Kiss the Bride by Lori Wilde Page A

how they’d found out about Raincoat Woman and lured her here.
    One thing was for sure, she seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her.
    Nick strode past her, heading for the small storage closet underneath the staircase where he used to hide as a kid to spy on the grown-ups when they entertained guests in the living room.
    “Okay, you two, what’s going on here?” Nick asked. His head was still reeling, but he was trying hard not to show it.
    “Um, nothing.” His grandmother had a guilty look about her.
    “Who is that woman?” he whispered urgently, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.
    “That’s Delaney Cartwright,” Nana said. “I just hired her to stage the house. Isn’t she beautiful? Such a face.”
    “Do what?” Nick couldn’t believe the strangeness of the coincidence. His grandmother hiring the woman he’d been fantasizing about for the last three days and trying his damnedest to forget.
    Maybe it’s not coincidence,
a disturbing voice in the back of his head whispered.
Maybe it’s kismet. Maybe it’s the whammy.
    Except Nick no longer believed in all that true love, soul mate, Italian-strength romantic whammy stuff his grandmother had spoon-fed her grandchildren along with her macaroni, pizza, and tiramisu. Amber had knocked the faith right out of him.
    “I’ve talked to a real estate agent, and she said if Iwanted the house to sell quickly then I should hire someone to stage it. So I interviewed Delaney. I like her and I hired her.” Nana crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a look that just dared him to argue.
    What? His grandmother had already talked to a real estate agent? Without waiting to discuss it with the family? This impulse of hers to sell the house was more serious than he’d guessed. “I don’t get it. What’s a house stager?”
    “A house stager is a person who comes in and fixes up your place so that it will appeal to a wider range of buyers.”
    “Remember when Artie died and I couldn’t sell my house?” Trudie added. “It sat on the market for over two years until I hired Delaney. She staged my house, and it sold three days later for three thousand dollars more than the original asking price.”
    That sounded impressive, but Nick didn’t want Nana to sell the house. Everywhere he looked, the past beckoned. Whenever he glanced around the living room, he saw the windowpane that he, his brothers, and his cousins had once busted out playing baseball with a pair of rolled-up socks and a red plastic bat on a rainy day when they’d been cooped up indoors. Who knew that socks—properly whacked—could rocket through glass like that?
    In his mind’s eye, he could see the Christmas tree, drowning in presents for the huge Vinetti clan. Or the fireplace where they’d hung their stockings. He pictured the archway leading into the kitchen where Grampa Leo always strung mistletoe so he could catch Nana around the waist and kiss her in front of everyone.
    Nick smiled, recalling the time his baby sister, Gina, had sneaked a kiss from her boyfriend when she’d thoughtno one was watching and their braces had gotten locked together. He had teased her unmercifully for weeks afterward.
    He saw the kitchen, full of life and laughter, as his family gathered around, cooking and eating and swapping stories. The scents were in his nose—onion and garlic, oregano and basil. The tastes filled his mouth—marinara sauce, pesto, mozzarella.
    The memories hung in his mind like a drop of rich honey, thick and sweet, caught in the cleft of time and held preserved in this house. He’d always imagined bringing his own children here someday—at holidays, during the summer, to visit their great-grandmother and give them a glimpse into his history.
    Tight-lipped, Nick battled to keep his emotions in check. His chest tightened.
    Delaney Cartwright stood with her arms crossed over her chest. Her clothes were a far cry from what she’d been wearing the first time he’d seen her. Her