“I only want you to join us. We’re all still family.”
Sierra smiled. The residents of Mercy Ranch were more than family. They’d seen each other through some of the roughest times. They kept one another motivated. In the past couple of years, a few of them had gotten married, including Kylie’s marriage to Carson West, Isaac’s brother and the oldest son of Jack West. Jack owned and operated Mercy Ranch. It was his way of giving back to soldiers who had fought and been injured.
“You want me to help, don’t you?” she asked, knowing his real purpose for bringing up the dinner.
He grinned. “Yeah, I want you to help.”
“I’ll help,” she said. She wasn’t excited about it, but it would show them all that she hadn’t closed herself off completely.
“Good.” He lifted his arm to check the time. “About Max...”
“Another interfering male?” she added.
“No, he isn’t. He had a friend, a business associate. Max understands PTSD.”
“Right, but I don’t need him mucking about in my life.”
“Mucking about?”
“Go! I have work to do. Remember, I run this wedding venue for your father. And if you see him, tell him I’m not good at all of this happily-ever-after stuff.”
“I think he’s hoping it’ll rub off on you. I’m starting to think it must be working. A person who says stuff like ‘mucking about’ has obviously been reading some romance novels.”
“I don’t believe in romance.” She hid her face so he wouldn’t see the heat traveling up her cheeks.
“Don’t let Max get under your skin. He’s not much of a romantic, either. Too busy. I keep telling him women like it when a man shows up. Maybe someday he’ll find one he cares enough to show up for.”
“I don’t need to know about Max St. James.” Sierra shot him a look and then picked up the file and walked out of her office. She had a meeting and the last thing she wanted was to have her client’s brother on her mind as they met to discuss wedding details.
Max stood outside the doorway to Sierra Lawson’s office, catching the last few sentences of her conversation with Isaac West. He hadn’t planned on coming back today, but when he’d gotten home, his sister had informed him she had an appointment at the Stable wedding venue and he had to accompany her because, after all, it was his money she was spending.
He definitely hadn’t planned on listening in on a private conversation. But he hadn’t walked away quickly enough and had heard his name mentioned. Both were reasons to stay and listen. Now he had to make another decision: make himself known or walk away.
“Max, did you find her?” Melody’s question made the decision for him.
“That dirty rat.” He heard Sierra gasp, accompanied by Isaac’s deep laugh. “Listening in on private conversations.”
He stepped into her office, trying hard to be his normal composed self. After all, he was Max St. James. He knew how to keep his expression neutral to make the best deal. He didn’t let anything or anyone get under his skin.
So why did he feel like a teenager being called into the principal’s office? He pulled on the brim of the cowboy hat he wore and managed to not shuffle his feet.
“I didn’t hear much, and most of what I did assured me we won’t be best friends.”
“Max!” his sister gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. “I apologize for him,” she said to Sierra. “He isn’t usually this rude.”
“I don’t need you to defend me, Mel,” he told his sister. “I did listen to your conversation. But I didn’t mean to. I apologize. And Isaac’s portrayal of me is wrong. Mostly wrong.”
Sierra glared, her hazel-green eyes dancing with fire. He nearly smiled. Instead he opted for contrite, but, man, it was hard to do.
Sierra glanced from him to Isaac. She didn’t say anything and didn’t really need to. Her expression said it all. She was angry, cornered and...beautiful.
“I have to get home to my wife.” Isaac headed for the door. “Godspeed, my friend.”
“Prayers appreciated,” Max joked. Because he’d known Isaac most of his life, he knew that Isaac would never let him be “Max St. James, Tech Tycoon.” With Isaac, he was just Max, number 32 on the Hope High basketball and baseball teams, a decent partner in team roping and someone most parents warned their kids to steer clear of.
“Men!” Melody snorted as Isaac left. “Now, let’s show my brother the venue. He’s going to love it so much, he’ll want to get married here.”
“Oh, are you engaged, Mr. St. James?” Sierra asked, her wide-eyed expression telling him she knew he wasn’t.
“No and I have no intentions of getting married anytime soon. Let’s have a look at the venue and then we can discuss the plans that have already been made.”
Sierra led them through the building that had been built like an overlarge stable. The main area, longer than it was wide and with a cathedral ceiling, was the wedding chapel. What might have been an indoor arena was the reception area. The entire venue was light and airy. Stained glass in the chapel allowed warm, golden light to seep into the large, open room.
Melody talked in great detail about flowers, decorations, food. He tried to focus but it all sounded like she was speaking a foreign language. He’d never expected this from his sister. She’d always been so rational.
He didn’t want to interfere but he had doubts about the fiancé who hadn’t stepped foot on Oklahoma soil in months. According to Melody, he was busy working in California. Max hoped that was the truth.
“What do you think, Sierra?” Melody had hold of the other woman’s arm and he saw Sierra stiffen. But she smiled, as if trying very hard to accommodate his sister’s affectionate nature. “Heart-shaped filet mignon or salmon. Isn’t that perfect?”
Sierra’s face said she thought the idea was anything but perfect.
He swallowed and looked away but not before she gave him a look that begged for assistance. He shrugged but didn’t reply, leaving her to come up with an answer for his sister.
“I think that sounds costly,” Sierra said. “But of course it’s up to you. You’re the bride.”
“I’m paying for this nonsense,” Max inserted. “Why do we need heart-shaped food?”
Melody rolled her eyes. “It isn’t about need, it’s about want.”
“There would be a lot of wasted food,” Sierra informed Melody. “They would have to cut the meat to make the heart shape.”
“Oh, that is a waste. Okay, nothing heart-shaped except the cakes and cookies for the dessert table. And I’d like to do a traditional dance. My grandmother has been teaching me and she feels very strongly that the dance should be done immediately following the ceremony.”
“Traditional dance?” Sierra looked confused.
“Our grandmother is Assyrian,” Melody said over her shoulder as she hurried toward the stairs that led to the loft where the bridal party lounge and dressing rooms were located. The groom and his attendants had a separate building. “Our grandparents came to America in the sixties. They’re our mother’s parents.”
Following close behind his sister, Max walked next to Sierra, noticing her thoughtful expression.
“Our