a friend.” He raised his eyebrows.
“I’m a big girl. And that’s going nowhere, so don’t you worry your head about it.”
“That’s not what Jack says. He said you were necking with Rhys in his truck last night.”
This was what she didn’t miss about having brothers underfoot. They always thought it was okay to stick their noses in her business under the guise of “looking out for their sister.” All of it was a pain in the butt.
“Callum,” Avery chided softly, elbowing her husband in the ribs.
“Well, they weren’t exactly discreet on the dance floor, either.”
Taylor’s cheeks burned. “Rhys Bullock is a bossy so-and-so who likes to push my buttons. I’m no more interested in him than...than...”
A hand appeared beside her, reaching for the other champagne glass. She turned on him. “Could you please stop showing up everywhere I am?”
He lifted his glass in a mock toast, totally unperturbed. “I’ll disappear somewhere more convenient,” he said.
He did, too. Right back to the dance floor. The DJ had put on a faster number and Rhys snagged Amy from Jack and swung her into a two-step. He turned her under his arm and she came back laughing.
“You’re jealous,” Callum noted.
“I most certainly am not.”
“You’re no better at lying now than you were when we were kids. Dad always said the poker face gene passed you by.” Callum grinned, but he couldn’t possibly know how much the words stung. Another criticism. She never measured up. She was always one step behind her brothers as far as her dad was concerned. One of these days she was going to show her father her accounts and watch his eyebrows go up. Those “frivolous” parties she planned brought in a boatload of cash.
Funny how the idea of that future moment had always seemed so sweet in her mind, but lately it had lost a little of its lustre. It was only a bank statement after all. There had to be more, right? Something more satisfying than the account balance?
“Don’t you have cows to milk or something?”
He laughed. “I hired someone to do that today.” His eyes twinkled at her. “And you won’t have to worry about any farm work, either, while you’re at the house. It’s all taken care of.”
“Good. Because you used to enjoy mucking around in the barns but I’d rather keep my boots nice and clean.”
He laughed, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “We’ll be gone tomorrow before you get to the house. I’ll leave the key under the Santa by the door. Make yourself at home and we’ll see you on the twenty-third.”
She relaxed and kissed him back. “Love you, Callum.”
“I love you, too, brat.”
They moved off to visit with other guests. Taylor took a turn on the floor with Ty, and Sam, and even once with her father. True to form, he complimented the wedding but in such a way that it made her feel inconsequential.
“You planned a nice little party,” he said, smiling at her.
Her throat tightened. Eighty guests, wedding party, church, venue, catering, flowers and all the other tiny details it took to put a wedding together in a ridiculously short amount of time. And it was “little”?
“Thanks,” she said, deflated but unwilling to rise to any bait tonight. Not on Callum’s day.
“When are you going to stop playing and start putting that business degree to good use?” he asked.
“I am putting my degree to use,” she returned, moving automatically to the music. “Just ask my accountant.”
“Planning parties?”
“I know you’ve never understood that. You wanted me to be a fund manager. I’d be bored to death, Dad.”
She made herself look into his face as she said it. For a moment he’d almost looked hurt. How was that even possible?
Conversation dropped for a minute or so before Harry recovered and changed the subject, talking nonstop about Nell and how it was wonderful to have a grandchild to spoil. The dance ended just in time—she was starting to worry he was
“I’m a big girl. And that’s going nowhere, so don’t you worry your head about it.”
“That’s not what Jack says. He said you were necking with Rhys in his truck last night.”
This was what she didn’t miss about having brothers underfoot. They always thought it was okay to stick their noses in her business under the guise of “looking out for their sister.” All of it was a pain in the butt.
“Callum,” Avery chided softly, elbowing her husband in the ribs.
“Well, they weren’t exactly discreet on the dance floor, either.”
Taylor’s cheeks burned. “Rhys Bullock is a bossy so-and-so who likes to push my buttons. I’m no more interested in him than...than...”
A hand appeared beside her, reaching for the other champagne glass. She turned on him. “Could you please stop showing up everywhere I am?”
He lifted his glass in a mock toast, totally unperturbed. “I’ll disappear somewhere more convenient,” he said.
He did, too. Right back to the dance floor. The DJ had put on a faster number and Rhys snagged Amy from Jack and swung her into a two-step. He turned her under his arm and she came back laughing.
“You’re jealous,” Callum noted.
“I most certainly am not.”
“You’re no better at lying now than you were when we were kids. Dad always said the poker face gene passed you by.” Callum grinned, but he couldn’t possibly know how much the words stung. Another criticism. She never measured up. She was always one step behind her brothers as far as her dad was concerned. One of these days she was going to show her father her accounts and watch his eyebrows go up. Those “frivolous” parties she planned brought in a boatload of cash.
Funny how the idea of that future moment had always seemed so sweet in her mind, but lately it had lost a little of its lustre. It was only a bank statement after all. There had to be more, right? Something more satisfying than the account balance?
“Don’t you have cows to milk or something?”
He laughed. “I hired someone to do that today.” His eyes twinkled at her. “And you won’t have to worry about any farm work, either, while you’re at the house. It’s all taken care of.”
“Good. Because you used to enjoy mucking around in the barns but I’d rather keep my boots nice and clean.”
He laughed, then leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “We’ll be gone tomorrow before you get to the house. I’ll leave the key under the Santa by the door. Make yourself at home and we’ll see you on the twenty-third.”
She relaxed and kissed him back. “Love you, Callum.”
“I love you, too, brat.”
They moved off to visit with other guests. Taylor took a turn on the floor with Ty, and Sam, and even once with her father. True to form, he complimented the wedding but in such a way that it made her feel inconsequential.
“You planned a nice little party,” he said, smiling at her.
Her throat tightened. Eighty guests, wedding party, church, venue, catering, flowers and all the other tiny details it took to put a wedding together in a ridiculously short amount of time. And it was “little”?
“Thanks,” she said, deflated but unwilling to rise to any bait tonight. Not on Callum’s day.
“When are you going to stop playing and start putting that business degree to good use?” he asked.
“I am putting my degree to use,” she returned, moving automatically to the music. “Just ask my accountant.”
“Planning parties?”
“I know you’ve never understood that. You wanted me to be a fund manager. I’d be bored to death, Dad.”
She made herself look into his face as she said it. For a moment he’d almost looked hurt. How was that even possible?
Conversation dropped for a minute or so before Harry recovered and changed the subject, talking nonstop about Nell and how it was wonderful to have a grandchild to spoil. The dance ended just in time—she was starting to worry he was
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