Had to Be You: an Oyster Bay novel (Bayside Brides Book 3) Read online

  HAD TO BE YOU

  Olivia Miles

  ~Rosewood Press~

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Other Books

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chloe Larson stood at the edge of the large stone terrace with the view of the sea, nearly hidden by the flowers that anchored every corner, watching from a distance as the bride and groom stepped hand in hand onto the dance floor. As planned, every guest held a sparkler in the air, surrounding the happy couple with a glow of flickering light as they swayed to the music and gazed into each other’s eyes.

  Some guests teared up. Others smiled wistfully. The photographer snapped his camera.

  Chloe mentally checked a box.

  The cake had been cut. Plates had been cleared. The first dance was underway. There was that one little glitch where the Coast Guard decided to fly over the ceremony just before the first kiss was announced, but it only added to the anticipation, and such were the risks with outdoor weddings!

  Next on her list was the bouquet toss. And where was it, exactly? Chloe glanced at the bride, just to make sure that Hannah wasn’t still clutching it while she danced, but both of her hands were tightly on Dan, as they should be. Right. A bouquet to find then, and before this song ended. Chloe stepped off the terrace and walked toward the head table briskly. The sun had set over an hour ago, and the lanterns and overhead string lights that had been set up on the back lawn of the seaside estate known as Crestview Manor cast shadows on the few lingering guests who had chosen to sit out the first dance, mostly the geriatric crowd, who liked to remain seated once seated. Still, Chloe thought she noticed a younger man in their midst.

  She squinted through the dark, in case it was someone she knew, but when she looked over at the table again, the man was gone. Well, no need to trouble herself with that. He was probably just keeping Mimi Harper company, especially since her husband Earl had nodded off before the dessert course. The song was winding down and Chloe’s heart was speeding up. She needed to find Hannah’s bouquet and bring it back to the terrace for her before the guests had one too many glasses of champagne and got carried away on the dance floor. It was always best, she had learned, for there to be an order to these things. First dance followed soon thereafter by the bouquet toss. Then everyone was free for the evening, herself included.

  Chloe’s shoulders sagged in relief when she spotted the colorful mixed bouquet at the head table, next to Hannah’s uneaten slice of cake. It was her experience that brides rarely ate at their own wedding. They were too busy greeting guests. Too worried about spilling something on their beautiful gowns.

  Hannah—with Chloe’s help—had chosen cheerful summer blooms tied with a blue ribbon. Despite its weight, Chloe held it gingerly, even though it would soon be tossed into the air, where all the lonely hearts in town would scramble over each other to be the one to catch it in the hopes that this would automatically make them the next bride to grace the aisle. It was a silly tradition, but one most brides upheld, and Chloe was looking forward to it because it meant that every last item (aside from overseeing clean-up) would be scratched from her list of duties and then she could go home, ease her shoes from her aching feet, slip into her favorite cotton pajama pants, and enjoy a single glass of wine while she caught up on her favorite dating show, which she was now a week behind on, thanks to the craziness of wedding week. Not exactly what most people would consider a thrilling Saturday night, sure, but it suited her just fine.

  Hannah met Chloe at the edge of the terrace to collect the bouquet, and even in the dusk, Chloe could see that her friend’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright. It was the happiest day of Hannah’s life, Chloe thought. Mission accomplished.

  “If I were you, I probably wouldn’t wait too much longer to toss this. Once the dinner is over and the cake has been cut, the party can sometimes take on a life of its own,” she warned.

  “I’ll do it after this song,” Hannah said. She looked down at the flowers and touched them softly.

  It really was a shame to part with them, Chloe thought, but she nodded just the same. “I’ll let the band know.”

  She strode across the stone terrace, teetering only slightly in her heels, and waited until the song had ended before holding up a hand.

  “The bride will be tossing her bouquet now,” she said to the lead singer, who appeared all too happy for a five-minute break. Chloe pursed her lips, watching the group carefully in case they decided to slip away for too long, or worse, saddle up to the bar.

  Hannah moved to the center of the terrace, and all at once, like a flock of birds, every single woman in Oyster Bay over the age of eighteen was gathered at the base of the lawn. Chloe even noticed Sarah Preston’s grandmother out there, bless her, and she had to be past eighty.

  “Aren’t you going to join them?” a voice said. It took Chloe a moment to register that the question was being directed at her.

  “Excuse me?” She looked over to see the man she had seen sitting at the tables a few minutes ago. She shook her head. “No.” A firm no.

  “Taken then,” he said, giving a shrug that matched his boyish grin.

  She eyed him. Nut-brown hair. Blue-green eyes. Strong Roman nose and a nice, square jaw. Handsome. And not someone she had ever seen before in Oyster Bay.

  A crasher? It was entirely possibly, but not likely. Crestview Manor was remote, at the far edge of town.

  “Just sitting it out.” She eyed him up and down. “Just as you chose to sit out the first dance.”

  His eyes flickered. “So you caught me, then.”

  “I notice these sorts of things,” she said with a little smile.

  “Between the two of us, my feet are killing me,” he leaned in to say. He wiggled a foot. “New shoes.”

  She laughed, heard the whoop of delight rise up in the crowd as the bouquet was inevitably released, and then, fell straight backwards as it slammed into the side of her head.

  She was going down. In the middle of her own event. When she wasn’t even off duty. When she still had to make sure that the top tier of the cake was boxed and preserved and that the centerpieces were handed out to those who deserved them—not just to some of the greedier dates of guests who came to the weddings for the food and free drinks and sometimes didn’t even know the happy couple personally.

  She was going to fall. On her face? On her back. She was going to commit the cardinal sin and pull attention away from the bride.

  Until someone stopped her.

  She looked up into the now rather alarmed eyes of the man she had just been talking with, swallowing back her mortification as he gently righted her. Her heels wobbled underneath her and she stumbled a few steps to the side, feeling his hand tight on her elbow.

  “Are you okay?” His voice filled with concern deeper than the crease between his eyebrows.

  Chloe touched her head gingerly, just to make sure that there wasn’t any blood, but she supposed that almost wasn’t possible, considering nearly all of it had rushed to her cheeks. They burned hot with embarrassment and she nodded over and over.

  “Fine. I’m fine.”

  He looked relieved. Even managed a smile. “That was some hit. Good
thing it was just flowers.”

  She slanted him a glance. More like eight pounds of flowers.

  “Are you okay?” Hannah came scrambling over to her, the skirt of her wedding gown hitched up in both fists, and Chloe was quick to shake her head and then nod.

  “I’m fine!” She forced a smile, desperate to take herself out of the spotlight, and all at once every single woman who had been standing politely a half a dozen feet to her left made a mad sprint for the bouquet that was in a heap on the ground at her feet.

  “Pick it up. Quick,” the man said, and because she had just been slapped in the head by a rather large floral arrangement and because she hated to see those beautiful flowers get dirty or trampled, she did.

  The groans from the crowd of women who were surging upon her were quickly drowned out by the horrible realization of what she had just done.

  “You caught the bouquet!” Hannah’s eyes danced with excitement as she ran back to join her new husband on the dance floor. “Chloe caught the bouquet!”

  Chloe looked up at the now smirking man through the hood of her lashes. “Thanks.”

  “Ah, so you were hoping to catch that bouquet after all,” he said.

  “No, I wasn’t…” But it didn’t matter. Her heart was pounding and she wasn’t so sure that it had anything to do with nearly falling on her face in the middle of Hannah’s wedding. He had a nice smile. One of the nicest she had seen in some time. And warm, kind eyes that crinkled at the corners.

  What was she thinking? She wasn’t thinking at all. She had been hit in the head. She wasn’t herself. Chloe Larson did eye the guests at weddings she planned. Chloe Larson didn’t even date, not seriously at least. Chloe worked. And right now, she needed to get back to her job.

  “Thank you,” she said again. “For not letting me fall. The stone would have done a lot more damage than a fistful of botanicals.”

  He pointed to the flowers in her hand. They had weathered the fall better than she had. She’d be sure to praise her friend Posy for her excellent floral arranging.

  “That’s not just any bouquet. It means you’re next to be married, right?” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, giving her a long, knowing look. Chloe watched him, taking in his face, wondering how he’d acquired that scar on his chin that was his only physical flaw and made him all the more attractive, and then cleared her throat.

  Really! She was on the clock.

  “If you believe in superstition, I suppose,” Chloe said.

  “You mean, you don’t?” His eyes gleamed.

  “I believe in tradition,” she said firmly.

  “Then that means you’ll be holding onto it,” he said, motioning to the bouquet.

  She sighed deeply, looking down at the bouquet. She really didn’t need the hassle of carrying it around when she needed to check on that cake tier.

  She smoothed the skirt of her shift dress, wondered if she had a mark on her cheek from where she’d been hit, and then touched the side of her head, alarmed that some of her hair had been pulled from its chignon.

  “I should…go tend to this,” she said, feeling a strange urge to stay right where she was, even though duty called and this man was a guest, and one which she technically should be tending to, not the other way around. “Thank you. Again.”

  “The honor was all mine,” he said, and slowly, almost reluctantly, she thought, he walked away, pausing only to give her one last grin over his shoulder.

  Chapter One

  Chloe checked the time on her watch as she slowed to a walk. Three minutes faster than yesterday. Not bad. Not great either, especially if she wanted to finish in the top ten at this fall’s Turkey Trot. Still, there was always another chance after work today, and she could blame the anticipation of this morning’s big meeting for being distracted.

  Quickly, she pushed through the door of her apartment building, sprinted up the two flights of stairs, wincing when she heard the pounding on the wall from Amanda Quinn in the unit below, reminding her that not everyone was ready to start their day, something Chloe still couldn’t wrap her head around. What good was sleep when there was a day to be filled, work to be done, goals to be met? When she woke every morning, her mind was already bursting with her task list, an entire mental inventory of what needed to be accomplished before she climbed under the covers again. She couldn’t imagine languishing in bed, delaying her start. That was how people fell behind.

  Besides, her anxiety trumped any pleasure she derived from the warm comfort of her down duvet.

  By seven thirty, she was showered and dressed in a lake blue linen sheath, which she’d set out the night before, along with all the necessary accessories (shoes, necklace, earrings, handbag), and her blonde hair was pulled back in a chignon, her preferred look. She’d already clocked a five-mile run. Already eaten her usual breakfast: one poached egg with a slice of gluten-free toast and a cup of coffee. Her teeth were brushed. Her bed was made (with hotel corners because the extra effort paid off at the end of the day as extra efforts usually did). Her gym clothes were already tumbling in her in-unit washing machine, one she had installed herself in her hall closet when Trudy, a lonely widow across the hall who made everything about the building her personal business, accused her of using up the basement facility too much. Was it Chloe’s fault that she had a system? Sheets each Sunday. Towels each Saturday. Clothes…well, usually daily.

  “Doesn’t a pretty girl like you have anything better to do than worry about laundry?” Trudy had shaken her head, clucking her tongue in disappointment, but Chloe wasn’t stung. Well, not really. She liked things in order. It brought her happiness. Was that really so unusual for a woman of her age?

  Apparently, it was. After all, most of her friends were in relationships now. Some were married. More would be engaged soon by the look of things. And Chloe hadn’t had a date since…well, no need to dwell on that.

  Chloe locked the door to her apartment and ran down the stairs, until the banging started again and then she had to slow herself to a suppressed skip. A surge of excitement swelled in her chest as her heeled feet hit the pavement outside her building. Her apartment was one block off Main Street, something she had chosen specifically more than seven years ago when she first opened her shop.

  She walked briskly to the corner and then turned onto Oyster Bay’s main strip, which was still quiet at this hour. Angie’s Café would be open, of course. Maybe Jojo’s. Trish would be just getting in over at Books by the Bay. Chip down at The Lantern would have already clocked three hours, if not four, making sure he had the finest catch to offer his customers come the lunch hour.

  And then there were the new shops, new restaurants, more each day, it seemed. At first this had unsettled her. Change was full of uncertainty, wasn’t it? But so far the Main Street revitalization project had boosted the local economy, bringing in more tourists, and keeping them there. Her friend Bridget who owned the Harper House Inn had remarked that they were booked up through Labor Day.

  Bayside Brides was just ahead now. Quiet and sleepy, waiting for someone to come and wake it up. The awning that usually flapped in the ocean breeze was still today. It was a hot, sticky day, even for early August. The month would bring a surge of late-summer people, and then September would slow, with kids back in school. Business would wind down. It always did come fall.

  But Chloe couldn’t worry about that today. Today Chloe had a meeting with Lori Addison, editor of Here Comes the Bride magazine, who was planning a spring wedding right here in Oyster Bay. It was a pinch-me moment, and Chloe still didn’t feel like it was actually happening, even though she’d triple-checked Lori’s confirmation email last night. She could not let anything ruin this opportunity.

  She hurried to unlock the door to the store and get settled. By the time she had freshened up the bouquets, spruced up the front planters, straightened the back office space, and made sure even the glass of the windows shone, Melanie Dillon, her co-owner and cousin, had finally ar
rived to work.

  Chloe knew that both Melanie and their assistant Sarah Preston thought she expected too much from them. And they were never late, that was true. But they just didn’t have the same passion as she did. They also, she realized, didn’t share the same anxiety. After all, wasn’t that what brought her into work early each day and kept her here late each day?

  Well, that and the fact that she had nothing else to do with her time, really. Other than run or hit the gym. Melanie was in a relationship. And recently, Sarah had also found romance.

  “Ready for the big meeting?” Melanie asked with large eyes as she swung her handbag on a hook in the back room.

  Chloe said nothing as she took it and moved it into a cabinet. Normally, she would have let this slide, but then, she had never had a meeting with Lori Addison before.

  “If she even shows up,” Chloe said. It felt like a relief to reveal her biggest fear out loud. The very one that had kept her up for three hours in the middle of the night, until she had to chant, “sleep, sleep, sleep” to herself until it finally came, two hours before her alarm went off. She could have skipped the morning jog, perhaps, but she knew what happened when you started letting things slip: nothing good.

  “Of course she’ll be here!” Melanie looked at her like she was crazy and gave her a good-natured pat on the arm as she walked back into the storefront. “Didn’t she confirm just yesterday?”

  Chloe nodded. She had, of course she had. Lori would be spending the weekend in Oyster Bay. Her Friday morning meeting with Chloe was her first stop.

  “And there she is!” Melanie all but cried just as Chloe felt all the blood rush from her face.

  She should have had some fruit this morning. Something for her blood pressure. She was a bag of nerves, but who wouldn’t be? Lori Addison. Editor of Chloe’s absolute favorite wedding magazine. Here, in her shop.

  Melanie didn’t know what Lori looked like anymore than Chloe did, of course, but the woman approaching the store was unmistakably Lori. She was all city, for one. Black, head to toe. Most people in Oyster Bay preferred something a little lighter in color this time of year: seersucker, linen, whites and blues and corals.