It was a pleasant surprise to spend a little alone time with Julian. For such a sophisticated man, he was easy company—and Willow seemed to adore him from the moment they’d met. Truth be told, Willow was a damn-fine judge of character, and her comfort with Julian told me quite a bit. After dinner, Willow climbed right in his lap and told him about the cakepops, meeting Tank the cat, and the birthday party.
Before I knew it, Julian had volunteered to keep an eye on Willow when I ran the bridesmaid’s dress appointment on Saturday. While he and Willow ate a few cakepops, Julian assured me he had plenty of practice babysitting, as he sometimes watched his god-daughter, Isabel.
I surveyed the elegantly attired man in front of me and had a hard time imagining Julian Drake as a babysitter. “You have a goddaughter?”
“Isabel Julianna. She’s nine-months-old and gorgeous.” He grinned. “Her parents and I are friends. As a matter of fact, you met her mother last night, Nina Vasquez.”
“Oh.” I recalled the pretty woman who’d cooked such an amazing meal. “That’s right.”
Julian nodded. “Nina took over managing the house and the staff, when Mrs. Johnson retired last month.”
“Dinner was absolutely wonderful,” I said.
“Wait until you taste her lamb chops,” Julian said. “Nina’s a fantastic cook, we’re lucky to have her and her family with us. She’s exactly what we needed to get the house running smoothly again.”
“Oh?” With us? I wondered at that, but before I could even open my mouth to ask, Julian continued.
“There’s a housekeeper’s suite on the first floor of the mansion. Mrs. Johnson never lived there, so Duncan updated the rooms for the Vasquez family.”
“That sounds lovely,” I said. “Autumn mentioned that Duncan restored and remodeled houses.”
Julian stood and began cleaning up from the pizza. Willow raced to help, asking questions about baby Isabel. I sat back and discovered that it was a refreshing change to see a male rolling up his sleeves and happily clearing away a meal—even if it was a pizza.
I’d never had so much cheerful help from good-natured people in my life. I supposed I was going to have to get used to it. It wasn’t until after Julian had left for the evening that I realized he’d shown up right as I’d been thinking about supper. Almost as if he’d had a sixth sense about it.
I wondered again if he, like me, was intuitive. Despite my mother’s old story, so far I’d seen nothing that led me to believe the Drakes were involved in any sort of sorcery. The Drakes appeared to be upstanding members of their community and damn fine people.
They were simply helping out a relative, because they could afford to be generous.
***
Saturday morning dawned bright, sunny and cold. I’d never experienced single digit temperatures, and it was an awful shock. My quick trip to warm up the car had resulted in me dashing back inside the cottage to add another layer of clothing. Julian arrived on time to pick up Willow, and they trooped off to the main house together. As I drove shivering across town to the bridal salon, I figured I had just enough time to grab a coffee before the bridal appointment.
Julian had recommended the Black Cat Coffee House, and since it was only four doors down from the salon, I parked my car and hustled out of the cold as quickly as I could.
The coffee shop was a delight. I smiled over the feline theme framed artwork and enjoyed the pretty brick walls and gleaming hardwood floors. I paid for my cappuccino and was moving down the row to the pick-up area when I heard my name being called.
Duncan Quinn sat at a table with another man. Duncan appeared comfortable slouching in his chair, wearing boots, jeans, fleece-lined bomber jacket and a blue scarf. While his companion sat perfectly straight in his chair, almost as if he were either nervous, or very uncomfortable in his surroundings.
His companion was trim, I noted. The man’s winter coat was a dark gray wool peacoat. I could see the edge of a plaid shirt, and he too wore jeans. He had an intriguing face, and shaggy dark brown hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders. In contrast to the mop of hair, the man sported a close, well-trimmed mustache and beard.
“Hello, Duncan,” I said, walking over to their table.
“Maggie,” Duncan said, gesturing to his companion. “I’d like you to meet my friend. Wyatt Hastings, this is Magnolia Parrish.”
“Hello, Magnolia.” The man nodded his head in greeting, but didn’t offer his hand.
I was startled at the striking contrast between his light blue eyes and his dark lashes and brows. Recovering my composure, I gave him a nod in return. “Please, Mr. Hastings. Call me Maggie.”
“Maggie,” he said, studying my face. “Magnolia, suits you better.”
“I prefer to be called Maggie.”
“Maggie is our wedding coordinator,” Duncan told his friend.
“Yes indeed.” I smiled. “And I recognize your name, Mr. Hastings.” At my words his shoulders stiffened, but I continued on smoothly. “You’re one of the groomsmen.”
He gripped his coffee cup tighter. “Yes, I am.”
I turned as the barista called my name. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” I walked over to the counter and picked up my drink.
As I walked back to their table, Duncan pushed out a chair for me. After checking my watch, I saw I had five minutes to spare, so I sat next to Duncan and tucked my monogrammed tote bag on my lap.
“Your accent,” Wyatt said. “It’s beautiful. Where are you from, originally?”
The man wasn’t flirting, but the way he watched me made me think he was taking a sort of inventory. I considered him as I took a sip of my coffee. “I’m from Louisiana.”
“What part?” He leaned a bit closer. “Your accent doesn’t sound at all like the ones from New Orleans.”
“The northwestern corner
