Chapter 9
LEIGH
I’d been to exactly two wedding planning meetings in my life, both as the photographer hired after most decisions were already made. So when Delaney texted asking me to come to the first official planning session, I had no idea what to expect.
I definitely didn’t expect an ambush.
The farmhouse was warm and welcoming when I arrived Monday morning, the kind of place that immediately made you want to kick off your shoes and stay awhile.
Through the windows, I could see the pond in the distance, and my photographer’s brain was already cataloging shots and angles.
It was a beautiful place to have a wedding ceremony even if it didn’t have so much significance to the couple.
“Leigh!” Delaney opened the door before I could knock, pulling me into a quick hug. “Come in, come in. Everyone’s already here.”
Everyone turned out to be more people than I’d anticipated.
Because it literally was everyone. The dining room table was covered in magazines, fabric swatches, and what looked like seventeen different shades of white.
Blake was already seated, her pink hair bright against the neutral tones scattered across the table.
Reece sat beside her, and Billie was pouring coffee from a carafe.
And then there were the men.
Trace stood by the window, looking slightly overwhelmed by all the wedding paraphernalia. Booker leaned against the doorframe with the expression of someone who’d rather be anywhere else. Xander and Gage were debating something about parking logistics.
And Dex.
He stood near the far end of the table, hands in his pockets, that same guarded expression I’d come to recognize over the past few days. Our eyes met for half a second before we both looked away.
Three days since the pond. Three days since the truce. Three days of successfully avoiding each other.
So much for making this easier.
“Okay!” Delaney clapped her hands together. “Let’s get started. Leigh, why don’t you sit here?” She gestured to an empty chair. “Right next to Dex. You two will need to coordinate on the photography timeline anyway.”
My stomach dropped.
Blake caught my eye and smiled innocently. Too innocently.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice suspiciously cheerful. “You’ll be working together a lot. Might as well get comfortable.”
I looked at the chair. Then at Dex, who was looking at the chair with the same expression someone might wear facing a firing squad.
But we couldn’t object. Not without making it obvious that sitting next to each other was a problem. Not without explaining why sitting next to each other was a problem. We weren’t four. Logically I knew I could do this and survive without contracting cooties.
So I sat.
And Dex sat.
And our thighs were maybe three inches apart, which felt like three inches too close and three miles too far all at once.
“Perfect!” Delaney settled into her own seat. “Now, let’s go through the checklist.”
I pulled out my notebook, grateful for something to focus on that wasn’t the heat radiating from the man beside me. I could smell his cologne, and I tried not to take a deep breath of the woodsy and clean scent that made me want to lean closer.
I did not lean closer.
“Venue is set,” Delaney was saying. “The pond for the ceremony, the barn for the reception. Leigh, you’ve seen the pond. Do you need to scout the barn?”
“Yes,” I managed, my voice thankfully steady. “I’ll need to check the lighting, figure out the best angles for the reception shots.”
“Dex can show you around,” Trace said casually. Too casually. “He helped us renovate it last year. Knows every corner.”
Dex shifted beside me. “Sure.”
One word. Clipped. Careful.
I didn’t look at him.
Delaney continued down her list: catering (handled by a company in the next town over), flowers (meeting scheduled), music (final band auditions next week).
With each item, I took notes, sketched ideas, tried to ignore the way Dex’s arm occasionally brushed against mine when he reached for his coffee.
Tried to ignore the electricity that shot through me every time.
Then Delaney said something that made my pencil still on the page.
“Leigh, Trace and I have been talking, and we’d actually like to do a proper engagement shoot. We never did one and I’d love to take the chance to make it a kind of family photo shoot if you’d be okay with that.”
Trace moved to stand behind her chair, his hands on her shoulders. “I missed so much with Cade and I want to preserve as many of these memories together as we can.” He looked down at his wife with such open affection that something in my chest ached. “This is our time and we want to do it right.”
“I’d love to,” I said honestly. “When were you thinking?”
“Next few weeks? Before things get too crazy?” Delaney looked hopeful.
“Absolutely. I’ll need to scout some locations…”
“Dex can help with that.” This from Blake, who was definitely trying too hard to look innocent. “He knows every good spot in Willowbrook.”
Oh no.
“That’s not necessary…” I started.
“I can figure it out…” Dex said at the same time.
We both stopped. Looked at each other. Looked away.
Trace raised an eyebrow. “Dex, you’ve lived here your whole life. You know the back roads, the hidden spots. It would really help Leigh out. Plus it might be nice to get some mixed locations.”
“And you’ve got the truck for the rougher terrain,” Booker added.
This was starting to feel like a coordinated attack and I looked around the room at the overly innocent expressions on everyone else’s face. Even Booker. Surely, he wasn’t in on this too?
Delaney leaned forward, her eyes warm but her smile just a touch too knowing. “It would really help me out. With all the other wedding preparations and the business getting really busy, I just don’t have time to play tour guide.”
We were trapped. Completely, utterly trapped.
And when she put it like that, it wasn’t exactly an unreasonable request. I knew brief details of what had happened to Trace and Delaney and how Regina had meddled in their lives in the worst possible way, this photo shoot was important to them and therefore it was important to me too.
They deserved this and I was going to make it happen.
Having Dex drive me around town for a day might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but maybe this was exactly what we needed. Exposure therapy. Forced Proximity.
What could possibly go wrong?
“Okay,” I said, the smile coming to my face a little easier now. “That would be... helpful. Thank you.”
“No problem.” Dex’s voice was tight.
Under the table, my hands clenched around my pencil.
Blake looked entirely too pleased with herself.
The meeting continued. More tasks, more details, more decisions. And somehow, impossibly, almost every task seemed to require both Dex and me.
“The cake tasting is Thursday at two,” Delaney said, consulting her planner. “But Trace has a meeting with the cider distributor that afternoon, and I’ve got a potential chef for the restaurant to interview and I really can’t afford to lose this one.”
Trace blinked. “A meeting?”
Delaney gave him a look that clearly said yes, you do, and don’t argue. “Yes, honey. The one you scheduled. Remember?”
“Right.” Trace caught on quickly. “That meeting. Can’t move it.”
“Dex, could you go in his place?” Delaney turned those warm eyes on him. “I trust your judgment. And Leigh will need to photograph the cake display anyway for the detail shots.”
Dex’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know anything about cake.”
“Neither do I,” Booker said, remarkably unhelpful. “You’re the better choice.”
“I’m sure we can figure it out,” I heard myself say, even though every instinct was screaming at me to find an excuse, any excuse.
“Perfect!” Delaney made a note. “Thursday at two. The bakery on Main Street. We already have the style and the flavours picked out. This is just a final meeting to make sure that it will actually look right when it all comes together. If you have any concerns you can facetime me to double check but I really need to try and persuade this chef to come and work here.”
By the time the meeting wrapped up an hour later, I had a list of tasks that would require me to either be alone with Dex or at least spending consistent time with him.
Eight weeks of wedding planning had just turned into eight weeks of forced proximity.
I was going to kill Blake. Maybe not Delaney, it was her wedding after all and her and Trace were clearly in one of those blissfully happy couple bubbles. But I was definitely going to kill Blake.
Or thank her. I wasn’t sure which yet.
As everyone started to disperse, gathering their things and saying goodbyes, I found myself standing by the table trying to organize my notes. Trying not to notice that Dex was doing the same thing three feet away.
“So,” he said finally, not looking at me. “Location scouting. When works for you?”
“Tomorrow?” The word came out too quickly. “Morning?”
“I’ll pick you up at nine.”
“I can drive myself…”
“Some of the spots need a truck. Easier if we go together.” Now he did look at me, and the intensity in his dark eyes made my breath catch. “Unless you’d rather not.”
There was a note of challenge in his voice. Or maybe a hope that I’d say no, that I’d let him off the hook.
I should say no. I should insist on driving myself, maintaining distance, keeping the truce intact.
“Nine works,” I said instead.
Something flickered across his face. Relief? Dread? Want?
“I’ll be there.”
He left first, shouldering past Booker with a muttered goodbye. I watched him go, then turned to find Blake watching me with a knowing smile.
“Subtle,” I said flatly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But her grin was pure mischief.
Reece appeared at her elbow. “We’re just trying to help.”
“Help with what, exactly?”
“You’re both miserable,” Billie said, joining the group. “Anyone with eyes can see the tension between you two. You need to work it out.”
“There’s no tension…”
“Leigh.” Delaney’s voice was gentle but firm. “We’re your family now. That means we care about you. Both of you.”
I looked at each of them. These women who barely knew me but had welcomed me anyway. Who saw through my walls like they were made of glass. Like they’d had years to figure out how I worked. Was I really that transparent to them already?
“It’s complicated,” I managed.
“The best things usually are.” Blake squeezed my arm. “Just... don’t fight it so hard, okay?”
I didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to explain that I wasn’t sure what I was fighting anymore—him, or myself.
So I just nodded, gathered my things, and drove back to Jasper’s house with my mind spinning.
Tomorrow. Nine a.m. Alone in a truck with Dex for hours.
The truce was going to be tested.
And I wasn’t sure either of us would survive it.
That night, lying in bed, I stared at my phone. Wren had texted hours ago asking how the meeting went. I’d avoided answering.
Finally, I typed: They’re conspiring. All of them.
Her response came immediately: About bar guy?
Leigh: His name is Dex.
Wren: So it IS about him. What are they conspiring?
I sighed, staring at the ceiling. To push us together. Location scouting tomorrow. Just the two of us.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Wren: And the problem is...?
Leigh: Wren!
Wren: Leigh! You haven’t stopped thinking about him since that first night. Maybe it’s time to stop running.
I put the phone face-down on my nightstand without responding.
Because she was right.
And that terrified me more than anything else.