Page 12 of The Rented Bride

“Tell me if you get tired,” Trent said.

“I’ll be close by if he needs anything,” Annie said.

James whirled and poked a finger at her. “Keep your distance, woman. I don’t need a babysitter. I don’t want you hovering.”

Trent chuckled. “I pay her to hover. Thank you, Annie. But I want you to enjoy yourself, as well. You can mingle at the party. I’ll be nearby.” And he had Celina and Greg on patrol. It was just a couple of hours at most. Trent took a deep breath and released it. He had other issues to deal with tonight, and he had no idea how he was going to tell his grandfather he had no bride.

Minutes later, they stepped from the corridor into the ballroom. The orchestra played a soft Debussy tune.

“Annie, get a drink,” his grandfather ordered. “Leave me be.”

She glanced at Trent and he gave a slight nod.

James wondered into the room and shook hands with a business associate. Tent followed but his thoughts dwelt on Lindsey. Production is to begin immediately. New Zealand. Three-movie deal. The article’s highlights played though his mind like bad cinema. How was it possible? Lindsey had held him tight when he’d told her about his grandfather’s illness. She’d cried and told him everything would be all right.

Trent needed answers and he knew just who might have them. He laid a hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “I see a friend I need to speak with.”

“No work tonight, lad.”

Trent lifted his hand in the Boy Scout’s three-fingered salute. “No work. I promise.”

The all too familiar curiosity flickered in his grandfather’s eyes. The wheels in his head were turning. How the hell was Trent going to explain— He cut off the thought and smiled.

“I’ll be back in a wee bit,” he said in a soft Scottish burr, then winked at his grandfather to indicate that he wanted to meet his girl when she arrived.

“You won’t soften me with that accent,” his grandfather said, but the pleasure in his eyes elicited a combination of joy and sadness that pierced depths Trent hadn’t known existed in his soul.

He glanced at Celina and gave her a tiny nod toward his grandfather, and she nodded acknowledgement that she would keep an eye on him until Trent returned.

Then he stepped away. He wasn’t just afraid his grandfather would read the truth in his expression. Just how deep did Lindsey’s lies and manipulations go? Trent wound his way through the guests, scanning for the man who could help him.

***

Cassie pushed open the large oak door of the front entrance, bundled up in a down coat Meg had leant her. Until tonight, she hadn’t known the true meaning of cold. Meg said the thirty-two-degree dip was pretty common for early spring. Cassie had known the weather would hover just at freezing today, which was why she’d ordered an ice sculpture that had failed to be delivered at the contracted time.

Her luck seemed to be running a little thin. She had thanked her lucky stars that she hadn’t told anyone about the sculpture. At least this way she wouldn’t have more mishaps to explain. Two hours ago, she’d called the company and told them that since they hadn’t delivered the sculpture prior to guests arriving, to simply not deliver it at all. This was the third substantial problem on this job, and she felt certain Gallagher Event Planning was behind all three.

A commotion from the drive drew her attention. Two parking valets were arguing with a delivery truck blocking the lane used to park cars on the north side of the property.

“Dammit,” she cursed. Bright lamplight illuminated the steps and Cassie hurried down and along the path where two men were unloading the sculpture from their truck.

“Hold on,” she called.

Cassie sprinted toward them, then cried out when she slipped. She caught herself and took two steps with the momentum, then stopped. Heart racing, she glanced back at the stone walkway behind her and saw nothing she could identify as ice. She blew out a breath and walked a bit more slowly toward the two men, who were lowering the sculpture to the ground in the center of the drive.

“Wait,” she said.

The man facing her flicked a glance her way, then looked back at the sculpture as he and his partner settled it on the ground.

Cassie reached them. “You need to take the sculpture back. It’s too late for delivery. You were supposed to deliver it this afternoon.”

The two men straightened and the one nearest her turned. “Our invoice says one ice castle by eight pm. We have fifteen minutes to spare.”

“Your invoice is wrong.” No surprise.

The man frowned and pulled a tablet from his back jeans pocket, then tapped the screen. “You can call the office tomorrow. I need you to sign for delivery.” He handed over the tablet. “Just sign here with your finger.” He pointed to the bottom of the screen.

She read the delivery information and shook her head. “No, I’m not signing. The sculpture was supposed to be here by 4:00 pm. Before guests arrived.”