I sighed as I switched lanes. “Katie.”
“See. End of story. You need to go on that audition and show them what you’ve got. Your acting career isn’t over. It’s just taking a new direction. And maybe that direction is New York.”
“I’m not going on the audition.”
“Fine.” Maxine cranked up the radio volume. “I’ll go in your place.”
*
Diamond’s Bridal sat on the corner of Twelfth Street and Main in a town called Newman, one hour and five Golden Arches down the highway. Traditional red bricks made up the outside of the shop, but inside was a harem of lace and satin, ivory and white, sequins and tulle.
Frances’s mother, Maxine, and I perched on pink pin-striped chairs, sipping sparkling water in wine glasses and waiting for Frances to resurface. We had already watched her model six dresses, and by now they all looked the same. If Frances had liked the dress, her mother had not. Dresses her mother adored, Frances couldn’t stand. And Maxine? Well, I was pretty sure Maxine had swapped her sparkling water for the vino at least four dresses ago.
“I guess this engagement took you by surprise?” I asked Mrs. Vega. “So sudden and all.” Maybe if Frances’s mother and I tag-teamed, we could talk some sense into the bride-to-be.
“It was quite unexpected.” Mrs. Vega didn’t take her eyes off the dressing room door.
“I’m sure you’d feel better if they waited a bit. Took some time to really get to know one another.”
“Mmm.” Her monosyllabic sound of agreement did not provide much information. “Frances, are you coming out any time soon?” Mrs. Vega checked the gold watch on her wrist.
“If she stays in there much longer, they’re gonna charge her rent.” Maxine tapped a red fingernail to her glass. “Where’s that waitress?”
“This isn’t Applebee’s.” I snatched that flute right out of her hands.
“Come on, girl,” Maxine called toward the door. “I’m fossilizing out here.”
“Get ready!” Frances yelled back. “I think you’re going to love this one.”
The dressing room door creaked open, and Frances walked to the mini runway that led to a three-way mirror so big if we aimed it at the sun, we’d light the whole town on fire. Frances wore a strapless, fitted gown of antique ivory lace. It gaped at the top and ballooned at the bottom.
Her mother pushed her glasses up her nose, much like Frances always did when needing a closer inspection. “What’s that style?”
Frances turned in a circle. “It’s called fit and flare.”
Maxine’s lip curled. “You need to burn that flare.”
“I don’t like it,” Mrs. Vega said. “Too much cleavage, not enough bling.”
“Yeah.” Maxine waved her hand toward the dress. “You gotta pimp that thing out. Get some sparkle. Some razzle dazzle.”
I nudged my grandmother. “You said you’d sit quietly. That was our deal.”
“I want to renegotiate our terms.”
I knew I should’ve dropped Maxine off at the Dairy Barn. “You’re not helping.”
“No,” Frances said. “She’s right. And my mother’s right. This dress doesn’t work. None of them have.” She turned to face the mirror. “Something’s missing with all these gowns.”
“I bet the winter collection is worth waiting for.”
“Subtle,” Maxine whispered. “Really subtle.”
“You could wear my dress,” Mrs. Vega suggested. “We could get it altered this week.”
“Your dress hasn’t been in style since frosty blue eye shadow and acid-washed jeans.” Frances’s shoulders drooped and she stepped away from the mirrors. “I’m sorry. I’m projecting my wedding stress onto you all. When I see the right one, I’ll know it. But so far, these are all very vanilla. I’m wanting—”
“Cherry chip mocha with hot fudge, butterscotch, peanut butter, toasted pecans, whipped cream, and extra sprinkles?” Maxine looked at each of our blank faces. “I guess that’s just me.”
Frances lifted her skirt above her heels and shuffled back into the dressing room.
“How is Mr. Vega taking this?” I asked when Frances was out of ear-shot.
Her mother shook her head. “Not well. Frances is our first born, his baby girl. It’s hard. We’ve had to have a lot of talks about it.”
“I’m sure his concerns are understandable.”
Mrs. Vega smiled. “Her dad’s just having a difficult time letting her go. He thinks she should still be in pig tails and Hello Kitty.”
“Do you. . .” This was such a delicate matter, I wanted to tread carefully. “Do you think Frances and Joey should date a little longer?”
“Yes, but her father and I can’t say a word.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Mrs. Vega said dreamily, “Juan and I married on date number six.”
Chapter Nine
Loneliness was a funny thing.
It could flood your mind with memories, thoughts, and countless what-ifs.
It could also scatter all that away like a swift wind and leave you thinking of nothing but one person.
Tonight I was thinking of one person.
Charlie Benson.
I sat on the back deck of my parent’s home, missing them and unable to stay inside that quiet house one more minute. Listening to the crickets and the tree frogs, I stared into the dancing flames of James’s fire pit. It was too hot to be lighting fires, but the crackle and snap soothed my ragged nerves.
My feelings for Charlie made no sense. I had just broken up with my long-time boyfriend. Why wasn’t I sitting here moping over Ian? Yet I thought of him less and less with each passing day. I didn’t want to feel this Herculean tug toward Charlie, as if he held this magnet, pulling me in with a force I was helpless to stop. We had a history, so many moments as close friends and more. He had been my confidante in some of my life’s darkest hours. But he’d also wounded me more than once, throwing me over for someone better, prettier, girlier. I’d despised every one of those girls. And sure, I’d done the same to him at least once, but it wasn’t like I had a pattern of walking away, of seeking out blonder pastures.
Charlie Benson was a risk. Could I really believe that he had changed in the last few years? I didn’t even know what I wanted to be when I grew up. The last thing I needed was to get involved and complicate my life further.
“Is this a private bonfire or can anyone join?”
I jumped at the voice, my breath seizing in my chest. “Charlie.” I laid a hand over my galloping heart. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” With a sheepish grin he climbed the few stairs to join me. He eased his tall body into the seat beside me, his long legs stretching before him. “I’ve been calling you for a few hours. I was getting a little worried you were getting into trouble with Maxine now that your folks were gone.”
I leaned my head back on my chair and laughed. “She has a whole list of things for us to do now that I’m back in town. Some of them are even legal.” I picked up my phone and took it off mute. “I guess I still had the volume off from wedding dress shopping.”
“Find anything?”
“Frances didn’t.” I gave him the bare details of Frances’s dress travails, knowing the long version would just make his eyes glaze over. “We did find my bridesmaid dress.”
“Is it awful?”
“It’s actually pretty.” It was a bright coral full-length gown, Grecian-style, with a high waist, flowing skirt, and one wide strap that crossed my left shoulder. I really did like it, but Frances’s assurance I could wear it again was simply laughable. Nobody wore bridesmaid dresses again. They sat in closets and gathered dust and moth holes.
“I bet you look amazing in the dress,” Charlie said.
The boy did know how to turn a head. “Thank you. I guess this wedding is really happening.”
“Accept it.”
“I am trying.”
“My brother’s a good guy.”
“I’m sure he is. It’s just that it’s happened so fast, and nobody seems to be concerned about this.” My best friend was not frivolous or spontaneous. “And she’s about to start her PhD program.”
“And my brother works with cars.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not being a snob here. I’m the first one in my family to have a degree—high school or college. But her brain is not normal; you know that. She’s Mensa. She’s Jeopardy champ material. She wrote a college text book her sophomore year, for crying out loud.” And sixty universities used it. “I can barely keep up a conversation with her. Is your brother going to be a good conversation partner when she wants to dissect Middle Eastern religion’s role on global affairs?”
“Maybe what they have goes well beyond how good they might be on paper. So what if they don’t match up in education or even intellect. Have you been around them?”
Charlie knew the answer to that, so I didn’t bother to reply.
“Give Joey a chance,” he said. “He loves Frances. I know this.”
“Marriage is hard in the best of circumstances. I just don’t want to see her make a mistake.”
“Love’s a risk,” Charlie said. “But it’s theirs to take.”
I had taken a risk with Ian. And lost. And now I found myself regularly thinking about this dark headed Southern boy, as if my heart didn’t know I needed time to be still and dateless. Time to watch chick flicks, eat Cheetos, and disparage the male race.
Instead of spending time with the enemy.
“So what’s going to happen after the wedding?” Charlie asked.
“Frances and Joey go on their honeymoon?”
“I meant you. Are you really not going back to London?”
“No.” I didn’t know what I would do for a career, but I was certain it wouldn’t involve a return trip to the U.K.
“You’re just going to walk away from acting?”
“Yes,” I said. “No. I mean, I don’t know.” My brain was a Magic 8 ball, and all it kept coming up with was reply hazy, try again.
“And what are those?” Charlie gestured to the papers on the floor.
“It’s nothing.”
He reached over me, his chest heavy and warm on mine, and grabbed the stack. “What is this? They’re from New York.”
I managed to snatch a few back. The man had no boundaries.
Charlie held up a trade paper and read. “You have some auditions circled. Are you going?”
“No. My friend Caroline from college lives in New York. She sent them to me.”
“Because she knows you should go.”
“Because she enjoys harassing me like someone else I know.”
“You can’t give up on—”
“I came out here for some peace, Charlie.” I pulled the rest of the papers from his hand and tossed it on the ground. “I don’t want to talk about my job plans.”
“Okay.” He captured my hand before I could pull it away. His fingers interlocked with mine, and his eyes dared me to do something about it. “Then let’s talk about us.”
Oh, even better. Because I totally had that element of my life all figured out. “Why don’t we talk about something simpler. Like ending global warfare or how to solve the national debt?”
“So you’re saying we’re complicated?”
I merely lifted an eyebrow.
“It doesn’t have to be.” His voice was smooth and husky, and it skimmed over me like a caress.
It was time to change the subject. “I’ve been looking over James’s paperwork on the Thrifty Co. takeover. They’ve really been low-balled.”
Charlie leaned back in his chair. “This moment is totally unsexy now.”
I laughed. “Were you weaving a magic spell there, Romeo?”
“I got no game when you talk business.”
I patted his shoulder. “That’s sweet you think you got game, period.”
He ran a finger over my hand, tracing a slow line up my arm. “I seem to remember you liked me on a recent airplane ride. Need me to refresh your memory?” He leaned in, so close I could smell his cologne, see the fire brighten his eyes.
I struggled to find my voice. “We need to forget that.”
“I can’t.” His fingers made lazy swirls on my skin. “I can’t forget that kiss. And what you said right before it. And I know.” His hands made a slow migration to my face, cradling my head. “I know you remember it. What I don’t get is why you won’t talk to me about it.”
“Charlie, what are we doing?” When had my hands moved to rest on his chest? And why was my face a mere breath from his, as if I was all but begging for a kiss? “I’m not in a good place.”
“I don’t care.” He lowered his head—
Only to be interrupted by the blast from my phone. A Katy Perry snippet sang from beneath my chair.
“James!” Relief flowed like honey at the sight of my dad’s name on my screen. “Am I glad to hear from you,” I said as I answered his call. He spoke briefly, assuring me he and Millie had safely landed in Port Au Prince. Thank God. I felt like anyone flying deserved a Purple Heart of Bravery, and I didn’t know when I’d ever be able to step on a plane again.
The call was over almost as soon as it began, and a tired James told me he loved me and would ring back in a few days.
“Your parents got there okay?” Charlie asked.
I nodded.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve just been worried about their flight. I’ve been tracking it on radar all afternoon, and they were going through some rain.”
Charlie’s hand reached out, and he massaged the back of my neck, where tension sat in knots of coiled pain. “You got issues.”
“Just part of my charm. Oh, wow, that feels incredible. I don’t even want to know where you learned that.”
Charlie laughed, then stood. With a tug of my hand, he pulled me to my feet, only to sit down in my chair and draw me onto his lap. I started to protest, but when his hands skimmed over my back, I lost all motivation to complain. I didn’t remember ever feeling this comfortable when Ian touched me. Never this dueling sense of desire and calm.
“How’s that head?” Charlie asked, his fingers doing something heavenly to the base of my neck.
“It’s fine. I get the stitches out later in the week.”
“I guess now that you know your parents are safe, you can focus all your attention on being happy for Frances and Joey.”
“While that is a worthy project”—My gosh, his hands were bliss—“What I need to focus on is saving the Valiant. A little more to the left, please. Ah, right there.” Was it wrong to purr? His fingers pushed into the tight knots on my shoulders, and I took a few cleansing breaths. I could’ve stayed like that forever. Just me, Charlie’s hands doing their thing, and the gorgeous night sky above. “I’ve been studying James’s notes.”
The massage stopped. “When you weren’t tracking weather and planes?” He resumed his ministrations, his hands moving slower, gentler.
“I’m a great multi-tasker. And you’re an excellent masseuse. I could fall asleep right here.”
“Guys do not like to hear our presence puts a girl to sleep.” He pulled my hair to the side, his fingers running down my neck, making my nerve endings hum.
I lolled my head to the left. “Don’t take it personal. I haven’t slept in days.”
“And why is that?”
“I don’t know. I have a lot on my mind, I guess.”
His hands slowed. “Like me?”
“You wish.” But that was definitely a good part of it. Charlie and I had picked up right where we’d left off, as if we’d not gone two separate directions. As if we hadn’t both chosen to not be together multiple times over the years. The man smelled like heaven. It was a mix of spice, outdoors, and soap, mixed with tangy notes of arrogance and charm.
“Calvin Klein ought to bottle up your scent,” I said lazily.
“Maybe call it S
weaty Texan?”
I smiled. “I still have a few of your t-shirts from high school. In college when I’d get homesick, I’d pull one out and sleep in it. They used to smell like you.” Like home. Like the boy I had loved.
Charlie turned me until I faced him. His hands cradled my jaw, his thumbs sweeping across. “I love it when you get too tired to filter,” he whispered. His lips brushed against mine—once, twice. “Anything else I need to know? Like you have my name tattooed somewhere fun?”
“Maybe.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “But you’re not checking.”
“I love a good challenge.” His smiling lips descended and captured mine. I soon forgot what we were talking about, and all I knew was this man. I held onto Charlie like he was a lifeline, my raft in the tossing waves. His mouth was soft and teasing, sending spiraling sensations to every limb, every cell. It was wonderful not to think, to let my brain take a few minutes of respite, while the rest of me just. . .felt.
A loud crashing had us both breaking apart.
Heart pounding, I scanned the yard until I saw the familiar intruder.
“Armadillo,” Charlie said. “He was probably watching us.” His hand slid down my back. “Want to give him an encore?”
“Not tonight,” I said as Charlie pressed his lips to a spot behind my ear. It was difficult to form a coherent sentence when he did that. “Charlie—” His evening stubble shaded his cheeks, and I couldn’t help but ran my hand over the places where tomorrow a razor would go. “I think I’ve found my purpose here in In Between.”
Charlie leaned into my hand. “Us?”
“Not what I was talking about.”
“We’ll work on that.” He traced my collarbone with his finger. “Your stage career?”
“No.” I could barely focus. All I could think was please don’t stop whatever you’re doing. “Um. . .no, not my career. That’s pretty much dead.” Focus, Katie. “I’m talking about the Valiant. Nobody’s going to take that from me.” For my twenty-first birthday, James and Millie had added my name on the deed. I’d happy-cried for days. “It’s horrible timing that James isn’t here with all that’s going on, but I’m going to fight for it. I’m going to make sure Thrifty Co. never touches it. Maybe this is what I came back for. Maybe God led me away from acting to come back and save the Valiant.”
Can’t Let You Go Page 7
