1. Something Borrowed

1

SOMETHING BORROWED

The future bride and groom were clearly unhappy.

A blustery winter storm approached as we wandered through the cozy ski lodge I'd foolishly assumed was a sure thing. A harsh wind rattled the floor-to-ceiling windows, scattering flurries of snow and almost obscuring the mountains in the distance.

Yet we were safe and warm inside, with fires crackling in stone hearths still draped in garlands. Bouquets of dried holly berries decorated every reading nook and window seat. And the atmosphere was as charming as it was rustic, the kind of place that radiated wedded bliss.

But while Beau and Flora wore matching polite smiles, there was a tightness to their movements, a stilted hesitancy, that had my stomach pitching to the ground.

The venue coordinator—Bethanne—was a friendly blur of motion in front of us. She was just as accommodating in person as she'd been on the phone when I'd called earlier this week and begged for a last-minute walk-through. No easy feat, given the extremely short notice and that it was New Year's Eve weekend.

"I hope the three of you had a lovely holiday," she trilled. "How many venues has Paige brought you to visit since you've gotten engaged?"

Flora wrinkled her nose. "It's been so many, it's hard to keep track. Ten, maybe?"

"This will be the seventeenth," I corrected.

Beau's lips twitched as he shrugged his massive shoulders. "I promise we're not usually this picky. Just haven't found a place that feels right yet."

Bethanne leaned in close, like she was about to share a secret. "Trust me, I've seen it all. You're not the first happy couple to find this process bewildering."

Then she beckoned them to follow her, past the gleaming professional kitchen and the wide verandas. I hung back, only half listening to Bethanne's marketing pitch for why booking this ski lodge was the smartest thing they could do. Tilting my head, I tried to picture Beau and Flora's wedding day here. My imagination scrambled to sketch in the sensory details: the rosy summer sun heating the room, filled with their friends and family. The dried berries replaced with blushing peonies, the sky a blazing blue against the backdrop of the Rocky Mountains.

I could see it easily because I'd planned a dozen celebrations in cute mountain towns just like Telluride. Had done a wedding for every season and every type of couple.

So the detailed logistics weren't causing my mental glitch.

Bethanne paused in front of a long table, methodically explaining their dinner options for the big day. They angled toward the menu as she spoke, but at least a foot of distance separated them. Flora nodded pleasantly, though her teeth worried at her bottom lip. Beau squeezed the back of his neck—a nervous tic I could spot from a mile away—and my gaze snagged on the tattoos that decorated his fingers, the ink stretching across his forearms to disappear beneath the shirt cuffed at his elbows.

I shifted on my feet, a heady awareness prickling at the same spot on my neck. And when Beau caught me staring, he sent me a wink that made my face burn.

Pay attention , I mouthed as haughtily as I could manage.

His response was a lopsided grin that never ceased to generate the same reaction, every damn time, and growing more substantial by the day: a fluttering like bird's wings in my belly. His green eyes and dark brows were pretty and soulful—the Nice Boy Next Door, here to capture your heart with his sweet romantic gestures.

But there was nothing sweet about his angular jaw or that mouth of his. It was pure sin, made sexier by the husky edges of a Southern accent he still carried, even years after moving to Colorado.

"Now how did you two meet?" Bethanne asked, moving us back to the largest stone hearth. Warmth from the fire licked along my calves, the backs of my knees.

Flora arched an eyebrow Beau's way. "A big group of us, Paige included, met a few years ago at a film festival in Boulder, where we live. We were all super close, still are, but Beau and I started spending extra time together. And by our second date, I was an absolute goner for the guy. Still am."

Pink flushed his cheeks. "We both knew right away that we had something special. I fell hard and fast, couldn't wait to marry her. We proposed to each other at the top of the giant Ferris wheel at Elitch Gardens. Flora's was beautiful and sincere while I babbled along like a lovestruck fool."

Bethanne swooned at this while Flora's expression turned tender. "There was nothing foolish about what you said to me, Beau Duvall."

"Maybe so," he drawled. "I am lovestruck, darlin'. No arguing that."

Bethanne laughed, but I wasn't buying the act. Not their words, but their body language, the odd awkwardness that hung in the conspicuous space between them. An awkwardness that had appeared a couple months ago, though I'd brushed it off as the usual stress around wedding planning. Yet there was no denying their usual flirtatious affection had been replaced by whatever this was—some song-and-dance they broke out for every vendor we visited before retreating back to their clumsy tension.

I hadn't seen them so much as hold hands recently. No stolen kisses when they thought I wasn't looking or long, lingering hugs. This from two people who were usually permanently entwined. The conflicting emotions this inspired in me were impossible to untangle. A hope tinged with heartbreak. Relief crushed by disbelief.

We were six agonizing months into this process, and Beau and Flora were no longer the couple they'd been on the morning they'd shared the news of their engagement. I'd spent days working up the courage to finally see them after my year in California—and I'd known within minutes that it was a mistake. Made even worse when they told me they'd gotten engaged that weekend. My palms had gone slick at the news, my stomach hollowing with nerves.

Beau, on the other hand, spent the morning enamored, gazing at Flora's profile like he was trying to memorize every stray freckle scattered across the bridge of her nose.

And Flora had been lit from within, as stunning as ever with her honey-blond hair in a messy topknot, smoky eyeliner smudged from sleep, her smile shy. Every time her wide brown eyes had landed on mine, I'd fought the fierce urge to reach for her beneath the table.

I didn't though. Couldn't. My anguish was so familiar to me that I welcomed it like an old friend.

"Well, I should probably leave you three to it, especially with this storm coming in," Bethanne said. "Please continue wandering around, of course. Paige, do you want to step into my office so I can give you all the boring paperwork?"

"Absolutely," I replied, before turning back to the bride and groom. "Try not to get into any trouble."

Beau's grin flashed. "We make no promises."

I shot him a scowl then followed Bethanne down a long hallway. In my workbag, I had a slim binder with Beau's and Flora's names on it—shockingly slim given the timing. No alterations had been scheduled, no photographers booked, not even a save-the-date postcard planned. I'd overseen two weddings and a commitment ceremony in the six months it had taken us to eliminate sixteen other venues.

As Bethanne handed me documents and sample contracts, she said, "Do they have a date in mind? Because we book up so fast, they'll be lucky to find anything for this coming year."

I hesitated. "They're considering the summer, but no exact date yet."

" This summer?"

I tacked on a polite smile. "Beau and Flora are having a difficult time narrowing down exactly what they want."

"Interesting. Best of luck to you then, I know how challenging your job can be." She cocked her head toward the hallway. "Lovely couple, though."

My smile froze in place. "Truly."

Back out in the main room, I followed the sound of hushed voices until I found them in a small library. Beau was raking a hand through his hair, brows knit together. Flora's eyes were glued to the floor, shoulders hunched forward. I leaned against the door frame and cleared my throat. They startled, attempting to smooth their anxious expressions. More than a foot separated them. Still.

Every muscle in my body went taut.

"So…what do we think?" I asked carefully. "Do we have ourselves a winner?"

They shared a look too cryptic for me to decipher. With a sigh, Flora crossed the room and slipped into my arms, tucking her head beneath my chin. I wavered, as always. Met Beau's gaze from across the room and saw the fire that burned there. The way his eyes lingered at every place where our bodies touched. It scorched like jealousy but also desire , the dual emotions mimicking the ones at the very core of my being. It was in the way his fingers flexed against the top of his thighs. The bob of his throat. The hardening of his jaw.

Flora had scarcely touched Beau in my presence in weeks. That hadn't stopped her from snuggling up to me just like this whenever she could.

One of my hands landed gently between her shoulder blades, while the other cupped the back of her head. My mouth dropped to her hair on pure instinct. The soft inhale that followed was just as instinctual—breathing in her woodsy, lavender scent.

A bolt of pure yearning rushed through me.

Flora exhaled, her breath caressing the hollow of my throat. I allowed my hand to stroke through her hair once— only once—before raising my eyes to Beau's again.

Another tick of his jaw. Another deliberate perusal.

"Don't be mad, but this venue isn't the one," Flora said, her voice muffled against my skin.

My stomach roiled with frustration while my heart sang with relief. I reared back to catch her eye, pressing our hips together. This close, she was all thick, dramatic brows and rosy lips with the tiniest gap between her two front teeth. A spray of freckles across her nose and the flash of a gold septum piercing.

Adorable. Beautiful. A temptation I clutched tightly in my arms as if her fiancé wasn't right beside us.

"After you passed on the last three, you said you wanted something more rustic and out-of-the-way." I waved my hand to indicate the rustic, out-of-the-way details all around us. "What's not to love? It's got fireplaces and quaint mountain views and antlers on the wall."

Beau lifted a shoulder. "We really wanted to love it, Paige."

Flora shook her head. "Every venue you've shown us has been so wonderful. It's not you, it's definitely us. I don't want you to feel like you're wasting your time."

I raised a brow. "It's not a waste of my time because I'd help you with anything. You know that. But the two of you have always been so—"

"Devastatingly handsome?" Beau offered.

"A pain in my ass," I clarified with a smile. "And also decisive . You always know what you want."

He pushed to stand, joining us by the door. "Not this time."

I lowered my voice. "I'm not only here to figure out seating arrangements. We're friends first, always. So if there's…something else going on, some problem that you need to share with me, I'm here to listen."

They avoided eye contact and stayed silent. My heart stuttered. But then a snow-laden pine tree battered against the window, springing all three of us apart.

Beau whistled under his breath. "This storm's gonna be a bad one. There's no way you can drive back to Boulder in this, Paige. The roads out of Telluride will be closed soon, if they aren't already."

"I'll be fine," I said quickly. "I've driven in worse."

"Why don't you crash with us for the weekend?" Flora asked. "There's an extra bedroom and everything."

A rush of unease raced down my spine. "Uh…what?"

Beau leaned his forearm against the door frame. "The cabin we rented for New Year's isn't far from here, and we packed tons of supplies. It'll be cozy as hell. And you love cozy."

"Sure, but I can't…I can't just impose on your romantic holiday weekend because of a little bad weather."

A gust of wind shook the windows again, sending the rapidly falling snow into a churning chaos. All three of our phones chimed with a severe weather alert for Telluride, and my screen became filled with phrases like hazardous conditions and advised not to travel and residents could lose power .

"It's not imposing if we're asking you to," Flora said, gazing up at me through her dark lashes. "Besides, you have to help me drink all the champagne that we packed."

"Great point, Flor." Beau's cocky grin had returned. "And I wouldn't even call it askin '. We're demanding it, Paige Presley."

Be trapped in a cabin with only Beau and Flora and too much champagne?

No fucking way.

All that fizzy sweetness, all those loose limbs and lowered inhibitions. No extra friends to lighten the tension. No outside world to distract us.

The truth was, I wanted Beau and Flora—wanted them both —with a desperation that bordered on obsession.

Except they were engaged to be married.

And I was their wedding planner.