“I’ll act as sous chef and no more. I’ll just finish washing these, and get them dried and put away for you. That wouldn’t be cheating.”

“You’re right. Thanks.”

As Laurel raced away to the next task, Mrs. Grady wondered why the girl didn’t consider maybe Del wanted some of that everything, too.

“Love,” she murmured as she washed. “Nobody inside it knows how the hell to handle it.”

NATURALLY, THE ONE TIME, THE ONE TIME, LAUREL NEEDED A REHEARSAL to run smoothly, move quickly, it turned into a circus show-casing a weepy bride—hormones, probably—a MOG woozy in the heat, and a groomsman woozy from a little too much prerehearsal celebration. Added to it were the flower girl and ring bearer—brother and sister—who picked the event to display their sibling loathing.

With two kids running and screaming, the bride indulging in a crying jag in her mother’s arms, and the MOG fanning herself in the shade, Laurel couldn’t duck out as she’d planned.

Parker handled it—they all handled it, but Parker seemed to be everywhere at once. Urging water on the MOG, iced coffee on the groomsman, herding the kids, and distracting the worried groom.

The MOH—and the mother of the battling siblings—did her best to restore order. But, Laurel thought as she passed out iced tea, the woman was outnumbered.

“Where’s the father?” she muttered to Emma.

“Business trip. Plane was delayed. He’s on his way. I’m going to take the girl, see if I can interest her in making up a quick little nosegay. Maybe you could take the boy—”

“Carter’s the teacher. Carter should do it.”

“He’s got his hands full with the not-quite-drunk groomsman. I think the MOH could use a little break, and maybe she can help the MOB pull the bride together. Mac and Parker can handle the rest.”

“Okay, fine.” Leaving Emma to smooth it over with the mother, Laurel set the iced tea and glasses on the table, then approached the boy. “Come with me.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

It seemed to be an answer he understood, though his brow knit in mutinous lines. He trudged with her, shooting looks that promised revenge at his little sister.

“I don’t wanna wear a tuxshedo.”

“Me, either.”

He snorted, derisively. “Girls don’t wear tuxshedos.”

“They can if they want.” Laurel glanced down at him. About five, she figured, and pretty cute. Or he would be if he wasn’t over-tired, wound up, and sulking. “But tomorrow all the men in the wedding party get to wear them. Wait. Maybe you’re not old enough to wear one.”

“I am, too!” Insult radiated. “I’m five.”

“Whew. That’s a relief,” she said as she walked him down toward the pond. “Because it would really mess everything up if we had to find another ring bearer by tomorrow. They can’t get married without the rings.”

“Why?”

“They just can’t. So if we had to find somebody else, it would really be hard.You’ve got a really important job.”

“More than Tissy?”

Tissy, Laurel interpreted, was the little sister. “Her job’s really important, too. She has a girl job, but you have a guy job. She doesn’t get to wear a tuxedo.”

“Not even if she wants to?”

“Nope, not even. Check it out,” she told him, and pointed at the lily pads. Near the edge one of them served as a float for a fat green frog.

When Del arrived he spotted her down at the pond, near the sweeping fronds of the willow, with her hand in the hand of a little boy with hair as bright and sunny as her own.

It gave him a quick start, a little jump in the belly. He’d seen her with kids before, he reminded himself. Weddings usually included a few. But ... There was something odd, maybe a little dreamy, about the picture they made, beside the pond, too far away for him to clearly see their faces. Just that sun-washed hair, and the joined hands.

As he watched they started back, the boy looking up at her, Laurel looking down at him.

“Hey, Del.”

He pulled himself out of that odd, dreamy picture and turned to Carter. “Hi. How’s it going?”

“Okay now, I’d say.Ten minutes ago, it was touch and go. We’re about to get started. Again.”

“One of those.”

“Oh yeah. I think Laurel ...There she is.”

Laurel stopped by a woman with a little girl on her hip, shared a quick word, an easy laugh with her. Then bent to the boy and murmured in his ear. He grinned as if she’d promised him a lifetime supply of cookies.

Del walked over to meet her halfway. “Make a new friend?” “Looks like. We’re running behind.”

“So I hear.”

“Parker’ll get it back on track,” she said even as Parker called for everyone to take their places.

Del stepped out of the way with Carter as Parker called out instructions, and the other three women guided and aligned.

It looked smooth as silk to him, with everyone smiling. He saw the boy and Laurel exchange a quick grin as he walked toward the pergola.

Moments later, she signaled to Del and slipped into the house.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

HE FOUND HER IN THE MAIN KITCHEN, MOVING FAST.

“I’m a little behind,” she began. “It’s not like a Parker schedule, but—”

He stopped her by getting in her way, moving in, drawing her into a long, warm, indulgent kiss. And when he felt her go under, just a little, just enough, he eased back.

“Hi.”

“Well, hi. Was I saying something before all my brain cells went gooey?”

“Something about schedules.”

“Oh, yeah. That. Okay. I have a nice sauvignon blanc chilling. Why don’t you open it so we can try it out while I get things going.”

“I like when my main chore is opening the wine. What was the problem with the rehearsal?” he asked as he moved to oblige.

“What wasn’t, is more like it.” She shot him a look over her shoulder with those bluebell eyes. “The bride learned just this week she’s pregnant.”

“Uh-oh.”

“They’re good with it. In fact, they’ve turned the unexpected expecting into a surprise instead of a problem.”