by Hope Ramsay
“Facts?” What he was really asking suddenly dawned. He wanted her to make sure Hannah was informed about sex. “Oh, facts. Of course. Sure, I’d be happy to see Hannah. Just have her call the office.”
“Great. Thanks. Anything else we have to talk about?”
He stood and walked around his desk until he was mere feet away. She stood too, but she still had to look up—way up—to see him, a definite disadvantage. And God, he was tall. Even though he was a little disheveled at the end of the day, he looked devastatingly handsome. And—something she’d never noticed before—he had beautiful, full lips. Plus he smelled good, a light, barely there scent that reminded her of the woods after a rain. She took a step back, trying to escape his pheromone field, but he moved a step closer, spearing her with that deep-blue gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words got stuck somewhere. Hot and cold flushed through her, and her heart suddenly felt like it was trying to beat itself right out of her chest. “Colton, I—”
That was all she managed. His mouth turned up in the slightest quirk. He was amused! Oh God, who would’ve known a simple apology could be so…arousing?
She shook her head. Swallowed hard and backed up with a step so big she knocked into one of the navy chairs.
How could she allow herself to be so flummoxed over him? It suddenly dawned on her that maybe all his nice behavior was a reaction to something else—his behavior last year. The bachelor party. “Look, you don’t have to make up for—”
He frowned. “For what?”
All those years of torment? Culminating in that awful bachelor party that got so, so out of control? Maybe his trying to help her out today had been a result of his guilt over that.
“For the past.”
His eyes narrowed a little. “What about the past?” he asked.
“Maybe you’re trying to help me because you feel bad about things that have happened.”
“What are you talking about?” He looked completely clueless.
She sighed. Might as well come out with it. “The bachelor party.”
“Wait a minute.” He stepped back, almost as if startled. “You think I’m being nice to you because I feel bad about the bachelor party?”
Sara put her hands up in defense. “I don’t blame you for what happened. But maybe you’re trying to make up for that by trying to…help me.”
“I think you do blame me for what happened, if you think I’m trying to make up for something.”
“Well, things clearly got out of control. And maybe you feel guilty for that.” She slid her gaze over to his, which was lit up with anger.
“Guilty? You think I feel guilty for Tagg acting like an idiot? Maybe you need to ask him what happened instead of always assuming the worst about me.”
Fine. Except Tagg, that bastard, had never had the courage to explain his behavior. He’d just done this desperate, severing act to get out of their marriage. What other explanation did she really need? So Colton was technically right, Tagg was the idiot. Except now Colton was pissed, and he wasn’t going to tell her anything either. And maybe Tagg was a nitwit, but it sure seemed that Colton was still loyal to him. “Looks like you and I are back to square one, Chief Walker.” Sara turned to go, but Colton held her back.
“No. No, we’re not. I want you to know.” He took a deep breath, and she had no idea what he could possibly say next. “I took Tagg home after the bachelor party and put him to bed. That’s how I left him. I should’ve stayed with him. Made sure he was OK. Made sure you’d be OK. I am sorry for that. And I never hired Val. She came with the cake. I had no idea.”
Her eyes filled with tears, even though she willed them not to. Took Tagg home? Put him to bed? And he’d still found Val. Sara closed her eyes. This shouldn’t be painful anymore, but the hard truth always was.
“I’m sorry, Sara.”
“You’re right,” she said, “I did assume the worst about you. I didn’t think you took anything seriously. I figured you sat by and watched things get out of control.”
“I should’ve cut him off. I wish I would have.”
She shook her head. “It wasn’t a bachelor party mistake. He didn’t want to marry me. I knew as much. But thank you for telling me the truth.” She took a big breath and swiped at her eyes. “I’m late for dinner out with my family. I’d better be going.” She had no idea what time it was; all she knew was she had to get out of there.
“Let me give you a ride home.”
She shrugged away from his touch. “No, I—walking will be good, thanks.” Which made no sense if she was really late. She headed for the door, and frankly, she couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
* * *
“How’s work going, sweetheart?” Rachel asked as the family settled around a large table on the patio at Giuseppe’s, where Sara’s family celebrated every graduation, birthday, and family event. Tagg and Sara had announced their engagement here, right on this very patio under the lovely wooden arbor covered with grapevines. The fact that he’d stood up to make a toast and smacked his head on a low-hanging branch should have been a sign that things would not go well for them.
Sara took a sip of her wine. “It’s going great,” she said. “Thanks for asking.”
Sara had learned long ago with Rachel to simply say things were just fine. While Rachel was kind, and they always got along, their relationship had never really deepened into something more. Maybe because of the simple fact that Rachel was not her mother. By the time her dad remarried, Sara was eighteen, and she and her sisters had become a tight network of support, together mothering Rafe. They’d learned not to need a mother anymore.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Rachel said with her usual enthusiasm. “Your dad is so thrilled to have you in the office.” And did she mention that Rachel also tended to speak for her father?
“We had a pretty good day today, eh, Dad?” She elbowed her dad playfully.
Sara decided to make the best of the evening. She was with family (except for Rafe, who was working, and Nonna, who was at her twice-monthly bingo night with her girlfriends), and it was a gorgeous night, the summer evening sweet smelling and warm, flowers overflowing from boxes rimming the patio, and tiny white lights twinkling everywhere.
Funny, though. She wasn’t really fretting about all the office issues she wanted to work on that had been at the forefront of her mind. Instead she had an image stuck in her mind of Colton in his cop uniform, bending down to pet his dog. That navy uniform showing off those baby blues, that muscle peeking out from his sleeves, those competent-looking hands.
Dear God, he’d taken Tagg home and put him to bed and still felt guilty he hadn’t done more. Yet she’d accused him of inciting things, riling things up. She’d thought the worst of him.
She rubbed her chest. It suddenly felt funny in there. Oh, Rachel was looking at her strangely. Probably wondering why she was staring off into space.
“Rachel, how’s the shop lately?” Sara asked. “One of these days we’ll have to have lunch.” If there was ever time for lunch. By noon the office was already backlogged, and today, like most days, she and her dad had both worked straight through the lunch hour.
“Oh, I’d love that. The shop is great. In fact, it’s going to be featured in the Lifestyle section of the Plain Dealer next month. Because of my trip to Italy and all the Renaissance antiques I brought back.”
“That’s really cool, Rach,” her sister Evie said. “I’m glad the shop’s doing so well.” She looked at Joe. “I love being home with the kids, but I miss working sometimes.” The fact that the rent on her studio at the art space had gone up too high for her to justify the expense of a sitter had factored into her decision to stay home with the kids, but Sara knew Evie really missed her pottery wheel.
Joe grabbed his wife’s hand. “I was thinking maybe we should turn the garage into a little studio for you.”
“A kiln is expensive,” she said.
“You should do it, Evie,” Sara said. �
��You’re so talented. Plus it would be good stress relief.” Evie threw everything she had into being an amazing mom, and Sara knew she loved being home with her kids. But she’d really loved being an artist too.
“I’m plenty busy with the kids right now, but…maybe.” She smiled at her husband and he winked back. Aww. They always were the perfect couple.
Which reminded her. “Don’t forget I’m babysitting next week for the Fourth,” Sara said.
“Oh, thank you,” Evie said. “The kids are already getting excited for the fireworks.”
“I am too.”
“OK, just so you know, Michael sometimes pees his pants when he gets excited, so nothing too thrilling.”
“Gotcha,” she said. Now that she was back home, she was really looking forward to being able to spend more time with her niece and nephew. She couldn’t wait to spoil them rotten.
Just then Gabby arrived with Malcolm, who looked like he just stepped off the cover of a Billionaire romance novel. Sara smiled politely and greeted them. It was obviously important to Gabby that he meet the family, so Sara owed it to her sister to try and keep an open mind.
“You all remember Malcolm, right?” Gabby said. “He’s a partner at his hedge fund group now.”
It was no accident Gabby shot a look at their father. That Malcolm was a hedge fund manager was sure to press a couple of acceptable-spouse buttons in their father’s mind. Seemed Sara wasn’t the only one of them to seek their father’s approval.
“Tell us, son, what kinds of funds do you manage?” her dad asked as he got up and leaned across the table to shake Malcolm’s hand.
“Only the lucrative kind, sir,” Malcolm said, slicking his hair back in a gesture that bespoke vanity. “I work for Wernor and Vescott downtown. We’re doing quite well. So rest assured, I can keep Gabriella in the style to which she’s accustomed.”
Sara took another sip of her wine. What the hell did that mean? Her sister made a great income on her own. Plus she hung out in sweats and flip-flops. She wasn’t “accustomed” to a life of wealth or leisure. Sara had forgotten a lot about Malcolm in the years since Gabby had broken up with him, but she was beginning to remember why she’d disliked him so much.
After the waiter brought more wine and poured some into everyone’s glass, Gabby cleared her throat. “Now that our drinks are finally here, I can tell you all the good news.” She paused. “We’re getting married.”
Sara choked on her wine, which promptly spilled down the front of her brand new cream-colored romper. She hurriedly dipped her napkin in water to try to flood the stain as exclamations went up around the table.
Gabby hadn’t even hinted about this to Sara in their conversations, which created a new wave of guilt. Maybe Sara had been too wrapped up with her own problems lately to really listen.
“How long have you two been dating?” her father asked, frowning. Rachel gently put her hand over his.
“We reconnected six weeks ago, Dad,” Gabby said. “But you only knew our mom that long, right?” She beamed at Malcolm. “We knew right away it was love.”
Malcolm beamed right back, which was a little reassuring. He was very Italian looking, tanned and toned, with a head of hair whose thickness rivaled John Stamos’s. His custom-tailored suit clung to his muscular frame like a wet suit, and his very nice haircut had probably cost more than their dinner. Sara could understand lust, maybe. But love?
She tried to reconcile this Malcolm with the guy she dimly remembered from Gabby’s college years. That Malcolm had worn seersucker pants and brightly colored polos with the collars lifted up. This Malcolm dressed better but was still showing signs of trying too hard to flaunt his wealth and status. But wait—just then he took Gabby’s hand and stared lovingly into her eyes before he addressed her father and Rachel. If Sara wasn’t mistaken, his eyes were a little teary. “I love your daughter, Dr. and Mrs. Langdon. More than anything.” Gabby blushed prettily.
“Well,” her father said judiciously, “congratulations.” Turning to Malcolm, he said, “If my daughter loves you, we will too. Welcome to our family.”
As everyone hugged and congratulated the happy couple, Sara thought it was a good thing Rafe wasn’t there. He wouldn’t be as accepting, at least outwardly, as their father. But she couldn’t help thinking their father was right. They owed it to Gabby to give him a chance.
“Let’s show them your ring, honey,” Malcolm said, holding up Gabby’s hand, which she’d been subtly hiding under the table. A diamond the size of a small snow globe gleamed and sparkled on her ring finger. Gabby had never wanted a snow globe. She’d wanted something out of the box, unique. Vintage, maybe. But flashy and enormous? Sara just couldn’t see it.
Sara chided herself. Maybe she was just being bitter and envious because of her own broken plans. She’d never been jealous of her sister, but maybe being back home was stirring up all her own conflicted emotions—and, let’s face it, loneliness. She could do better. Be more positive. For Gabby’s sake. Still, she couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling that shifted through her.
“I bought it at Tiffany’s,” Malcolm said. In case they had any doubt it wasn’t the best.
While everyone was oohing and aahing over the ring, Malcolm’s phone went off. “Excuse me. I have to move my Tesla. I’ll be right back.”
As soon as he left, Evie, never one to stay silent, spoke. “Gabby, six weeks? That’s not very much time.”
“It’s not like we just met,” Gabby countered. “Really, Evie, can’t you just be happy for me for once?”
“We are happy for you, Gabs,” Sara said quickly. “We just don’t want you to rush into anything, you know?”
“I’m not rushing. I love Malcolm. And I’m old enough to know this time. I wish you all would have faith in me.” He’s not perfect, but maybe he’s as close as I’m going to come. Gabby’s words from the attic echoed in Sara’s brain. Her stomach churned sickly.
“We do,” Rachel said, ever the peacemaker. “Now, we want to hear all about the proposal, right, girls?”
Malcolm returned, and talk turned to his proposal on the observation deck of the Empire State Building with a violin quartet nearby. “Because Gabby loves Sleepless in Seattle,” Malcolm said.
That seemed very thoughtful. Maybe he had changed. Maybe he did love her sister. That thought, and the fact that everyone in the entire restaurant seemed to be paired up over candlelit tables on this beautiful summer evening, made Sara feel a little weepy. A picture invaded her brain of Colton on such a night, sitting across from her at a candlelit table. Laughing, casually taking her hand and bringing it slowly to his lips, where he would plant a tiny lingering kiss, promises of many more to come, while looking sexy as sin.
Wait, what was she doing? How had she made that leap from annoying and awful to a decent man, and then suddenly to this? The Revolver didn’t do candlelit dinners or monogamy. Maybe he was a decent guy, but he was not boyfriend material, as even her own father had noted.
After the main course was finished, Sara headed to the ladies’ room. Under the bright fluorescent lights, the stain down the front of her brand-new romper looked hideous, like she’d spilled an entire bottle of pinot noir instead of a small sip. In a stall she had to unzip one zipper on the back and another on the side and shimmy out of the entire garment. She usually didn’t wear such complicated clothing, but the romper had a crocheted neckline and was summery and cute.
She was feeling a little weepy, and she wasn’t sure exactly why. She was happy for Gabby…but also worried. Was she a little jealous? Definitely not of the Tesla. Or the ring…Well, on second thought, maybe a snow globe wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
But still Sara couldn’t help but reflect upon her own situation. She’d chosen unwisely, and look where she was now, back in a town where everyone knew everyone’s business, and where there were no eligible men for miles. Except for Colton, and he didn’t count.
With that she stood and shimmied the romper b
ack up, then threaded her arms through the arm holes. The back zipper went up just fine, but the side zipper got stuck halfway up. She yanked and pulled in vain. Sara left the stall and went out into the main part of the bathroom where there was more light and tried to tug the zipper down and then back up. No luck.
Exposed to the air conditioning was a good hunk of pale white flesh over her left hip and—horrors—more than a little of her granny panties. Why had she worn the comfortable undies today? On second thought, maybe she should be grateful that she had extra material to stretch upward to cover her exposed skin.
A stall door opened. “Oh, hi, Sara,” came a voice from behind her.
Sara stopped wrestling with her zipper and turned. There, striking and beautiful, her lips coated with a bold sheen of red lipstick, was Valerie Blake, aka Cake Girl. Tagg’s girlfriend. She wore a flowing, sleeveless black maxi dress and jeweled black sandals. No jelly roll around her waist to get skirt zippers stuck in, no sirree.
Sara yanked up on the zipper so hard she heard a rip. Oh God. One glance down told her the fabric had separated from the zipper. That was strike three for the poor romper. She covered the gaping hole with her hand. “Valerie! Hi! How are you?”
Frankly, she didn’t care how Valerie was. She just did not want Tagg to see her like this. She was certain he was out there somewhere, looking like his usual handsome self, while she was literally falling apart at the seams.
Why did she always think of really bad jokes at the worst times?
“Oh, I’m great. Tagg and I just got back from Greece.” Val smiled a blinding white smile and flipped back her long, silky hair. “You can probably tell from my tan.”
She did look beautiful. In fact, she looked like a Grecian goddess, wearing that beautiful black dress with beads that sparkled from the fringe at the hem. She had some kind of smoky eye thing going on, and dangly earrings, and her neckline was low and showcased her perfect boobs. She was hot, she was sexy, and Tagg loved her.
And that thought made tears burn behind Sara’s eyes.
