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the paper and ribbons, Taylor’s thoughts kept drifting back to that night and how she’d almost reached out to take his hand as he walked her home.
    It was such a simple and innocent gesture to think about, especially in these days of casual hookups. Not that hooking up was her style, either. That philosophy combined with her long hours meant she hadn’t had time for personal relationships for ages. Not since the early days of her business, when she’d been seeing an investment planner named John. He’d wanted more than a girlfriend who brought work home at the end of a twelve-hour day and considered takeout a sensible dinner. After a few months in, he’d walked. The thing Taylor felt most guilty about was how it had been a relief.
    She balled up used napkins and put them in the trash. Time kept ticking. A few days from now was the rehearsal, and then the wedding and then Callum and Avery would be away on their honeymoon and Taylor would move out of the B&B and into their house until Boxing Day, where she planned on watching movies, reading books and basically hibernating from the outside world. It was going to be peace and quiet and then a family Christmas.
    Complications in the form of Rhys Bullock would only ruin her plans.

CHAPTER THREE
    I T WAS T AYLOR ’ S experience that if the rehearsal went badly, the wedding was sure to be smooth and problem free. A sentiment which boded well for Callum and Avery, as it turned out, because nothing seemed to be going her way.
    First of all, everything was an hour late starting thanks to a winter storm, which dumped enough snow to complicate transportation. The minister had slid off the road and into a snowbank. The car wasn’t damaged but by the time the tow truck had pulled him out, the wedding party was waiting and quite worried by his absence. Then Taylor opened the box that was supposed to contain the tulle bows for the ends of the church pews to find that they’d been constructed of a horrible peachy-yellow color—completely unsuited for a Christmas wedding!
    The late start and the road conditions also meant canceling the rehearsal dinner that had been organized at an Italian place in the city. Taylor was just about ready to pull her hair out when she felt a wide hand rest on her shoulder.
    “Breathe,” Rhys commanded. “It’s all fine.”
    She clenched her teeth but exhaled through her nose. “Normally I would just deal with stuff like this without batting an eyelid. I don’t know why it’s throwing me so much.”
    “Maybe because it’s for your brother,” he suggested.
    He might be right. She did want everything just right for Callum’s wedding. It wasn’t some corporate dinner or celebrity party. It was personal. It was once in a lifetime.
    God, there was a reason why she didn’t do weddings.
    “What can I do to help?”
    She shrugged. “Do you have a roll of white tulle in your pocket? Perhaps a spare horseshoe I could rub for good luck or something?”
    He grimaced. “Afraid not. And you rub a rabbit’s foot, not a horseshoe. I’m guessing our plans for dinner have changed.”
    She looked up at him. He was “dressed up” for the rehearsal—neat jeans, even with a crease down the front, and a pressed button-down shirt tucked into the waistband. His boots made him look taller than ever, especially as she’d decided on her low-heeled boots tonight in deference to the weather. There was a strength and stability in him that made her take a deep breath and regroup. For some reason she didn’t want to appear incapable in front of him. “I’ve had to cancel our reservations.”
    “I’ll call my mom. It won’t be as fancy as what you planned, but I’m guessing she can manage a meal for a dozen of us.”
    “We can’t have a rehearsal dinner at a diner.”
    His lips puckered up like he’d tasted something sour. “Do you have any better suggestions? I guess you could pick up some day-old sandwiches at the gas station and a bag of cookies. You