True Love at Silver Creek Ranch(14)

Brooke cleared her throat pointedly, even as she felt overly warm at the thought.

“Well, of course, not as sexy as Nate,” Emily smoothly added.

Brooke winced. “I don’t want to hear that about my brother. Speaking of the two of you”—she rounded on her future sister-in-law—“do we have a wedding date?”

Emily actually blushed. “No,” she whispered.

Monica and Brooke groaned.

Brooke took the first bite of her salad, chewed, and swallowed. “I thought you and Nate were in discussion about that.”

“If Nate had his way, the date would be next week,” Emily said glumly, using her fork to toy with a piece of lettuce.

“Well, we know that’s not going to happen.” Monica reached to touch Emily’s hand. “I know you both want a pretty wedding you’ll remember forever, but you could be planning it now. What’s going on, Em?”

“It’s Stephanie,” Emily said with a heavy sigh.

“Your sister?” Brooke asked, uncomprehending.

“My half sister.” Emily’s voice took on a touch of bitterness. “Or so she keeps reminding me.”

When Emily had come to town earlier that year, she’d discovered that the father she’d thought of as her own, the one who’d died when she was seven, had in fact been her stepfather, and that her biological dad was right in town, oblivious that he had another daughter. Brooke and Monica had both encouraged Emily to face the truth, and through some investigating, Emily had discovered that her father was Joe Sweet, part of the family who owned the elegant Sweetheart Inn, as well as an extensive ranch. Though shocked, Joe had been delighted to add another daughter to the brood that already included three sons in their twenties and a sixteen-year-old daughter, Stephanie. Brooke knew that the young men were fine with Emily, and understood their dad’s teenage love affair. Steph hadn’t taken it well upon discovering that she wasn’t Daddy’s only little girl, and that Daddy hadn’t been perfect. To Joe’s frustration, she hadn’t blamed him—she’d focused her anger on Emily.

“Wait, wait,” Brooke said. “You asked her to be a bridesmaid. I saw her face—she was thrilled!”

“I thought so, too.” Emily’s voice trembled. “I thought it was something we could share while getting to know each other. But it’s not working out that way. Suddenly, my wedding and I are the focus of every Sunday-dinner discussion.”

Monica winced. “That might be a problem.”

“I play it down, or steer the conversation away,” Emily insisted, shredding her napkin on the table.

“She’s gotta grow up sometime,” Brooke said. “You can’t keep delaying your wedding. Everyone wants to see me in a fancy dress! Because, of course, I clean up well,” she added, hoping to lift her friend’s spirits.

Emily smiled sadly. “You sound like your brother—although not about the dress.” Her smile strengthened. “But we only just became engaged last month. I think we have time. And now that the . . . newness of my arrival is wearing off, perhaps Steph can begin to move past it.”

“Or perhaps she’ll think she’s gotten her way,” Brooke pointed out, feeling affronted on Emily’s behalf.

“Ooh, now who’s the pessimist here?” Monica picked up her first chicken wing. “I think Emily’s right. There’s time. It’s not like they have to be celibate until the wedding night.”

Brooke practically snorted into her beer, sending the other two into fits of laughter.

“Couldn’t you have waited until I swallowed?” she demanded, wiping at her lips with the back of her hand.

Emily finally stopped giggling enough to say, “Look, my youngest brother Daniel is closest to her, but he’s away at college. When he comes back for Thanksgiving, we’re going to put our heads together and come up with a plan.”

“Works for me,” Monica said, starting on the next chicken wing.

“And I was thinking about finding another way to get involved in Steph’s life,” Emily said hesitantly. “She’s a member of the teen group that meets at the community center. Maybe they need volunteers . . .”

“No,” Brooke said with compassion. “You don’t want Steph to think you’re pushing into her life without her permission. I think she’ll see right through that.”

Emily’s shoulders slumped. “Really? But I’ve got to find some way to get her talking to me.”

“You will,” Monica insisted. “Give it more time.”

They ate their way through most of the chicken wings, then sat back with satisfaction.