Josh nodded, still looking down at the table. “Still not helping.”
Jackson gave him a hearty slap on the back, nearly knocking him off his stool. “You’ll be fine. Once you’re up there at the front of the church watching Allie walk down the aisle looking like a million bucks, you’ll be so glad you’re marrying her.”
Josh picked up his Bromance Brown Ale and drained it. “Right. Absholutely. Can’t wait.”
“Fuck.” Jackson eyed him. With all four or maybe five eyes. “You’re hammered.”
“No I am not.” Josh straightened. “I’m fine. Let’s have another round.”
“Nope. I am doing my best man duty and hauling your ass out of here. You’re already going to need a large bottle of Tylenol and a jug of Visine in the morning.”
“Oh, all right.” Josh slid off the stool and held on to the table for a moment when the floor shifted just a bit underneath his feet. Hey, was that an earthquake? If there was a major earthquake they probably wouldn’t be able to have the wedding tomorrow.
That was stupid. He wanted to marry Allie.
“I need a burger,” he announced.
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Okay, big guy. Let’s head to Barney’s and then I’ll take you home.”
“Yeah. Barney’s. I can have a hickory burger. And fries.” For some reason, at that moment Devon popped into his head. Sitting at Barney’s Chowder House eating hickory burgers with her. That was her favorite burger too. Guess Barney’s hickory burger was always going to be associated with her in his mind.
His fucked-up, shit-faced mind.
They walked the short distance from the bar to Barney’s, the June evening clear and fresh. Josh took deep breaths of the faintly briny air of Promise Harbor, the Atlantic Ocean not far away no matter where you were. He loved living here, even though it had been a tough decision to move back last year. What the hell was he so worried about? Living here as a married man wasn’t going to be any different than living here as a single guy.
Did that make any sense? Of course it would be different. He’d be married.
Inside Barney’s, people filled nearly every booth and table. Friday night. Right. But Josh and Jackson found an empty table and took a seat.
“You know,” Jackson said. “If you’re seriously having doubts about getting married, it’s not too late.”
Josh gave him a crooked smile. “Sure it is.”
“No. It’s not too late until the vows are said.” Jackson leaned across the table, his face serious. “If you want to run, I’ll drive us to Mexico tonight. Just say the word.”
“Mexico?” Josh lifted an eyebrow.
“Or wherever.”
Josh shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. I made a promise to Allie. I always keep my word.”
“Yeah. You always do.” Jackson grinned. “You are a man of honor.”
“Damn right.” The scent of seafood chowder, charbroiled burgers and greasy French fries filled his head and made his stomach growl. “I’m a man of honor,” he told the waitress who arrived to take their order. “And I’m fucking starving.”
She blinked at him.
“Don’t mind him,” Jackson said with a smile for the teenage girl. “He’s getting married tomorrow.”
“I am,” he said. “To the most wonderful woman in the world.”
But once again, Devon’s face appeared in his mind. What the fuck? Why did he keep thinking of her tonight? Then he blinked. Blinked again. And shook his head.
He wasn’t just imagining her face. She was right there in front of him, sitting in the booth across from them.
Holy fuck.
He stared at her. She stared back at him.
“Devon,” he breathed.
Jackson’s head snapped around. “Devon?”
Josh swallowed. His heart might have stopped. He had to get it going again or he would die. And he couldn’t die the day before his wedding. But there…yeah, his heart was going again. Fast. Hard. That might be worse. Now he was afraid it was going to explode out of his chest. He looked at Jackson. “Allie invited her to the wedding.”
“Jesus Christ.”
She was sitting by herself in the small booth, a half-eaten hickory burger in front of her on the table, looking back at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Her long chestnut hair hung around her shoulders, and those sexy, tilted eyes blinked at him. Then she smiled, a sort of sad little smile that made him ache. “Hi, Josh.”
“Devon. Hey.” The next thing he knew he was sitting across from her, still staring at her. “How are you?”
Devon’s throat closed up and her hands trembled, so she clasped them together in her lap beneath the table. Why had she come here? She’d been hanging around at home with her dad. He’d gone to bed, and she’d tried to but couldn’t sleep. For some crazy reason, she’d decided to visit Barney’s Chowder House and have a hickory burger. Not that she was hungry, but she loved Barney’s hickory burgers and here she was in Promise Harbor, and…why not? And now Josh was sitting across from her, staring at her.
“Devon. Hey,” he said. “How are you?”
“Good. I’m good. How are you?”
“Good.” A pause. “I’m drunk.”
“Oh. Okay.” A smile tugged her lips. Jeebus Crust, he was so damn gorgeous he made her heart constrict. His dark brown hair was standing on end in every direction, and his golden-brown eyes gazed back at her with somewhat unfocused intensity. A scruff of beard darkened his square jaw, and his wide mouth curved up into a sheepish smile. “I guess that’s allowed the night before your wedding.”
“Yeah.” His eyes shadowed. “I’m getting married tomorrow, Devon.”
“I know. That’s why I’m here.” Her heart now softened, looking at his long lashes lowering over amber eyes, his short, straight nose, his beautiful mouth. Images bombarded her—her stroking a finger down his nose, kissing the corners of that mouth, running her hands through his hair, nuzzling his neck, breathing in his scent.
He tipped his head to one side. “I didn’t think you would come.”
Her chest was so tight she could hardly breathe. “Well. Um. I wanted to come and…and wish you a-and A-Allie all the best.” She hated how her voice stuttered.
He nodded slowly, his face solemn. “Really?”
No. “Yes.”
“Have you seen Allie?”
“No.” She didn’t think she could. She hadn’t thought she could face her, either. She’d pictured herself sitting in the church, just one of the two hundred or so other guests there to witness their vows. But now Josh sat right in front of her.
There was so much she wanted to say to him, and yet so much she couldn’t say to him. Josh. Pressure built behind her eyes and cheekbones. Emotion swelled inside her. Why are you marrying her? What about me? What happened to us, Josh? What is she giving you that I couldn’t? Just living here in Promise Harbor? Is that it?
After Josh had left, after she’d cried for about a week and spent the next six months wavering between anger and depression, she’d told herself that someday she would meet someone else. Someone like him. Someone honorable and brave and loyal. There was another man out there, someone like him, but someone who’d honor her, someone who’d be loyal to her.
Her heart hurt so badly at that moment she couldn’t think straight. They were sitting there staring at each other across the small table in Barney’s Chowder House, where they’d come that time they’d been back in Promise Harbor for Allie’s mom’s funeral, the only time they’d ever been there as a couple. The air around them thickened, heavy with memories, longing and regrets. Well, she felt regrets anyway—she couldn’t speak for Josh, but as he looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes and a slow, wistful smile…she thought maybe he did too.
But it was too late for that, so she pushed that all to the back of her brain where it belonged. Later she would pull out the memories again, let herself feel the longing and regrets, but now, she couldn’t. Because tomorrow Josh and Alli
e were getting married.
Her throat closed up and her eyes burned but she kept that smile firmly in place, trying to show him she was okay. “I hope you and Allie will be very happy together,” she said, her voice low because if she spoke any louder it would come out shaky. “I want you to be happy.”
She really did want him to be happy. Even though she wasn’t.
“Devon.” Her name was a sigh across his lips.
Jackson was sitting there watching them, his eyebrows pinched together. Devon smiled at him too, and he kind of winced. The waitress arrived with their burgers and fries. “Your food’s there,” she said, nodding.
“Uh. Yeah.” Josh hesitated. “Want to join us?”
Her smile started to hurt. “No, I’m done. I’m just leaving. Nice to see you again, Josh.”
Still he looked at her with that funny expression, and then he too smiled and nodded. “You too, Devon. You too.”
She grabbed her bill and hurried to the front to pay it so she could get the hell out of there.
Sometimes you have to get lost before you can find yourself.
Bolted
© 2013 Meg Benjamin
Promise Harbor Wedding, Book 2
Greta Brewster McBain in a bind. Two, if she’s really counting. First there’s the can-barely-breathe bridesmaid’s dress from hell. Second, the stranger who just carried her “perfect” brother’s fiancée out the church door has made it impossible to tell her own mother about her own divorce.
Rather than confirm her reputation as the family screw-up, Greta takes a drive to clear her head.
Trapped in a hole and unable to reach his cell phone, Hank Mitchell is resigned to becoming a permanent part of his own archeological dig when help arrives—in the form of a woman who looks like a Gone With The Wind refugee. Behind the ruffles and lace, though, is something he appreciates: a woman who isn’t afraid of a little dirt.
Their instant connection draws Greta into the eccentric world of the Hotel Grand, where she impulsively trades her hoopskirts for an apron. Soon things are getting hot—not only in the hotel kitchen, but in Hank’s arms…
Warning: Contains hot moonlit sex, a melancholy turtle, two wisecracking seniors, and the world’s ugliest bridesmaid dress.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Bolted:
Hank Mitchell looked down at his foot, still wedged tight, still unmovable. The rocks in that part of the wall had looked sturdy enough when he’d stepped on them. By the time he’d realized how unsturdy they really were, and how ready they were to crumble under his weight, it was too late to jump back. He’d already tried pulling his foot out of his shoe, but the rocks on either side were squeezed too tightly to get it loose.
Okay, how many times over the years did you tell the interns never to go to a dig alone? Not enough times to drill it into his own thick skull, apparently. Now he stood at the base of a three-foot wall, the possible remains of a Wampanoag settlement, his foot jammed tightly in the midst of some Wampanoag rocks that had crumbled when he’d stepped in the wrong place. He didn’t have the right angle to pry the rocks apart, and he didn’t have any tools that might make it easier.
If he were a superstitious man, he’d say the Wampanoags were having their revenge on him. If so, they were doing a damned good job of it.
He checked around the dig one more time, hoping against hope that something might have changed in the three minutes since he’d last looked and that he’d find some kind of tool he could use to pry himself loose. His notebook and cell phone still sat where he’d left them next to the ladder, thoroughly out of reach, along with his trowel and his pick. He might try lying down full length to see if he could touch them, but he was guessing his knees wouldn’t exactly bend in that direction.
Surely the sisters would miss him at some point. Even if Alice didn’t, surely it would occur to Nadia that he hadn’t been around when he should have been. Surely they’d call the cops to at least check on him. Of course, he didn’t exactly have a regular schedule at Casa Dubrovnik. They might not even notice he hadn’t come home until he’d been missing for a couple of days.
He’d get very hungry in two days, not to mention thirsty. At least the five-foot depth of the excavation would keep him from getting chilled by the wind.
Unless it rained. As it had regularly for the past month.
Hank sighed. He was possibly going to die here. At the very least he was going to get hungry, thirsty and probably wet. And it was all the result of his own idiocy, which made the whole thing that much worse. Alice would probably say she’d told him so, although he was fairly certain even her wide-ranging complaints had never covered this particular situation.
He tensed. For a moment, he could have sworn he’d heard something rustling. Probably a rabbit or something in the underbrush. And he couldn’t think of any way to use a rabbit to rescue himself.
He paused, listening again. The rustling seemed more persistent than a rabbit, and it was coming closer. He ran through a quick list of large animals found in the Massachusetts woods. Bears and moose were possible, but unlikely. Coyotes were more likely but not particularly worrisome unless they decided he was easy pickings. Chances were it was some other kind of animal, though. Maybe a fox or a wild turkey.
By now he was curious enough about the source of the noise to try craning his neck so he could see above the edge of the excavation. Besides, a passing wild turkey would provide a little momentary distraction from his numb foot still wedged in the rocks.
For a moment, he thought he saw someone moving along the trail at the edge of the trees, a flash of color in the darkening underbrush. Hank blinked. The dig was clearly marked with Danger and No Trespassing signs. He’d wanted to put up a fence, but the state authorities had overruled him. Still, nobody was supposed to be back here. Unfortunately.
But if somebody was, they could at least pull him out of this hole. “Hello?” he called. “Anybody there?”
The rustling stopped for a moment, and then began again, coming closer this time. Hank strained to see beyond the top edge of the excavation. “Be careful,” he called. “There’s an excavation back here.”
What he saw next almost convinced him he was hallucinating. The woman was dressed like something out of a movie: a huge bell-shaped skirt covered with ruffles, a wide sash at the waist, a low-cut neckline that stretched across her shoulders and revealed what looked to be more-than-respectable breasts. After a moment, she knelt at the edge, peering down at him, and he saw short, brownish hair and dark eyes. “Hi,” she said.
“Hi.” He took a quick breath, hoping to god she was real and not a particularly bizarre dream. “Could you possibly come down here and give me a hand? I’m stuck.”
Her forehead furrowed slightly. “Possibly. What do you need exactly?”
“My foot’s wedged in here.” He pointed to his foot, still jammed between the two large rocks. “Maybe you could help me pull the rocks apart so I could get loose.”
She frowned, considering. “How about just taking your shoe off?”
He shook his head. “I tried that. It’s too tight. I can’t get my foot out of the shoe.”
“Oh.” She was still frowning. “Okay, just a minute.” She disappeared from the edge, and for a moment he was unreasonably afraid she’d gone. Then he saw the bell-shaped skirt at the top of the ladder. “Hang on. This may take a while,” she said cheerfully. “This skirt isn’t exactly made for climbing up and down ladders.”
“That’s okay. Take your time. Don’t hurt yourself.” He leaned back slightly against the side of the excavation. He still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating, but at least it was more entertaining than standing there wondering if he could amputate his own foot with his pocketknife.
He watched the huge green skirt floating slowly down the ladder. Given the half of the girl he could see from the waist up, he assumed there were legs and a rear end under there somewhere, but there was no telling from what he could see currently. She
looked a little like one of those dolls that had only a cone underneath the costume. He’d given one of those to his niece for Christmas a couple of years ago.
Focus, Mitchell. Not the time to let your mind go wandering. Maybe he really was hallucinating after all.
The girl in the green dress reached the bottom of the ladder, lifting up her skirt to step free. She was wearing white running shoes, he noted. Good thing, too. She probably couldn’t have gotten down that ladder if she’d had to worry about her shoes along with her skirt.
She gave him a bright smile, pushing her bangs out of her eyes. “Now what?”
“My foot’s sort of wedged in here at the base of the wall. Maybe you could push the rocks on one side and I could lead over to push on the other. I don’t have enough leverage to do it all myself.” In point of fact, he didn’t have any leverage at all since he could barely reach the rocks as it was.
The girl frowned again. “Let me give it a try.” She bent down at his feet, giving him a great view of her cleavage.
Jesus, Mitchell, she’s trying to help you. Do not ogle her.
He tried to bend down too, dodging to avoid her when she raised her head suddenly.
“Look, just stay standing up, okay? There’s not really room for you to bend down here too.” She gave him a quick smile, then ducked her head again. “Am I right that you’d rather not have me do anything that would pull the wall down as we get your foot out?”
Hank closed his eyes for a moment. Two years of work gone in a jumble of stone. “That would be a big yes.”
“Okay then, just relax. I should have this done in…” She leaned over further, doing something mysterious with the rocks that involved a lot of pushing. The neckline of her dress dipped dangerously. Hank forced himself to study the clouds.
“What is this place anyway?” she asked in a muffled voice.
“It’s an ancient village. Fourteenth or fifteenth century.”
Busted (Promise Harbor Wedding) Page 27
