Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,43
wrong with Cole. Why he doesn’t want me.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Or maybe that’s me projecting.”
“Has she asked about him?”
“No,” I admitted, tucking some socks into my suitcase. “Tell me again how dressy I need to be for the rehearsal dinner.”
“I thought you had an outfit planned already.”
“I did, but now I don’t know if I’m in the right mood for it.” I sank onto my bed and stared at the black dress hanging on the back of my closet door. “Maybe it’s too sexy.”
“It’s not.”
“I can’t wear a bra with it.”
“What are you, my grandma?”
“And it’s tight.”
“It shows off your fantastic body!”
I sighed. “What if it looks like I’m trying too hard?”
“Cheyenne. Stop. If anything, Cole is going to spend the entire night drooling over you and kicking himself for ignoring you all week.”
“I doubt that.”
“You didn’t see what I saw on Thanksgiving. When he watched you come down those stairs, he lit up like he had fireflies under his skin. I’ve never seen anything like it. Wear the damn dress.”
I smiled, despite everything. “I’ll at least bring it.”
“What time are you leaving?”
“Soon, I hope. It would be great to get up there before the snow starts.”
“Oh God, don’t talk about the snow. Do you really think we’re going to get as much as they’re saying?”
“I hope not.” The forecast was dire—we were supposed to get about six inches of snow by tonight and something like another foot and a half by Saturday morning. Blair was terrified the weather was going to prevent people from being able to make it to the wedding. Not only were lots of people driving up from Bellamy Creek, but her family was flying in from Nashville. “When do your parents arrive?”
“Their flight is supposed to leave first thing tomorrow.”
“Are you excited to see them?”
“Yes and no.” Blair laughed. “I haven’t let my mother near my wedding plans, so she’ll be sure to have plenty to say about all the things I’m doing wrong, but that’s okay. The whole reason I left that life behind was because I didn’t want to live by anyone else’s rules or traditions.”
Blair had been brought up a wealthy, blue-blooded debutante, but her family had lost all its money after her father took some bad advice and wound up being convicted of tax evasion. But rather than marry rich just to live in luxury again like her mother wanted her to, she’d chosen a different path. She’d been on her way to her new life when her car broke down in Bellamy Creek.
“Well, I’m excited to meet them,” I said, determined to focus on the bright side. “What are you guys up to this afternoon?”
“We’re meeting with the wedding planner at four-thirty to go over some final details, and then we’ve got a dinner reservation at six. I’m just waiting for Griff to get out of the shower, so we can get going.”
“Hey, does Griffin . . . know? About Cole and me?”
“He definitely thinks something was up between you guys last week, but I didn’t tell him any specifics. It’s weird, because you’re his sister. He’s said a hundred times that he wishes Cole would get back out there, but he can’t exactly be like, ‘dude, Cheyenne’s into you, you should hit that.’”
I frowned. “Ew. Gross.”
Blair laughed. “But Cole’s his best friend. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you together.”
“Never going to happen,” I said, willing it to sink in once and for all. “I’ve always known it.”
“You never know. Maybe this weekend will change things. Weddings are romantic occasions.”
“I know.”
“I’ll see you later tonight. Drive carefully, okay?”
“I will.”
We hung up, and I slipped the black dress and my crimson velvet bridesmaid dress into a garment bag.
For a moment, I stood there, touching the velvet bodice, imagining Cole in his suit, his arms around me on the dance floor.
That was probably as good as it was going to get.
My mother remained uncharacteristically quiet on the drive up to Cloverleigh Farms. I finally asked her about it, even though I was worried the answer was going to be something like, I’m just so happy for your brother, but I can’t help wondering when you’re going to find the one.
“Something on your mind, Mom?”
She sighed. “Not really.”
I gritted my teeth. “I can tell there’s something. You haven’t said a word since we left home. And you’ve been giving me the silent treatment all week. Are you still mad about the plate?”