The Jilting: Summer (Mandrake Falls Series Romance Book 1) Read online

  THE JILTING

  ~ Summer ~

  A Mandrake Falls Four Seasons Romance

  CATHERINE LLOYD

  Copyright 2004 Catherine Lloyd

  Electronic Edition 2014

  Writewood Creations

  261 Lac Bernard Road

  Alcove, Quebec

  Canada J0X 1A0

  [email protected]

  http://www.writewoodcreations.blogspot.com

  All rights reserved.

  This publication remains the copyrighted property of the author

  and may not be redistributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.

  ISBN 978-0-9937704-1-8

  Cover Image by PeopleImages

  Cover Design by Anna Berezowsky

  Table of Contents

  THE JILTING

  Also by Catherine Lloyd

  From the Publisher

  THE JILTING

  Chapter One: The Wedding Invitation

  Chapter Two: The Bride

  Chapter Three: The Bride’s Best Friend

  Chapter Four: Something Old

  Chapter Five: The Jilting

  Chapter Six: The Groom

  Chapter Seven: Ryder and Scout

  Chapter Eight: The Wedding Night

  Chapter Nine: Friends With Benefits

  Chapter Ten: The Honeymoon Is Over

  Chapter Eleven: About Last Night

  Chapter Twelve: Leaving Ryder

  Chapter Thirteen: Finding Scout

  Chapter Fourteen: Something New

  EPILOGUE

  About the Author

  Dark Redeemer Historical Romance

  Mandrake Falls Four Seasons Romance

  Also by Catherine Lloyd

  Mandrake Falls Four Seasons Romance

  Lie For Me - Autumn

  The Way Home - Winter

  Love Rising - Spring

  Dark Redeemer Historical Romance

  Wanton

  Wastrel

  Traitor

  Soldier

  From the Publisher

  Best friends forever. Until one of them falls in love.

  In this sexy screwball comedy romance, Ryder Dean has been Scout Rutherford’s best friend since they were eight-years-old and there was a pretty good chance she was in love with him. So why was she marrying Noel Trace? Because he was rich, older and he said YES. The last person Scout wants to see at her wedding is Ryder. But there he is: gray-green eyes, messy hair, wearing his one good suit, watching her walk down the aisle like he knows something is going to go wrong. Nothing ever happens in Mandrake Falls except the day Scout got jilted.

  Set in the fictional town of Mandrake Falls, Vermont where relationship status reports are posted at the local beauty salon (literally) and the locals all have an opinion. The pace of life is slow until one of its citizens falls in love and then there's trouble, adventure, heartbreak and hope. Love might take a twist or two in Mandrake Falls, but it always gets there.

  The Jilting is a spicy contemporary romance written for a mature audience.

  THE JILTING

  jilt: vb: to leave or reject (a lover) abruptly or callously. (dialect jillet flighty girl)

  Chapter One: The Wedding Invitation

  “RYDER! HEY Dean! Mail call!”

  Sunlight flashed and bounced off the dull green State of Vermont Parks and Forestry truck driven by Hudson Grace. Ryder groaned and dropped the binoculars from his eyes. Hudson was trotting up the steep gravel path to the forestry station waving a fistful of unopened mail. Summer had arrived and Green Mountain National Forest was crawling with vacationers; Ryder had been camped out at the station for the past three weeks. It was easier to stay in the park when he was on call. At least, that’s what Ryder told his fellow rangers. The truth was he preferred the solitude of the forest to the solitude of the rundown farmhouse he lived in. But with guys like Grace barging in every few days, maybe the farmhouse was a better bet.

  “Why do you do this to me, Grace? I don’t want my mail.”

  “It’s no trouble. I picked it up at the post office when I collected mine. Looks like mostly bills again. You shouldn’t get behind—”

  “I didn’t ask for my mail.”

  “—with your credit cards, Ryder. They’ll kill you in interest. And if this is what I think it is—”

  “And yet every week you bring me my mail.”

  “—the wedding invitation, you won’t want to miss out on that.” The steps leading to the lookout deck were long and steep but Hudson scaled them like a mountain goat, waving a pale pink envelope.

  “Don’t tell me—Mandrake Falls’ most eligible bachelor has given up breaking hearts and is finally tying the knot. I hope you’ve alerted the Gazette.”

  “I’m not eligible, I’m dedicated. A dedicated bachelor can’t be eligible. Nope, it isn’t me getting married. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about the engagement, it was in the paper. Maybe you didn’t see it. Not many of us picked up on the name: Louise Rutherford.”

  Ryder stiffened. “Louise..?”

  He reached for the envelope—a little too quickly, he realized. Hudson’s interest quickened. Ryder recovered himself and casually removed the invitation from the envelope.

  Please join us in celebrating the joyful union of our daughter, Louise Rutherford, to Noel Trace on Saturday, June Twenty-fifth at five o’clock in the afternoon at All Souls Church, Mandrake Falls, Vermont.

  Scout was getting married.

  Lydia Rutherford must have ordered the wedding invitations. After all these years Ryder doubted Scout would even remember her real name was Louise. He’d almost forgotten it himself. Everyone called her Scout from the time she was five and tried to join the local Boy Scout troop. He stuck the envelope in his shirt pocket and then returned the binoculars to his eyes. The Green Mountain forest rolled out before him. “I think we’re going to get that rain we’ve been waiting for.”

  “Good.” Hudson settled on the log railing and crossed his arms over his chest. Steel grey eyes fastened on Ryder. “So how come you didn’t know Scout was getting married? Even I found out about it and I avoid engagement announcements like the plague.”

  “We fell out of touch around Christmas. We both got busy. You know how it is.”

  “Oh sure, sure, I know how it is.” Hudson nodded and squinted at the sky. “The two of you were pretty close though, weren’t you? You were in my brother’s class in school. Riley had a crush on Scout at one time but wouldn’t do anything about it because of you.”

  Hudson’s younger brother, Riley, was the minister at the United Methodist Church before he and his wife were killed in a car accident over a year ago. The grief must be healing, thought Ryder. This was the first time since the accident he’d heard Hudson Grace mention his brother.

  “We were kids—ancient history. Our lives are going in different directions. Speaking of different directions, how are you managing with Simon? Having a two-year-old around must be putting a hell of a crimp in your love life.”

  After the death of his brother and sister-in-law, Hudson Grace had been granted sole custody of his young nephew, Simon, who was widely regarded in Mandrake Falls as a hellion child.

  “Au contraire. My love life has never been better,” he grinned. “Simon has bumped up my game. Women are attracted to a man with a little kid, right? But they don’t stick around after they’ve spent the morning with my kid. It’s a win-win. I don’t have to do a thing—one night and they are gone. I look like the hero. But back to you and Scout. Ancient history aside, you’d think she would’ve told you she was get
ting married. You seem surprised to get the invite.”

  “Yeah, well, her mother probably sent it. I’m the last person Scout wants to see at her wedding.” Ryder broke off impatiently. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work. Thanks for bringing the mail.”

  Hudson Grace shrugged. “No worries, but maybe I shouldn’t have seeing as you’re the last person Scout wants at her wedding. You guys were great friends, inseparable. I thought I was doing her a huge favor delivering that invite. What the hell happened between you two?”

  A dull headache was forming behind Ryder’s eyes. “Nothing, it’s not important. We fell out of touch, that’s all. I’ve been busy.” He left off explaining. His excuses for not knowing his friend from childhood was getting married sounded lame even to his ears. He could imagine how they sounded to Grace who was nobody’s fool.

  “Hey, I believe you, buddy. With the hours you put in who has time for friends? But I have a sense there’s something more going on here. There’s more to the story. Scout is getting married and she doesn’t want you at her wedding—which could only mean the two of you were screwing each other’s brains out and she dumped you for this other guy, and the husband-to-be doesn’t want you at the wedding.”

  “Scout and I are friends—just friends. You have a filthy mind, Grace.”

  Hudson raised his hands in surrender. “This is true. I’m weak. I see a girl with a guy friend and I think they’ve got to be having sex. They don’t make twenty-six-year-olds like they used to. Look, if you don’t want to talk, we don’t talk. I’m listening is all I’m saying and I know how to keep my mouth shut.” Hudson straightened, his eyes widening.”Wait up a minute. Did you end it with her? You blew her off and now she’s marrying this other guy and that’s why you’re upset? Shit. I’m sorry, buddy. I’ve been there. It’s not a good place. I’m always left wondering if I’ve made a mistake when that happens.”

  “Wrong again.” Ryder returned the binoculars to his eyes and made a sweep of the sector of forest under his watch. He wracked his brain for anything that would derail Grace’s inquisition. “I was caught off guard by the invitation, that’s all. Seems to me she’s rushing things but if marriage is what she wants then I’m glad for her.”

  Hudson guffawed. “It’s what every woman wants. I haven’t met one yet that doesn’t dream of chaining some guy to five kids and a mortgage. Marriage is a kind of penance the male of the species has to pay for centuries of female oppression. Nature is very fair.”

  “Scout wants lots of kids,” Ryder muttered. “She’s convinced she has to get married before she’s thirty or she’ll never get them. That’s the only reason she’s marrying this guy. I know she doesn’t love him.”

  “What? How do you know that? Did she say something to you?”

  Ryder started. What made him so sure what Scout felt anymore? “I’d know because I’d just know. She’d tell me if she was in love with him.”

  Hudson tapped the envelope in Ryder’s shirt pocket. “Seems to me she just did.”

  Ryder fixed his gaze on the forest. He’d been coping with this wedding news by dismissing it as Scout’s usual recklessness, jumping into marriage. He never considered that she might be in love with the man she was going to marry. “No,” he said aloud. “This is typical Scout. It’s just like her to grab the first guy she sees and demand that he marry her.”

  “Why didn’t she grab you then?”

  “She tried to.” Ryder remembered Christmas at the Rutherfords. Scout standing under the mistletoe with her hands on her hips, blocking his escape to the kitchen. She was the only female he knew who could propose to a man and make it sound like a command. Correction, Ryder thought, Scout was the only female he knew who could propose to a man, period. “Six months ago, she demanded that I marry her.”

  “And that makes you smile?”

  “Was I smiling?”

  “Your teeth were bared. From this angle it looked like a smile.”

  He shrugged. “It’s funny now, but at the time...”

  “What happened?” Hudson asked. “You might as well tell me. I’ll just be back tomorrow if you don’t.”

  Ryder remembered the twinkling Christmas lights had created a halo of her chestnut hair. Scout had stood at the fireplace demurely sipping eggnog, a modern day Madonna explaining in clear clinical terms the workings of her biological clock. She and Ryder were great friends. They liked each other; they’d probably make great parents.

  “And what did you say?”

  He glanced at Hudson, confused by the question. “I said what I thought. I told her she’s not responsible enough to be a mother. She’s too selfish. She wants a baby—she doesn’t care if she loves the father or he loves her or even if he wants to be a father. She wasn’t thinking of the kid’s needs, she was thinking of herself. I told if I ever do decide to become a father, it wouldn’t be with a woman who makes major life decisions while buzzed on Christmas eggnog.”

  “Hmm.” Hudson’s expression was thoughtful. “I’ll bet that went over big.”

  Ryder flinched at the memory. The warmth in the Rutherford living room changed dramatically after that conversation. But what else could he have told her? How could he take her seriously? “She said if you don’t want to marry me, just say so. She thought I was being patronizing.” Ryder brought the binoculars back to his eyes. “I said I don’t want to marry you and that was the last time I heard from her.”

  Hudson sucked in his lips. “That’s a hell of a position she put you in. I’m all sympathy, you know that, buddy. But by the look on your face, I get the feeling you’re having regrets. I’m sorry, dude. It’s got to hurt to find out that she’s marrying someone else.”

  “We’re friends. People don’t marry their friends.”

  “If they’re smart, they do.”

  Ryder returned the glasses to his eyes. He couldn’t talk about it anymore. Scout was getting married. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it even if he wanted to.

  Hudson Grace watched his colleague shrink back into his shell. Those binoculars weren’t hiding a damned thing, Ryder was hurting. Hudson had worked with Ryder long enough to know that he was too hard-headed for his own good. A hard head was a useful thing when it came to setting a fire break or facing down a bear—a quality that had made Dean one of the most valuable men in the Forestry Service. But when love was involved a hard head only got in the way. Hudson had to appreciate the irony of being the one to bring Ryder to his senses.

  Gently, he tugged the glasses from Ryder’s face. “The wedding is six hours from now. There’s still time.”

  Ryder looked startled and a little wary. “Time for what?”

  “Ryder, don’t take this personally, but you’re a fool. Now fools may not wind up happily married to their childhood friends, but they sure as hell always go to their weddings.”

  * * *

  SCOUT RUTHERFORD turned the clock over carefully. The camera zoomed in disconcertingly close to record her every move. She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, taking her time with the examination. Scout was aware the crowd gathered on the wide green lawn was, for the most part, members of Mandrake Falls Historical Society. She was also aware that more than one venerable member would be delighted to see Scout Rutherford, the young upstart owner of Antique Scout, fall flat on her face this afternoon in front of the entire production staff from Antique Roadshow.

  It was hard to tell which drove the local history buffs crazier: that her business was doing extremely well, or that Scout possessed an almost supernatural skill at ferreting out prizes. The degree in history she’d earned at NYU didn’t lead to the teaching career she’d envisioned for herself, but it came in handy in the antiques business. Her knowledge of history gave her an edge; she could spot rare finds overlooked by even seasoned dealers. When she learned that Antique Roadshow was shooting in Vermont, she persuaded them to stop in Mandrake Falls, boasting that the town possessed some of the finest Revolutionary War pieces in the country
. It was an expensive detour on the production schedule but Scout had guaranteed it would pay off in exciting television. The producer was frowning as he watched her on the monitor. An hour into the show and absolutely nothing exciting had happened.

  She probed the clock’s works gingerly, stalling her assessment, looking for something, anything, to say about the piece—and there it was. Scout had to adjust her usually mobile face to hide her jubilation. The historical society would just have to wait for that prat fall.

  “See this marking?” She tipped the clock to the camera.

  The host bent nearer and nodded.

  “Martingale’s stamp. He made a handful of these clocks at the time of the Revolutionary War.” Scout concentrated on modulating her voice. Its squeaks and dips were a sure sign she was excited and all of Mandrake Falls knew it. “This is an excellent find, in marvelous condition. A Martingale clock could fetch ten thousand at auction.” There was a gasp from the clock’s owner. “But I’d hold out for a lot more for this particular piece,” Scout continued. Excitement vibrated through her as she gingerly turned the clock on its side. “And here’s why.” She pressed the upper left corner of the clock’s side panel. A spring mechanism popped the panel up revealing a narrow cavern inside.

  The audience and production crew jumped to their feet and rushed to the table to get a closer look. “During the Revolutionary War,” Scout explained over the commotion, “the threat of treason created a demand for the safe transport of sensitive documents. It was not unusual for craftsmen to be asked to add secret compartments to desks or chests or, as in this case, a clock. This particular clock may have been ordered by a high-ranking military man during the War. Documents or messages would have been stored in the compartment and passed at a social gathering unnoticed.” Scout gazed at the time piece with appreciation. “Ingenious. The forerunner of present day computer passwords, I guess you could say.”