by Meg Benjamin
No. More like a cheetah strolling across the plains, looking for prey to chase.
“Watch and learn, Wonder, watch and learn,” Pete crooned, raising his hand. He let fly with a dart.
It pierced the center of the target neatly. A chorus of raucous male voices hooted in the background, and Pete raised his arm again. Janie watched his hand move back and then forward in a perfect arc, sending the dart arching toward the target.
It pierced near the center again, just below the first dart.
This time the hoots were mixed with whistles. “Double bull!” somebody yelled.
Pete raised his hand once more, balancing the dart on his fingers before he sent it flying. The arc looked a little flatter this time. The dart thunked into the wall beside the target.
The whistles and hoots were deafening.
Pete shrugged. “Just give me a chance to get my rhythm back, boys.”
“Bridge, Toleffson,” Wonder yelled. “Maybe croquet.”
Janie watched the ripple of muscle across Pete’s back as he loosened his shoulders. Otto had muscles too. Otto was solid muscle.
Pete wasn’t. He flexed his long arms above his head, then leaned back against the wall again, raising narrowed eyes to study the target. His eyes were the color of strong coffee in the dim light of the Dew Drop. Strands of his dark hair flipped over his ears and drifted across his forehead.
God, he was gorgeous.
Janie bit her lip. No. She was not going to be attracted to Pete Toleffson. He was a jerk. Besides, he’d be heading back to Des Moines after The Wedding. Otto lived here in Konigsburg, full time, and so did Janie.
Nonetheless, she had to admit it, at least to herself. Pete Toleffson was one gorgeous hunk. Janie dropped her gaze to her hands on the table in front of her. Staring at Pete Toleffson was not a good idea.
Said gorgeous hunk slid into a chair opposite Docia. “Vanquished.”
Darts. He’s talking about darts.
“Olive okay?” Pete took a swallow of beer.
Docia was smiling now, relaxed and easy. “She’s under the table.”
Janie looked under the table for the first time and saw a large plastic crate resting beside Docia’s chair. “Olive?”
“The dog.” Pete’s hand disappeared into the crate. A long, slender snout edged slightly beyond the edge of the door.
“You’re really good at darts,” Docia remarked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cal get two bulls-eyes in a row. And he plays a lot. He’s even got the rest of us doing it.”
“Misspent youth.” Pete shrugged as he sat up again. “Dad had a dart board in the rec room. We all played a lot. So how are your scores?”
Docia grimaced. “I can hit the target most of the time. I consider that a plus.”
“Definitely.” Pete grinned now. “In some bars that’s enough to make you the champ, particularly late in the evening.”
Docia shook her head. “Janie’s better than I am.”
Pete raised an eyebrow as he turned to her. “You throw darts, tiny? Never would have guessed.”
Janie’s gut tightened. She really hated being called tiny. She wasn’t all that small. “I learned when I was a kid.”
“In Janie’s hands, darts are a lethal weapon.” Docia rested her elbows on the table, cupping her chin in one hand. “You should never get in her way. Just ask Joe Roy Ellison.”
Janie’s face grew warm. She hoped the Dew Drop was dark enough to hide her blush. “That was just once when he wouldn’t get away from the target. He thought he was being funny. He said the target was the safest place to stand since I’d never come close.”
Pete frowned slightly. “So what did you do?”
“She darted him.” Docia’s lips spread in a slow grin. “He got off easy.”
“You…darted him?” Pete’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean exactly?”
“I hit him in the butt with a dart.” Janie said it in a rush, hoping it didn’t sound as bad as she knew it did.
Pete’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “You put a dart in him?”
“He was wearing his work pants so it didn’t really penetrate much beyond his back pocket,” she said through gritted teeth. “I was super careful not to aim for anything vital. I was surprised it didn’t bounce off.”
So was Joe Roy, of course, although his surprise had been more centered on the fact that she’d done it at all. That was the end of that relationship, not that Janie was all that sorry to see him go. Joe Roy had a big mouth and nasty ideas.
“He spent the rest of the evening rubbing his ass,” Docia chortled.
Janie dropped her gaze to her hands again. “Better him than me.”
Pete threw his head back and guffawed. “I hereby apologize, Ms. Dupree. You’re clearly a very dangerous woman. I will never call you tiny again.”
“Good. See that you don’t.”
The door swung open behind Docia. Two broad figures were silhouetted against the fading evening light.
“Cal!” Docia called, waving. “Over here.”
Cal stepped into the muted dimness of the Dew Drop. The man who followed him looked a lot more polished but still clearly a Toleffson. His dark brown hair was close cropped, and he wore a burgundy knit shirt with impeccably creased khakis.
Pete jumped to his feet, grinning, one hand outstretched. “Lars!” He pushed away from the table and started toward his brothers.
As Lars moved away from the doorway, a woman stepped inside behind him. Her long, perfectly straightened blonde hair fell to her bare shoulders above a tight black halter top. Her denim skirt stopped somewhere around mid-thigh, revealing a significant amount of bare, tanned leg. As she glanced around the room, she raised a hand to push her bangs back from her forehead. Gold and jewels flashed at her fingers and wrist. The woman’s gaze slid across Docia and Janie with minimal interest.
The entire male population of the Dew Drop seemed to go still, staring. Janie thought she heard a faint, awed whistle from one of the dart players.
The woman looked back at Pete Toleffson again, still not smiling.
“What a dump,” she said in the silence of the bar.
Pete’s grin faded. “Hey, Sherice. Welcome to Konigsburg.”
Chapter Five
That night Pete dreamed he was sharing a bed with his brothers again, as they had when the three of them were small—well, smaller, anyway. Lars was crowding him, and Pete gave him a push. Lars whimpered and snuffled, and then licked Pete’s nose.
Pete’s eyes popped open.
A warm weight nestled at his hip. Someone was snoring, and it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t anybody related to him. Olive lay sprawled across the other side of the bed, her head resting lightly on the pillow.
Right. The first female to share his bed in at least six months, and she was leaving hairs on the sheets. His luck was running true to form.
“Night, Olive,” Pete muttered. He thought he saw Olive’s eyelids flutter in response.
Several hours later, he was dimly aware of whimpering and scratching sounds somewhere near the back of the apartment. He jerked abruptly awake, his head cranking from side to side, then stumbled into the kitchen to see Olive scratching at the door to the stairs. “Okay, dog,” Pete sighed, “gimme a minute.”
He pulled on a pair of jeans, clipped a leash to Olive’s collar, and headed down the stairs and out the door to the street just as Janie Dupree walked by. Olive jerked into her path, sending her crashing backward into Pete. He dropped the leash as Olive galloped into the backyard.
Pete placed a steadying hand on Janie’s shoulder, suddenly aware of soft feminine curves pressing against his partly naked body. Instantly, he was totally awake.
“Morning,” he mumbled. “Sorry about that. Apparently, this was more of an emergency than I realized.”
Olive was already peeing on the nearest live oak. Janie stood, straightening nonexistent creases in her shirt. “That’s okay. How are you two g
etting along?”
Pete shrugged. “So far, so good. I need to get her out for more exercise. I thought I might take her to that shindig tonight.”
“The Kent family barbecue? Do you need a ride?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.” Getting Olive outside had taken precedence over less pressing matters.
“Billy’s lodge is about fifteen miles from here, up in the hills. The road’s a little rough, but Otto’s got a heavy-duty truck. You could ride with us.”
Pete considered the joys of experiencing Otto Friedrich at close quarters for fifteen miles. “That’s okay. I’ll hitch a ride with Cal or Lars.” Whoever wasn’t taking his mother.
“Okay.” Her brow furrowed. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever run a bookshop, have you?”
Pete shook his head, leaning down to pick up Olive’s leash again. “Nope. I ran a snack bar at the lake back home, but that’s the extent of my retail experience. Why?”
“Docia’s got the final fitting for her gown this morning, and I wanted to go with her. But we don’t have anybody to look after the store.”
“I’ll do it. How hard can it be?”
Janie’s lips curved up in a faint smile. “That sounds like a lead-in to one of those sitcom scenes where the store gets trashed.”
“I promise to return the shop to you in the same shape I found it.” He grinned back at her.
“Great. Come on down around ten and I’ll show you how the cash register works.”
Her eyes were almost as dark as Olive’s, Pete realized suddenly. Not that anything else about her reminded him of a dog. “Right. See you later.”
Olive tugged at the leash in his hand, and Pete turned back toward the door. After a moment, he gave in to his baser self and watched Janie disappear around the corner, gazing at the perfect apple shape of her behind.
He took a deep breath and ignored the slight tingle of arousal in his groin. He was a grown man, and he wasn’t going to get a hard-on over every woman he saw walking down the street.
Of course, he had to admit—Janie Dupree didn’t strike him as just any woman anymore. Unfortunately, she appeared to be attached to that human support pillar known as Otto Friedrich. For some reason, Pete found that thought particularly depressing.
Otto spent ten minutes driving around Main looking for a place to park his truck. He didn’t know why the city wouldn’t break down and build a parking garage—hell, the tourists would probably pay for it in a year.
He figured he had a couple of hours before he had to get back for the afternoon practice. He could entice Janie Dupree away from the cash register for a little lunch and then maybe some heavy petting in the grotto over by the city park.
That wasn’t what he really wanted to do, of course, but Janie had turned out to be a lot slower about putting out than Joe Roy Ellison had led him to believe. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Joe Roy’s stories about Janie and her hot bod, he would have said the hell with it by now. He’d never waited three months for nookie before.
Still, having invested all this time and money in getting Janie Dupree in the sack, Otto wasn’t backing off yet. At least he knew she wasn’t frigid. When he thought it through, he decided she was just a little intimidated. After all, she’d probably never dated anybody like him. He was sort of a local hero around here, what with the team making it all the way to the state semis last year. Maybe she had to get used to the idea he really wanted her.
He’d already planted the seed, told her he wanted to take it to the next level. Now he’d just give her a little more time to get used to the idea. Not too much time, though. Summer was almost over, and he had other things to do.
Otto swung open the door to the bookstore and stepped inside, already sliding his best seductive smile into place. But instead of Janie Dupree or Docia Kent, a large male stood behind the counter talking to Helen Kretschmer.
Otto goggled. Nobody talked to Helen Kretschmer. Helen Kretschmer was a cop, and she was the single most terrifying woman he’d ever seen, the only woman he’d ever thought could take him in a fair fight. Now Helen was not only talking, she was…ye gods…smiling.
At Pete Toleffson.
It took him a couple of seconds to identify the man behind the counter, and then he was doubly annoyed. What was Toleffson doing running the bookstore? And where was Janie? His lunch hour was ticking away.
Helen turned gimlet eyes his way, her smile fading. Otto’s gut clenched.
Toleffson glanced at him and raised his eyebrows. “Morning, Friedrich. Something I can help you with?”
“Where’s Janie?” he blurted.
“Off helping Docia and Reba with something wedding-related.” Toleffson leaned a hip against the counter. “I’m filling in.”
“You’re running the bookstore?” Otto stared. He’d heard Toleffson was a lawyer. What the hell did a lawyer know about running a cash register?
“Filling in, like I said.” Toleffson grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Otto felt a quick rush of adrenaline. He could take Pete Toleffson, even if he was the size of a red oak. No problem. He’d enjoy it. “When’s she coming back? I’m taking her to a party tonight.”
He figured Toleffson already knew about the party, since the party was because of the wedding and his brother was the one getting married, but it wouldn’t hurt to remind the man who Janie Dupree belonged to.
“Oh, yeah.” Toleffson went on grinning. “Janie said I should ride up there with you.”
Otto’s gut clenched again. Goddamn! He wasn’t going to take anybody in his truck except Janie. He had some plans of his own for the evening.
He worked on keeping his teeth from gritting. “Is that right?”
“That’s right.” Toleffson waited a moment before he spoke again. “I turned her down, of course. I’ll ride with my brother.”
Behind him, Otto heard Helen Kretschmer snicker.
Okay, not only could he take Pete Toleffson, he was pretty sure he’d be doing it before the week was over.
Reba’s command center at the Woodrose had become a mass of tulle and satin ribbon, which Janie gathered had something to do with table runners. Reba and her seamstress, Mamie, had dragged Docia away as soon as the two of them had arrived, Reba muttering about strapless bras and body shapers.
As far as Janie was concerned, Docia didn’t need any more shaping than Mother Nature had already provided. She was about as shapely as anyone Janie had ever met, and most of the men in Konigsburg agreed with her, judging by the usual reaction when Docia walked into a room.
Now she stared at Docia as she stood reflected in the three-way mirror. The bottom of her gown looked like a cloud of ivory chiffon. Her satin-clad torso rose above it, a mermaid emerging from a wave, the fabric clinging to her generous curves and shimmering with sprays of subtle, rainbow-colored brilliants.
Just looking at Docia made Janie’s eyes prick with tears. Brides were supposed to look just like that.
Reba ran her hands through the chiffon, lifting it slightly. “Oh my, baby.” She smiled. “Look at you!”
Docia stood silently, staring at herself in the mirror.
“Isn’t she lovely?” Reba turned toward Janie, fumbling in her pocket for a handkerchief. “Isn’t she just so gorgeous?”
Janie nodded, sniffling.
“Oh where’s my mind?” Reba clapped a hand to her cheek. “I forgot all about the veil. Come on, Mamie, I’ll need help unpacking it.” The two women scurried back toward the dining room where Reba had stacked the dress boxes.
Janie glanced at Docia. She stood frozen in the dressing room lights, her face a blank mask.
“Docia?”
Docia let out a breath, pressing a hand to her stomach. “I don’t recognize myself.”
“Oh, honey, I know. I didn’t recognize myself either when I had on the maid of honor dress. It’s just…it’s like a fairy tale, isn’t it?” Janie dabbed at her eyes again.
Docia shook her head defi
antly, sending her bronze curls tumbling from the cluster Reba had gathered at her nape. “No, it’s not. I don’t recognize myself, Janie. It’s not me. None of this is me! It’s just pretend, make-believe. How can I go through with this?”
Janie’s fingernails bit into her palms. Reba should be here. Reba would know what to say. She took a deep breath. “Docia, Cal is the most wonderful guy ever. You know that.”
Docia waved an impatient hand. “Of course Cal is wonderful. I’m nuts about him. This isn’t about Cal, or about getting married to him. This is about—” her lips pursed again as she waved her hand at the mirror, “—this. All this…stuff. I don’t dress like this. I don’t look like this. This isn’t me! This is some prom queen or something.”
“Docia, nobody dresses like this normally.” Janie knelt down to fluff out the chiffon cloud again. “But don’t you want to look like Cinderella just once?”
Docia looked down at her, still frowning slightly. “I’m not exactly the Cinderella type, Janie. Can you imagine me being intimidated by a couple of raggedy-ass stepsisters?”
The corners of Docia’s mouth began to inch up again. Janie’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
“I can’t even imagine you in heels, let alone glass slippers.” She stepped back again. “Oh, Docia, you really do look so beautiful. Cal will just be bowled over.”
Docia stared into the mirror, smoothing a hand over her hip. “Maybe. I’m telling you, Janie, giving Cal the surprise of his life is the only reason I can see for going on with this production. That and making Mama happy.”
“What’s making me happy?” Reba bustled in again, carrying another chiffon cloud, rising from a simple band of crystals. “Here, sweetheart, try this on.”
Docia straightened her spine, letting Reba settle the band of crystals in her hair so that the chiffon dropped in graceful folds over her shoulders.
“Oh, baby.” Reba clasped her hands against her chest. “You look like Cinderella getting ready for the ball.”
In the mirror, Janie saw Docia roll her eyes.
