The Lucky One (Enchanted Hollow #2)

Chapter 1

one

brIDGET

OCTOBER 3

From the outside, Holly and Cade’s wedding looks like something straight out of a storybook. Amber colored fabric drapes across the wooden arch at the farm’s pond. Splays of brilliant fall flowers are fastened at the corners and burst from pots at the base. Lights hang from the trees, adding a fairy-like glow as Holly and Cade exchange their vows.

But those of us working behind the scenes know it’s all an illusion.

From the moment my mother offered this wedding to my step-sister, it’s been nothing but a pile of haphazardly stacked Jenga pieces. Blocks that were poorly spaced and quickly tossed into a pile so that only the most skilled players could navigate the game.

Charlotte Mitchell, my mother and the owner of our wedding planning company Gilded Vows, never intended for Ella to pull it off. We all knew it was a power play, but no one could’ve expected that Ella’s entire future rode on the outcome of this wedding. She worked hard and when that wasn’t enough, my twin sister Laila and I flew here and helped her work harder.

Until today, the pieces of this wedding held strong.

Until just a few minutes ago, when someone pulled the piece that sent the whole thing crashing down around us.

Voices bark out orders in my earpiece, directing more security to different areas and panic flits around in my chest like a trapped butterfly. This goes beyond giving a bride one of the most memorable days of her life.

Much further.

On the outside, I’m as stoic as at the Statue of Liberty in that epic shot from The Day After Tomorrow. I am unshakeable .

Not only is Holly deserving of the most special day of her life, I refuse to fail Ella.

That’s just proving a little tricky at the moment since I can’t find Ella or my sister.

My eyes roam the wedding site, grateful it’s so hidden away in the trees on Ever After Farm’s property. The Jackson family—the owners of this farm—have done an incredible job of keeping the chaos from leaking back here.

But for how long?

I straighten my shoulders and remind myself that I am a pro.

Ella has created the perfect fairytale wedding between the massive country music star and her now football captain husband, and it’s going to stay that way. We all promised each other that this wedding would go off without a hitch.

There are cheers from the pond area as Holly and Cade walk back down the aisle, and I calculate about how long of a window I have before we’re cutting the wedding cake and doing the first dance. They’ll be busy for at least fifteen minutes with the photographer taking the first photos as man and wife, so I can do a quick sweep and assess the current situation.

“Tell me what you need,” I say to whoever is listening. “Holly and Cade are enjoying a brief moment of wedded bliss before we kick off the rest of this party.”

“Just keep up what you’re doing. We’re dealing with—” Laila pauses and sighs. “We’re dealing with a problem. But the good news is it’s in the process of being handled. We’ll meet you at the reception.”

I set my jaw because I can guess who is causing the problem.

But if they say they have it handled, I trust them.

“I’ll see you there,” I say.

Luke, the oldest Jackson sibling, requested help from some of Cade’s friends to be lookouts and make sure no one wandered back here that wasn’t supposed to be here. It stinks that they had to watch the wedding from afar, but they all seemed gracious and eager to watch out for their captain and his bride.

Head down, I stalk across the grass in my heels, prepared to make sure everyone is still in place. At least long enough for Laila and whoever else is involved to do their job, so we can all enjoy the rest of today.

Only I plow face first into a wall of muscle, instead. A hand catches my elbow to steady me, and I stumble backward with the shift in momentum.

I blink up at a very tall, very broad-shouldered football player. He’s got auburn hair tousled by a nervous habit and a tie loosened like he’s just finished a long day at work. Or he’s not used to wearing these types of clothes and he’s itching for comfort.

Weston Reilly.

I could easily rattle off the team’s roster if asked, along with hair color, eye color, and position on the team. My photographic memory has come in handy on more than one occasion, helping me navigate events easily.

He’s a tight end with broad shoulders and a build that would likely make someone think twice in a dark alley. Which is exactly why he should be closer to the farm than walking toward the reception.

“Whoa there, Spitfire.” He flashes an easy grin that I’m sure has gotten him out of more than one predicament in his lifetime. “Do you usually rush around like a Stormtrooper looking for a fight?”

And a massive flirt.

“Technically, Stormtroopers don’t look for fights. They’re following orders.” I yank my elbow out of his grip, ignoring the slight tingle where his fingers touched. “Think of me like a Jedi Knight, sensing disturbances in the Force.”

His grin widens, and it’s infuriating how attractive he is when he does. “Am I a disturbance in the Force?”

“Are you where you’re supposed to be?”

“Thereabouts,” he says, glancing around.

It wasn’t supposed to be his job to protect Cade off the field, too. He’s supposed to be a guest here, enjoying himself. But I can’t risk Ella’s future or Holly’s big day for a football player that can’t follow directions.

“You’re supposed to be watching for wedding crashers, not being one.”

“I’ve been watching.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “There’s no one back here. But since the reception is about to begin and it smells delicious, I decided to head in that direction.”

“You mean you abandoned your post.”

“Seems a bit harsh.” He tilts his head, like he’s sizing me up. “But back to the whole ‘disturbance’ thing.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“That’s a shame,” he says, his voice dipping just slightly. “I was really curious about the penalty for that.”

Holy cow .

This man has some serious swagger and nerve. But he’s not going to deter me from my purpose: make sure Holly has the day of her dreams and don’t let Ella lose hers.

Repeat.

I am a professional.

An engaged professional.

I straighten my back and let out a slow breath. “Listen Mr. First Down, Last Nerve?—”

Weston barks out a laugh, humor dancing in his whiskey-colored eyes. “I like that.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t care. Back to your post.”

“Bossy,” he drawls, holding up his hands in surrender. “No need to throw me out of the fairytale, Spitfire.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I just might!” He tosses after me as I spin around to head back toward the reception area to announce Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery.

Weston’s deep chuckle follows me most of the way there.

Crisis averted. Mostly.

All of the pieces to the glorious puzzle Ella created for Holly and Cade are falling into place, and for the first time today, I can relax.

For the first time in weeks, actually.

Holly and Cade gaze into each other’s eyes with a tenderness that makes my heart ache, gliding across the makeshift dance floor to ‘Die a Happy Man’ by Thomas Rhett. They couldn’t have picked a more fitting first dance song.

We created a reception area in the trees, overlooking the pumpkin patch for the perfect fall backdrop. The entire area is lit up with battery powered candles and soft bulbs that emit a romantic glow. Soft romantic touches of terracotta and rust with pops of deep teal dot the various tablescapes, and the aroma of freshly baked apple treats floats across the night breeze.

When I try to imagine my wedding, I can’t see the full picture like this. But I should be able to, shouldn’t I?

What does it mean if I can’t?

I take a sip of the apple cider Laila brought me, seeking Ella in the crowd. My eyes snag on her, softly swaying with Luke in a dark corner of the trees. It’s only a matter of time before we’ll start planning her wedding.

My heart flutters happily in my chest. Holly is living her dream and soon Ella will be, too. I have to assume Luke will propose soon since she’s always wanted a winter wedding. Whenever it happens, Laila and I will ensure she has exactly what she’s always dreamed of. She’s earned it ten times over.

I pull my phone out of the pocket of my slacks and ignore the fact that I still haven’t heard from my fiance, swiping straight to Pinterest and pulling up the group board Laila, Violet and I all share. Violet, Luke’s sister, started this board before Ella and Luke were even ‘official’, filling it with winter flowers and arrangements she envisions for a winter wedding.

After a quick search, I’m adding baby blue touches to the board with notes to play around with swatches of sage, ruby and gold or silver to see what looks best cohesively.

“All work and no play made Spitfire a very dull girl.”

There’s no need to turn around. Even if today is the first time I’ve ever heard him speak, I still recognize him. That voice—deep, smooth, and laced with amusement—is impossible to miss. He could give Tom Hiddleston a run for his money.

I sigh and click the button to put my phone into sleep mode.

“Some of us actually have to work for a living. Maybe you should play a little less?”

I glance over my shoulder to find him standing only a couple of feet away. He’s already shed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, showcasing some very impressive forearms. If I were to notice that sort of thing.

His smile is bright—cocky and charming. “You wound me.”

“I could try harder.” I shrug.

Weston exhales a chuckle, like he’s enjoying whatever this is. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, and we need a proper introduction. I’m Weston Reilly, and you’re—” He pauses, waiting for me to introduce myself.

He’s getting under my skin, but at least he’s trying to be polite.

“Bridget.”

“Hello Bridget. I’m Weston. Professional athlete—tight end for the Frost Giants. Dedicated groomsman. Excellent dancer.” He gestures toward the makeshift dancefloor where I think the whole town is doing the Cupid Shuffle. “Happy to prove it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to dance?”

“That depends,” he says, leaning in. “Are you going to say yes?”

That slight movement sends the faint scent of his cologne my way, warm and woodsy like a bonfire on a crisp night like tonight.

Weston Reilly is trouble. He’s probably got someone to run every kind of errand imaginable for him, and women that fall over themselves at requests exactly like this. I don’t miss the way his eyes flick to my lips, then back up to my eyes.

I’m not a woman who falls over herself for anyone. I’ll do anything for the people in my life that I care about. Even if I were single—which I’m not—I’ve got no interest in being a number to some guy who’s not interested in anything beyond today.

“Come on, Bridget,” he replies, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s a group dance. Pretty harmless.”

I lift my left hand just enough for the diamond to sparkle beneath the swaying lights. His gaze drops to it, and for the first time today, his confident smirk falters. Just barely.

But I see it.

“I’m engaged.” I say simply.

His expression shifts as he lets out a long breath. When those pools of whiskey meet my eyes once again, there’s no apology waiting. No embarrassment that he was hitting on an engaged woman.

Instead, Weston skewers me with a look that sees straight through me, like he suspects I’m making up a fake fiance. I’m not, though with the distance between Andrew and I, it’s half plausible.

“Huh,” he finally says, studying me. “Lucky guy.”

There’s an underlying tone to his words; something that makes my pulse pick up in pace a little.

“Very lucky.” I lift my chin, hoping my words match my outward confidence.

At some point, the song shifted to ‘Any Man of Mine’ and I know I’m within seconds of being kidnapped to the dancefloor by my sisters.

But Weston just tucks his hands into his pockets and watches me, like he’s trying to figure out the puzzle.

Good luck, Buddy.

I clear my throat. “I’m going to go. Work awaits.”

“Seriously. Too much work will drive a person crazy. Did you not see The Shining?”

“I’m not snowed in at a massive creepy hotel.”

A server passes by with pies, and Weston plucks two mason jars off his tray, followed by two forks.

“So dancing is off the table, even if I am pretty good at line dancing. Can we settle for a peace offering, then?” He offers me a dessert with that slow, easy smile I’m recognizing as his trademark.

My stomach growls in protest and I suddenly question when the last time I ate was. It’s been an absolutely chaotic day.

I eye him warily. “You really have a thing for wedding food, don’t you?”

“I recognize that the small things in life are worth paying attention to. Good food, good company.” He winks and extends a jar in my direction.

He’s so smooth it’s ridiculous, but I’m starving, so I cave and take the apple pie.

Laila met with Holden, the owner of a charming little Czech bakery called The Magic Crumb, pretty often to get this menu just right. It’s only fair that I taste it to give them both feedback.

Weston grins like he won the lottery. “It’s a small win, but I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Mr. First Down, Last Nerve.” I scoop into the jar and shovel a heap of cinnamon apple goodness into my mouth. I’m hungrier than I thought because this is the best thing I’ve ever had in my life.

Eager to put some distance between us, I take one step toward the dancefloor. Then two.

“One day you’ll like me,” he says from behind me, his voice quiet but teasing.

I glance over my shoulder, shaking my head. “Not likely.”

“‘Night, Spitfire,” he says, his grin lazy and unbothered.

With that, I stride away, leaving Weston Reilly in the rearview mirror where he belongs.