded, and for a moment he thought she was going to mention the most forbidden thing of all, but she said, “I became the kind of girl no one wanted sitting in the front pew of the church.”
“That would say a whole lot more about the church than the kind of girl you were. I remember you laughing. Coming alive like Sleeping Beauty kissed by a prince. Not that I’m claiming to be any kind of prince—”
“That’s good.”
“I remember you being like a prisoner who had been set free, like someone who had been bound up by all these rules and regulations learning to live by your own guidelines. And learning to be spontaneous. I think it was the very best of you.”
“There’s a scary thought,” she said, running a hand through her short, rumpled hair, not looking at him.
“I think the seeds of the woman who would paint her house purple were planted right then.”
“You like the color?” she asked hopefully. “You saw my sample when you came in, didn’t you?”
He hated it that she asked, as if she needed someone’s approval to do what she wanted. “It only matters if you like the color.”
“I wish that were true,” she said ruefully.
“I remember when you used to be friends with Mrs. Billy-Goat Johnson,” he said.
“I know. But I think the statute of limitations has run out on that one, so I won’t accept responsibility for it anymore.” She tried
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