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But it was the expression on Jamison’s face that had grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go. A mix of love and uncertainty that held him frozen in place, as if he, too, were bound by the look, don’t touch mantra.
“It sure is, sweetie,” Rory said, injecting a positive note into her voice though she didn’t know which of the Porters needed her encouragement more. “Miss Lindsay has a whole bunch of dresses for you to try on.” Tilting her head in the direction of the changing room, Rory asked Jamison, “Do you want...”
Looking torn between Daddy duty and a man’s typical reaction of running as far as he could from anything girlie, he said, “I, um, think I’ll wait out here.”
“What do you think, Hannah?” Rory asked when the little girl hesitated. “See, your daddy wants the princess dresses to be a surprise, so he’ll wait in that chair over there.”
Like father, like daughter. Hannah looked indecisively from her father to the curtained dressing room and back again. Finally her blond head bounced in a nod. “You wait there, Daddy, and no peeking.”
Rory wouldn’t have thought Jamison Porter could look any more uncomfortable than he had two seconds ago, but his daughter’s instructions for him not to go peeking into the women’s dressing room had a slight flush darkening his cheeks.
Rory fought to hide a smile, but judging by the narrowing of Jamison’s eyes, she didn’t succeed.
Biting the inside of her lip, she shot a stern look in his direction. “You heard the girl, Mr. Porter. No peeking.”
For a split second, their eyes met, and Rory’s smile faded as something electric and powerful passed between them. Heat flared in Jamison’s eyes, a warning beacon, and she swallowed hard. He might not have looked behind the curtain, but when it came to her attraction to him, Rory feared he saw way too much.
* * *
The jingle of metal rings cut through Jamison’s relentless pacing, and he glanced over in time to see Rory slip through the curtain.
The one his little girl had warned him not to peek behind. His faced started to heat again at the thought. Not because his own kid made him out to sound like some kind of Peeping Tom—she was only four, after all. But because of the moment that had followed.
The moment when Rory had echoed his daughter’s words and his gaze had locked on hers and there’d been nothing—nothing—in his power that could keep him from mentally pulling back that curtain and picturing Rory McClaren wearing something far less than the old-fashioned dresses she favored.
Judging by the way her eyes had widened, she’d known it.
Clearing his throat, he asked, “Is Hannah—”
“She’s fine. The seamstress is taking some measurements, and Hannah wanted me to make sure you’re still waiting for her. She was a little nervous at first, but I think she’s getting into the spirit of things. So, please...” She nodded her head at the waiting chair. “Sit down and relax.”
He all but glared at the floral-print cushions that might as well have been covered with sharp thorns. Without some outlet for his excess energy, he’d likely explode. “Relaxing doesn’t come easy to me.”
“Really?” Rory drawled.
“That obvious, is it?” He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Maintaining a single-minded focus and blocking out the world around him had been a reflex since he was a kid.
His parents’ divorce—hell, their entire marriage—had been a battlefield, his childhood collateral damage. The fights, the cold silences, the endless digs when the other wasn’t around—Jamison had hated it all.
That volatile home life had made Jamison even more determined to keep the peace in his own marriage. He’d worked hard to give Monica everything she could need, everything she could want, everything she’d asked for and more.
And none of it had been enough to make her—or their marriage—happy.
Monica had always complained about the long hours he put in. Of course, Monica had complained about so many things that work became even more of a refuge.
A sweet giggle came from behind the curtain, and Rory murmured, “She’s a beautiful little girl.”
The innocent comment slammed through him. He needed to spend this time away from work with his daughter. He needed to find a way to reconnect, but he was at a loss to know how. And it galled him, he had to admit, how easily, how naturally Rory related to Hannah when for him it was all such a struggle.
“Thank you,” he said stiffly, wishing he could take more credit for the amazing little person Hannah was. But she even looked like Monica, a tiny carbon copy of his blond-haired, doe-eyed wife.
“She’ll make an adorable flower girl,” Rory said.
“I’m sure she will,” Jamison said. “I’m just not sure about this whole wedding thing.”
Rory cocked a questioning eyebrow. “The whole wedding?” she asked.
“Hannah’s role in it,” he amended, knowing he’d already said too much.
“I can see how she’d be nervous, walking down the aisle in front of all those people. But you’ll be standing at Ryder’s side, so all she has to do is keep her eyes on you, knowing you’ll be watching her the whole way, and she’ll do fine.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“I have faith,” she said lightly.
Of course she did. The Hillcrest wedding coordinator had faith, hope and light shining out of her. “Still, it’s a lot of pressure to put on a little kid.”
“Oh, I wasn’t talking about Hannah. My faith is in you.”
“In me?” Jamison echoed. “Why would you—” why would anyone “—put your faith in me?”
“Because I see the trust Hannah has in you. All you have to do is show her you’ll be there for her, and she’ll find the courage and confidence to move forward all on her own.”
All you have to do is be there for her. Little did Rory know how seldom he’d been there for Hannah during her short life. First because of how hard he’d been working, and then because of Monica... But now he, as Hannah’s only parent, was responsible for her health and happiness.
The weight of that responsibility pressed on Jamison’s chest until he struggled to breathe. And he couldn’t help wondering if his in-laws were right and if they weren’t so much better equipped to raise Hannah...
“Ever think maybe you put too much faith in people?” he asked Rory, his voice rougher than necessary and so out of place in this shop filled with feminine softness.
“Sometimes,” she admitted, surprising him with the candid answer. “And sometimes they let me down.”
“Rory—” A hint of sadness clouded her beautiful features. And that restless energy inside him changed into an urge to close the distance between them, to pull her into his arms and wipe the lingering shadows from her blue eyes...
“Daddy, look!” His daughter’s excited voice broke the moment, saving him from making a huge mistake, as she popped out from the dressing room. “It’s a real princess dress! Just for me.”
She giggled as she spun in a circle, the cream-colored lacy skirt flaring out around her tiny legs and glittery sneakers. The happy sound only magnified the ache, the guilt, pressing down on his chest. When was the last time he’d heard Hannah laugh?
“Just for you, Hannah,” he vowed.
From now on, everything was just for his daughter.
Because if there was one thing he’d already done far too many times, it was let the females in his life down.
So despite the attraction, despite the knowing, tender look in the wedding coordinator’s gaze, Jamison was going to keep his distance.
Chapter Three (#ulink_93cd2e03-abd0-587d-b211-2948a2a600cf)
“Oh, my gosh! Didn’t Hannah look so cute?”
Seated at a wrought iron bistro table outside the café, Rory smiled as she listened to Lindsay describe every detail on the flower girl’s dress. Not that she minded. The time with the sweet little girl was still playing through Rory’s thoughts, as well.
Which was much better than thinking of the girl’s not-so-sweet but undeniably hot father...
The bride-to-be’s recitation stopped on a sigh as she paused to take a bite of a double-chocolate muffin. “Why did you bring me here?” she demanded. “That was supposed to be my final fitting, and after eating this dessert, I’m going to need to go back and have the seams let out at least two inches.”
Eyeing Lindsay’s slender frame, Rory laughed. “I think you’re safe, and besides, we’re splitting, remember?” she asked before breaking off a piece of the moist top rising above the sparkling pink wrapper. She gave a sigh of her own as rich chocolate melted in her mouth.
“Perfect, so the seams will only need to be let out one inch.” Despite the complaint, Lindsay went in for another bite.
“You have nothing to worry about. Ryder is going to take one look at you walking down the aisle and be blown away.”
The other woman smiled, but as she wiped her fingers on a napkin, Rory could see her heart wasn’t in it. “Hey, everything okay? I know how busy you’ve been between the wedding and the benefit next week.”
As part of her job promoting Clearville and its businesses, Lindsay was helping Jarrett Deeks with a rodeo at the local fairgrounds. The benefit was aimed at raising funds and awareness for the former rodeo star’s horse rescue.
“Everything’s on track. Jarrett lined up enough cowboys to compete, and local vendors have been amazing about donating their time and part of the proceeds from their booths.” Despite the positive words, worry knit her dark blond brows, and she crumpled the napkin in her fist.
“So then what’s wrong...and what can I do to help?” Lindsay was a Hillcrest bride, but she was also a friend. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”
“You might wish you hadn’t made that promise.”
“I never make promises I don’t keep,” Rory vowed, her thoughts drifting back to her ex, Peter, and his many, many broken promises, but she shoved the memories away.
“Okay then,” Lindsay exhaled a deep breath. “Here goes... It’s Jamison. He and Ryder have known each other for years, and I can tell by how Ryder talks how close they are. He’s already told me there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Jamison, and I’m sure Jamison feels the same.”
The last part was said with enough worry for unease to worm its way into Rory’s stomach. “And what do you think Jamison’s going to do?”
“I’m probably being paranoid. But my relationship with Ryder... Well, let’s just say we didn’t get off to the best start.” The bride gave a shaky laugh at the understatement behind those words.
Rory might have moved to Clearville recently, but her frequent visits as a teenager had given her a taste of small-town life. Everyone knew everyone’s business. Which was why it was still something of a shock among the local gossips that Lindsay Brookes had managed to keep her son’s—Ryder’s son’s—paternity a secret for so long.
“But the two of you are together now,” Rory reassured her friend, “and that’s all that matters.”
She might not know the whole story of how Lindsay and Ryder had worked out a decade of differences, but she’d seen for herself how in love the couple was. The way Ryder looked at Lindsay—
Rory pushed aside the pinpricks of envy jabbing at her heart to embrace the positive. If Ryder and Lindsay could overcome such odds and find their way back to each other, then surely there was hope for her. True love was out there somewhere, but right now her focus was Hillcrest House and helping her aunt. Her own happily-ever-after would wait.
“I know. Things are going so well, but I can’t shake this feeling that something’s going to go wrong. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“And you think that shoe’s a size-eleven Italian loafer?”
Lindsay laughed. “You noticed that, huh?”
“I think it’s safe to say Jamison’s strung a bit tight for a guy who’s supposed to be on vacation.”
And was it any wonder she was determined to ignore the instant, unwanted attraction? If Rory had a type, she certainly didn’t want it to be Jamison Porter. He was a corporate attorney, for heaven’s sake! A shark in a suit when she was looking for more of a—a puppy.
Someone sweet, lovable...loyal. Someone willing to defend her and stay by her side.
“From what I’ve heard from Ryder, Jamison doesn’t do vacations. Ryder really had to push him to take this time off. I guess Jamison has some big deal in the works, but I think if he would take a day or two to relax, it might give him a different perspective on the whole wedding and, well, on me.”
“Lindsay, Ryder loves you. And as for Jamison, I think he and Ryder need to go out for a couple of beers and a game of pool over at the Clearville Bar and Grille. They can do the whole high-fiving, name-calling, competitive guy thing, and all will be well.”
Even as she said the words, Rory had a hard time picturing Jamison Porter at the local sports bar. He seemed like her ex, Peter, who was more interested in being seen by the right people in the right places. But then again, so much about Peter had all been for show...
“And Ryder’s asked, but Jamison won’t go. He doesn’t want to leave Hannah.”
And that did not sound like Peter at all. Maybe Rory had been too quick in making her comparisons.
“She’s had a hard time since the accident.”
“Accident?”
Lindsay nodded, sympathy softening her pretty features. “A car accident a few months ago. Hannah sustained a mild concussion and a broken arm, but she was the lucky one. Her mother was killed instantly.”
“Oh, no.” That lost look she’d picked up on in Hannah...and in Jamison. Rory had assumed it was nothing more than a single dad on his own with his daughter, far away from the comforts of home. She should have realized it was something deeper... “Poor Hannah. And Jamison, to lose his wife.”
“They were separated, and from what Ryder’s said, things hadn’t been right between them for a long time. But still...”
“I guess you can’t blame him if he has his doubts about love and marriage.”
“That’s what Ryder keeps telling me. Not everything going on in the world revolves around our wedding.”
“You’re the bride, Lindsay. Everything does revolve around the wedding.”
Lindsay dropped what was left of the mangled napkin on the table and leaned forward with a relieved smile. “I knew you’d understand, Rory! You’re the best wedding coordinator ever, and I knew I could count on you to help.”
Rory’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly am I helping with?”
“Well, with Jamison, of course. I thought if you could show him around town, spend some time with him—”
“Wait! What?” she asked in alarm. “Why me?”
“You have such a way with people. Of keeping calm and helping them relax. Not to mention how taken Hannah is with you. You saw that, and I know Jamison did, too.”
Yes, Rory had noticed Hannah’s shy fascination. Knowing the little girl had lost her mother added a sense of heartbreak to the tiny fingers that had wrapped around her hand. But it wasn’t enough to erase the memory of the dark, disapproving clouds brewing in Jamison’s gray gaze.
She’d dealt with enough parental disapproval in her relationship with Peter to last a lifetime.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Lindsay. With everything Hannah and Jamison must be going through—”
“That’s why this is so perfect!” her friend insisted. “Back home they’re surrounded by memories, but Clearville—and you—are a clean slate. I know this isn’t some miracle fix for what they’ve lost. No one expects that. All I’m asking is for you to show them around town. Give them a tour of Hillcrest House. You’re always saying how magical the place is.”
“So no miracles required, just performing a little magic,” Rory said wryly as she sank back in her chair. But she was already caving despite Jamison’s disapproval, despite her own reluctance to spend time with a man who made her heart skip a beat even when he was frowning at her.
Because once upon a time, Rory had found magic at Hillcrest House, and while her belief might have wavered a time or two over the years, it had never left her.
And when she thought about Hannah and the seriousness in her big brown eyes, Rory couldn’t help thinking that belief in happily-ever-after was what the little girl needed.
