“Impressive.”
“I told you, I Googled you before the second interview. That’s how I knew you were so successful.”
“Not that successful. Not when compared to him.”
“Is that the problem?”
“His fame? No. It’s him. He’s a driven man who likes to control everyone around him. Especially his sons.” Not the ones who weren’t artists, Nick thought, but he wasn’t about to go there. “When I was twenty-two, we did an exhibition together. It was a year of hell. He told me what to do and how to do it. It wasn’t how I wanted to live my life.”
“The result wasn’t worth it?”
“Not even close. Opening night, there was a lot of press, a lot of attention. He loves that—I don’t.” He turned his mind away from those times and the memories that still lingered. “I learned that there is such a thing as too much passion when it comes to my work.”
The past seemed closer than it had in a while. Probably because he didn’t usually think about it. “When my brothers and I were kids, my dad drank a lot and he had a temper. He would go on a rampage and destroy a year’s worth of work in an afternoon.”
She winced. “That must have been terrifying.”
“It was. After he and I had worked together and had the show, my girlfriend broke up with me. I found myself throwing pieces against the wall.”
“You didn’t want to be like him.”
“Exactly.”
“So too much passion is a problem in both art and life?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Passion consumes.”
“Isn’t it supposed to?” Her voice sounded wistful.
“Being consumed isn’t always a good thing. People talk about being motivated, about having fire in their belly. Fire can also destroy. After the show and the breakup, I backed away from my art for five years before starting back in a different medium.”
She reached out and touched the panel. “Wood,” she said softly. “Because it’s alive.”
“You remembered.”
She nodded. “Is that why you’re not married? Passion consumes?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve seen the price people pay. My mom lives her life for my dad. My dad lives his life for his art. She swears it’s fine, but I don’t believe her. I don’t want to destroy anyone or be destroyed.”
“What brought you back to being creative?”
“I was drowning without it. I may not always like being an artist, but it’s who I am. I worked in secret. When my father found out, he hounded me to switch back to glass, to work with him. That’s when I left.”
“Wow. All I have in my past is a con man for a grandfather. You’re lucky.”
He laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“Why not? You are talented and famous and really good-looking.” She stopped talking as color stained her cheeks. “What I mean is...” She looked away.
“Go on.”
She shook her head. “Nope. I’m going to wait for the earth to open up and swallow me. If that doesn’t happen, I’ll just slink away.”
Nick took a step toward her. He had to admit he liked Pallas. She was honest and funny and earnest and easy to talk to. There was also how she looked in that dress. He had a bad feeling he would never quite see her the same way again.
“Don’t slink,” he told her as he moved a little closer. “There’s no need to slink.”
She stared up at him. “Not that you’re not good-looking, but it’s embarrassing to say.”
“Why? I liked it. I think you’re hot, too. Especially in the slutty dress.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You said it wasn’t slutty.”
“I lied.”
He bent his head and lightly brushed his mouth against hers. He felt her quick intake of breath and wondered if she would pull back.
She didn’t. They both stayed exactly where they were, only their lips touching.
He wanted to pull her close and feel her against him. He wanted to deepen the kiss and taste her. But he didn’t. Not just yet. He straightened.
She stared at him. “That was confusing.”
“Then I’m doing it wrong.”
She smiled. “No, I mean I thought you said passion consumes.”
“Not sex. That kind of passion is just fine.”
“Of course it is. How very convenient.”
“I’m a lucky guy.”
She laughed. “I have no idea what to say to that, so I’m going to take my slutty dress self back to my office.”
“Feel free to model for me anytime.”
She opened her mouth, closed it, shook her head, then turned and walked away. Nick watched her go. Next time, he promised himself. Next time he was going to kiss her in a way that neither of them would forget.
* * *
BY THE FOLLOWING Monday Pallas still hadn’t been able to put the kiss behind her. Annoying but true. While she knew in her heart that Nick had only been teasing her, she found it more difficult to put the brief contact in perspective. Mostly because men didn’t randomly kiss her very often. Or ever.
Something she could remedy if she started dating. She didn’t bother adding “again” because that would imply there had been dating before, and there hadn’t been. Not in a while now. Maybe when she got her future settled, she would think about finding a guy to go out with.
Her brain immediately supplied a very nice visual of a shirtless Nick, which she promptly told herself to ignore. And speaking of ignoring, while she was at it, she really should forget about the kiss. It had been nice and she’d enjoyed the accompanying tingles, and yes, Nick was definitely swoonworthy, but she had to be real. He was not for her. He was a big-time artist guy on his way to Dubai. She was a small-town girl who ran a destination wedding business. They had nothing in common.
As she walked down the sidewalk, she told herself that they had kissing in common and maybe that could be enough. She’d never had a sex-based affair before. She might like it. Which meant what? That if Nick offered, she would say yes?
She considered the question as she entered The Boardroom Pub, then felt her toes curl ever so slightly as she scanned the crowd already there and saw the man in question sitting at a middle table next to one of his brothers.
For a split second, she didn’t know what to do. Keep looking in his general direction? Run? Look away? Before she could decide, he glanced up, saw her and waved her over. She hesitated a single heartbeat before she found herself moving in his direction.
As she approached the round table, both Nick and his brother rose.
“Hi,” Nick said with a grin. “I didn’t know you came here.”
“I try to make it a couple of times a month. Especially on Monday, when we have tournament night. When did you start showing up?”
“This is my first time.” He turned to his brother. “This is my brother Mathias. Mathias, Pallas.” He winked at her. “Nobody likes him, so don’t expect very much.”
Mathias laughed. “Thanks, bro. Very smooth. Nick has always been a giver.” He smiled at her. “I’ve seen you around town, but I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Nice to meet you at last.”
“Thanks. You, too.” She shook hands, then sat at the table. “I’m friends with Natalie,” she told them. “I was hoping she would join me tonight, but she’s working late. Should I blame either of you?”
Nick held up both hands. “That’s on Atsuko, not us. We’re just the artists. Those two deal with the high finance.”
One of the servers came by to take orders. The guys ordered beers while Pallas asked for herbal tea. Game challenge nights could go long. Not only did she need to stay sharp, she had to drive home.
The Boardroom was a pub on the south bank of the river. The decor was board game base
d. Two walls were open shelves filled with hundreds of different games. Patrons were encouraged to play any they liked, as long as they put them back.
Every Monday was a challenge night. People could play in teams or individually. The games started easy, and then got harder as the night progressed. Sometimes there were themes. Word games or Monopoly night. Once they’d had a Clue tournament. Trivia evenings were always popular, as were the nights devoted to games intended for players under the age of five. Pallas always enjoyed watching adults swear when they lost at Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders. Tonight would be a regular tournament, with simpler games early in the evening and the more difficult ones later.
“Too bad,” Pallas said. “Natalie’s good at board games. She always helps with the table’s average score.”
Nick leaned back in his chair. “You take this seriously.”
“Sure. Otherwise, why play?” She glanced around, hoping to see one of her friends. She smiled when she saw Silver walk in, then felt the smile fade as she realized what would happen when Nick met her friend. The same thing that happened when any man met Silver.
It wasn’t the other woman’s fault, she told herself, as her tall, leggy, blonde friend approached. Silver was one of those sexy women men naturally gravitated toward. There was a sensuality about her—one those of the male persuasion seemed to find difficult to ignore.
“I was hoping you’d be here,” Silver said as she walked over. She spotted Nick and Mathias and wrinkled her nose. “Oh, is this a date or something?”
“Not at all,” Pallas said quickly. “Nick’s restoring the panels at Weddings in a Box and Mathias is his brother. Would you like to join us?” She looked at Nick. “Unless you were saving the seat for Ronan?”
“He’s not a board game kind of guy,” Nick said easily as he came to his feet. Mathias did the same and they shook hands with Silver. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Silver sank into her chair. “Is Jasper here?”
“I haven’t seen him,” Pallas said. “And I’ve been looking.”
The two brothers glanced at each other.
“Who’s Jasper?” Mathias asked.
Silver waved over the server. “He’s an amazing player. He always wins. If it’s a team event, his team wins. He knows everything.”
“He lives outside of town,” Pallas added. “He’s a thriller writer.”
Nick stared at her. “Jasper Dembenski? Are you kidding? His books are great. I can’t put them down. He lives here?”
Silver grinned. “Uh-oh. A groupie. You leave Jasper alone. He’s asked me to be on his team twice and I don’t want you messing that up. If you fawn on him, you’ll scare him off.”
“I’m not fawning.”
“You’re practically swooning.”
Nick’s expression turned wounded. “I’m impressed by his talent. That’s all.” He leaned toward Pallas. “I need you to defend my honor here.”
“I think you’re on your own on that one.”
Mathias chuckled. Nick groaned and the server returned with their drinks.
Like Pallas, Silver had ordered hot tea. As she poured a cup, she glanced at Mathias. “Nick repairs wooden panels, so what do you do?”
“I make kitchenware out of glass.”
Silver brightened. “The ones Atsuko sells? Those plates and glasses?”
Mathias nodded.
“I have several of your pieces. I’m working on collecting a set. The ocean-colored ones. They’re beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
Pallas listened to the conversation. So far neither man showed any signs of falling for Silver’s considerable charms. Were they immune? She hadn’t realized that was possible. On the bright side, maybe it meant a shot at more of Nick’s kisses, and wouldn’t that be nice?
“I wish I had some talent like that,” Silver said. “To be able to create something out of just an idea.”
“Me, too.” Pallas shook her head. “I can draw stick figures, but that’s about it.”
“You create weddings,” her friend pointed out. “I’m just a bartender.”
“You’re not,” Pallas reminded her. She turned to Nick. “Silver owns a tavern.”
Silver rolled her eyes. “I own a fifth wheel that’s been converted into a bar. I take it to weddings and other events in town. I like it. I get to meet a lot of interesting people.”
“Sounds like fun,” Mathias said.
“It is. And honest work, even if it’s not classy enough for some people.”
The brothers exchanged a look of confusion. Pallas recognized the potential danger and quickly changed the subject.
“Nick and Mathias are from a small town north of here. What was it called?”
“Fool’s Gold,” Nick said.
“The town has California’s longest serving mayor,” Mathias added. “Mayor Marsha Tilson. She’s a strange old lady who knows things she shouldn’t. We can’t figure out if she has friends at the NSA or God on speed dial.”
“Equally scary options,” Pallas murmured, glancing at Silver.
Her friend raised her eyebrows as if asking what was wrong. They both knew the answer. Silver had been about to go off on Drew—Pallas’s cousin and heir apparent to run the family bank. Back in high school, Drew and Silver had been an item. More than that—they’d been in love. But after graduating, Drew had broken up with her, saying he needed someone who ran in his social circle.
Pallas had never been sure of the exact phrasing but the message had been clear. He’d dumped Silver and had taken up with a sorority girl at his college. Ten years later, there was still bad blood between them.
The servers started passing out games. Pallas laughed when she saw the first one. “Hungry Hungry Hippos is one of my favorites,” she said happily. “I love this one.”
“Is it actually a board game?” Nick asked.
“If there’s a board somewhere, it counts,” Silver told him. “Watch out for her,” she said, pointing at Pallas. “She’s cutthroat when it comes to collecting marbles. There is no mercy in that one.”
Pallas stuck out her tongue, then turned the board so she had her favorite blue hippo in front of her. She stretched her arms, flexed her fingers a few times, then waited for the signal to begin.
Nick looked at his brother. “I think we’re in trouble.”
“Me, too.”
* * *
“HOW DO YOU feel about playing a courtier?”
Nick looked up from the panel he’d been sanding. Alan stood in the doorway to the workroom.
“Welcome back,” Nick said. “When did you get into town?”
“This morning. I’m here for the wedding tomorrow. So, are you up for it?”
“What do I have to do? More bride carrying?”
“No. This is a princess wedding. The bride rides in a coach. It’s glass, but not pumpkin shaped. We are a nonspecific princess kind of place. It’s very democratic.”
Nick tried to make sense of the information. “So this is the black-and-white wedding?” Somehow he’d thought it wasn’t for a few weeks. Had Pallas had time to get all the server costumes modified?
Alan shook his head. “Silly man. That’s a regular princess wedding. This is a Regency princess wedding. They’re totally different.”
“They don’t sound that different.”
“The Regency era is a specific period in history. Do you remember Pride and Prejudice? There have been maybe fifty different movie versions. Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy?”
Nick thought a girlfriend or two may have made him watch something about that couple. “Maybe.”
Alan sighed. “Despite your lack of knowledge, the Regency wedding requires specific dress and music and food. The princess wedding is much more ‘I am a pri
ncess and I wear a poufy dress.’”
Nick shrugged. “Whatever.”
Alan stepped closer. “Fine. Let me put it in terms your artist brain can understand. Turquoise and cobalt are hardly the same color yet they can both be called blue. It’s like that.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place? That makes sense. So what do you want from me?”
“To wear stockings and knee breeches and a floppy hat.”
Nick put down his sandpaper. “You’re kidding.”
Alan smiled. “Do I look like I’m kidding? The J’s have a tournament. Football, I think.”
“Basketball,” Nick corrected, wondering how awful the costume was going to be. He wasn’t totally sure what knee breeches were but sure didn’t like the sound of them. Would they be better or worse than a toga?
Of course if the J’s were busy, then Pallas was probably shorthanded.
“I’m in,” he said. “Tell me when and where.”
“That’s what I was hoping to hear. Tomorrow. Be here at two.” The older man hesitated. “You like her.”
Nick thought about their brief kiss and how much fun they’d had at The Boardroom a few nights before. Her competitive streak had been unexpected, but enjoyable.
“We’re friends,” he said as casually as he could. “You’ve known her awhile. What’s her story?”
Alan folded his arms across his chest. “You mean where was she born and did she ever want a pony when she was little?”
Not at all what he’d been asking. “No.”
“I thought not. Let me be clear. While I appreciate you helping with the weddings and restoring the panels, I’m team Pallas, all the way.”
“She doesn’t need protecting from me.”
“Neither of us know if that’s true or not, do we?”
Nick realized Alan had a point. “I would never hurt her on purpose.”
“Sometimes people don’t even have to try. It just happens.”
“Point taken. So there’s no guy?”
“You’re persistent.” Alan smiled. “Have you met Libby yet?”
“No.”
“Libby explains a lot. She taught her daughter that love had to be earned. All love. It was never freely given. Which means that sometimes love is more trouble than it’s worth.”
You Say It First--A Small-Town Wedding Romance Page 6
