A Wedding on Lilac Lane by Hope Ramsay (best book clubs .txt) 📕

gone to Juilliard, but she got knocked up and had me instead. So, when I turned out to have a talent for the fiddle, I was expected to become a vehicle for her lost ambitions. I was supposed to live out the dream she screwed up. Only problem was, I wasn’t down with her plans.

“So yeah, my life for a long time growing up was graded by the quality of my performances. It wasn’t easy, and I resented it. So I ran away to join the Grand Ole Opry because I knew it would drive Mom crazy. In retrospect, it was a dumb move on my part because Cody was never going to get me to the Grand Ole Opry, and I failed to realize that for way too long. Bottom line: I should have listened to my mother. It’s a lesson I’m not likely to ever forget.”

She paused for a moment to drain her glass a second time. She held it out for him to refill, and he obliged.

*  *  *

Dylan should have cut Ella off after her first glass of wine. The woman didn’t know how to hold her booze and obviously hadn’t learned that wine was to be sipped, not gulped.

On the other hand, once the alcohol had kicked in, she had opened up. Although he wasn’t exactly happy about the secrets she’d shared. She certainly hadn’t painted a flattering picture of her mother. Was Dad going to end up in a relationship where he was criticized and judged every minute? It unsettled Dylan.

And now he had to deal with a slightly wasted future stepsister. If Dad ever learned about this, Dylan would be subjected to yet another woodshed talk. That would be three in almost as many days.

The McMillan women were wreaking havoc on the Killough men. Dylan was in deep trouble with Dad, and Dad was blinded by sexual attraction, an affliction Dylan could entirely understand because Ella resembled her mother, and she was adorably sexy now that she was toasted. Feeling this way about an inebriated woman who was about to become his stepsister wasn’t exactly one of his finer moments though.

He guided her out to the parking lot, intent on driving her home and seeing her safely to bed with a glass of water and a couple of acetaminophen. But she had other ideas.

“Ooooh, lookit, the sunset.” She’d gotten halfway across the parking lot before veering away from his car and heading toward Harbor Drive. “We should take a walk on the boardwalk.”

She put her head down and raced off in the direction of the crosswalk without paying attention to the traffic lights. He sprinted after her and caught her right before she darted into the street.

He took her by the hand, intent on pulling her back to the car. But she tugged him in the opposite direction. “Come on. Don’t be so dull. Let’s walk.”

“When the light changes,” he said, giving her a ruthless yank as a car whizzed by.

She let go of a girlie gasp and turned toward him, weaving a little. “You just saved my life,” she said in a boozy whisper. “Thanks.”

“It was nothing.”

She turned away just as the light changed and then dragged him out into the street. He could have stopped her, but maybe a walk down the boardwalk would clear her head. He checked his watch: Only eight o’clock and the sun was just sinking toward the horizon.

The evening was warm, and the sun painted the sky with pink and magenta, while the lights along the boardwalk came on, one by one. They strolled northwest toward the public pier, where Rafferty’s Raw Bar presided over a lively spring break crowd. A band had set up on the patio and started to play as they approached. He didn’t recognize the loud music, but then, he’d never been musical.

“Cover band,” she said, stopping and leaning on the railing as she listened.

“Are they any good?”

She cocked her head. “You don’t know?”

“I’ve got a tin ear,” he said.

She blinked. “So that means your opinion of my fiddling has to be taken with a grain of salt.”

He was an idiot. He’d just undone all his earlier compliments, which had been completely sincere. “I liked your music.”

“And them?” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Uh, not so much. They’re too loud.  They’re likely to damage your hearing.”

She nodded and turned. “Yup. The drummer’s pretty good. The rest of them are ordinary.” Then she giggled. “Listen to me passing judgment like Mom.” She turned again and leaned back against the rail. “They’re doing okay, aren’t they? They got a gig, right? That’s all that counts. I mean, the grunge bands of Seattle weren’t paragons of musicianship, but they made a lot of money in their day.”

She slurred the words “paragon of musicianship.” But he was impressed by her ability to even attempt a three-dollar phrase like that. He was willing to bet that her lips were numb.

“Now you’re frowning,” she said.

“Am I?”

“Most definitely. Are you looking down on me because I listened to grunge music?”

“No. I’m looking down at you because I’m six foot three.”

She rolled her eyes in an adorable fashion, and a wave of lust crashed over him. What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to pull her away from this place and get her back to the inn, where she belonged.

But she eluded him again, turning and jogging down the boardwalk. “Come on, let’s see if the gelato place is open,” she said over her shoulder.

She was a danger moving that fast and unsteadily. He charged after her. “Slow down,” he said, taking her hand just as they rounded the corner by the public pier. Sure enough, Cherry on Top, the ice cream place, was mobbed. At least twenty people were standing in line.

“Oh, goodie, let’s get some. I love the mint chocolate chip,” she said, hurrying to the end of the line.

“How can you be hungry?” he asked.

“Are you going to give me a lecture about pasta and