Brown-Eyed Girl (Travises 4)

“Yes, I knew.” Ella smiled and reached over to adjust his tie. “After something this traumatic,” she told me cheerfully, “you need to self-medicate. Let’s go sit somewhere and have a drink.”

“I would love to,” I said, “but I can’t. I have to wait here for Joe’s cousin Ryan.”

“Have you met him before?”

“No, and I have no idea what he looks like.”

“I’ll point him out to you,” Ella said. “Although the family resemblance is unmistakable. Big, hairy, lots of attitude.”

Jack bent to brush a casual kiss on her lips. “That’s just how you like ’em,” he said. “Want me to get you some champagne?”

“Yes, please.”

Jack glanced at me. “Same for you, Avery?”

Although I would have loved some, I shook my head reluctantly. “Thank you, but I’d better stay as clearheaded as possible.”

As he left, Ella turned a friendly gaze to me. “How long have you and Joe known each other?”

“We don’t,” I said quickly. “I mean… we met several days ago at a wedding I’d planned, but we’re not… you know…”

“He’s interested,” she told me. “I could tell from the way he was looking at you.”

“I’m too busy to even think about going out with someone.”

She gave me a patently sympathetic look. “Avery, I’m an advice columnist. I write about this stuff all the time. No one is ever too busy for a relationship. Katy Perry’s busy, but she dates, right? A-Rod’s busy, but he has a new girlfriend every month. So I’m guessing you were burned in your last relationship. You’ve lost faith in the entire male half of our species.”

There was something so perky and engaging about her that I couldn’t help smiling. “That about sums it up.”

“Then you need to —” She broke off as Joe returned with his camera.

“Ryan’s heading over here,” he said. “I just saw him get off the elevator.”

A tall, well-dressed man approached us. His thick hair had been clipped conservatively short, the locks the color of dark chocolate. With his high cheekbones and icehouse-blue eyes, he was remarkably handsome, more austere and polished than the Travis brothers. He possessed a self-contained quality, with no hint of the Travises’ consummate charm or easy humor, but rather a sense that he was a man who would let his guard down only reluctantly, if at all.

“Hi, Ella,” he said as he reached us, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Joe.”

“How’s it going, Rye?” Joe asked as they shook hands.

“I’ve been better.” Ryan turned to me, his expression masked with politeness. “You’re the wedding planner?”

“Avery Crosslin.”

His grip was firm but careful as we shook hands. “We’ll have to make this quick,” Ryan said. “I only have a few minutes before Bethany tracks me down.”

“Of course. Would you like to talk in private? I’m not familiar with the house —”

“Not necessary,” Ryan said. “Joe and Ella are family.” His gaze was cool. “What has Hollis told you about my situation?”

I answered readily. “She said that you’re going to propose to her daughter, Bethany, and you wanted to talk to me about ideas for the proposal.”

“I don’t need proposal ideas,” Ryan said flatly. “Hollis only said that because she’s afraid I won’t go through with it. She and David are trying to hold my feet to the fire.”

“Why’s that?” Joe asked.

Ryan hesitated for a long moment. “Bethany’s pregnant.” The battened-down tension in his reply made it clear that the news had been neither expected nor welcome.

A sober silence descended.

“She said she wants to have the baby,” Ryan continued. “I told her I’d stand by her, of course.”

“Ryan,” Ella ventured, “I know you’re traditional about these things. But if that’s the only reason you’re proposing to Bethany, the marriage doesn’t have a great chance of working out.”

“We’ll make it work.”

“You can be part of your child’s life without having to get married,” I said quietly.

“I’m not here to discuss the pros and cons. The wedding is going to happen. All I want is a say in how it turns out.”

“So you want to take an active part in the planning?” I asked.

“No, I just want to set some reasonable parameters and have them enforced. Otherwise, Hollis will have the entire wedding party riding on elephants dressed in gold chain mail, or worse.”

I was troubled by the prospect of planning a wedding for a reluctant groom. It seemed doubtful that he and Bethany would make it to the altar, but even if they did, the process would likely be miserable for everyone involved. “Ryan,” I said, “there are several very experienced and well-established event planners in Houston who could do a wonderful job —”

“They’re all in the Warners’ pocket. I’ve already made it clear to Hollis that I won’t put up with any event planner who’s worked for her in the past. I want someone she doesn’t own. It doesn’t matter to me about how good you are, or what kind of flowers you pick, or any of that. All I want to know is if you can stand up to Hollis when she tries to take over.”