by Lori Wilde
“If that’s the way you want it.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care, but there was something in his eyes that said otherwise.
“It is.”
Unless he really wanted to make her his girlfriend.
That, she’d consider.
As soon as Nate walked into the kitchen, he knew there wouldn’t be a quick getaway.
His mother was working on a major breakfast, the kind usually for Christmas or large family reunions. The waffle iron was out; the sink was filled with dishes, and a tin full of freshly baked muffins cooled on the counter.
“Mom, why are you making such a huge breakfast? I thought you would sleep in.”
“It’s the least I can do for your girlfriend,” she said, taking crisp bacon out of the microwave. “I wasn’t a very good hostess last night. The storm had me rattled.”
“Becky understands about your phobia,” he said, snatching a slice of bacon and nearly burning his fingers.
“You told her I have a storm phobia? Really, Nate! It’s not a phobia. I’m just extra cautious about storms.”
“Are those blueberry muffins?” he asked to deflect her.
“Is Becky up yet?” His mother asked, ignoring his question.
“She’s taking a shower.”
He reached for a muffin, and his mother slapped his hand away. Some things never changed.
“Set the table for me, please.”
“Sure.” He opened the cabinet and took out plates.
“Your father’s back is bothering him again.”
“Has he been doing his therapy?”
“Off and on. You know how stubborn he can get.”
“Yeah.”
“He was a captain with only four years left until retirement,” his mother mused. “Why did he take such a big risk?”
Nate couldn’t answer that question. His mother had been a fit wife for a law enforcement officer, but she had fixated on the idea that his father wouldn’t have fallen through rotten planking in the warehouse bust if he’d been more careful. Not everything was preventable.
“Dad will get better, Mom. It just takes time.”
Breakfast seemed to last a week. The food was delicious, but since he’d taken responsibility for Lucy, he’d already put on three pounds because he hadn’t went for his daily runs.
His mother kept pouring more tea as an excuse to linger at the table, and Becky cozily chatted away as though she wanted nothing more than to get better acquainted with his folks. His father talked about baseball with him, but Nate couldn’t work up any actual interest in the Texas Rangers spotty win record.
Yet, he was going to look like a colossal jerk when he broke up with Becky. Why had he ever thought this was a good idea? Pretending that she was his girlfriend? Maybe it was because a secret part of him really wanted her to be his girlfriend.
That was a stunning thought.
“Don’t forget about the tickets to that shindig of yours next Saturday,” his father said to his mother.
“Yes,” she said. “The hospital fundraiser.”
“With my back acting up the way it is, I’m not sure I’ll be able to go.”
Nate noticed that his father’s back seemed to act up the most when he wanted to get out of doing something.
“That’s all right. The tickets won’t go to waste. Nate can take Becky. I’m not the co-chair this year, so I don’t have to be there.”
“Mom, I don’t think—”
“I’ll babysit Lucy. You’ll have a wonderful time.”
Becky gave him a get-us-out-of-this-now look, but Nate wasn’t any more thrilled about this than she was. In his opinion, mingling with his mother’s social set was about as entertaining as spending Thanksgiving dinner at the county jail.
“Thank you so much for thinking of us,” Becky said. “But we really couldn’t take your tickets. What if Joe’s back gets better by next weekend? You wouldn’t want to miss out on your event.”
“No seriously, take the tickets. You’d be doing us a big favor,” Nate’s dad said.
“Yes,” his mother said. “Whatever the event raises on ticket sales an anonymous donor will match, but here’s the catch, the tickets have to be signed and turned in at the door to count in the final tally. Not the way I would’ve handled it, but I wasn’t on the fundraising committee this year.”
“You should go,” Nate’s dad urged him. “Becky might enjoy the dancing. They’ve got a talented band scheduled.”
“Oh, I’m really sorry, but we’re super busy next week and…” Becky gave Nate a look that screamed for backup.
Since she was going to make him look bad when they broke up, maybe she deserved a bumpy ride before they called it quits? Then there was something else. He wanted to go to the fundraiser with her. Wanted to dance the night away with her in his arms.
“I don’t think there’s anything we can’t reschedule,” he said, enjoying the baffled look on her face.
“But, Nate, our friends…”
Considering their only mutual acquaintances were Freddie, Lucy, Mrs. Vander Polder, and a gambling nanny, she was on shaky ground, waiting for him to rescue her. However, here’s what he was thinking. It might be worth putting on a suit for an hour or two to see Becky in a hot little evening dress.
“Don’t you have work next weekend?” She was making a last-ditch stand, and he was enjoying it.
“Nope. We’ll go. I’ll dust off my old wedding tuxedo—I’ve been a best man nine times. Did I ever tell you that, sweetheart? I finally got smart and bought my own tux.”
“It’s not black tie,” his mother said. “It’s a costume ball.”
“Costume?” Nate felt his throat constrict. Okay, the joke was over.
“You won’t be able to wear your father’s outfit. He’s put on too much weight around the middle. And I’d plan to go as Martha Washington, and that costume is not at all right for a pretty young woman like Becky. I know how busy you are, so I’ll go to that costume shop over on Hutchins Street and pick out something for both of you. You can change here when you drop Lucy off.”
His father gave Nate the smug nod. He’d gotten out of it. His mother beamed at him.
What could he do? He might as well go along with it and give his mom one night of happiness. She wouldn’t be a proud mama when he dumped his golden-haired girlfriend.
He wouldn’t be too happy, either.
And that thought was an enormous paradigm shift for a man who’d thought he’d given up on love.
12
“People tell me that I can be a chatterbox, but you’re the one with the big mouth,” Becky said as they pulled into his parents’ driveway the following Saturday evening. “I seriously can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“We had this conversation already. I offered to cancel.” Nate handed Lucy to Becky and hefted the car seat under one arm and grabbed the well-stocked diaper bag in his free hand.
“I hope your mom rented you a gorilla costume.”
“She wouldn’t. She thinks I’m cute.”
“Maybe thirty years ago you were cute. How old are you, anyway? I can’t believe you’re my pretend boyfriend and we haven’t even exchanged vital statistics.”
“I turned thirty-one on February tenth. I’m six foot two, one hundred and eighty pounds but that was before I became a daddy on demand—the surrogate father gig puts on the flab.” He patted his belly. “I love basketball, football, baseball, hockey, oh let’s just say I love any sport. My favorite color is red, and I lost my virginity to—”
“TMI!” She plastered a palm over Lucy’s ear and cradled her head against her chest. No way would she let him know his self-revelation completely intrigued her and she desperately wanted to know more. They’d barely had a conversation beyond caring for Lucy since the previous weekend they’d spent at his parents’ house.
“Your turn,” he said.
“As you already pointed out, I’m short. I weigh significantly less than you, and I’ll be twenty-seve
n on August 4.”
“You’re just a child—I’m virtually robbing the cradle. What else?”
“My favorite color is blue,” she said as she stared into his big blue eyes and felt a shiver run up her arms. “Favorite sport…hmm…badminton.”
“Badminton? I’ve met literally no one who played badminton.”
“We had a net at the farm. It was the only game where I could beat my brothers.”
“I’d like to hear more about the farm, but I see Mom waving at us in the window. Smile and pretend you’re thrilled to be going on a date with her darling son.”
Becky leaned over to Lucy. “This isn’t really a date, just to make that clear, kid.”
Lucy chortled.
“Gotta make it look real, babe,” Nate said.
Had he just called her babe? She didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended. She kind of liked it. But why was he treating her as if she was a little ball of helpless fluff?
Then again, maybe he was talking to Lucy.
Just as she was wondering, Nate caught himself. “I shouldn’t have called you that. It was a slip of the tongue. I just feel so relaxed around you, I let down my filter.”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “If I get to call you babe right back.”
Was it her imagination? Or did he look a little queasy? She canted her head, studying him.
Margaret Dalton came out onto the porch, waving them in.
“Saved by the bell,” Becky said and swished up the sidewalk ahead of him.
Nate’s mom was so excited, you’d think she was going to the ball herself, Becky thought after they exchanged cordial greetings. Darn, she wished she didn’t like Nate’s mother so much.
Margaret pressed her palms together in silent applause. “Your costumes are up in the bedroom. There wasn’t a whole lot left to choose from, especially in Nate’s size, but I’m pleased with them. Lucy and Granddad and I will have a wonderful time while you’re gone, so you two can go on home after the party. We’ll keep Lucy until tomorrow afternoon and bring her to your place. That way you can sleep in and we get to spend time with our granddaughter.”
“The theme of the ball is a thousand and one desert nights,” Nate's mother called up the stairs after them.
The costumes lay spread across the bed, side by side.
“What the h—”
Becky poked him in the ribs. “Shh, your mom might hear. Do you want to hurt her feelings?”
Inwardly, Becky agreed with his sentiment. She was supposed to go to the costume ball in a harem costume? While Nate’s outfit was befitting for a guy who lived in a lamp.
“They won’t fit.” He glowered.
“How do you know? We haven’t tried them on yet.”
“I can tell mine will not fit.” He picked up an emerald vest resplendent with faux glass jewels.
“At least you have a shirt,” she pointed out. “Part of my costume seems to be missing.”
“Yeah, and you need a jewel for your belly button.” He picked up her harem pants and held them to the light. “See through. I kind of like these.”
“I can’t wear that.”
Nate picked up a wicked-looking rubber saber and lunged playfully at her, resting the point over her heart.
“You’re my prisoner,” he said in a phony stern pirate’s voice. “Put on that costume or I’ll run you through, lassie.”
“So, are you supposed to be Aladdin or Captain Jack Sparrow or Jamie from Outlander? Your role-playing is inconsistent.”
“Should we blow this entire thing off?” he asked.
“I’ll put on the costume,” she said. “But only if you wear every part of your costume.” She picked up a fake gold armband, then raised it to her eye and peered at him through it as if it were a spyglass. “If you’re not too chicken, that is.”
“Trying to goad me, are you? It won’t work.” He folded his arms across his chest.
“You are too chicken. You’re afraid of looking silly.” She cocked her head and sent him a sexy smile.
He grumbled under his breath. Ha! She had him and he knew it.
“Well, I’m going to get dressed in the bathroom,” she said. “If you will not change when I come out, you can tell your mother we’re not going because one of us doesn’t have enough nerve to wear his costume.”
“My mother rented the wrong costume for you. She should’ve gotten something with a pointed hat and a broomstick.”
“Doesn’t match the theme.” She stuck out her tongue at him.
“Real mature, Ryan.” But his eyes were laughing.
She raised her chin and scooped up all the parts of her costume, including jeweled slippers and a flowing, sheer veil attached to a small hat.
“We don’t want to disappoint your mother.” She strolled into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.
Becky couldn’t believe that his mother had picked out teeny purple bikini panties and billowy sheer harem trousers. The halter top with skimpy, too. It was the pseudo-vest of bright blue velvet heavy with rhinestones and plastic beads. Her little gold cap, with the veil sewed on to cover the lower half of her face, fit perfectly on her.
All she needed was a genie bottle and she could star in a sitcom revival as if she didn’t feel conspicuous enough. The waist of the trousers ended well below her belly button, and no amount of tugging could bring it up higher.
It might be fun teasing Nate in privacy, but she wasn’t sure she had enough nerve to walk into a public event in this getup.
Nate’s reaction was enthusiastically reassuring. “You look terrific!”
“You’re not half-bad yourself.” She eyed him.
He was substantially less exposed than she was. His trousers fit comfortably around his waist and were opaque yellow satin. On the plus side, most of the material in the flimsy white shirt was in the puffy sleeves; the front was an open slash down to his waist with his brawny chest beautifully displayed.
His emerald green vest was stiff with gold trim and rhinestones and looked too snug for comfort, but it set off his broad shoulders and lean waist almost too well. Women would line up to dance with this handsome lawman.
“I look ridiculous,” he said.
“You may feel ridiculous, but I’m sure a lot of the women would like to rub a magic lantern and have you pop out.”
“Flattery won’t get me out in public in this thing.”
“Would you disappoint your mother after she went to so much trouble for us?”
“All right, we’ll go, but just to turn in the tickets,” he insisted.
“We have to be seen. All your mother’s friends will be there.”
He took a deep breath and briskly rubbed his palms together. “Let’s do this thing. Might as well have fun.”
Now, that was a sentiment she could get behind. Both of them had been so busy caring for Lucy, neither one of them had time to relax and have fun. Although, being with Lucy was definitely a good time, it was just a lot of work as well.
After surviving Margaret’s gushing admiration when she saw them in their outfits, they drove to the country club. The well-watered fairways and greens behind the building impressed Becky, but the farmer’s daughter that she was thought the water would be better used to grow crops.
The clubhouse sprawled at the end of a curved road just beyond impressive stone gates. The long hours of summer daylight made it possible to see the tan brick facade and the not-quite-matching wooden siding.
Becky wished it was dark—midnight-dark with a power failure for good measure—so that no one would see her in this costume.
“Do you want me to drop you off at the entrance before I park?” Nate asked thoughtfully.
“Don’t you dare! I’m not standing in plain sight under the searchlight they have beamed on that door.”
He slid her a sly grin. “Worried I’ll abandon you?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” His tone turned serious. “I’m rig
ht beside you all the way.”
He really seemed to mean that, and her heart gave a strange little wobble. Nate was a guy you could count on.
When they got inside, an older woman, in an out-of-style-fifty-years-ago bouffant and leopard print, had to witness their signatures, even though there were volunteers standing around with nothing else to do.
Some guy dressed as Julius Caesar ogled Becky.
The woman with him, dressed like Cleopatra, whacked Caesar on the upper arm.
Nate wrapped his arm around Becky’s waist and drew her closer to him. His palm was warm against her bare skin.
Staking a claim? Or just looking after her? His grin was so reassuring and kind, she assumed it was the latter.
At least the golden glow in the main ballroom was better than the stark white neon in the entryway. The muted lights were covered with dark-yellow gels, apparently to simulate desert sun. Big cutouts of palaces and minarets, inspired by Hollywood versions of the Arabian nights, stood along the walls, and long strands of beads hung from the band's raised platform. Mood music was piped in through the sound system, but no one was dancing yet.
“It looks like we won’t win a prize for the silliest costume,” Nate said, grinning at a woman with a wig of cotton snakes. “Is the costume she’s wearing supposed to be that goddess who turns men into stone?”
“Yes, Medusa. But only if they look directly at her.”
“I’d rather look at you.” His eyes lowered and so did his voice.
“Eyes forward,” she warned, though she liked the way he was studying her costume.
Oh dear, was he getting as heated up as she was? Becky had not expected this.
Nate’s mother was one of the few who thought the desert theme called for outfits straight out of an Arabian fairy tale. Cowboy seemed to be the costume of choice, probably because it was their everyday attire. A few women were going along with the western theme as well and were wearing everything from fringe, to suede, to calico skirts.
A woman in a dragon costume apparently knew Nate and she cornered him for conversation, leaving Becky stranded. Circulating in a crowd of strangers, wearing such a skimpy costume was Becky’s idea of purgatory.
