Big Sky Bride, Be Mine!

by Victoria Pade

  Jenna gathered his requirements as he emptied the bags. Before sitting at the table, she asked if he wanted something to drink.

  “The Big Sub demands beer,” he informed her, taking a six-pack of long necks from one of the bags.

  “Ah, this really was born in college,” she said as she opened two of the already icy-cold bottles.

  “Also why glasses are not allowed—it’s straight from the bottles or nothing.”

  Jenna laughed at him, handed him one of the bottles, which he clanked against hers, then held aloft in a silent toast of some sort before he took a swig.

  Jenna took a drink of her own beer as she sat at the table next to where he was setting up shop. He began by peeling and slicing a red onion and then dressing it with olive oil, red wine vinegar and the salt that she’d contributed.

  She could have easily just watched him, but the silence was awkward, so she said, “How did you get away so soon? I thought the mayor and his minions would have you tied up forever, and even if they let you go, the die-hard football guys were waiting in the wings to nab you.”

  “Right… Well, I had to promise the die-hard football guys that we’d have a drink and talk as much football as they wanted the next time I ran into them. And the mayor and his minions…” A Cheshire cat grin drew sexy lines at the corners of his eyes. “I told the mayor I had a debt to pay. I was very mysterious, I even winked at him when I said it. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m doing some under-the-table maneuverings—possibly even paying bribes—to bring the Monarchs here. I didn’t have to say much to make him think that I needed to get away to do something he’s better off not knowing about—”

  “But that he would be in favor of, nonetheless,” Jenna contributed wryly.

  “He’s on the side of the training center,” Ian reminded. “But regardless of what he thinks, he made sure I got out of there.”

  And for that Jenna couldn’t help being grateful even though she cautioned herself about not showing it.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d make it at all,” she admitted.

  “Why? I told you I would.”

  “Plans change,” Jenna said, recalling her own earlier second thoughts about this.

  “I’m a man of my word,” Ian declared. “Besides,” he added as if he were confiding in her. “I know you and I are probably strange bedfellows, but not only do I like you—and have a really good time whenever I get to see you—I’m thrilled to have something to do in this town that isn’t hanging around with couples or talking football—either for business or for the die-hard sports fans.”

  Jenna’s thoughts stuck a little on the bedfellows reference—she had to yank them away from the more literal image the word evoked. Then she had to try to keep his comments about liking her from going to her head in order to concentrate on what he’d gone on to say.

  “I mean,” he continued, “I’m happy that my brother and sister have partners, but it still seems like everywhere I go around here I’m the fifth wheel. The spare tire. And even though I’m a football fan through and through, too, for me, football talk is still work, and there has to be some time away from it. So believe me, I wouldn’t have missed fixing you dinner tonight for anything or anybody.”

  He said that firmly, convincingly and with a hint of emphasis that put more weight on his wish to be with her than on his desire to escape hanging out with couples or football fanatics.

  But again Jenna fought not to take that too seriously and focused on what he’d said that hadn’t had anything to do with her.

  “I know all about being the fifth wheel,” she said. “There are a lot of couples in Northbridge. Everybody is good about including me, but I do always feel like the spare tire when Meg has Logan, and there’s Shannon and Dag together and Chase and Hadley. And I could go on and on about the friends I’ve reconnected with here who are now part of a couple.”

  And being fresh out of a divorce and finding herself not part of a couple for the first time in ten years made it feel all the more awkward.

  “So it’s nice,” Ian went on, “to come here or see you away from here and have—” he seemed at a loss for how to title what they were doing together “—have your company,” was what he settled on.

  Jenna also understood the difficulty of categorizing their arrangement. They weren’t dating, and to say they were associating with each other socially was a little odd. Certainly she wasn’t exactly sure what was going on between them—and she was determined that it was nothing—but that didn’t seem to change the fact that she was helpless when it came to denying herself things like last night’s dinner or tonight’s. So, simply having his company seemed like a reasonable explanation. They were just two single people in a town crowded with couples, keeping each other company. Nothing more.

  And since that was all there seemed to be to say on the matter, Ian switched gears and said, “Abby’s asleep?”

  “Since half an hour after I left for the meeting—according to the sitter,” Jenna answered as she watched him slice a loaf of crusty Italian bread in half lengthwise, open it up and slather the bottom portion with mayonnaise.

  “I brought a bag of mints for us for dessert—believe me, you’ll want something to cut the onion taste this sandwich leaves, or you’ll hate me by the time you go to bed tonight. But I got a cupcake with a frosting bunny on top for Abby. I figured she would have already had dinner, but I thought she might like a little dessert. You can put it away and give it to her tomorrow.”

  “She’ll love that.” And Jenna appreciated that he’d thought of Abby.

  For a while they talked about what he was putting on the sandwich as he took the onions out of their marinade and layered them on the mayo-slathered bread. Then he topped them with a variety of lunch meats, then slices of smoked provolone cheese, then more lunch meats, then roasted red peppers, then more lunch meats, tomato, then basil leaves, then fresh mozzarella that he had to slice himself, then salt—

  “Salt on lunchmeat?” Jenna protested when she saw him do that.

  “No, on the mozzarella—it needs it,” he explained.

  Then he drizzled some of the oil and vinegar that the onions had been marinating in on the top half of the bread and set it over the fillings.

  “That really is a big sub,” Jenna observed when he had it together.

  Ian peered into the grocery bags, then brought out a box of long toothpicks that he stabbed every few inches into the sandwich to hold it together, before he proceeded to slice it.

  “I have chips, too,” he said as he served her a section, then took potato chips from the same grocery sack that had held the toothpicks, opened it and put a handful of those on her plate.

  He made quick work of cleaning up his preparation mess by scooping all the debris into one of the sacks and leaving the bowl and silverware in the sink. Then, rather than sitting with her, he nodded in the direction of her open back door.

  “Want to take advantage of this weird March weather and have a picnic?”

  “There isn’t a table or anything out there—it’s all still put away for winter.”

  He shrugged an impressive shoulder. “We’ll just prop ourselves against the wall—then it really will be like college,” he said with a smile she just couldn’t say no to.

  “This is supposed to be the last of the warm temperatures—the news said there’s a cold front coming. So sure, let’s eat outside,” Jenna agreed.

  He took the bag of chocolate-covered mint patties out of the second grocery sack, picked up his plate, napkin and beer while Jenna did the same with her place setting and beverage, and they went out the back door.

  The house had a beautiful front porch, but in the rear, there was only a utilitarian cement stoop. Ian moved far enough to the right of the back door for both of them to sit there.

  And while Jenna was sorry to end up looking out at the yard and the barn rather than at him, it was sort of cozy to be sitting so casually right beside him, up against the warm wall of the ho
use, only inches apart.

  She stretched her legs out in front of her and put her plate in her lap.

  Ian sat with one thigh against the cement of the stoop, his leg bent and his plate in front of his shin. He braced his arm against his other knee.

  “Okay, this lives up to your hype, and I can see how it made you famous in college,” Jenna said after her first bite of what was truly a delicious sandwich.

  “It can’t compare to your lasagna, but as sandwiches go, it’s hard to beat,” he agreed.

  As they settled into the rhythm of eating Jenna said, “From what I gathered tonight—before you persuaded the die-hard football guys to stick to business when they stood up to talk at the meeting—this isn’t all you were famous for in college, though. What were all those things they were saying about making your mark in football? About you rivaling your father?”

  “I was never a rival to my father,” he said with a laugh. “That was actually Hutch. Like I said last night, we both played from the time we were little kids, through high school and college. And we’re twins—some people confuse us.”

  “But you must not have been a bad player—I’m sure that would have distinguished you.”

  “I was a better-than-average player,” he conceded. “But I couldn’t hold a candle to either my father or Hutch.”

  “Are you just being modest?” Jenna asked between bites of sandwich and a few potato chips.

  “I’m not,” he answered after he’d swallowed a mouthful of food and washed it down with some beer. “I tried to be better than I was. I loved playing and I nearly killed myself to make my father proud, not to let him down, not to embarrass him—”

  Jenna took a drink of her beer and stole a peek at Ian, seeing again how important pleasing the great Morgan Kincaid had been to him.

  “—but Hutch,” he was saying, “Hutch had more speed, more natural ability and talent—”

  “But you’re twins…”

  “Identical, right. But we’re not the same person. There are differences. Plenty of them. And in college, my grade-point average was higher than his, his football stats were higher than mine. So when it came to the pros, I got looked at, talked to, too. But it was Hutch who got the call to play for the NFL.”

  Jenna looked over at Ian, watching his reaction when she said, “Was that hard for you? Did you resent him for it?”

  “Nah,” Ian answered easily enough to make her believe he meant it. “I was ready to hit the showers for good and go to work for the Kincaid Corporation. I’d beaten myself up enough trying to be the football star, plus—as careers go—it has a short life span. I thought I could do better things on the business side and that it would actually offer some longevity.”

  “So did your brother end up playing professionally?”

  “He did. For a while. And with a lot of success.”

  “But he stopped?”

  “Yep.”

  Jenna took the hint—when she asked about other things, Ian was open and forthcoming, but when she touched on the subject of his brother, he clammed up. Clearly he didn’t want to talk about his twin.

  They’d finished their sandwiches and their beers by then and after munching a few more chips, Ian tore open the bag of chocolate mint patties.

  When he set the candy between them, Jenna took three. “You weren’t exaggerating about the sandwich—you deserved to be famous for it. But you were also right about the mints—whew! Those onions were delicious but potent!”

  “I’m glad you liked it,” he said more humbly now as he unwrapped a mint patty for himself, too.

  “So you didn’t want to talk football tonight, and I ended up making you sort of do it anyway—sorry about that,” Jenna said then. “I’m as bad as the die-hard fans.”

  He set his plate to the side and pivoted somewhat away from the wall, angling more toward her and flashing her a devilish smile. “Are you a fan?”

  “Of football? Is that the one with the round balls or the pinched-off oval ball?” she joked to let him know she was not well-versed in any sport.

  He laughed. “Actually, I was not asking if you were a fan of football….”

  “Ohhh, you want to know if I’m a fan of yours….” she said, as if she hadn’t known that was what he was teasing her about all along. “Well, you do make a fine sandwich and I like the mints,” she added, popping her third one into her mouth to finally obliterate the onion taste.

  “But me, you can take or leave?” he persisted.

  “You’re not so bad…” was all she would allow him, unable to suppress a smile at the fun of giving him a hard time.

  “Because I was thinking,” he said then, “Meg said you were coming to the Bruiser’s basketball game with her and Logan tomorrow night—that means more couples and you and I. Then there’s that dance on Friday night, the rehearsal dinner for Shannon and Dag’s wedding on Saturday night, the wedding on Sunday—couples, couples, couples, and you and I…”

  “Uh-huh…” she agreed, wondering where he was going with this.

  “I know we only agreed not to avoid each other, to maybe have a glass of wine together when we’re in the same place at the same time, but I was thinking that if I could lock you in for all of these things coming up, I might look forward to them a little more than I have been.”

  “Oh, now that does sound appealing—lock me in? Will there be handcuffs? An ankle bracelet?”

  He laughed. “I’m okay with either of those if you are,” he countered suggestively.

  Then he said, “All kidding aside—though that is one of the reasons I have a good time with you—could we keep each other company through those events? Or would you rather be the spare tire on the women’s side and make me be the spare tire on the guys’?”

  Which Jenna knew was exactly the way it would play out.

  And she was definitely tiring of being the one sitting with a forced smile on her face while the couples around her whispered or snuggled or shared a private joke that she pretended to get but didn’t.

  If she took Ian up on his offer, at those moments she would at least have him to talk to.

  “We’d be keeping each other company as friends, right?” she asked.

  “As friends,” he confirmed. “We’ll call ourselves Spare Tires United.”

  “I’m not wearing a button that says that,” she warned, again joking.

  “You can keep it in your purse, take it out only as necessary—like a badge.”

  It was nice that they shared the same sense of humor….

  “Okay then…” Jenna finally agreed, though not wholeheartedly because to unleash the full spectrum of how happy it made her to think of being “locked in” to sharing the next three events with him seemed dangerous. They were only doing this as a convenience, she insisted to herself. Joining forces as the odd ones out.

  “Great! Then we’re on!” he said enthusiastically to her lukewarm concession.

  A sudden shiver shook Jenna. She’d been so interested in Ian that she hadn’t realized that the temperature had dropped and that it was getting much cooler than it had been when they’d first brought their dinner outside.

  “Feels like the cold snap is coming right on schedule,” she said.

  “And I should probably take off,” Ian added, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to help her up, too.

  It would have been rude not to accept the assistance, so she did, fighting not to be aware of the feel of his hand closing around hers or the strength in it or how much she liked it.

  The moment she was up and steady, she slipped out of his grip. Because she really was determined that this be nothing….

  They gathered their plates and the bag of mints—each of them having one more as they went inside. Jenna assured Ian that she would take care of the little that remained to be cleaned. Then she followed him to the front door.

  She had no idea why she was itching to hold his jacket for him to slip on, but she was. She managed to keep herself from doing a
nything like that, however, by putting her hands into the pockets of her slacks while he got his coat on all by himself.

  Then he moved nearer to the door, put one hand on the knob and turned to her as she said, “Thanks for dinner—it really was the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten, and I’m glad I got to watch you put it together, so I can make it again myself.”

  “Damn! I didn’t realize I’d be revealing my secrets!”

  “Sorry, but it’s too late—I know them all now,” she answered to his joke.

  He smiled a too-sexy-to-believe smile and said, “Maybe not all of them.”

  “Oh, right, I don’t want to blow your mystery-man image….”

  That made his smile stretch into a grin as he looked more intently at her, studied her face, her eyes.

  “Yep, you’ve changed my whole perspective about going to the stuff coming up,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet. “Thanks for that.”

  Without warning, he dipped forward and kissed her.

  On the mouth, but he was there and gone so quickly that it was almost as if it hadn’t happened at all. Except for the slight tingling left on her lips.

  Jenna felt her forehead wrinkle into quizzical lines as the shock of that kiss, and the disappointment of not having had the chance to actually feel it, washed over her.

  Ian must have noticed, because he laughed slightly and then made a return trip to kiss her brow—lingering enough this time so the warmth of his breath, the softness of his lips made an impression. Just not where she wanted them to…

  Then he straightened up, said a simple, “See you tomorrow night,” and left.

  A couple of little pecks goodnight. Between two people who are becoming friends….

  Neither of those kisses had meant anything more—that was what Jenna told herself as she watched Ian go out to his car, get in and drive away.

  And she couldn’t have stopped the kisses, because she hadn’t seen either of them coming, she reasoned. Which she would have done if she had, she told herself, in keeping with her earlier vow that no good-night kissing, or even the thought of good-night kissing, was allowed tonight.