CONNOR stood in the centre of the dressing room at a formal wear shop in Red Deer, rolling his eyes as the salesman fluttered around, checking seams and hems. This had been his grandmother’s idea. He had thought he’d wear one of the two suits hanging in his closet. But, no, Gram had insisted he buy a new one. At least she wasn’t asking him to rent a tuxedo. The plain black suit was well cut and of fine material. The shirt he wore was snowy white and stiff, contrasting with the light blue silk tie. It was more than he was used to, but he had to admit it looked nice.
He had considered resisting, but then he’d thought of Alex and her wedding dress in the plastic garment bag in her closet. He remembered how she’d sat on his lap, saying nothing, just being there for him, and he knew he would do it for her. For Connor, the week before the wedding had passed in a blur. Between working, the stress of dealing with the industry crisis, and wedding plans, he’d hardly had a moment to call his own. He should have been preoccupied with thoughts of the ranch, but instead all he’d been able to think about was marrying Alex.
He’d asked her for a paper marriage. Certainly he couldn’t show her that his feelings were changing. Thankfully, he hadn’t had any moments to share with Alex this week. After their intimate scene the other night, it was far better to keep some distance between them. Especially since it was the very last thing he wanted. But what would happen after Gram left, and the two of them were left alone at Windover? He couldn’t avoid her forever. And being near her…did something to him so unexpected and astonishing that he wanted to run from it as much as he wanted to run to it.
He removed his jacket and handed it back to the salesman. He’d have to be very careful. They hadn’t discussed any sort of time frame, yet he knew that when the baby was born and she was on her feet she’d want to be on her own, to start her own life—one that didn’t include him. That was the arrangement they’d made, and he’d honor it.
He’d passed by the baby keepsakes in the jewelry store yesterday, wanting to buy a gift for her child yet knowing it would be a mistake. In the end he’d walked away from the silver money banks and cups. It was not his place to do such a thing, and no matter how his heart longed to, he knew it was impossible.
He had to guard his heart. Because she could have it all too easily.
When he stepped into the house, his errand finished and the garment bag in his hand, everything was quiet and still. “Alex?” His voice echoed through. Knitting his brows, he hung his suit over a doorknob and went in search of her.
He found them, together, in the garden in the mid-after-noon sun, their heads shaded from the sun. Gram wore her wide-brimmed straw hat, and Alex had taken one of his battered ball caps from the hook and pulled her dark ponytail through the back.
For a while he indulged himself and watched. They were laughing and chatting, Gram’s knees resting on a green foam pad and Alex, more flexible, squatting beside a row of peas, pulling out weeds and depositing them in a metal bucket. Gram said something under her breath, and Alex’s lilting laughter floated across the air to him. He smiled in response to the happy sound.
When he’d brought her here, she hadn’t known a pea plant from a dandelion.
Alex reached for a weed, a little too far, lost her balance, and landed on her rump in the dirt.
Johanna lifted her head, tilted back her hat, and laughed heartily. He couldn’t help but join in, and Alex swiveled her head to the sound.
He was chuckling, and she turned a brilliant shade of red that had nothing to do with hours in the sun.
“Sitting down on the job, Alex?” His long legs stepped over the rows of vegetables until he stood before her, offering his hand. “Gram won’t give you a break? She always was a slave driver.”
Alex took his hand. It was warm and rough, and her face flamed more at the touch. Since that night in the study she’d been careful to keep her hands to herself. And perhaps it was silly to get worked up over a little bit of contact. But each time he touched her it was easier to imagine things weren’t as platonic as they seemed. She withdrew her fingers slowly, savoring the touch. It was all she would allow herself. It wouldn’t do for her to get fanciful ideas only to have it ruin the tentative friendship they’d forged. Friends were hard to come by, and she’d had precious few over the years.
“Perhaps some lemonade’s in order.” Johanna’s voice intruded. “I’ll go in and whip some up.”
Alex pulled her hand from Connor’s and tried to smile at Johanna. “Let me help you.”
“Alex, wait.” Connor’s voice stopped her. “Gram, we’ll meet you inside in a minute.” He turned back to Alex. “There’s something I want to show you first.”
He took her hand and led her around the side of the house towards the east lawn, where the ceremony was to be held. She followed, brushing her free hand against her leg to try and rid it of the garden dirt. “I hope the weather holds for Saturday,” she tried cheerfully, knowing she sounded overly chatty but unable to stop the nervous quiver in her voice. “If it rains, I suppose we’ll have to move everything inside.”
“That would be a shame,” he rejoined smoothly, and her feet stopped abruptly at the sight that greeted her.
“You…did you…make this yourself?”
She stared at a pristine white arch, perfectly curved and accented with fine half-inch lattice. She’d thought the only canopy they’d have on Saturday would be the fluttering leaves on the poplar tree, but this would add a special touch.
“I did.”
“When did you find the time?” She pulled her hand from his, all eyes for the fine craftsmanship. Her fingers ran down the side, imagining it twined with ivy and a few roses here and there. “Oh, it’s beautiful, Connor. Simply beautiful.”
She turned back to him, gratified to see him smiling widely at her.
“You really like it? I wasn’t sure it would fit in with your plans. This wedding stuff is a little out of my league. My brain shuts off when I hear the words ‘floral arrangements’ and ‘table linens’.”
“Fit in? It’s perfect. Is this why you were spending all your evenings in the barn? I thought you were working with the livestock.”
He raised his hands. “Guilty as charged.”
She circled it, smoothing it with her hand, making it almost a caress. “I’ve always wanted one, but I figured the cost to rent one was too much, so I never even mentioned it.”
Her voice trailed away. “I’ll shut up now,” she whispered, blushing while he stuck his hands in his pockets and laughed.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you like it.”
“I do. It’s perfect.” Like you, she thought suddenly. He was nearly perfect. The perfect gentleman, solicitous and caring, generous and understanding. Hardworking and modest, and willing to accept her and her unborn child without judgement.
He stared at his feet suddenly. “I know Saturday isn’t a regular wedding day, but…”
“I know what you meant by the thought, Connor.” She smiled, a little ray of shy intimacy. “It’s a romantic notion for a rancher, you know. And I appreciate it more than I can say.”
Against her better judgement she went to stand before him and laid a hand on his forearm. “It’s not wrong to have wishes, to pretend that this is something that it isn’t. If we just went through with it, no fuss, no muss, it’d be cold…I’m glad you’re not that type of person. It means a lot, knowing you want it to be special in some way. Even if it’s not the real way.”