Big Sky Wedding Read Online Free
Author: Linda Lael Miller
house, headed for the nearest bathroom.
Brylee gathered her nephew close, lightly kissed the downy top of the baby’s head and whispered, “Your mama is right. She is the luckiest woman in the world.”
* * *
Z ANE STOOD AT the edge of the woods for a few moments, solemnly surveying his “new” home—the long one-story stone house, with its big porch and many chimneys. The windows were tall and set deeply into their casings, the inside sills wide enough to sit on, and the place had a quietness about it that had charmed him, even when he’d only seen pictures on a real estate website. In person, the effect was even stronger.
Those were the things he liked about the place.
The things he didn’t like were more numerous: as he’d told Brylee out there in the woods, the structure needed a lot of work. The grass in the yard was seriously overgrown, of course, after being neglected for so long, and speckled with dandelions and other less comely weeds. As for the picket fence, weathered and falling over here and there, well, a coat of paint wasn’t going to do the trick.
Slim, spotting him, rose and ambled on over to offer a greeting.
“We’ve got our work cut out for us, boy,” Zane said, shifting his gaze to the barn. It was large and, like the house, made of stone. Unlike the house, it was in remarkably good shape. Maybe he and Slim ought to move into one of the stalls, or the tack room, while the renovations were going on.
Just then, he heard an engine, and turned to see a van pulling in down by the teetering mailbox, sides emblazoned with the electric company’s logo.
“Let there be light,” Zane said dryly, but his mind was still on Brylee Parrish, and her blatant belief that he’d change this ranch into some kind of flashy showplace.
Tennis courts? Indoor swimming pools? Media rooms?
He hadn’t even had those things in Tinseltown.
A nice condo? Sure. An expensive car that could almost fly? You got it.
By Hollywood standards, though, he’d lived modestly, and all he really wanted, even now, was a place to keep his horse—he’d missed being able to ride Blackjack whenever the mood struck him, back there in California, gotten downright lonesome for the animal’s company, in fact. The barn, four sturdy walls to keep out the wind and a solid roof over his head completed his current aspirations, as far as living arrangements went.
The van pulled to a stop in what passed for a driveway, dust billowing up around the vehicle in a cloud, and a balding man with a belly and a clipboard got out, grinning from ear to ear.
Zane drummed up a grin of his own. Put out his hand, because that was what people did in the country whenever they met up, and he’d missed the ritual.
The new arrival—the stitching on the pocket of his work shirt said his name was Albie —shook Zane’s hand enthusiastically. “When I told my wife I’d be turning on the juice for none other than Zane Sutton himself today,” Albie beamed, “she made me promise to get your autograph and tell you she loved all your movies.”
Zane’s expression, though friendly, might have seemed a touch forced, to anyone more observant than Albie. “Thanks,” he said, and left it at that.
CHAPTER TWO
A LONE IN HER apartment, except for Snidely, of course, Brylee did weekend things. She washed and dried her hair, gave herself a pedicure as well as a manicure, and then a facial to round out the routine. She chose a red-and-white polka dot sundress to wear to church in the morning, gave it a few quick licks with the iron and hung it carefully from the hook on the inside of her closet door. She selected white sandals and a red handbag to complete the ensemble, setting those on the cushioned window seat in her bedroom, where they would be in plain sight.
Brylee liked to make her preparations well in advance, wherever preparation was humanly possible, which was most of the time. In her considered opinion, there were enough surprises in life,
Brylee gathered her nephew close, lightly kissed the downy top of the baby’s head and whispered, “Your mama is right. She is the luckiest woman in the world.”
* * *
Z ANE STOOD AT the edge of the woods for a few moments, solemnly surveying his “new” home—the long one-story stone house, with its big porch and many chimneys. The windows were tall and set deeply into their casings, the inside sills wide enough to sit on, and the place had a quietness about it that had charmed him, even when he’d only seen pictures on a real estate website. In person, the effect was even stronger.
Those were the things he liked about the place.
The things he didn’t like were more numerous: as he’d told Brylee out there in the woods, the structure needed a lot of work. The grass in the yard was seriously overgrown, of course, after being neglected for so long, and speckled with dandelions and other less comely weeds. As for the picket fence, weathered and falling over here and there, well, a coat of paint wasn’t going to do the trick.
Slim, spotting him, rose and ambled on over to offer a greeting.
“We’ve got our work cut out for us, boy,” Zane said, shifting his gaze to the barn. It was large and, like the house, made of stone. Unlike the house, it was in remarkably good shape. Maybe he and Slim ought to move into one of the stalls, or the tack room, while the renovations were going on.
Just then, he heard an engine, and turned to see a van pulling in down by the teetering mailbox, sides emblazoned with the electric company’s logo.
“Let there be light,” Zane said dryly, but his mind was still on Brylee Parrish, and her blatant belief that he’d change this ranch into some kind of flashy showplace.
Tennis courts? Indoor swimming pools? Media rooms?
He hadn’t even had those things in Tinseltown.
A nice condo? Sure. An expensive car that could almost fly? You got it.
By Hollywood standards, though, he’d lived modestly, and all he really wanted, even now, was a place to keep his horse—he’d missed being able to ride Blackjack whenever the mood struck him, back there in California, gotten downright lonesome for the animal’s company, in fact. The barn, four sturdy walls to keep out the wind and a solid roof over his head completed his current aspirations, as far as living arrangements went.
The van pulled to a stop in what passed for a driveway, dust billowing up around the vehicle in a cloud, and a balding man with a belly and a clipboard got out, grinning from ear to ear.
Zane drummed up a grin of his own. Put out his hand, because that was what people did in the country whenever they met up, and he’d missed the ritual.
The new arrival—the stitching on the pocket of his work shirt said his name was Albie —shook Zane’s hand enthusiastically. “When I told my wife I’d be turning on the juice for none other than Zane Sutton himself today,” Albie beamed, “she made me promise to get your autograph and tell you she loved all your movies.”
Zane’s expression, though friendly, might have seemed a touch forced, to anyone more observant than Albie. “Thanks,” he said, and left it at that.
CHAPTER TWO
A LONE IN HER apartment, except for Snidely, of course, Brylee did weekend things. She washed and dried her hair, gave herself a pedicure as well as a manicure, and then a facial to round out the routine. She chose a red-and-white polka dot sundress to wear to church in the morning, gave it a few quick licks with the iron and hung it carefully from the hook on the inside of her closet door. She selected white sandals and a red handbag to complete the ensemble, setting those on the cushioned window seat in her bedroom, where they would be in plain sight.
Brylee liked to make her preparations well in advance, wherever preparation was humanly possible, which was most of the time. In her considered opinion, there were enough surprises in life,
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