Rocky Mountain Legacy

“What’s your passion?” Sara asked.

Family. Cade longed for a circle of loved ones gathered around him. He wanted the hugs and tears, the teasing, the laughter, even the disagreements that happened between people who had confidence that no matter what, the ones who mattered would always be there for him.

His worst fear was that his sister would marry and want to live somewhere other than the ranch. That his dream of a family nearby would die. But as he smiled into Sara’s wide, glowing eyes, Cade knew he couldn’t say it. She wouldn’t understand why family was so important to him, not without hearing a lot of back history.

She was smiling at him. “I should warn you, Cade, that some of my ideas for wedding planning are usually, er, off the wall.”

He tucked a ringlet behind her ear. “It’s the off-the-wall ideas that usually turn out best, Sara Woodward,” he told her quietly.

LOIS RICHER

Lois Richer likes variety. From her time in human resources management to entrepreneurship, life has held plenty of surprises.

She says, “Having given up on fairy tales, I was happily involved in building a restaurant when a handsome prince walked into my life and upset all my career plans with a wedding ring. Motherhood quickly followed. I guess the seeds of my storytelling took root because of two small boys who kept demanding ‘Then what, Mom?’”

The miracle of God’s love for His children, the blessing of true love, the joy of sharing Him with others—that is a story that can be told a thousand ways and yet still be brand-new. Lois Richer intends to go right on telling it.

Rocky Mountain Legacy
Lois Richer

For I am persuaded beyond doubt that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things impending and threatening, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

—Romans 8:38–39

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

“Catch us, Auntie Sara!”

Giggles overrode romantic flute music flowing from overhead speakers as Sara Woodward reached for, and missed, her two squirming nephews. Brett and Brady slipped past her and through a narrow door that led into the display windows of Weddings by Woodwards bridal shop.

A door Sara had left ajar.

“You’re not allowed in here, guys,” she whispered. She followed only after she’d checked to be sure none of the family was nearby. “Come out of there right now.”

But the mischievous pair would not emerge, and their impromptu game of tag was wreaking havoc with her grandmother’s bridal displays. Italian silk wasn’t meant for three-year-old boys with dirty sneakers.

Sara tried negotiation, to no avail.

Now what?

“If those two are someone’s ring bearers, you’ll have your hands full getting them down the aisle.”

Startled by the masculine voice behind her, Sara yelped and jerked upright. The back of her head bumped the arm of a groom mannequin, dislodging its top hat and cane. The brass-tipped ebony stick pinged against the display window with a clatter.

It seemed the entire building fell silent, including the two causes of this mayhem. Brady’s face wrinkled. He was going to start crying. Judging by the droop of his twin’s bottom lip, Brett wouldn’t be far behind.

Sara knew exactly how they felt. Nothing about today was going right.

“Sorry I scared you.” Amusement laced the man’s voice the way a drop of rich cream mellows coffee. “Maybe I can help. Grab the one in blue and pass him to me, then you can haul out the red-shirted one. Okay?”

“I’ll try. Thanks.” Sara didn’t dare take her eyes off the twins. “Come on, Brett. Out you go.”

“No.” It was his favorite word.

Sara desperately wished she’d been late this morning and therefore unavailable to watch her brother’s kids while he took an important call. Coming home to help out the family was one thing, but babysitting in a bridal store was asking for trouble.

A wicker basket hit the floor, scattering rose petals everywhere.

“Come on, Brett. We’ll play with your toys,” she wheedled.

“No.”

“No,” Brady copied.

“Auntie will get you a new toy.” Sara clung to her smile, feeling a fool in front of the stranger. Ordinarily she deplored bribery, but this situation called for desperate measures. “Don’t you want a new toy?”

“No.”

“Yes!” Exasperated, Sara extended her fingertips to snag a belt loop on Brett’s tiny blue jeans just as the voice behind her inquired:

“I don’t suppose either of them likes candy?”

“Candy?” Brett surged up so fast his head hit Sara’s chin, knocking her teeth together. He dropped the tulle he’d pulled down, almost forcing her off balance as he launched himself through the narrow passage. “I like candy. Candy’s good.”

“Sometimes it’s very good.” The voice behind Sara sounded amused by the bundle of nonstop energy. “Gotcha. But we can’t have candy without your brother. Can you sit very still and wait for him?”

“Brett’s a good boy.”

“You sure are,” the visitor agreed. “I wonder how good your brother is.”

The man knew kids. Brady’s frown deepened. He glared at Sara as if she’d maligned his character. Or tried to steal his treat.

“Brady’s good, too!” He dropped to all fours, crawled between Sara’s feet and out the door.

“Got him, too,” the masculine voice triumphed. “You can come out now.”

Sara wasn’t sure she wanted to. Not if it meant another half hour of trying to pry grimy fingers off the pristine bridal dresses displayed all over the foyer.

“I assure you, it’s safe.” Laughter colored the edge of their visitor’s low-throated rumble. “For now, anyway.”

“I’m coming.” She rubbed one finger against her throbbing skull and found her way blocked. “Would you step back? It’s very narrow here.”

“Sure is.” He jostled the door against a tulle-covered arch laced with nodding sunflowers. The arch jiggled, then shifted. That knocked off the bride’s arm. It clattered to the floor along with her bouquet of dried autumn wildflowers.

The resulting mess was a far cry from Woodward’s usually chichi displays, but fixing it now was out of the question. Sara could only hope she’d get time to rectify matters before the family noticed.

Dream on. When had the family not noticed anything that affected Weddings by Woodwards?

“Something wrong? Need help?”

“I can manage.”

There was no point wishing their visitor wouldn’t witness her backward, very uncool duckwalk out of the passage. Free at last, Sara clicked the lock closed, frustrated and fed up with the way her life wasn’t going.

“Winifred Woodward?”

Did she look almost eighty?

“No.” Sara bent to straighten her black skirt, buying time to regain the composure Denver’s hottest wedding store and its employees were known for. “But if you need help with a wedding, you’re in the right place. Weddings by Woodwards takes pride in planning weddings that are unique to every bride and groom we serve.”

The stock phrase slipped easily to her lips. Good thing, because when Sara glanced up at the owner of that coffee-and-cream voice, her throat jammed closed.

“Kidding.” He winked at her. “I was kidding. I could tell when I walked past the windows that you aren’t Mrs. Woodward.”

Meaning he knew her grandmother?

Sara took stock of her visitor. Slightly older than the usual Woodwards’ groom, he stood nearly six feet tall. The mass of unruly mahogany curls cut close against his scalp could have given him a rakish look—except for the plump baby fingers threading through them.

“I’ll take him.” She reached out for Brady who glared at her and clutched his rescuer all the tighter. “Or not.”

“He’s fine.” The visitor wore black tooled-leather boots, fitted jeans and a battered leather jacket that almost screamed “wild west.” Evidently her nephew thought the same.

“Cowboy,” Brady said, trailing his grubby paws against the leather. “Horsie?”

“Not here, pal.” The man chuckled as he tousled Brady’s hair. “But I have some at home on my ranch.”

“Horsies are good. Candy’s good.”

Sara’s rescuer burst into deep-throated laughter that filled the two-story foyer.

“Not very subtle, are you, son?”

This cowboy was movie-star material. Substitute his leather and jeans for a wedding tux, and any bride would race down the aisle. On closer scrutiny, Sara glimpsed an indefinable quality to those blue eyes that branded this man as more substantial than a mere movie star. The twins recognized it, too, because they remained perfectly still, staring at him.

“Thank you for helping. They’re a bit of a handful.”

“I can imagine.” His face was all sharp angles. Etched lines carved out the corners of his eyes, as if he’d known sadness and grief too often. His sapphire stare captivated Sara, pushed past her barriers and peered inside, as if to expose the secrets she kept hidden from the world.

Or maybe it was all in her mind.

“I have an appointment to speak with Winifred Woodward.” He eased Brady’s grip from his hair and lowered the boy so his feet rested on the floor. “There you go, buddy.”

An icon in the wedding-planning business, Grandma Winnie was always fielding so-called appointments of people who simply wanted to meet the matriarch of Weddings by Woodwards. Winnie, sweet woman that she was, would never refuse them. That’s why Sara had come home.

Recent exhaustion had lowered Winnie’s ability to fight a cold and, according to the family, her grandmother needed complete rest to recover. Sara’s job was to fill in wherever she was needed at Woodwards.

Today that meant manning the reception desk.

And babysitting.

“Your name?”

“Cade Porter.”

“You weren’t in her appointment book, Mr. Porter.” Sara knew because she’d canceled or rebooked all Winnie’s appointments last week, the day after she’d returned to Denver.

“Nevertheless, I do have an appointment.” Dark brows climbed, daring her to dispute it. “Would you direct me to her office please?”

“I’m afraid that isn’t going to be possible.”

The eyebrows elevated a millimeter higher. Jutting cheekbones and a forceful chin told Sara that Cade Porter wouldn’t give up easily.

“Candy?” Brady reminded.

“You have to wait a moment, sweetie.”

“’Kay.”

“Good boy.” Sara savored his winsome smile before returning to her customer. “I’m assuming you’re here to talk about planning a wedding, Mr. Porter. If you can wait, I’ll find you a planner as soon as I get these two settled. I have to watch them until my brother returns. As you’ve noticed, they take a lot of watching.”

“I did notice.” Cade Porter’s lips lifted in a grin. He squatted down and spoke quietly to the twins, showing them two wrapped peppermints, identical to the ones filling a crystal bowl on the counter. He glanced at her belatedly. “Okay with you?”

She nodded.

“Anything to keep them busy.” She ignored the inner warning that said sugar wasn’t the best choice. One candy couldn’t hurt.

“Here are the rules, guys.” Mr. Porter waited until their attention was focused on him. “You have to sit here until you’re finished. Then we’ll wash your hands. After that, maybe I’ll tell you about my horses. Is it a deal?”

Enthralled, the twins nodded, received their candy and began unwrapping. Mr. Porter rose. His face lost the soft amusement as he studied Sara.

“Look, I’m sure you employ good people here, but I want Mrs. Woodward. I confirmed with her eight days ago. Surely Weddings by Woodwards doesn’t promise their clients one thing and then…”

Sara might not want to be part of the family business, but nobody disparaged it and got away unchallenged.

“My grandmother was taken ill a week ago. I regret that you weren’t informed.” She bent to pick up the wrappers the boys had tossed on the pale pink carpet. “And I’m very sorry that you’ve been inconvenienced. But because Winnie won’t be back at work for at least a month, I’m afraid you’ll have to make a new appointment. Or accept help from someone else.”

His heavily lashed eyes darkened.

“I’m sorry she’s ill. Maybe—” He stopped, frowned as if reconsidering.

Red flags soared in Sara’s brain. If she lost a potential client, her sister Katie would be on her case all afternoon.

“If you’ll—” Sara almost choked when Brett’s sticky fingers grabbed Mr. Porter at the knee. She eased Brady’s hand away. What was taking Reese so long? “I’m sorry about that,” she apologized, trying to recall who might be free to deal with Mr. Porter.

“They’re just jeans. They won’t melt. Can you get a wet cloth?”

“A cloth?” His generous smile confused her usually functioning brain.

“To wipe off the kids. I don’t think those pretty dresses on display will look quite as nice with peppermint smeared all over them.” He brushed Brady’s hair with a big capable hand. “We’ll get this pair busy drawing a horse. Then maybe you and I can get started.”

Sara frowned. Started—doing what?

“Cloth?” he reminded her as he kept Brett’s hand from touching a length of veiling.

“Right.” She fetched a damp washcloth and tried to wipe Brett’s fingers, but her nephew veered away, clinging to Mr. Porter.

“Let me.” He took the cloth and with gentle thoroughness wiped down two faces and four hands, teasing the boys as he did. Her nephews had never behaved so well.

“Don’t look so surprised. Kids usually like me.” Mr. Porter grinned as he handed back the cloth.

“I’m sure they do. I’ve just never seen these two so quiet.” Sara got rid of the sticky cloth. “Except maybe when they’re asleep.”

Mr. Porter’s lips twitched. He hunkered down next to the boys who were arguing over the crayons and paper pads scattered across the coffee table. He told them a little about his ranch, then promised a special treat for whoever could draw the best horse.

How did he know competition was the best way to get them focused?

“Okay, now can we talk about my wedding?” Cade Porter rose, folded his arms across his wide chest, charm oozing from the lopsided smile he flashed at her. “Unless Woodward Weddings can’t handle it.”

“Weddings by Woodwards,” she corrected.

“Yeah, that.” His gaze slid to the wall above the counter. “I assume that array of diplomas includes you as one of the wedding planners?”

Sara followed his gaze, noticed a silver framed certificate she’d earned four years ago hanging among the rest of the family’s. Trust her sister to dig it out and display it, as if Sara was permanently back on staff.

“I—um—”

“My mistake.” His mouth tightened. “I’d prefer Mrs. Woodward to handle things, but because that’s out, perhaps you’ll summon whoever’s handling her cases.”

Offended, Sara bristled to her own defense.

“I am a certified wedding planner, Mr. Porter. I’ve planned about forty weddings and I am quite capable of handling your needs.” Even if her family always interfered.

“I need someone who can deal with the unusual.” He studied her for several moments, his gaze dark and inscrutable.

“Then you need me.” The words slipped out without a second thought. Sara almost groaned. She was as bad as the twins, taking the bait faster than they’d latched on to his promise of candy.

“Do I?” Cade Porter blinked.

His dubious demeanor underscored her own growing doubts. Like her siblings, Sara had begun learning about the wedding business shortly after she learned to walk. But she hadn’t planned a wedding since she’d walked out of Weddings by Woodwards two years ago to escape her loving, but constantly meddling family.

Which did not mean she’d forgotten everything she’d learned here.

“What kind of a wedding do you want, Mr. Porter?”

“That’s an odd question.” He scratched his shaven chin, seemingly stymied. “How many kinds are there?”

“Many.” Obviously Cade Porter was a complete innocent.

“Horsie.” Brett held up his scribble.

“Hmm. Not bad. But he needs legs.”

While Cade and the boys discussed horse anatomy, Sara found a notepad and pen. She’d come home to help. Might as well do her best.

“What are my choices?” he asked, twisting his head to study her.

“When are you to be married?”

“I’m not.” He frowned at her. “It’s not my wedding.”

“So you’re not getting married—but you want to plan a wedding?” Sara’s headache amplified.

“Exactly.” Humor twinkled in the depths of his blue eyes. “I want to plan a wedding for my sister.”

“Ah.” While her brother Reese probably wouldn’t plan a wedding for her, Sara was pretty sure the rest of the family certainly would. They’d find her a groom, arrange the ceremony and take over every detail without asking for her input—if she let them.

Sara loved her family dearly, but they refused to acknowledge that she was an adult who could think and choose her own course in life.

“Those two tornadoes aren’t going to color for long,” Cade reminded.

“Sorry. I was thinking.” She had to find out about Mr. Porter’s sister. Having experienced prying too often herself, Sara decided on tact. “Weddings should be personal. If your sister prefers an outdoor location, spring or summer events work best. Is she thinking of a large event? Sit-down reception? Church wedding or—”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” Pulling teeth would be easier. “Yes—what, exactly?”

“Church wedding. I think.” He glanced around the reception area. His nose wrinkled when his glance landed on delicate white wrought iron chairs with their tufted white silk cushions. “The reception can’t be stuffy. Not like—”

Mr. Porter cut himself off, but the glare he shot toward tiny Victorian chairs her grandmother favored made Sara smile. Tact indeed.

“Not stuffy—like this. Is that what you mean?” she asked, tongue in cheek.

“Well…yes.” He shied away from meeting her stare.

“I see. It would be helpful for the bride to be present for her wedding plans.” That wasn’t being nosy. “If your sister could—”

“She can’t. You’ll have to manage with me. Unless…”

He let his voice trail away, but Sara got the message. Unless she had a problem. And Weddings by Woodwards did not have problems with clients.

Ever.

“Perhaps something less—er,” Cade Porter’s aquiline nose twitched as he glanced at the very girlish frilly bridal gown on the main pedestal display.

“I understand.” Sara swallowed her laughter. “Don’t worry. We’re not only about froufrou. We cater to many tastes.” She checked the wall, scanned the work board. “To prove it, I’d show you a very masculine area, but at the moment it’s being used by two men being fitted for tuxedos.”

“Awkward.” His lazy smile was a dentist’s dream.

“Slightly. A tour of Weddings by Woodwards would illustrate the variety we offer. But I have to look after the boys and…”

“It doesn’t matter.” The look on his face said Cade Porter understood that none of the rooms would be suitable for Brett and Brady. “We’ll go on to something else.”

That was generous of him. Sara also noted how he praised both boys’ drawings, then promised he’d choose a winner after they added a few more details.

“You’re good with kids,” she said when he straightened.

“I love them. Kids are amazing.” Was that a hint of longing in his voice? “Families are so much fun.”

Fun wasn’t exactly how Sara would describe her relatives.

“Maybe you should tell me your ideas for this wedding.” Sara waited. Seconds stretched to minutes of unbearable tension. She frowned. “You don’t have any ideas?”

He shrugged. A hint of—embarrassment?—shadowed his eyes.

“My ideas include a minister, flowers, some music. I thought planning a wedding would be a simple matter of my telling you and you doing it.” He glanced around the room. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Horsie all done.” Brady held up his picture in triumph.

“Good boy—”

“I was on the phone, and I heard a racket. You didn’t let the boys ruin anything, did you, Sara?” Katie stepped through the back door, caught sight of their visitor and immediately thrust out one perfectly manicured hand. “I’m sorry to interrupt. You must be Mr. Porter.”

“I am.”

“Katie Woodward. I’m afraid I found a notation about your appointment with Winnie only a few moments ago. I tried to call, but you’d already left home.”

Sara glanced at Cade, found his gaze on her. See, his eyes chided.

“More candy?” Brett asked hopefully, peering upward at the cowboy.

Cade turned his attention to the twins as he debated the winner of their coloring contest.

“Sara?” Katie hissed. “Problem?”

“Mr. Porter is interested in a church wedding. With the twins present, it’s difficult for us to carry on a discussion. Perhaps you could help him while I babysit?” Keeping her back toward the man in question, Sara silently begged her sister to intervene.

“I’m booked with consults all day, sorry. But Reese will be down in a few minutes. Apparently the agency is sending him a new nanny to replace the one who quit this morning. He’ll take the twins when he goes to meet her.” Katie leaned closer and whispered, “Is there some reason why you don’t want to handle Mr. Porter’s wedding?”

“Aside from the fact that I haven’t done one in two years?”

“You’ll do fine. Your weddings were always the most unique.”

Sara made a face. During her previous employment at Woodwards, her family had meddled with every wedding plan she’d organized—just like they interfered in everything else in her life.

Which was why she’d left.

Reese chose that moment to thunder down the stairs, calling to his sons. He stopped when he saw Cade. Sara introduced the two men.

“Congratulations. You have two creative artists in the making.” Cade showed him the pictures. “They’re horses,” he hinted as Reese tilted his head sideways.

“They’re fantastic horses.” Reese ruffled the boys’ hair. “Good job, guys.”

From his speculative look, Sara knew her brother was taking stock of their client. Reese had to notice the way his sons refused to release Cade’s pant leg even after the cowboy awarded a tie for first place, but her brother made no effort to free their client.

“Brady, Brett, let go of Mr. Porter.” Embarrassed, Sara tried to shift the chubby fingers, with no success. “I’m afraid they come by their stubbornness honestly,” she apologized. “Reese was just as determined when we were kids.”

“And so was I.” He grinned at Reese. “Could I invite you and your boys for a horse ride at my ranch—in the interest of adding perspective to their artistic endeavors? And because they both won first prize?”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Reese asked after shushing the boys’ begging pleas. “How long have you had with them? Obviously not long enough to recognize the devastation they bring.”

“I have a rough idea of their capabilities.” Cade winked at Sara. “There’s nothing they can wreck on the ranch.”

“I doubt your horses will think so after they leave.”

“Please, I’d love to have you bring them. Is Saturday okay?”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Cade scooped both boys in his arms for a goodbye hug. He thanked them for drawing him the pictures and promised to hang them up at home.

To the twins’ delight, Reese agreed they could visit the ranch on Saturday. Once a time was chosen, Reese hurried the kids out to his car, trying to hush their loud and prolonged goodbye calls to Cade.

“So, Sara, you’re now free to discuss Mr. Porter’s wedding.”

Sara struggled to smile, remembering the windows.

“Would it be okay if we talked at that coffee shop around the corner?” Cade asked. “I haven’t had my quota of java yet, and I wouldn’t mind something to eat. I think I’ll need my energy to make all these decisions you’re talking about.”

“It’s—”

“A wonderful idea!” Katie’s smile resembled that of an obsequious slave. “Take as long as you like, Sara. We want to do our best for Mr. Porter.”

“Please, call me Cade.”

Sara frowned at Katie. Earlier her sister had bawled her out for redoing the display mannequin’s makeup instead of attending to the massive files stacked behind the reception desk. Now suddenly Katie was all smiles and pleasantness at the prospect of having Sara leave the building?

Something was fishy.

“The desk will be unattended,” she reminded softly. “I could be gone a while.”

“I’ll find someone else.” Katie’s smile never wavered.

Cade cleared his throat. “If the arrangement isn’t to your liking, Ms.—”

“Her name is Sara. Sara Woodward.” Katie’s Cheshire cat smile widened.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sara,” Cade said softly, his smile charming. “But I repeat, if the arrangement isn’t to Sara’s liking…”

Nothing about her current circumstances was to Sara’s liking. Her “liking” would be to work with Gideon Glen—a special-effects genius whose work Sara had admired for years. Sara’s biggest “liking” would be for her family to accept her independence and stop trying to coax her back into the family business.

But she could hardly say that in front of a client. Instead Sara leaned forward, grasped her sister’s arm and excused herself.

“We’ll just be a moment, Mr. Porter.”

“It’s Cade.”

“Of course it is.” Sara dragged Katie around the corner.

“Sara!” Katie struggled to free her arm. “What are you doing?”

“Consulting. Katie, this guy doesn’t have the first clue about a wedding.” She kept her voice subdued through rigid control.

“You’ll figure it out. Work with him. And take your time,” Katie said sweetly. Too sweetly.

Warning bells chimed a second time, but all Sara could do was ignore their caution and follow her sister back into Woodwards’ reception area.

“Enjoy your coffee, you two.” Katie made it sound like a date.

Sara ached to refuse. But with Cade Porter watching—

You’re home to help, remember. So help.

“Mr. Porter, how do like your coffee?”

“Strong and black.” He flashed his smile and Sara’s knees softened.

Those blue irises are only colored contacts.

Her knees didn’t seem to care.

“Bye.” Katie waggled her fingers at them before picking up the phone.

Cade opened the big glass entry door. Sara walked through, wondering if she’d imagined the smug look on Katie’s face.

“Autumn’s such a refreshing season, isn’t it?” Mr. Porter grinned as he clapped a hand on his Stetson so the wind couldn’t take it.

“I guess.”

It was obvious from his deep breaths that he’d found the store confining and enjoyed the freedom of outside. Sara struggled to match her step to his. Not an easy feat wearing the needle-thin heels Katie insisted were the only appropriate footwear for a fashion-conscious house like Woodwards’. Her best effort was a mincing half jog.

When they finally arrived at the coffee shop, Sara collapsed into a chair and brushed the mass of damp tumbling curls off her face. Her look, reflected in the pastry case mirror across the room, was so not the image of a pulled-together career woman out for coffee with a client.

“Makeup artist, cure thyself,” she muttered, patting a napkin against her damp forehead.

“Excuse me?”

“Talking to myself. Often happens after a round with the twins.” Hiding facial flaws on others was Sara’s passion. Hiding her own was a losing battle, so she ignored her reflection. “Somehow those two little kids always leave me feeling like I need time to recoup. Happy but drained. The way you looked before we left the store.”

“I wasn’t drained,” he said.

“Right.” He’d been chafing to get away. Sara wondered why.

“Because I invited you, I’m buying. What will you have?” Cade leaned one shoulder against the wall, his face all sharply defined planes and angles in the dimmer interior.

“Just coffee, thanks. Double cream.”

Cade’s shadowed gaze raked her face, then his swift assessment moved slowly from her untamed curls to the pearly sheen of polish Katie had painted on her toenails. He nodded once, then walked to the counter.

Sara leaned back against the banquette. Because Cade wasn’t volunteering any information, she’d have to come out and ask about his sister, and risk sounding like a snoop. She hadn’t come up with a way to begin when her client returned, grinning as he set a gigantic cup in front of her.

“Thank you. Is something amusing you, Mr. Porter?”

“Cade.” He studied her hair, frizzy now from the outside humidity. “You don’t look old enough to drink that.”

Sara’s molars met. Tomorrow she’d cut off her curls. Perhaps then—

“I assure you I am perfectly capable of functioning as your wedding planner. I do have the necessary credentials.” Later she’d ask Katie how that certificate had gone from the trunk in her room at their parents’ home to hanging on Woodwards’ wall.

“I’m sure you do.” He sat down across from her, stretched his long legs to one side. His eyes turned a moody shade of blue.

“Is the coffee bad?” She sipped her own.

“Coffee’s fine.” The granite jaw softened slightly.

Sara liked the effect. “So—?”

“I wanted to do something really special for my sister. I didn’t realize planning her wedding would be so complicated.”

“And now you’re thinking more along the lines of elopement?” she teased.

“No way.” Not a morsel of doubt crept into his low, firm tone. “I specifically chose Weddings by Woodwards because they’re supposed to be the best in the business. And I want the very best.”

“Woodwards is top of the heap.” Sara studied him. “You need the best because—?”