Debbie Macomber - Summer Wedding Bells - Marriage Wanted / Lone Star Lovin'

Nash was beginning to irritate her again. “Why is it so difficult for you to believe that there’s such a thing as a happy marriage?”

“Because I’ve never seen one.”

“You haven’t looked hard enough.”

“Have you ever stopped to think that your head’s so muddled with hearts and flowers and happy-ever-afters that you can’t and won’t accept what’s right in front of your eyes?”

“Like I said, it’s past my closing time.” Savannah jerked open the shop door. The clanging bell marked the end of their frustrating conversation. Rarely had Savannah allowed anyone to get under her skin the way she had Nash Davenport. The man was impossible. Totally unreasonable…

The woman was impossible. Totally unreasonable.

Nash couldn’t understand why he continued to mull over their conversation. Twenty-four hours had passed, and he’d thought about their verbal sparring match a dozen times.

Relaxing in his leather office chair, he rolled a pen between his palms. Obviously Savannah didn’t know him well; otherwise, she wouldn’t have attempted to convince him of the error of his views.

His eyes fell on the phone and he sighed inwardly. Susan was being stubborn and irrational. It was plain that he was going to have to be the one to mend fences. He’d hoped she’d come to her senses, but it wasn’t going to happen. He was her older brother, her closest relative, and if she refused to make the first move, he’d have to do it.

He looked up Kurt Caldwell’s parents’ phone number. He resented having to contact her there. Luck was with him, however, when Susan herself answered.

“It’s Nash,” he said. When she was little, her voice rose with excitement whenever he called. Anytime he arrived home, she’d fly into his arms, so glad to see him she couldn’t hold still. He sighed again, missing the child she once was.

“Hello, Nash,” Susan said stiffly. No pleasure at hearing from him was evident now.

“How are you doing?” That was the purpose of this call, after all.

“Fine. How about you?” Her words were stilted, and her stubbornness hadn’t budged an inch. He would have said as much, then thought better of it.

“I’m fine, too,” he answered.

The silence stretched between them.

“I understand you have a wedding coordinator now,” he said, hoping to come across as vaguely interested. She might have defied him, but he would always be her big brother.

“How do you know that?”

“Word, uh, gets around.” In fact, he’d learned about it from a family friend. Still, he shouldn’t have said anything. And he wouldn’t have if Savannah hadn’t dominated his thoughts from the moment he’d met her.

“You’ve had someone checking into my affairs, haven’t you?” Susan lowered her voice to subzero temperatures. “You can’t rule my life, Nash. I’m going to marry Kurt and that’s all there is to it.”

“I gathered as much from Savannah Charles.…”

“You’ve talked to Savannah?”

Nash recognized his second mistake immediately. He’d blown it now, and Susan wasn’t going to forgive him.

“Stop meddling in my life, Nash.” His sister’s voice quavered suspiciously and seconds later the line was disconnected. The phone droned in his ear before he dejectedly replaced the receiver.

Needless to say, that conversation hadn’t gone well. He’d like to blame Savannah, but it was his fault. He’d been the one to let her name slip, a stupid error on his part.

The wedding coordinator and his sister were both too stubborn and naive for their own good. If this was how Susan wanted it, then he had no choice but to abide by her wishes. Calling her had been another mistake in a long list he’d been making lately.

His assistant poked her head in his door, and he gave her his immediate attention. He had more important things to worry about than his sister and a feisty wedding coordinator who lived in a dreamworld.

“What did my brother say?” Susan demanded.

“He wanted to know about you,” Savannah said absently as she arranged champagne flutes on the display table next to the five-tier wedding cake. She’d been working on the display between customers for the past hour.

“In other words, Nash was pumping you for information?”

“Yes, but you don’t need to worry, I didn’t tell him anything. What I did do was suggest he talk to you.” She straightened, surprised that he’d followed her advice. “He cares deeply for you, Susan.”

“I know.” Susan gnawed on her lower lip. “I wish I hadn’t hung up on him.”

“Susan!”

“I…He told me he’d talked to you and it made me so mad I couldn’t bear to speak to him another second.”

Savannah was surprised by Nash’s slip. She would’ve thought their conversation was the last thing he’d mention. But from the sound of it, he didn’t get an opportunity to rehash it with Susan.

“If he makes a pest of himself,” Susan said righteously, “let me know and I’ll…I’ll do something.”

“Don’t worry about it. I rather enjoyed talking to him.” It was true, although Savannah hated to admit it. She’d worked hard to push thoughts of Nash from her mind over the past couple of days. His attitude had annoyed her, true, but she’d found him intriguing and—it bothered her to confess this—a challenge. A smile came when she realized he probably saw her the same way.

“I have to get back to work,” Susan said reluctantly. “I just wanted to apologize for my brother’s behavior.”

“He wasn’t a problem.”

On her way out the door, Susan muttered something Savannah couldn’t hear. The situation was sad. Brother and sister loved each other but were at an impasse.

Savannah continued to consider the situation until the bell over the door chimed about five minutes later. Smiling, she looked up, deciding she wasn’t going to get this display finished until after closing time. She should’ve known better than to try.

“Nash.” His name was a mere whisper.

“Hello again,” he said dryly. “I’ve come to prove my point.”

“You want to prove your point,” Savannah repeated thoughtfully. Nash Davenport was the most headstrong man she’d ever encountered. He was also one of the handsomest. That did more to confuse her than to help. For reasons as yet unclear, she’d lost her objectivity. No doubt it had something to do with that pride of his and the way they’d argued. No doubt it was also because they remained diametrically opposed on the most fundamental issues of life—love and marriage.

“I’ve given some thought to our conversation the other day,” Nash said, pacing back and forth, “and it seems to me that I’m just the person to clear up your thinking. Besides,” he went on, “if I can clear up your thinking, maybe you’ll have some influence on Susan.”

Although it was difficult, Savannah resisted the urge to laugh.

“To demonstrate my good faith, I brought a peace offering.” He held up a white sack for her inspection. “Two lattes,” he explained. He set the bag on the corner of her desk and opened it, handing her one of the paper cups. The smell of hot coffee blended with steamed milk was as welcome as popcorn in a theater. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said next, gesturing toward the stool, “because it might take a while.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” Savannah felt obliged to say as she carefully edged onto the stool.

“It’s a great idea. Just hear me out,” he said smoothly.

“Oh, all right,” she returned with an ungracious nod. Savannah might have had the energy to resist him if it hadn’t been so late in the day. She was tired and the meeting with Susan had frustrated her. She’d come to her upset and unhappy, and Savannah had felt helpless, not knowing how to reassure the younger woman.