What the Heart Wants

by Kelli McCracken

  Dear God. What started out as such a sweet story was making Heaven’s chest burn. Still, she wanted to hear the rest of the story.

  “What happened?”

  “Believe it or not, he went with me to the bus stop, the day I was scheduled to leave. We had a sweet moment. He kissed me goodbye and wished me luck. He even said he’d wait for me.” She turned from the towel as her eyes fell back on Heaven. “I thanked him and told him that I would write. I got on the bus after that.”

  Heaven bit her lip. This woman’s story had her stomach in knots. Or was it because it reminded her of Dylan?

  “So what happened? Did you get married after you returned from college?”

  “No,” the old woman smiled.

  Huh?

  “I never went to college. The bus had just pulled out when I realized that Jonathan was ‘the one.’ I got off the bus and ran back to the station, hoping I would catch Jonathan before he left.”

  “You found him, didn’t you?” Hope asked. “After all, you were married.”

  “I never had to look. He saw me exit the bus and we ran to each other. We were married a month later and had five children over the years.”

  Heaven’s eyes burned. She fought against the tears threatening to spill. What would have happened if the old woman had left on the bus? Would her husband have waited for her?

  The ache in Heaven’s chest continued to grow. Was she like this old woman in wanting to pursue her dreams and turn her back on a chance at happiness? Was Dylan her Jonathan? If she walked away from this opportunity to get to know him, would she regret if for the rest of her life?

  “That is such a beautiful story.” Hope’s voice shook as she glanced at Heaven.

  If Hope cried, Heaven would join her. She hoped her sister could hold it together.

  “Thank you for listening,” the old woman said, as she turned to leave.

  What a bittersweet story. But Heaven had one more question.

  “Wait!” She rushed to the door and wedged her body between it and the old woman. “Can I ask one more thing?”

  “What would you like to know, dear?”

  Love and pride shined in the woman’s eyes. She’d loved her husband more than she had anything. Did that love exist for everyone?

  “How did you meet your husband?”

  The old woman’s laugh lines deepened. “At my cousin’s wedding.”

  How coincidental.

  If Hope didn’t stop gloating, Heaven would smack her.

  “So was Jonathan in the wedding, too?”

  “Goodness, no.” The old woman had a hearty laugh. “He was the photographer. And boy was my cousin upset when most of her wedding pictures were of me.”

  Heaven’s jaw dropped. “I bet she was mad.”

  Good thing Dylan was a musician.

  Heaven kept her eyes on the door after the woman disappeared behind it. She knew Hope was still staring, could almost feel the hole her sister was boring into her.

  “Beautiful story, wasn’t it?”

  Heaven nodded, trying to steady her voice so that it wouldn’t crack.

  “Yes, it was a very beautiful story.”

  “Guess you can’t fight fate, can you?”

  No. But did fate bring her and Dylan together?

  The butterflies did their dance, again. Maybe she needed to drink some pesticide and disintegrate their blazing wings.

  Hope’s heels clicked against the bathroom floor. The warmth of her arm cradled Heaven’s back. “Think about giving him a chance.” Her whisper tickled Heaven’s cheek. “By the way, we’re going out after the reception. Emma and Brooke want to show us the L.A. nightlife.”

  Heaven turned to object, but Hope had turned to gaze in the mirrors.

  Why argue?

  “Sounds like fun. I guess. Who all is going?”

  “Everyone,” Hope answered, never taking her eyes off her reflection.

  Heaven bit her lip. “Do you mean everyone as in all the girls…or guys, too?”

  “When I say everyone, I mean everyone. Dylan, too.”

  Stupid butterflies…

  * * *

  Heaven glanced around at all the faces staring up the staircase to the second floor. Chelsea stood there, playing with the bouquet. The one she was about to toss into the mob of single women.

  Why did she have to be standing amongst them? This was so degrading.

  “You better catch that, Brooke,” Jerry shouted from outside the door. “I’ve got a bet going with Layne and Sebastian.”

  Guess the men didn’t want any chance of getting trampled when the bouquet hit the air. They were smart.

  “It’s in the bag, baby. Don’t you worry,” Brooke yelled. She winked at Heaven before turning to Faith. “Good luck.”

  “May the best woman win,” Faith snorted.

  Brooke punched her in the arm. “Oh, she will win.”

  Elbow met ribs as Heaven looked over at Hope. “Is there any point in attempting to catch this bouquet? Those two seem ready to draw blood for it.”

  Heaven shrugged and turned her eyes back to the staircase. “I doubt it. In fact, I’m not going to try.”

  She sensed Hope’s eyes on her as she moved toward the back of the crowd.

  “Where are you going?”

  She was leaving the jungle while she could still walk. This was going to get ugly. Twenty single women dying to catch those flowers would equal disaster. Or at least some crushed toes. Maybe an elbow in the ribs. Hope had already managed to do that to her.

  “You skipping out on all the fun?” Jerry teased from the door.

  Heaven turned to look at him, but caught a glimpse of Dylan instead. His eyes were elsewhere.

  Good.

  “I don’t feel like losing any body parts today. You’d be crazy to take on that mob.”

  “Well, it’s just as well. Brooke’s been waiting for this. Lord, when that woman wants something…well, you know her pretty well, don’t you.”

  Oh, yeah. Brooke and Faith should have been twins.

  Heaven gave him a nod. The cool wall cradled her back as she stared up at Chelsea.

  She still had a good arm on her. Must be from all the years of playing volleyball. She sent the bouquet high in the air. The bundle of yellow and white headed down to the anxious crowd below it.

  Let the fighting begin.

  Heaven gazed at the unfamiliar faces. Poor ladies. They didn’t stand a chance next to Brooke and Faith. Both had their hands stretched high, fingers wiggling back and forth.

  The bouquet bounced off their fingertips and went sailing through the air and toward the center of the group. Many hands grasped at the bundle, but it tossed about the crowd like a ship during a hurricane.

  What a spectacle.

  Women standing in the front of the group turned to watch the bouquet bouncing around the fingertips of other women. They were probably cursing under their breaths.

  One last set of hands batted the bouquet back into the air.

  It made its final plunge.

  And landed.

  In Heaven’s hands.

  That wasn’t supposed to happen…

  “I can’t believe you caught it!” Hope squealed the words as she ran up to Heaven. “Is that why you moved to the back?”

  Um, hell, no.

  “Trust me; I wasn’t trying to catch it,” Heaven answered. She gazed at the yellow daffodils and white roses. It was better than looking at all the angry faces. Why did women get so upset when they didn’t catch the bouquet? It was just a stupid bundle of flowers, not their last chance of happiness.

  “Guess you can stop fighting fate, now.”

  Heaven’s eyes flitted to Hope. “What do you mean?”

  Hope ran her fingers over the petals of a blooming rose. “Tradition says the one who catches the bouquet is the next to get married. Wonder who the groom will be?”

  Yeah, right. Had Hope forgotten everything she’d told her in the bathroom?

  H
eaven turned to look out the door. Was Dylan still there? Had he seen what happened?

  Dark eyes held her gaze for a heartbeat. They drifted to the flowers in her hand, then back to her eyes.

  What was he thinking?

  Her chest squeezed when Dylan tore his eyes from her and walked away.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 12

  Bodies packed the dance floor. Elbow to elbow, hips swayed in beat with the base drum pounding out a fast tempo. Live bands were great to dance to. Not that Dylan was out on the floor.

  Nope.

  He’d had enough dancing for one day.

  His eyes roamed the floor once again. He found Faith and Brooke shimmying back to back. Emma wasn’t far from them, dancing with Hope.

  But where was Heaven?

  He knew she was there. Had watched her walk in the door.

  Was it possible for a woman to get more beautiful with each passing second?

  And those jeans she had on…

  Wow.

  They hugged every curve perfectly. Made his fingers itch to touch her hips.

  This was torture. Knowing she wanted nothing to do with him. Why couldn’t he have controlled himself when they were dancing? If there wasn’t such a pull to her…

  “Hard to believe they’re triplets, isn’t it?”

  Scott sounded chipper. And why shouldn’t he? He and Hope were going on a date tomorrow.

  Lucky bastard.

  “They definitely have different…personalities,” Layne answered. He kept sliding his beer on the table, between his hands. “Hope is…bossy. Heaven is…gorgeous. Faith is…um…yeah, never mind.”

  Scott folded his arms as he leaned against the back of his chair. “That made no sense. And Hope’s not bossy. She is trying to keep Faith from getting into trouble—with you.”

  Too late for that.

  Layne held his hands up. “Chill, man, I meant no disrespect.” He began laughing until Scott punched him in the arm. “Oww! Damn it, what’d you do that for?”

  “You’ve had that coming for a while. I feel better now.”

  “Glad you do.” Layne winced, rubbing the spot where Scott had hit him.

  “And you’re right; they are different. Hope uses her head. Faith uses her body.”

  “I have no complaints on how Faith uses her body. Nope. No complaints whatsoever.”

  What the hell? Layne should practice the art of silence more often. Certain things should remain private. No one wanted a visual of him and Faith.

  The lines on Scott’s forehead deepened. “What the hell did you guys do?”

  Did Scott really have to ask that? He knew Layne as well as Dylan.

  Layne shook with laughter. If his smile grew any wider, his face would disappear. “Don’t bother asking. I’ll never tell.”

  Thank God for small favors. Hadn’t Layne bragged about his conquests enough while they were on the tour? If Dylan heard one more story…

  “I’m sorry I asked. Should’ve known better,” Scott snorted, squeezing his eyes together before shooting them in Dylan’s direction. “He’s never going to settle down.”

  Dylan shrugged his shoulders. “You never know. Maybe Faith is the one who will change him.”He tilted his head against the wall and took a drink.

  “Me? Settle down? Well, maybe for…never mind.” Layne placed the bottle to his lips.

  Layne got stranger by the day. How had they remained best friends for so long?

  The new, faster tempo had Dylan looking to the dance floor. He’d been too caught up in his friend’s whacked out conversation to look for Heaven.

  Maybe he should give up. She didn’t want to talk to him. And definitely didn’t want him kissing her.

  Wait…was that her?

  Yes.

  She was sitting at the bar, alone. Cocktail in hand. Why wasn’t she dancing with her friends?

  Probably afraid he’d approach her, again.

  Not that he didn’t want to.

  “Dude, what’s your deal?” Layne asked as he nudged Dylan with his knee. “Or do I need to ask?”

  Dylan turned to meet his best friend’s eyes. “Just thinking.”

  Wishing. That was more like it.

  His eyes went back to Heaven. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

  “You’re thinking about Heaven catching the bouquet? Guess we know why you were dreaming about her.”

  Layne loved to push his buttons.

  “I’m just thinking,” Dylan grumbled. He placed his bottle to his lips. The tangy taste of hops bit his throat as the liquid slid down. A few more of these and today’s disappointments would be a memory.

  Until morning.

  “Bullshit, dude. Something’s up with you, so just talk!” Layne demanded.

  Dylan clenched his jaw. He did not want to get into this tonight. But was it Layne’s fault that Heaven had rejected him?

  “I made an ass out of myself earlier.”

  “Oh, God,” Layne’s chest shook. He gave Dylan the same look that parents would give their child. The old do-I-have-to-clean-up-your-mess look. “What did you do?”

  Dylan pinched a small space between his thumb and index finger. “I came this close to kissing her.”

  Layne shot Scott a wide-eyed glance before both scooted their chairs closer to the table. Was there really a difference between men and women? Not when it came to discussing the opposite sex and their interest in them.

  “So you didn't actually kiss her?” Scott asked, his voice echoing into his beer bottle.

  “Nope. She backed away.”

  His friends stole another glance at each other.

  “Bro, you can’t pull moves like me. Not when you’re out of practice.”

  How mad would Layne be if he punched him right now?

  “Screw you.”

  “You know I’m joshing you. Lighten up.” Layne pushed another beer in his direction. “So she didn’t kiss you. Doesn’t mean she’s not interested. I’ve seen the look she gives you.”

  “You’re seeing shit.”

  “Yeah, right. You probably caught her off guard. Trust me. Heaven digs you.”

  Maybe it was time to for Layne to get his head out of his ass. Or time to get glasses.

  * * *

  “He hates me. I just know it,” Heaven said as she blew out a stream of frustration. Her eyes drifted toward Dylan for the millionth time.

  Okay, maybe just the fifth time. But still. He wasn’t looking at her. Layne and Scott occupied his eyes. His face still as stern as the last time she saw him at the reception.

  “Who hates you? Dylan?” Emma asked as she and Hope hopped on the two available stools.

  Had she said that out loud?

  Emma gave her drink order to the short, stocky bartender, while Hope handed Heaven a shot of tequila.

  So much for the Kamikaze sweating on the bar.

  Whatever.

  She wanted to get drunk.

  Hope toasted her before they tossed the shots back.

  God, did it burn.

  Heaven was enjoying the heat in her cheeks when Emma turned to her.

  “What makes you think Dylan hates you?”

  Heaven’s eyes dropped to the marble-topped bar, noticing her dim reflection within it. She kept focusing on her image.

  “He isn’t looking at me, anymore. The last time he looked at me was after I caught the bouquet.”

  Emma laughed, though Heaven barely heard it over the guitar riffs. “You’re not looking at the right time, Heaven. I’ve caught him looking at you more than once since we arrived.”

  Hope nodded as she handed Heaven another shot. “She’s right. I’ve seen his eyes glued to you a couple of times, too. Maybe he is giving you space.”

  “He might be waiting for you to make the next move,” Emma said, “so he’ll know for sure if you are into him. Hope told me about what happened. About the almost kiss.”

  What the heck? Could her sister not keep her mouth shut today?
>
  Heaven tossed the shot back.

  She choked as the liquid burned her throat. How did people drink like this all time?

  Slamming the glass on the counter, she motioned for the bartender to pour another. She gazed over at Dylan once more and then back at Emma. “Great, now you know what an idiot I made of myself.”

  “You’re not an idiot,” Emma cooed. “It’s not every day that a sexy rock star tries to kiss you during your best friend’s wedding reception.”

  Hope sputtered a laugh. “When you put it that way, it sounds comical.” She tapped Heaven’s arm as she gave her a wink.

  “I was hoping to get your sister to laugh, not you,” Emma teased. She picked up the glass the bartender placed on the bar and focused on Heaven. “Take some time to get to know Dylan while you’re out here. I think you’ll discover that he’s a really sweet guy.”

  Yeah, a really sweet guy who thought she was a bitch.

  Her eyes went in search of Dylan, but before she could glance in his direction, she noticed Faith and Brooke coming their way.

  “What’s up girls?” Brooke asked as she grabbed Emma’s drink from her hand. Before Emma could object, the pink liquid disappeared.

  “Just getting a drink,” Emma said as she removed the glass from Brooke’s hand. “We can’t hang with you two on the dance floor. You wore us out.”

  “I don’t doubt that. We do have pretty good moves,” Faith said, shaking her hips.

  “We know all about your moves,” Hope grumbled.

  Great. Time to trade barbs for the umpteenth time since their vacation started. Would these two ever get along?

  About as soon as Faith joined a convent.

  Heaven grabbed the shot in front of her and slid away from the confrontation to the end of the bar. Playing referee was not on her priority list tonight.

  She downed the shot. The burn minimized to a sting.

  A few more shots and she could forget the incident with Dylan.

  Her stomach flipped.

  Would this knot spreading in her belly ever go away? Maybe if he came and talked to her.

  No. He wouldn’t.

  Well…maybe.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  Crap. Wrong he.