Engaged in Trouble (Enchanted Events Book 1) Page 2

  Leaving my bags, I walked around the back of the house, using my phone for a flashlight. Crickets chattered and mosquitoes rudely buzzed their welcome in my ear. I tripped on a step to the back deck but climbed on up, only to be faced, yet again, with two doors. The key refused to fit into one lock, but the weathered door on the left opened with no effort at all. I could practically feel the cool, crisp sheets already.

  My flashlight illuminated a small kitchen with granite countertops, white cabinets, and a dining set tucked into a nook. The hardwood floor beneath my feet creaked as I stepped into the room and—

  A large shadow flickered a millisecond before five hundred pounds of solid bulk slammed into my body and threw me to the ground.

  Lightning exploded in my head as it hit the floor, and my scream pierced the air. I kicked and struggled, desperate to get this intruder off me, while panic overrode any rational thought. I’d taken a self-defense class years ago, but I couldn’t recall a single move. Still screaming, I thrashed wildly and tried to claw this person’s face, but he took my hands captive.

  “Get off me!” I yelled. “My husband’s in the car! He has a gun!”

  The intruder stilled. With one large hand still wrapped around both my wrists, he reached for my dropped phone and shined the light right in my face. My thunderous heartbeat couldn’t drown out the loud sigh from the person hovering over me.

  “Husband, huh?” a deep voice said. “Maybe we should wait for him.”

  Oh, geez.

  I was pretty sure I knew that voice.

  My attacker released my hands and rolled to his feet, the light revealing one familiar face.

  “Beau Hudson.” My volume escalated with each word. “What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing in my house?”

  “You’re in my house, Paisley Sutton.” He flicked on the overhead light, illuminating a tableau I would forever call The Time I Faced Death and Didn’t Wet Myself.

  “This is my grandmother’s home, and I have the keys to it.” I pulled myself up to a seated position, my skull throbbing.

  This interloper was the brother of my childhood best friend. His hair was the color of toffee, and those eyes, blue as sea glass. Back in the day, just to look upon him made a girl want to write poetry and compromise every moral she had. None of that had changed. He’d been the hero of the Sugar Creek football team years ago, before picking up his high school diploma and heading off to the Army. He was tall and trim, his body contoured with muscles he clearly still maintained since his military days. I only spoke to his sister about once a year, but she always gave me an update on Beau. I knew he’d come back to Sugar Creek within the last few years, lucky to be alive—yet, as his sister put it, “not quite the same.”

  Beau had been the older, mature fourteen to my twelve. After sharing a plate of macaroni and fried chicken, we’d kissed at a church social. Then he ran back to school to tell everyone it had been a slobbery disaster.

  He took a knee beside me, and I scooted away.

  “Let me see your head.” His voice was as gruff as the stubble on his face. I’d just been attacked by a lumberjack. “Quit squirming.” He reached out a hand and skimmed it over my cheek and temple, his eyes intense on my face. “I could’ve hurt you.”

  My skin tingled beneath his touch. “You did hurt me.”

  His hand began an inspective crawl into my hairline. “I mean I could’ve killed you.”

  I rubbed my aching shoulder. “I was two seconds away from ruining your life with a well-placed knee to your manly bits, so I don’t think so.” My pulse had yet to return to normal. I tried to shrug out of Beau’s grip, but he wasn’t having it. “I’m okay.”

  Those blue eyes still on mine, Beau’s fingers slowly slid through my hair to the back of my head. “Does this hurt?”

  “I . . . I think I’ll live.”

  His gaze darkened. “You want to tell me what you’re doing in my house?”

  “I told you, it’s my grandmother’s house, and I’m living here for a couple months.” Good heavens, his fingers were magic. “So I think I’m the one who should be asking the questions.”

  “For the love of—” Beau’s expression darkened—“You’re the new neighbor Sylvie was so cagey about.”

  I frowned, certain I had the right address. “Neighbor?”

  “The house is two units. The back door you came in? It’s mine. I assume you’re living in the other half.”

  I slapped away his hands and attempted to stand.

  “Easy.” One strong arm curled around my waist. “We should probably get you to the ER. Have someone look at your head.”

  I was related to Sylvie. We were used to people suggesting we needed our heads examined. “I’m fine. I just want to get to my side so I can sleep. Apparently Sylvie gave me the wrong keys.” Probably on purpose.

  “I can get you in there.”

  “Is this going to involve brute force as well?”

  Brow furrowed, Beau gave my form another assessing look before he walked away, a slight limp marring his gait. He returned shortly holding a silver key. “Let’s get your luggage.”

  A few minutes later I stood behind him as he opened the door to my side of the house, carrying three bags as if they were no heavier than my purse.

  He took a few steps inside. “Welcome home.”

  I stood in the doorway, my feet unable to carry me any further.

  Welcome home.

  This town had been home. Before I got plucked from a high school choir competition to round out a girls’ band. Before I traveled the world and lived large. Before life said, “Never mind!” and kicked me off the train of success.

  “I hope you’re not waiting for me to carry you over the threshold,” Beau said, interrupting my maudlin thoughts.

  I mustered up a smile. “You’d do anything to cop a feel.”

  “Paisley?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Is it?” I couldn’t see how.

  “Sugar Creek’s not such a bad place. You loved it once.”

  “It’s no longer my home.”

  “We could re-create a certain church picnic—if that would make you feel any more welcome.”

  “So you can go and tell your friends I’m a bad kisser?”

  “Are you saying you want to refresh my memory?”

  I laughed, took a deep breath, then stepped inside the living room. I tiredly took in the charming setup. Old wooden floors, gorgeous white moldings, original light fixtures, and a vintage fireplace that had more character than my last few dates combined. It was a lot nicer than the Los Angeles apartment I’d been living in. Minus a tackle from an old flame, probably a lot safer too.

  “So, you’re moving back.” Beau didn’t sound any more excited than I was. He had taken a severe disliking to me in our high school years, claiming my wild ways were a bad influence on his sister. And they were.

  “It’s temporary. I have to keep Sugar Creek Weddings and More afloat for a while, then I’m selling it and heading back to LA.”

  “And how is the music world treating you?”

  Everyone knew the music world had long since spit me out. “Great,” I said. “While I’m here, I hope to work on my next Grammy speech in peace and quiet.”

  He nodded slowly, not even bothering to hide his smile. “So this shop you inherited. Have you seen it lately?”

  “No. Is it worse than I think it’s gonna be?”

  He grinned, a dimple forming in one stubbled cheek. “I’m sure you’ll handle it just fine.” Beau carried my big suitcase past a dining table with four chairs the color of driftwood. A vase of wildflowers sat in the middle like a little hello. “Master bedroom’s back here.” He led me down a short hall to a spacious room straight out of a HGTV show.

  A giant king-sized bed occupied the center of the bedroom with matching whitewashed lamps on either side. A fluffy comforter covered the bed, a gray throw draping the end. A slipcove
red chair sat in the corner with a burlap pillow emblazoned with my last name. Just waiting for me.

  “Don’t get any ideas.” Beau gave the bed a meaningful glance and set down my bag. “I know you want to throw yourself at me tonight, but I’m just not in the mood.”

  “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

  I watched his smile fade so slightly, and his eyes darkened. “We’ve all changed, Paisley.” He absently rubbed his right leg, as if a memory had pained it. “This town has a way of reminding you pretty often.”

  Chapter Three

  With coffee in one hand, I pulled Shirley into a tight spot on Main Street. Cars circled around the square, jockeying for parking spaces like buzzards searching for prey. What was everyone doing downtown this morning? Was there some event Sylvie forgot to tell me about?

  Without bothering to lock the car, I grabbed my purse and coffee and walked the flower-lined sidewalk to Sugar Creek Weddings and More.

  Located in a storybook house the color of cotton candy, the little business had held its ground near the square for fifty years. Owned by my great-aunt Zelda, the place was known for putting on some of the worst weddings in the history of the state. If you wanted glam and glitz, you traveled a few towns down the road. If you were okay with sweating through your gown at Sugar Creek First Baptist and drinking watery punch in the basement, Zelda was your gal. She wasn’t known for quality, but she was known for her ability to throw a cheap wedding together in days. If a couple had reasons for a hasty, classless production that wasn’t even accompanied by some good cake, Great-Aunt Z could fix you right up.

  I noticed the sign first.

  Enchanted Events.

  When had Aunt Zelda changed the name? I guess it was better than Sugar Creek Weddings and More, since everyone in town knew the more was the complimentary eau de mothball smell.

  The door chimed the same familiar tune as I stepped inside the lobby.

  But that brass bell above me was the only thing I recognized.

  “Excuse me.” A woman sailed past me, carrying three wedding magazines thick as encyclopedias and speaking into her headset. “Yes, we have the governor’s vow renewals scheduled for the twenty-fourth, and then Elegant Weddings magazine has their photo shoot here on the twenty-fifth. Can you hold? Enchanted Events . . .”

  I did a slow turn, wondering if the bump on my head from last night had addled my brain or sent me to some alternate reality. This didn’t look anything like Aunt Zelda’s shop. Where was the faded orange hotel carpet? The samples of polyester wedding dresses on zombielike mannequins? The lobby chairs that looked like the spoils of a bad dumpster dive? The Merle Haggard tunes on the crackling stereo? The shop had been totally renovated. It looked like . . . a real business. Walls of white shiplap, aged wooden chandeliers, seating areas with plush chairs, dark walnut floors. Workstations flanked the corners with sleek white laptops, where waiting brides-to-be sat and flipped through gleaming photos on iPads.

  “I don’t understand,” I whispered to no one in particular.

  A dapper man who could’ve been Idris Elba’s twin stopped beside me. “Is something the matter?”

  I blinked my eyes and sniffed the air. “I don’t smell mothballs.”

  “Enchanted Events is now known for more than smelling like granny’s attic.”

  “What’s happening here?” I couldn’t even find the right questions to ask. “I’m—”

  “Paisley Sutton,” he supplied.

  “Uh-huh. And I’m supposed to be taking ownership of—”

  “Sugar Creek Weddings and More. We’re now called Enchanted Events.”

  “And I’m really—”

  “Confused and overwhelmed.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “And also—”

  “Rudely late.”

  Not what I was going to say. “I’m here to meet the current manager of”—I waved my hand around—“this. But maybe I’m not in the right place?”

  “You’re where you’re supposed to be. Alice, get us some tea,” he yelled over his shoulder. “And you might want to spike one of them.”

  “This is not my Aunt Zelda’s wedding business. Her shop was a musty, dated, relic of a thing that she hung onto for a tax write-off.”

  “Then she hired me.” He stuck out his hand to shake. “Henry Cole.”

  “I was in Sugar Creek two years ago. I would’ve noticed someone totally transforming her business.”

  “I started not too long after your wedding debacle. But we don’t have time to revisit your travesties or hear of my miracle-working powers right now. You have at least five brides sitting out there.”

  I dumbly followed him down a hall, taking in all the hustle and bustle, the charm and class.

  “And those are just the ones who could score an appointment. Word of mouth is a powerful thing.”

  This wasn’t word of mouth. This was voodoo. This was sorcery. “Why didn’t my family tell me about this?”

  He turned a corner. “Sylvie swore us all to secrecy. Said you’d never come back if you knew the shop had gone big-time bridal, given your own nuclear bomb of a wedding.”

  “My grandmother is right—I want nothing to do weddings. I’m the last person you want making bridal decisions. So I’m just going to go on home and—”

  “Not so fast.” He stopped in front of a door bearing his name. “You’re our boss.”

  “But I don’t want to be.” My voice sounded small, whiny.

  He slipped into his office and headed toward his desk. “And I don’t want to be a devilishly handsome black man who’s freakishly good at wedding details and rocking the business world, while simultaneously canceling out any hopes of the female population thinking I’m straight.”

  “Uh-huh. Sounds like we’re both hitting hard times.” I fumbled in my purse for my car keys. “So it appears you’ve got things under control here, and I’d just mess things up. I’m gonna be one of those bosses who lets her employees do what they do best. Nobody likes a micromanager.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Henry said. “I’m quite familiar with the terms of the will. You have to show up to work at least eight hours to get a paycheck while you’re here—plus, Lisa’s on maternity leave, so we’re shorthanded and could use you.”

  “Is a newborn a good excuse to miss work? You should really be questioning Lisa’s loyalty.” I felt as if I’d requested a ride on a carousel, yet somehow wound up in the front cart of a roller coaster. This was so not going according to plan. On one hand, when I sold the business, it would clearly bring more money than I expected. But on the other hand, I was going to have to work in this frilly sponge cake of a store. “I have a lot to think about. Permission to take the rest of the day off?”

  “Permission denied.”

  “I’m the boss here!”

  “With a house full of employees who need you.”

  “They have you.”

  “They . . .” Henry sat in the leather seat behind his desk. “They don’t really like me. They’ve been waiting for you like it’s Zelda’s second coming. Your great-aunt was the heart of this place, and I’m the brains.”

  I was supposed to fill in for Zelda’s heart? Didn’t she know wedding plans made me break out in hives?

  “Here’s the deal,” Henry said. “You need me as much as I need you.”

  I lowered myself into the seat in front of Henry’s desk. I thought of the money required to get back to LA, to invest in my career comeback while not having to worry about rent and shutoff notices. “I’m listening.”

  “You shadow me, and I show you the ropes. We’ll have you cross-train in every department. And you can be the bridge between the employees and myself. Maybe counsel me in areas of . . . sensitivity, humility.”

  “And what makes you think I know something about that?”

  “I’m guessing from your last job as a cruise ship singer you know a thing or two about humility.”

  “I had unlimited access to the dess
ert bar on that boat.”

  “Also our dress code here is a black or gray top, black pants or skirt.” With open distaste, he took in my pink stilettos, the turquoise skinny pants, my glittery off-the shoulder Rolling Stones T-shirt with authentic band autographs, and the multiple gold necklaces around my neck.

  “I don’t wear head-to-toe black, but y’all go ahead.”

  “It’s protocol.”

  “We’ll discuss it later.” Like never. I had a closet full of designer and custom-made pieces from my rocker days, and it made this poor girl happy to incorporate my concert clothes into my poor girl daily wear.

  “Your first assignment is to help a bride-to-be select her bridesmaids’ dresses,” Henry said.

  I blinked in confusion.

  “We’re now one-stop wedding planning here. We handle tuxedos, dress selections, music, flowers, venues, catering arrangements, wedding cakes. We work with all the best vendors. Should I go on?”

  “Please don’t.” I felt as queasy as the first few days on that blasted cruise ship. “I know nothing about wedding planning.”

  “That’s not true. Sylvie said you organized your big nuptials all by yourself.”

  “Let me rephrase that: I have no interest in planning weddings.”

  “If you don’t work the business, you don’t get to own the business.”

  “What difference does it make to you?”

  “I know you want to sell when your time is up. And when you do, I want to be first in line. I have big plans for this place, so I’m going to make sure you don’t run it into the ground. Here’s my proposition for you—I make sure Enchanted Events stays afloat, and you let me buy the business from you for a fair market price.”

  Not even noon, and I was already wanting to clock out.

  “Without me,” he said, “this place sinks within a month.”

  “Okay, fine. Deal. The place is yours when I leave.” The sting of someone expecting me to fail was a refrain that never got easier to hear. It would always be a pointed arrow to the heart, even if I didn’t want this stupid business.

  “You won’t regret that.” He smiled unevenly, as if out of practice. “We’ve done a few parties and gatherings. It’s time to go beyond weddings and offer large-scale event planning. I’ll spare you all those proposals, but for now—we do weddings. And you’re going to learn every nuance of what we do. I coach you on the business, and you rein me in when I’m a bit—”