them.”
Hayley’s eyebrows shot up and she let out a dismissive laugh. “If only, Vivian. I would be having a much easier time not just with my family, but with some of my patients.” She leaned over and picked up her discarded shoes. “The wedding’s not until four. I’ll be coming and going for most of the morning, but I’ll be here to get you at three. Agreed?”
Vivian let out a put-upon sigh. “Fine.” She slowly pushed herself off the couch and the diamonds on her hand winked in the lamplight. “I know it wouldn’t be white tie at that hour, but will a cocktail dress suffice?”
Hayley nearly chewed her tongue in half to keep from laughing because her grandmother was obviously serious. “Um, sure,” she managed. If Vivian had spent more time getting to know some people around town, she never would have had to ask the question. Around Weaver, jeans were de rigueur, even at a wedding. “But anything you would wear to church would be just fine, too,” she assured her grandmother. Frankly, the clothes that Vivian wore every day around the house were more formal than what most of the local guests would undoubtedly be wearing. “You’re going to be fine, no matter what, Vivian. Trust me.”
“And what about you? Did you finally get your dress from the seamstress?”
“Isabella Clay,” Hayley confirmed. Casey’s cousin-in-law had made the dresses for the wedding party, including the bride’s. “I managed to get over to her place this afternoon to pick it up.”
“And?”
“It’s lovely.” Isabella had once been a costume designer for a ballet company in New York. And Hayley had gotten to know her when she’d been counseling her now-adopted son, Murphy. “Even you will approve. Come on.” She took her grandmother’s hand. “I’ll show you. And you can help me decide what I need to do with my hair.”
The pleasure on Vivian’s face was worth putting off going to bed for a little while longer.
* * *
Seth stood outside the Weaver Community Church, watching people file through the open front door to attend Casey and Jane’s wedding. The last time he’d worn a tie had been with his dress uniform before he’d left the rangers, and the pale silver one he wore now felt confining. He kept wanting to tug it loose, but a lifetime of self-discipline kept him from doing so.
The wedding was supposed to start at four and it was nearly that now. He and Casey had spent a lot of long hours together inside the cavernous communications center hidden away in the center of the Cee-Vid building where they watched over the safety of Hollins-Winword agents and assets all around the world. Casey had invited him to the wedding, so Seth had agreed. But he couldn’t say he’d had any burning desire to actually go rub elbows with the couple.
No. The draw now wasn’t his buddy the groom or the bride. It was the maid of honor. Which in turn was the reason why going inside the church was now a problem.
He was an invited guest and had a reasonable excuse for being there. But he’d also been essentially warned away from Hayley by his boss.
He’d spent the past four days arguing with himself over that call from Tristan. Assuring himself that his interest in Hayley wasn’t increasing exponentially because of her interactions with McGregor.
He was pretty sure it wasn’t.
But he knew himself. As a ranger, he’d always gone a hundred and ten percent above the call to succeed. Working with Hollins-Winword wasn’t any different. He believed in justice, and at times getting there wasn’t a pretty thing.
Which left just enough room for doubt about his motives that it made his neck itch worse than the damn tie.
Hayley Templeton was an ethical woman. She wasn’t going to tell him anything about what went on in her sessions with any of her patients.
Except she was starting to trust him. Or she never would have had him drop her off at the home of her distressed “friend.”
Still, she wouldn’t tell him