A Misty Harbor Wedding Page 9

  All the men were sitting around the picnic tables drinking beer and relaxing like they didn’t have a care in the world. Karl James appeared to be telling an amusing story. Amanda was asleep in her stroller, and the kids were all blowing bubbles. Someone had been smart enough to pack plastic bubble bottles. Her money would be on one of the mothers.

  “Do you know what the first thing we are going to do is, ladies?”

  All the women had followed her gaze across the yard. “What?”

  “We are going to get the men involved. It’s Ned’s wedding too, and he’s the one who put a time limit on this affair.”

  Peggy chuckled. “You want Ned to plan his own wedding? Lord, we’ll all be hiking up mountains at sunrise or some such nonsense.”

  Norah groaned. “He’ll want to spend the honeymoon in a tent.”

  “We won’t let him plan a thing, Norah.” She gave the bride-to-be a hug. “Remember, we’re delegating.”

  “What will we have them doing?” Joanna didn’t look like she was going to trust her daughter’s big day to a bunch of Porters.

  “Come, I’ll teach you all a lesson in delegating.” She gave them a big wink and then led the women back to the picnic tables. They all sat down.

  Sierra reached into the pile of magazines Norah had brought with her and started to flip through them. Norah had all the pages marked. She found the one she was looking for. “Norah, is this what you want?” The glossy picture was of a bride standing before a white arbor covered in pink roses. The advertisement was for some expensive fragrance.

  “Yes, that’s the look I want.” Norah wasn’t talking about the gown.

  Sierra smiled and looked across to the table where all the men were sitting. “Ned, I understand you’re a very good carpenter.”

  Ned grinned and his chest puffed out with pride. “Most think so.”

  “Hey,” Matt said, “he puts together overgrown Lincoln Logs. If you need a perfectionist, I’m your man.”

  Paul made a rude sound. “I taught them both everything they know about wood.”

  “And who, pray tell, taught you?” John Sr. crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his four boys.

  She fingered the page of the magazine and tried not to smile. Men were so predictable sometimes. “So you all are handy with tools?”

  “Darn straight we are.” Ned looked insulted that anyone would think differently. “There’s not a thing we can’t build with our own two hands.”

  “What do you need?” asked Matt. He tried to glance at the magazine she was holding.

  “Doesn’t matter what she needs,” stated John Jr. “We can do it better than anyone else in town.”

  “Just keep Paul away from a chain saw and everything will be okay,” joked Ned.

  “Hey, that wasn’t my fault. The darn thing kicked.”

  “What about the time you fell off the roof, Ned?” Matt was laughing at his younger brother.

  “I was pushed!”

  “You fell off a roof ?” Norah looked horrified by the idea. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was only four at the time and Paul pushed me.”

  Sierra felt her stomach lurch. What was a four-year-old doing up on a roof?

  “I did not.” Paul glared at Ned. “You lost your footing and almost pulled me down with you.”

  “Did you get hurt?” Norah’s gaze was traveling over Ned, looking for signs of an old injury.

  “Only my pride.” Ned grinned.

  “And my holly bush,” Peggy Porter added. “Fell right on top of it and broke it to pieces.”

  “He could have been hurt,” cried Norah.

  “Ah, he had a good two feet of snow to break his fall.” Ned’s father didn’t look upset.

  “What were you doing up on the roof, anyway?” Norah asked her husband-to-be.

  “We were waiting for Santa Claus.” Matt answered like it was nothing.

  “Yeah, all four of them sneaked up there about midnight one Christmas Eve. I believe the plan was to sneak some more toys for themselves once Santa went down the chimney.”

  Sierra looked at the Porters’ house behind her. It was a two-story home, and the roof looked a long way up. “How did they get up there?” Austin was four and she never would have thought about him climbing up on some roof—Santa or no Santa.

  “Climbed out the bedroom window and shimmied right up onto the roof. The older boys had to help the younger ones.” Peggy glared at the boys. “Nearly gave me heart failure when little Ned came falling past our bedroom window screaming like some banshee.”

  The Porter men all laughed, while the women whacked them on the arms.

  Sierra’s stomach dropped to her knees as her gaze sought out Austin. Her son was having a wonderful time with the Porter kids. Austin was safe.

  “What do you need, Sierra?” Matt was watching her.

  She glanced down at the magazine in her lap. Now she didn’t feel so bad at springing this on them. Ned and his brothers owed their mother big time for that fright. There were probably a hundred more frights just like that over the years.

  Sierra looked at Ned and smiled sweetly. “It’s just a little project we need for the wedding.” She held the picture against her chest. “I’m sure between you and your brothers and father it will be a snap to build, considering all your skills and talent combined.”

  “I think we’ve been had, boys,” John Sr. chuckled.

  Ned groaned.

  She handed Ned the magazine and lightly tapped the picture of the arbor. “Norah likes this one, and we need it done and in place two days before the wedding.”

  Ned looked at the picture and then up at Norah. “This one?”

  Norah slowly nodded her head. She looked uncertain, but her eyes were smiling with love and hope.

  “All you had to do was ask, honey.” Ned leaned forward and kissed her.

  Matt and the rest of the Porter men were staring at the ten-foot-by-twelve-foot elaborate Victorian arbor in pure horror.

  Karl James whistled softly.

  Somewhere behind her she heard Peggy and Joanna chuckle with appreciation. Peggy’s deep voice muttered something about delegating.

  Tyler looked at his Uncle Ned and his soon-to-be Aunt Norah and made fake choking sounds. “Yuck!”

  Ned and Norah still hadn’t come up for air.

  Chapter Six

  Matt liked the silence of the night and the darkness as he walked Sierra and Austin back home. After a couple hours in the company of his family, he needed the peace and quiet. He and Sierra each held one of Austin’s hands, and they were swinging him between them with every step.

  They looked like a family.

  “You don’t think I was too pushy, do you?” Sierra asked as they neared her front door. For the first time this evening, Sierra looked uncertain.

  “I think you did a masterful job of managing my brothers.” She also managed him like a pro. He had a piece of paper stuck in his back pocket with a list of things he had to do for the wedding. Everyone had a list, and Sierra controlled the master list.

  He didn’t mind. Much.

  He had been racking his brains trying to figure out how to help Ned and Norah with their wedding. Ned kept saying they needed the help, but no one got around to telling anyone what to do. Sierra’s lists told them in minute detail what to do and how to do it, and heads would be rolling off those who lagged.

  He had to give Sierra credit. There was only one other woman who could control and manage all the Porter boys at once, and that was their mother. Peggy Porter wasn’t what anyone would classify as a feminine mother. He loved his mother dearly, but he knew more about putting a wedding together than she ever would. And he knew squat.

  Ned insisted on an outdoor wedding and a very short time frame to pull it off. Norah had always dreamed that when she got married it would be in a garden—her mother’s garden. For once the bride and groom were in perfect harmony.

  Now all they had to do was pull t
ogether a garden, order some food, hire a band, and call the minister and Norah would have her perfect dream wedding. Ned wanted whatever made Norah happy. The Porter boys had always stuck together through thick and thin. Norah and Ned were going to get that dream garden wedding. If Sierra was the person to pull it all together, that was fine by him.

  To his way of thinking, a strong-minded woman was a turn-on.

  Matt released Austin’s hand as they reached the front porch of the house. “Someone looks sleepy.” The last couple of feet, Austin barely swung. The little boy appeared to be half asleep on his feet.

  “Would you like to come in for coffee?” Sierra dug out the key to the door.

  “Sure.” He followed them into the house. He couldn’t remember ever being in the Alberts’ L-shaped rancher before. “Nice place.”

  Sierra flashed him a grin. “Thanks, but it’s not mine.” Sierra guided her son toward the back of the house while calling over her shoulder, “If you put the coffee on, I’ll get sleepyhead here ready for bed.”

  “I can do that.” He had seen his brothers and sisters-in-law trying to get kids ready for bed before. Horrible screaming, crying, and laughing battles went on behind closed bathroom doors. The end result was always the same. His niece and nephews came out all squeaky clean, wearing cute pajamas, and looking like angels. His brothers and sisters-in-law came out soaking wet, exasperated, and battle weary. He’d take coffee duty any day of the week.

  The Alberts’ kitchen opened into an eating area and was done in what designers called “country.” He called it normal. The coffeemaker was sitting on the counter, along with some dirty dishes, tourist brochures, two unopened bottles of wine, and four C batteries.

  He looked in the cabinets and found the filters but no coffee. “Hey, Sierra, where do you keep the coffee?” he yelled in the direction of the bathroom.

  Sierra’s voice was muffled by the closed door, but he heard, “In the refrigerator.”

  Confused, he opened the refrigerator door, and sure enough a can of ground decaf was sitting on one of the shelves. Sierra obviously had a thing for fresh fruit and vegetables; the fridge was packed with them, along with milk, wine, and six fruit juices. Not a beer in sight. With the can of coffee in his hand, he yelled, “Why do you keep it in the refrigerator?”

  “It stays fresh longer that way,” came Sierra’s reply over the sound of running water.

  He chuckled at the thought of coffee going stale in any of the Porters’ households. Never would happen. He made the coffee and eyed the mess sitting on the kitchen table. The only sound he could hear coming from the bathroom was running water and laughter, both Austin’s and his mom’s.

  While the coffee brewed, he studied the mess. A remote-control car took center stage. The red car had its guts ripped open and its antenna was bent in half. A few loose wires hung from the undercarriage and three of its wheels were off. One of the axles looked bent and the hood was crinkled. There appeared to be a set of puncture marks in one of the doors. Someone had had a major wipeout. The controller was also opened, and the batteries were everywhere, along with four screwdrivers, a pair of needle-nose pliers, and a butter knife.

  He closed his eyes and tried not to imagine what Sierra had used the butter knife on.

  Short of seeing if there was a ball game on television or twiddling his thumbs, he didn’t have anything better to do at the moment. In his experience, dates really got ticked off if you turned on a ball game. He pulled out a chair, sat, and picked up the car.

  Fifteen minutes later, Sierra and a squeaky-clean Austin walked into the kitchen. Matt was so engrossed in what he was doing, he didn’t even hear them.

  “Wow!” Austin exclaimed as he hurried over to Matt and his racing car. Her son climbed up on the chair next to Matt. “Can you fix it?”

  Matt chuckled. “No guarantees with this one, Austin.” He reinserted the now-straight axle. “What did you do to it? Drive it off a cliff ?”

  Austin pouted. “Mom did it, not me.”

  Matt slowly turned in his chair and stared at her. “You did this?”

  She felt like an idiot and could almost hear the women-driver jokes that Matt was smart enough not to voice. “Yes, and no.” She hated feeling stupid. “I was holding the controller at the time of the incident.” She could tell Matt was trying not to laugh at her.

  “Want to explain the incident?”

  “Elvis did it!” Austin was stacking the car’s tires on top of each other.

  “Elvis?” Matt’s grin was contagious. “The King wrecked your car?”

  “To be more accurate, the King bit Austin’s car during its maiden voyage and then ran with it through half of Misty Harbor before we could catch him.”

  “Ah . . . that explains the puncture marks in the door.” Matt held out his hand, and Austin placed a small plastic tire in it. “Did you get his autograph?”

  “Whose?” Sierra poured Austin a small glass of juice.

  “Elvis’s, who else?”

  “Elvis is a dog. A big, overweight hound dog that lives next door and has nothing better to do with his days than to chase remote-control cars and terrorize the neighborhood.”

  She placed the juice in front of Austin. “Are you still hungry, hon?”

  “Cookies?” Austin gave her that hopeful pleading look, that usually worked. Tonight, it wasn’t going to.

  “No. You had enough snack food over at the Porters’. You can have an apple, a banana, or some grapes.” With the amount of junk food Austin had consumed, she didn’t know how he could possibly be hungry. There had been enough food at the Porters’ barbecue to feed the entire town. Instead of trying to find a caterer for the wedding, they should just hold a barbecue.

  “Nah, not hungry now.” Austin sipped his juice and played the pit crew for Matt, who was putting the car back together.

  She’d figured as much. She got down two mugs and poured the coffee. She added sugar and cream to hers and left Matt’s black. With a mug in each hand, she joined them at the table.

  Matt attached the last tire just as she set the coffee in front of him. “You remembered how I take it?” Matt seemed impressed.

  “Black, no sugar, right?” It had been ingrained in her mind since the morning out at the lighthouse when he had shared his coffee with her. She had never tasted a stronger cup of coffee in her life. It was like drinking espresso, and she disliked espresso.

  “Thanks.” Matt smiled at her, before turning his attention to Austin. “You ready to test this out, Crash?” He held up the car.

  Austin excitedly slid off the chair and reached for the car. “Make it go fast.”

  Matt chuckled and reached for the controller. “Fast it is.”

  Her son placed the car on the floor and took a step back. Matt put the batteries in the controller and snapped the case closed. “Ready?”

  Austin nodded. “Ready.”

  Matt fiddled with the knob, and the car made a right-hand turn and crashed into the baseboard. “Hmmm . . .” Matt fiddled some more, reversed the car, and started to drive it in and out of the chair and table legs. “There she goes, just like new.” He made an exceptionally great turn and stopped the car right in front of Austin. “Want to give it a try, Crash?”

  Her son nodded and moved closer to Matt.

  Sierra sat back in her chair and watched Matt patiently explain the controls to her son. She sipped her coffee and smiled as Matt’s large hand covered her son’s and showed him exactly how to maneuver the small joystick. Within minutes Austin had the car weaving in and out of chairs and she had to resort to putting her feet up on a chair to save her toes. Of course it looked like a deranged game of bumper cars, but Austin was having a blast. By all the sound effects, Matt seemed to be enjoying himself just as much.

  She hated to be the spoilsport, but it was way past Austin’s bedtime. “Hey, Crash, just a few more turns around the table, and then it’s hit-the-hay time.”

  “Aw, Mom . . .”

&nbs
p; “Aw, Austin . . . ,” she mimicked right back. It was a nighttime tradition between them.

  Her son grinned. “Can I play with it tomorrow?”

  “Sure can.” Jake, Austin’s father, had sent the car to him as an enjoy-your-vacation gift. They had been in Misty Harbor for only a week, and so far Jake had called four times to make sure they were okay. The first two times he’d called, it had been sweet that Jake had been so thoughtful. By the fourth call she was beginning to suspect that Jake might not fully think she was capable of handling her own life and taking care of their son.

  “Hey, Crash, I’m coming for dinner tomorrow night.” Matt ruffled the top of Austin’s head. “You can show me what you can do then, okay?”

  “Is Tyler coming with you?” Austin seemed more concerned with his new best friend than his mother inviting a man to dinner.

  “Afraid not.” Matt looked at her. “But if you and your mom aren’t doing anything Saturday morning, we could go fishing out at Sunset Cove.”

  “Will Tyler be there?” Austin had a one-track mind and wasn’t afraid to speak it.

  “Sure, but it’s up to your mom, Crash. She might have other plans already made.” Matt gave her a pleading look that matched her son’s.

  “Please, Mom, please!”

  Two against one was unfair odds, but how could she resist? “We don’t have any fishing gear,” she teased. Krup’s General Store had everything they would need, but she didn’t want to appear to be a total pushover. Both with her son, and Matt.

  “No problem. I’ll fix you both up with everything you’ll need.” Matt winked at Austin.

  She laughed at her son’s attempt to wink back. “I know when I’ve been outnumbered. Fishing on Saturday sounds fine.”

  Austin threw his arms around her neck. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She kissed his cheek. “You should be thanking Matt, not me. I’m not the one who will be baiting your hook.” She looked at Matt to make sure he got that message loud and clear.

  Matt grinned. “What about taking the catch off the hook?”

  “Nope, not me.” There was no way she was touching any slimy worms or flopping fish. There was a reason she had been born a girly-girl. “And I’m not cleaning or cooking them either.”