Her gaze locked with Craig’s.
The bride’s eyes narrowed, and Lysia swore she saw laser beams shoot out.
Lysia looked back and forth between the two. What was going on?
“What are you doing here!” the bride growled.
Craig stood wide-eyed and frozen in shock. “I live here.”
“No,” she snapped. “You live in Sacramento. Are you stalking me?”
“I haven’t lived in Sacto for almost two years.” He took a deep breath. “Why are you here?”
“I’m dress shopping for my wedding, What does it look like?”
“Obviously, but what are you doing in St. Helena?” Craig questioned her, his expression locked in a state of shock.
The bride huffed. “Destination wedding.”
Craig scoffed. He then laughed.
Lysia backed away. His laugh was a menacing sound.
“This is my town. That was my idea. And you called it…” He breathed heavily as he recalled, “stupid, inconsiderate, lame… Typical.”
“I can’t believe you really did it. Get out of here, Craig. Why do you always have to ruin everything!” The bride stomped and screamed and threw her fists around like a toddler.
Lysia shifted her wide-eyed stare to Kathleen. What the hell were they witnessing? Kathleen’s face was a frozen mask of a false smile. She apparently realized she had just lost the hefty commission this dress would have brought in.
“You always ruin everything!” the bride kept yelling, now with added tears streaming down her face.
“You’re the one who said no.” His words fell like ice. Then he turned and walked out the front doors.
Lysia’s attention shifted to the bride who stomped and stormed her way back to the dressing rooms.
***
Craig halted on the sidewalk as the doors swing shut behind him. He could still hear Miranda raging inside.
What the hell? Napa Valley had been their plan, his dream, and she had supported him. No, she hadn’t. He’d wanted her to, but she hadn’t, not really.
Now she was getting married. Wow. Craig almost felt sorry for the guy. Poor sucker.
No, he had been the sucker. Maybe the next guy knew what he was getting. But she was following through with Craig’s big idea of getting married here.
He shook his head, clearing out the stupid thoughts. If she wanted to get married here, let her. He didn’t own the valley. He hadn’t purchased it and forbidden Miranda from having access to his private property. Though the idea did seem appealing.
It shouldn’t surprise him that she was recycling his ideas, as she never was capable of coming up with anything original on her own. Nevertheless, it still hurt to have his fantasy stolen by the very person who’d refused to share it with him. This had been his romantic concept, a wedding out amongst the grape vines, and then starting their new life together in this idealistic town.
Damn. Miranda had been a bucket of ice after he had so idiotically followed after that shop chick. Lysia. Lysia. He rolled her name around on his tongue. Yeah, now she was hot, and she had been checking out his ass. He’d been to a tailor a time or two, and even female ones did not stare that hard. She was funny, too. And tall, added bonus, no sore back or strained neck having to bend over to kiss someone half his height.
Man, that had been a sight, her kneeling and mooning up at him. Those big green eyes and that perfect mouth, right at crotch level.
He sighed. Good thing she had moved, or he might have busted out past his zipper. He shifted, easing his anatomy back into a more comfortable situation inside his pants. Miranda would be storming out of the shop any moment now. He needed to disappear. That was one woman he did not want to see again anytime soon. Lysia, on the other hand, he needed to see. He should turn right around, ignore Melinda and her tantrum, and continue flirting badly with Lysia while he got a tux for Saturday’s wedding.
Instead, Craig headed toward Main Street. He’d grab a burger at Taster’s and head back after an early dinner.
Two kids on skateboards zoomed past.
“Hey, Mr. W,” they called out as they jumped the curb.
“Hey, kids,” he called back, uncertain exactly who they were, with their identifying haircuts hidden under helmets. That was a problem living and teaching in a small town. Your students knew you, and they were everywhere.
He heard a squeal of tires and a honk. He turned to see the skaters whizzing past traffic. He continued walking when he heard a scream, then silence. Scanning for the skaters, they weren’t in sight. That meant someone was down.
Craig was running before they called out for help.
He skidded to a halt next to the children. Callen Halbrook was okay, but the other boy sat rocking back and forth hunched over his arm.
Craig reached forward and unsnapped the child’s helmet. “Did you hit your head, Dewitt?”
This was the good thing about living and teaching in a small town. Your students were everywhere, and you knew them.
Dewitt shook his head. “No, it’s my arm.”
Craig lifted the helmet. “Can I see?” he asked.
Dewitt cringed away from his arm. Definitely broken.
“Should I call 911?” Callen asked nervously.
“No, we don’t need that. I can drive you to the ER. Can you stand?” He directed the question to Dewitt.
The kid groaned.
“Okay, you two sit tight. I’ll be right back with my car. Why don’t you call Dewitt’s grandmother and tell her to meet us at the ER?”
Callen grunted an affirmation, and Craig jogged back to the lot at Josie’s PBT to grab his car.
He stared longingly for a split second at the doors, Lysia was on the other side, and he still needed a tux. That could wait. Dewitt could not.
By the time Dewitt’s grandmother was able to get away from work and meet them at the hospital, Craig missed his opportunity to order his tux today. He would have to call in the morning to let Lysia know he still needed the suit.
Why on earth had he thought that being a history teacher would be a relaxing way to spend his second career? He worked harder now than he ever did in high-tech. The pay scale was definitely skewed. Teachers should be making more money than computer programmers because they helped form the intelligence of the future Good thing he wasn’t doing this for the income.
Chapter Two
Lysia waited for Josh at the Spigot. She lucked out and got the last booth in the back, her favorite spot, tucked away from the rest of the ruckus in the local sports bar and general hang out. She needed a drink after the afternoon she’d had.
Kathleen’s bride made such a fuss that Patrice’s own bride charged out of her dressing room and straight out of the shop. No sale. Losing two big sales back to back in such a dramatic fashion was clearly Lysia’s fault for having brought the groom through to the bridal side of the shop…even though he wasn’t anybody’s groom in this time line.
After hearing Kathleen’s bride yell that Craig “always ruined everything,” Patrice assumed he was the groom, and the bride had reacted badly to him seeing her in the perfect dress. Patrice wouldn’t hear a word from Lysia. No explanation was allowed—just go.
Patrice had been difficult to work for and with. There were days Lysia swore she was as superficial as the industry she served. Lysia had refused to leave until she’d located an appropriately fitted tux for her last client. This way, at least Patrice could not say she’d left with unfinished work.
One thirty-two very-tall tux was pulled and labeled for the guy who made her nerve endings tingle just because he wore fancy shoes. Lysia had hung the suit behind the counter and left her job of two years with a heavy sigh. Merry freaking Christmas.
Josh said he would meet her after work, and since he worked the busy lunch shift in the kitchen at the Napa Grand, he should have been available by eight. It was nine-thirty. Where was he? She stared dejectedly at the empty beer. She didn’t want to drink her troubles away on crap beer
. She wanted her boyfriend to wrap an arm around her and tell her things would be okay.
Instead, her roommates Anna and Samantha slid into the opposite side of the booth. Lysia caught her breath. She hadn’t decided what she was going to say to them about this. She thought she had until the morning.
“Josh late again?” Samantha asked as she took a handful of fries from the basket in front of Lysia.
She made a positive uh-huh noise.
“Lysia, you’ve been stood up so many times by him. Are you going to keep letting him do this to you?”
Lysia excused Josh’s tardiness.
“He works late. Chef at the Napa Grand is pretty high maintenance. Very demanding.”
“I think Josh is the demanding one,” Anna said with an eye roll.
“You’re looking pretty beleaguered. What’s up? You know if you are having problems with him, we’ve got your back.” Samantha shoved another handful of fries in her mouth.
Lysia slumped. Tomorrow she would pick up her last paycheck. Hopefully, there would be enough on it to cover rent, at least a good portion of it. “So I need to tell you about work—”
“Ladies!” Josh approached them with an over-enthusiastically loud greeting. He slid into the booth next to Lysia and draped an arm over her shoulders. “What are we talking about?”
“Lysia was just telling us about her day at work,” Anna said with a smirk.
Lysia felt like she was in the hot seat. Of course, Josh would show up just as she was about to tell her roommates she was unemployed and uncertain if she could make rent at the end of the month.
“God, that’s all you do, whine about work. Don’t you ever talk about anything else?” Josh himself whined.
Anna snagged another fry. “See you in the morning.”
Lysia weakly waved at her retreating roomies. She felt the urge to run away with them.
She scooted away from Josh and glared at him. “What do you ever talk about other than work and the Niners?”
Josh sat quietly for a moment. he was he capable of thinking right now? He smelled like he had already been drinking, and maybe smoking. He knew how much she hated that.
“You’re funny. We talk about all kinds of things.”
“Like what? You complain whenever I start to tell you about my day, but you can bitch and moan about Chef for hours.”
“Not true. That man has it out for me. Did I tell you what he—”
“Josh!” Lysia cut him off. “You’re doing it again. When was the last time we talked about something interesting you read?”
“Reading is for girls. What’s gotten into you tonight? Huh?” He grabbed her jaw and moved her face around before ripping the bandage from her chin and making a sound of revulsion. “What the hell is that thing on your chin? Do you have herpes? Shit, Lees, you have herpes, and you didn’t tell me?”
She batted Josh’s hand off her face. “Don’t be stupid. It’s a zit. I don’t have herpes.”
“Are you sure? That’s one scary looking zit. I’m not kissing you tonight. I don’t want that thing near me. You might be contagious,” Josh complained.
“Let me out of here.” Lysia made pushing hand motions at Josh to get him to move. While she waited for him to shift, she dug money out of her wallet and tossed it on the table to cover the cost of her fries and beer.
“Good idea. Let’s go back to my place. I need to be up early, and I’m bushed.”
“Why would I go back to your place with you?” Lysia asked.
“And you told me not to be stupid.” Josh rolled his eyes and downed the remains of her beer. “Sex, Lysia. But no BJs. I really don’t want that thing on your face near my junk.”
“That’s it.” She snapped out the words. “Get the hell out of my way, Josh. I am not going home with you.” She pointed at him as he opened his mouth to say something. “And you aren’t coming over. I’ve had a crappy day, and all I wanted was to talk to you, and maybe snuggle and feel better. And you’ve already been out with someone else.”
“Bullshit,” Josh countered.
“Stop it, Josh. I can smell, okay> And you smell like beer and cigarettes, and”—she leaned in and sniffed at his neck—“perfume. You don’t smell like kitchen.”
“So I had a drink with a coworker.”
“Josh, all I asked when we got together was you didn’t see other people without talking to me about it first. You know, tell me about it. But you said we were exclusive. You don’t smell exclusive.”
“Okay, so maybe we had more than a beer.” He shrugged.
Lysia slumped. She gave up trying to move. She closed her eyes and breathed. He stank. The smell of cigarettes and cheap drugstore perfume assaulted her senses. She had wanted some friendly compassion tonight. Instead, she was faced with another prime example of making bad life choices. Bad job, bad guy. “I guess we’re—”
“Oh, hell no. You do not get to break up with me first. I’m the one who says this is over. And this is over.” Josh finally shifted out of the booth and stood.
Lysia stared at him. Why hadn’t she really seen him before, with all his posturing and dude-bro attitudes? She shook her head, more at her own idiocy for having stayed with him for as long as she had. At least the sex hadn’t sucked, but it wasn’t so amazing that she would miss him.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this.” Lysia stood and addressed Josh. She didn’t even have the energy to give him a sneering once over. She let her glance fall down and then back up his body until her eyes made contact with his. “I’ll give you that one. You broke up with me first. Goodbye, Josh, have a life.” She turned and walked out the front door.
Out in the parking lot, the cold air hit her lungs, and she began sucking it in as if she had run a 5K. How did that old song go? Something about breaking up being hard. Truer words have never been spoken. Her heart raced and tears stung her eyelids. An overwhelming sense of regret and loss threatened to pull her under. She wanted to feel numb, she wanted to feel nothing. Instead, she felt everything, and everything hurt. This Christmas sucked hard, and December was barely underway. Josh was just someone she’d spent seven weeks of her life with. She had to convince herself he hadn’t been a waste of time. She wasn’t angry with herself for having dated him, yet. Was he someone she was going to have to get over, or would she be mad at herself for having been taken in by him?
Lysia plunged into a deeper mourning after the end of a second relationship today. First the job, now Josh. At least she hadn’t gotten him a present yet. That was on next week’s chore list.
Kathleen from the shop stepped out of her car and sashayed up to the front doors smiling at Lysia. She paused before pulling them open. “You okay, Lysia? You look like you could use a drink.”
“Yeah. I just broke up with Josh,” She admitted, trying to force herself not to cry.
“Oh, you do need a drink. I know I need one after today. Coming in?”
Lysia shook her head. “Josh is still in there. You interested in heading over to Carnita Joe’s for margaritas instead?”
Kathleen dropped her grip on the door handle and looped her arm through Lysia’s. “Margaritas sound brilliant. I need to tell you what went down with the Par Parisian after you left. I’ll just call Sierra and have her meet me there instead of coming here.”
***
Lysia leaned back in the over-upholstered booth at Carnita Joe’s. More of a showplace for tourists than a hangout for locals, but they did have the best margaritas in town. And zero chance of Josh showing up if he decided to go bar hopping tonight. Mariachi Christmas music filtered through the restaurant.
Lysia inhaled chips and salsa as if she hadn’t eaten at all today. To be fair, so did Kathleen and Sierra. Joe’s had to fry their chips in crack. They were so good, and you could not stop eating them once you started. Or maybe the crack was in the salsa?
“What’s with the stick up Patrice’s ass? What does she have against you?” Kathleen shoved another chip into her mouth. “Yo
u had no control over that guy following you, and that was not the reaction of a disappointed bride. Something else was clearly going on. I can’t believe Patrice couldn’t see that.”
Lysia shrugged. What could she do? Patrice did seem to have it in for her, but she was the boss, and she’d fired Lysia.
“So what exactly did happen with the Par Parisian after all of that? I left after I found a tux to fit that guy,” Lysia said.
“Is he even going to rent a tux? I didn’t think he came back.”
“He has a week before the wedding he needs it for. I figure he’ll be back, might as well be prepared. Besides, Patrice, or whoever finishes his order, won’t be able to complain that I left them in the lurch over a hard-to-fit suit.” Lysia took a sip of her frozen margarita and shoved a few more addictive chips and salsa into her mouth.
“After that guy left, my bride stormed around for at least ten more minutes, but get this.” Kathleen paused for a sip. “Every time she stomped passed the mirror, she would pause and admire herself.”
“No way,” Sierra scoffed.
“Seriously. I’ve met some pretty vain brides, but never one so smitten with a dress that it distracted her from a category five meltdown. So, Miranda—that’s her name—is spitting mad the entire time, cussing like a pirate, and telling me what an asshole that skinny guy is while I’m undressing her.”
“Wait, what? You undressed her?” Sierra leaned forward. “I’m not sure I’m cool with that Kat.”
“I didn’t look at her. Besides, I wasn’t going to let her yank on that dress with the mood she was in. She would have ruined it. Anyway,” Kathleen continued with a flip of her hand, “she kept going on about how he always ruined everything. He even ruined this, after she found the perfect dress. I’m pretty positive I’m going to get a call from her to buy that dress. Cha-fucking-ching.” Kathleen held up her drink in salute.
Lysia and Sierra did the same, and they clinked glasses in toast to Kathleen’s impressive sales skills.
“You haven’t sold the dress, but you are celebrating like it’s in the bag.” Lysia laughed.
St. Helena Vineyard Series Page 2
