Fortune's Little Heartbreaker Read online

  His lips clamped shut.

  “What did she want?” Shannon asked quietly into the stillness.

  “What most women want—a lovely home, designer clothes, jewels.”

  “I’d settle for a man who loves me,” Shannon murmured.

  Oliver continued as if she hadn’t spoken. Perhaps he hadn’t heard her. His gaze had taken on a faraway look. “She wanted a child, so we had Ollie. He was an infant when she began a relationship with another man.”

  “She cheated on you?” Shannon’s voice rose, despite her efforts to control it.

  “She left me for him.” Oliver spoke in a tone one might use to report an expected change in stock prices. “They were together approximately six months when she replaced him with the man she was with at the time she died.”

  “It sounds as if she wasn’t sure what she wanted.”

  “Perhaps.” His expression gave nothing away. “All I know for certain was she no longer wanted me. I couldn’t make her happy.”

  “I’m sorry.” Impulsively Shannon reached over and squeezed his hand.

  “It was the failure of our marriage that bothered me more than losing her,” he said almost to himself. “Up until our divorce, I believed if I worked hard enough at something, I would be successful.”

  Shannon heard the disappointment in his voice. She knew what it was like to not live up to your own expectations. If only she could pull him close and comfort him as he’d comforted her not all that long ago.

  “I never heard what happened to your plans to attend the weddings with Rachel.” By the change in subject, Oliver made it clear the discussion of his failed marriage had come to a close.

  Shannon understood that, too. She often did the same thing when the subject of Jerry and how she’d handled that whole situation came up.

  “Rach is supergood with hair. A couple of the brides asked if she’d come early to help with final touch-ups.” Shannon waved a dismissive hand. “She was concerned about leaving me in the lurch, but I assured her it was no problem. I told her I’d probably catch a ride with you. If not, there was always Wesley.”

  His gaze shot to her. “Surely you would not consider—”

  “Not in a bazillion years.” She made a face. “I just wanted to see if you were listening.”

  “I always listen to you.”

  He’d listened to her that night when that scumbag had attacked her. And Oliver had held her while she cried...

  “I’ve decided if Wesley is there tonight—” Shannon swallowed her trepidation and forced a bright smile “—I’ll simply ignore him. There’ll be so many people that it shouldn’t be difficult.”

  “He won’t be there.”

  The words were said with such confidence Shannon had no doubt they were true.

  “How do you—” Shannon frowned. “You promised you wouldn’t say anything about what happened to anyone.”

  “You should know by now I’m a man of my word,” Oliver said stiffly, appearing affronted. “I didn’t mention your name or any specific incident. I merely told Quinn that Wesley was not the type of man he should have as a business partner or a friend.”

  Incredulous, Shannon could only stare. “He didn’t ask why you felt that way?”

  “Of course he did.” A slight smile lifted Oliver’s lips. “But he quit pressing for details when Amelia told him to trust me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I would never betray your confidence. Or my promise to you.” Oliver slanted a speculative glance in her direction. “Enough talk about that. Did I mention my brother Brodie will be attending the wedding?”

  “I don’t believe I’ve met him.”

  “He’s flying in for the ceremony.” A look of fondness crept into Oliver’s gaze. “Knowing Brodie, he’ll return to London as soon as possible.”

  As if sensing her curiosity, Oliver smiled. “Brodie enjoys the finer things in life. This town would not be his cup of tea. Too small and too rustic.”

  Shannon pulled her brows together, trying to remember the family history. “Is he older or younger than you?”

  “Four years younger.”

  “That means he’s between you and Jensen?”

  “Yes. Brodie and I are from our mother’s first marriage. Jensen is from her second.”

  Shannon tapped a finger against her lips. “I knew Jensen’s father had died and Josephine was a widow. Is your dad still alive?”

  “No.”

  There was a wealth of emotion contained in the single clipped word.

  As irritating as her father could be at times, Shannon knew she’d be devastated if anything happened to him. She reached over and placed a hand on Oliver’s arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He was a mean SOB who was not liked by most people, including his sons.”

  “Then I’m doubly sorry,” Shannon said softly. “Growing up with such a father had to be—”

  “I consider my mother’s second husband, Sir Simon Chesterfield, my father. He was a good man. The best, actually.” Oliver met her gaze. “You don’t have to be related by blood to be a parent.”

  “I agree.” For some reason Shannon thought of Ollie. She could easily love him as if he were her own. Heck, she was already halfway in love with the little guy.

  As the car slowed, Shannon glanced out the window. “Oh my goodness, look at all the people.”

  A man Shannon recognized as working for the Horseback Hollow Sheriff’s Department motioned for Oliver to turn into a large field that was now a parking lot.

  White golf carts, festively decorated with ribbons and fresh flowers, zipped up and down the rows of cars, transporting attendees to where the ceremony would be held. The drivers—many of them locals—looked quite impressive in black pants, crisp white shirts and red vests.

  Shannon wasn’t sure how many carts were running but had a feeling anyone golfing today would be walking eighteen holes.

  She waited for Oliver to help her out of the cart, anticipating the moment he’d take her hand and she’d get to touch him—however briefly—once again.

  To her surprise—and pleasure—the contact wasn’t short-lived. Instead of immediately releasing her fingers, he entwined his with hers and retained the hold while they waited for the cart. Unfortunately, once they stepped inside the open vehicle, he released her hand. But she felt encouraged when he rested his arm on the top of the seat.

  “I hear Jeanne Marie and Deke had the interior of the barn completely renovated for the reception and dance,” Shannon said as the large red structure came into view.

  “Mum told me the work has been going on for weeks.” As they drew close, Oliver’s gaze lingered on the large number of people waiting to be seated. “Apparently the carpenters just finished the outdoor stage where the wedding ceremony will take place earlier this week.”

  “It’s fortunate rain stayed out of the forecast.”

  “I have no doubt there was a contingency plan in case of bad weather.”

  “I can’t wait to see what everyone in the wedding parties is wearing.” Shannon could feel her excitement build the closer the cart got to the drop-off point. “I heard each bride has two attendants, a maid or matron of honor and a bridesmaid.”

  “More than adequate.”

  Typical man, Shannon thought. She bet he’d had a whole slew of attendants at his wedding. From the little he’d told her, his ex-wife had liked the finer things in life. Shannon briefly considered asking for details, then tamped the impulse down almost as quickly as it had surfaced.

  Right now she couldn’t handle thinking of Oliver marrying another woman.

  As if sensing her turbulent mood, Oliver took her hand. With a single touch her world, which for the moment had tilted on its axis, righted itself.

 
Sounds of a Bach concerto filled the air as the cart drew to a smooth stop. When Oliver took out his wallet to tip, the driver shook his head. “We’re being well compensated for our services. Enjoy the ceremony.”

  Oliver took her arm to steady her as she stepped from the vehicle in her heels.

  “Oh, my” was all Shannon could manage to say when her gaze fell upon the elaborate stage.

  Shannon expected a simple raised wooden platform large enough to hold four sets of brides and grooms and a minister. She hadn’t expected something that looked as if it had been carved from stone and borrowed from the Parthenon. Four fluted Ionic columns formed a semicircle, topped with an ornate frieze containing four vertically channeled tablets depicting hearts.

  Two steps led to the stone platform. Four tall urns filled to overflowing with gypsophila and delphinium were strategically positioned on the stage. The heavy mass of the white flowers was accentuated by deep red roses.

  In the center aisle leading to the “temple,” a white tapestry had been placed, flanked by red rose petals. White wooden chairs lined both sides of the center aisle. The ends of each row held bouquets of roses and greenery.

  “This is more elaborate than I imagined.” Though there was no need to speak softly, Shannon spoke in a hushed whisper.

  “It’s a Fortune wedding.” Oliver responded with a chuckle. “Prepare to be impressed.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As the lovely strains of another piece of classical music from the string quartet filled the air, Shannon’s eyes turned dreamy. “I take back what I said about not wanting to share my day with three other brides. If I could have this, I’d happily share the day with a dozen others.”

  Though Oliver could see how Shannon might be awed by the sumptuous arrangements, he thought how it paled compared with his wedding at Saint Paul’s Cathedral.

  Diane had wanted a formal, elegant affair, complete with trumpets and royalty in attendance. But the marriage that was supposed to last a lifetime had barely made it to the three-year mark. Diane bore her share of the burden for the failure, but he now realized that he did, too.

  “Oliver.”

  His name, said in that cultured British accent, had him banishing any thoughts of the past and smiling even before he turned. “Brodie.”

  Though normally too much of a buttoned-up Londoner for public displays of affection, Brodie Fortune Hayes surprised Oliver by giving him a manly half hug with a thump on the back.

  “Good to see you.” His brother glanced around. “Where’s the little guy?”

  “Ollie is with a baby minder for the evening. A couple I trust.”

  “Undoubtedly.” Brodie’s gaze slid away to settle on Shannon.

  “Brodie Fortune Hayes, I’d like to introduce Miss Shannon Singleton. Shannon is a friend. She’s also graciously consented to help me out by serving as Ollie’s nanny while I’m in Horseback Hollow.”

  “Miss Singleton.” Brodie extended his hand.

  “Shannon, please.” She smiled and shook his hand. “I knew you were brothers the moment I saw you.”

  At six feet tall, both men were the same height, with brown hair and vivid blue eyes. Like Oliver, his brother was dressed in a hand-tailored dark suit. Though, in Shannon’s estimation, Oliver was the more handsome of the two.

  If Rachel thought Oliver was a true Brit, Shannon couldn’t wait until her friend got a load of Brodie. The man gave new meaning to the term “stiff upper lip.”

  “If you’re not sitting with anyone, perhaps you’d like to sit with us,” she offered.

  Brodie’s brow shot up and his gaze shifted to Oliver.

  Shannon felt herself color. She hadn’t meant to imply she and Oliver were a couple. The question now was how to backtrack without making everything worse.

  Oliver didn’t seem to notice the faux pas. “Yes, Brodie, you must sit with us.”

  “You two are...together?” Brodie spoke cautiously, as if feeling his way through a minefield.

  “Has the transatlantic flight addled your brain?” Oliver spoke with more than a hint of exasperation. “Shannon is standing right here. I just introduced her to you. Of course we’re together.”

  Brodie let the subject drop, though Shannon was aware of his speculative gaze as an usher took her arm to escort her to their seats.

  She was amazed how close to the front they were seated until she realized that, of course, they’d be near the front. Oliver and Brodie’s cousins were being married today.

  Shannon had to admit she’d grown so used to chatting with Oliver that it was difficult to stay silent. But, as they waited for the ceremony to begin, she bit her tongue each time she was tempted to share an observation or impression.

  It had been a while since Oliver had seen his brother. She wanted to give him a chance to speak with Brodie without having her in the middle of the conversation.

  As guests continued to be seated, Shannon struck up a conversation with Cisco Mendoza, one of Gabi’s brothers, who was seated to her right. He was a handsome man with dark hair and eyes, and a charming smile.

  She was laughing at something Cisco said when Oliver touched her hand.

  “The processional is ready to begin,” he said in a low tone for her ears only.

  Feeling as if she’d been caught doing something wrong—though she wasn’t sure what it was—Shannon shifted her attention.

  The bridesmaids moved slowly down the aisle, in dresses ranging from deep wine to seashell pink. Shannon wondered if Oliver noticed the color of the groomsmen’s boutonnieres matched the respective bridesmaids’ dress color.

  Soon it was time for the maids of honor and best men to make their trek down the aisle. When they reached the stage, little MaryAnne Mendoza appeared holding a white wicker basket filled with rose petals of every hue. The three-year-old waved to people she knew and flung the petals with great gusto on her way to the platform, making more than a few in the audience chuckle.

  Finally, the audience rose and one by one the four brides began their walk down the aisle on their fathers’ arms. Shannon thought Gabi’s father, Orlando, looked incredibly handsome in his dark suit. Oliver’s mother, Josephine, must have thought so too, because Shannon caught her giving the handsome Latino a second glance.

  “They’re all so lovely,” Shannon whispered to Oliver as the last bride joined her groom at the front.

  Oliver simply smiled and squeezed her arm as they took their seats.

  Considering there were four brides and four grooms to keep track of, everything proceeded seamlessly. Shannon found herself especially moved by the minister’s sermon. He urged the couples to continue to nurture the love they now shared and to move from a “me first” attitude to “us first.”

  The ceremony continued with the lighting of the unity candle. The recitation of vows made Shannon sigh. Each set was so very personal and unique to the couple saying them. Love wove through the vows like a pretty ribbon, bringing a lump to Shannon’s throat and a tear to her eyes.

  Soon the radiant brides and grooms were making their way down the aisle. Shannon had no doubt each couple would enjoy the blessing of a happy marriage.

  As thrilled as she was for all of them, Shannon couldn’t stop a stab of envy as she wondered if she’d ever find such happiness.

  If she did, one thing was certain, it wouldn’t be with Oliver. In a matter of weeks, he’d be back in London. The thought was a dark cloud on the sunny day.

  It didn’t help that Shannon felt like a third wheel strolling with Brodie and Oliver to the barn for the dinner buffet and dance. It was obvious—to her at least—that Brodie was puzzled by her presence, probably wondering why she was intruding on his time with his brother.

  Catching sight of Rachel, Shannon seized the out. She tapped Oliver’s arm. “I need to speak wi
th Rach. I’ll catch you later.”

  She ignored his puzzled expression and shifted her gaze to Brodie. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope you enjoy your stay in Horseback Hollow.”

  Then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd.

  * * *

  Oliver couldn’t stanch a surge of irritation. It wasn’t as if he expected Shannon to spend every moment of the reception with him. Though he had given her a ride and stepped up to be her escort when she’d been left high and dry by her friend Rachel. The same friend she was now scurrying off to meet.

  “Your nanny is very attractive,” Brodie said in a slightly bored tone.

  “She’s not my nanny—she’s Ollie’s nanny,” Oliver snapped.

  “No need to get testy.” Brodie narrowed his gaze. “Are you falling for the cowgirl?”

  “She’s an employee,” Oliver said pointedly.

  “So, you wouldn’t mind if I got something going?” Brodie raised a brow. “A quick shag might make my brief stay in this backwoods town more palatable.”

  Oliver rounded on his brother, barely resisted the urge to grab him by the lapels of his Hugo Boss suit coat. “Stay away from her, Brodie. Shannon is off-limits. Understand?”

  Brodie merely laughed. “I knew you had a thing for her.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve already told you she’s my—”

  “Employee. I heard that part. But I have eyes. I see how you look at her. When she was talking with that man on the other side of her, you looked as if you wanted to punch him.”

  “I’m merely concerned about my employee’s welfare.” Oliver’s penetrating gaze dared his brother to disagree.

  “Whatever you say.” As they entered the barn, Brodie’s cynical look eased. “Whoever was in charge put a lot of time and money into planning this reception. It might be tolerable.”

  This time it was Oliver’s turn to laugh. “It’s good to have you here, Brodie. Let’s get a glass of champagne.”