The Royal Wager

by Kristi Gold

  Tori didn’t think Stella’s eyes could get any wider, but they did. “Oh, no. Don’t you know what can happen when you do that?”

  Oh, yes, Tori knew exactly what could happen because it had happened to her mother and to Stella. She’d been certain that she was above such carelessness. A fine time to have a common sense lapse.

  “Do you think you might be pregnant?” Stella asked.

  “I’m hoping I’m not. I took a shot a while ago.”

  “Define ‘a while.’”

  “About five months ago.”

  “Isn’t that a little long for it to still be of use, Tori?”

  “Yes, although sometimes it takes women up to a year to get pregnant. I just didn’t have any reason to get another one after Mike and I broke up.” Until tonight.

  “If you are pregnant, what are you going to do?”

  Have a baby, Tori decided. Her mother had done it without a husband; she could do it, too. But hopefully it wouldn’t have to come to that.

  Tori came to her feet and headed toward the bathroom. “I’m not going to worry about it now. I’d just be borrowing trouble.”

  And if she let things get out of hand with Mitch again, she’d be borrowing a national debt’s worth of trouble. She still wanted the interview, but she doubted she would have the nerve to ask. She wasn’t sure she could even face him again.

  But she had to face him tomorrow night at the wedding. Beyond that, she would just take it one step at a time—and hope that she didn’t find herself repeating her mother’s history and stepping into his arms because she just couldn’t resist him.

  She had to resist him. She also had to consider that she still had an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. But if she didn’t get him to agree to giving her a story, she would be leaving on Sunday. Leaving him and this intolerant town behind. And hopefully she wouldn’t be leaving with a little reminder of the night she’d found sheer heaven in a maverick cowboy’s strong arms.

  Three

  The following evening, Tori stood in her best friend’s bedroom where she’d spent many a day during her youth, giggling over boys and even crying over them a time or two. The house had been her haven, her home away from home. The place where she’d felt welcome, never judged or pitied. She had known unconditional love and acceptance from Stella’s parents, who now waited downstairs to witness the marriage of their only daughter. Tori would never know the pleasure of having her mom in attendance should she decide to wed, and that made her sad on a night that should be filled with joy.

  The soft sounds of taped music signaled the ceremony was about to take place in the Moores’ living room among select family and friends. Mitch was downstairs, too, and that created havoc on Tori’s heartbeat, more than the prospect of singing in front of a whole slew of people. She’d hidden out that morning when he’d come to retrieve Bobby, and he’d nixed the brief rehearsal right before noon due to ranch obligations, sending his apologies and assurances to Stella that he knew what to do. Tori couldn’t argue that one bit. Last night, he’d known exactly what he was doing.

  At least she wouldn’t have to talk to him during the service. Of course, she couldn’t very well avoid him at the reception without looking obvious. Exactly what did one say to someone following one reckless night? She didn’t have a clue, nor could she afford to think about that now.

  Smoothing a hand over the long-sleeve, tea-length red velvet dress, Tori hoped she hadn’t left a spot from her perspiring palms. Stella sat at the dressing table while Janie and Brianne applied the finishing touches on her makeup. All of them had been uncharacteristically quiet in light of the event—the first of the “Fearsome Foursome” was about to embark on matrimony and parenthood.

  Tori wondered if in a few short years they would all be soccer moms. Not her, she decided. She wanted to make a solid go of her career before she even considered settling into a normal routine. She also wanted a two-parent home, something she hadn’t had. She could not in good conscience subject her child to that kind of existence, even though she’d done okay. She wanted more than okay. She wanted it all—the career, the home, the husband and the kids. All in good time, unless….

  Her interlude with Mitch Warner once again weaseled its way into her mind. Carelessness, plain and simple, and hopefully without repercussions.

  The bouquet of red roses and stephanotis began to shake in Tori’s hand when she recalled their lovemaking. How was she going to face him if she couldn’t maintain a good grip on a bunch of posies?

  “Okay, we’re ready,” Brianne proclaimed, drawing Tori’s attention.

  Stella was standing now, the fingertip-length veil somewhat concealing her face but the plain lace sheath couldn’t conceal her pregnancy. However, the dress was tasteful—and white—something that would have been unheard of a decade ago, especially in this hypercritical town. Maybe things had changed. Or maybe Stella just didn’t care what everyone else thought.

  “You look beautiful, Stella,” Tori said sincerely, her voice shaky as she fought back sentimental tears. “Bobby is going to be so proud of you.”

  Stella frowned, although her eyes misted. “Bobby’s lucky I’m still marrying him.”

  “And he’s very lucky to have you,” Brianne said as she swiped a hand over the moisture on her own cheeks.

  Janie walked to the door and opened it wide. “Okay, let’s go before we all start blubbering and ruin our makeup. Single file. I’m first, then Brianne, then Tori. Stella, you’re bringing up the rear.”

  Brianne blew out a frustrated breath. “We know, Janie. We’ve already been through the routine.”

  Janie shot an acrimonious look over one shoulder. “I just want to make sure we have it straight.”

  Tori couldn’t hide her smile over Janie’s assertiveness and need to organize. Some things never changed, at least inwardly. She patted Stella’s arm and said, “Break a leg, kiddo,” before moving in front of her.

  “Not a nice thing to say to a pregnant bride who’s expected to walk down a flight of stairs in heels,” Stella muttered from behind her.

  The sound of the Wedding March filtered in from the parlor below. Janie sent them all a “thumbs-up” then began her descent. As earlier rehearsed, Tori waited until Brianne had taken three steps then started down the stairs behind her.

  The makeshift aisle was flanked by four rows of white chairs on either side, all filled to capacity. Some guests lined the walls and although the living room was larger than most, the masses made the room seem to close in on Tori. Anticipation and adrenaline sent her pulse on a sprint as she continued her descent.

  When she reached the red runner covering the carpet, Tori scanned the front of the room, namely the groomsmen. With his sandy stylish hair and charmer’s smile, Clint Moore looked handsome as always, even if he was a playboy extraordinaire. Bobby’s older brother, Johnny, bald as a bowling ball and grinning like a madman, stood at Clint’s right. And on his left, nearest the groom, one man literally stood above the crowd.

  Dressed in a standard black tuxedo, Mitch Warner had morphed into the senator’s son, his boots the only indication that he preferred prime cattle to a political caucus. His eyes were as blue as his blood, his hair as black as the dark before the dawn, a perfect masculine package that could be marketed as Every Woman’s Fantasy.

  In that moment, Tori felt about as “country bumpkin” and nondescript as she’d ever felt in her life. Mitch was luminous and charismatic, especially his smile that he now aimed on her. A smile that could wilt her bouquet.

  Tori’s steps faltered for an instant. If she didn’t watch it, she’d take a misstep, end up posterior over pride in the aisle and be forced to sing “Send in the Clowns” instead of “The Wedding Song.” Of course, if Bobby had had his way, she’d be belting out “I’ve Got Friends in Low Places.” Lucky for her, and the esteemed guests, Stella’s good taste had won out.

  After she took her position before the red brick fireplace where the pastor, Janie and Bria
nne now stood, Tori turned to watch Stella gliding down the aisle on her father’s arm, glowing like a summer firefly. Tori hoped that she would be so happy when her time finally came, if her time finally came.

  Stella reached the front of the aisle, accepted a kiss from her dad, then joined hands with Bobby. The intro of the song began and for a minute, Tori thought she might miss her cue when her traitorous gaze landed on Mitch. But instinct took over and she sang the lyrics without fail, focusing on a framed family portrait across the room to avoid looking at the guests, particularly the best man.

  When she’d ended the song, the minister began the simple ceremony. Stella’s voice trembled as she repeated her vows, yet she said them without hesitation. Bobby sounded a little shaken up, but he didn’t waver with the “I dos” either. Tori didn’t dare venture another glance in Mitch’s direction when Bobby engaged Stella in a rather lengthy kiss. But she couldn’t avoid him when the service ended and he joined her for the trek back down the aisle behind the happy couple.

  Gosh, he smelled great, Tori thought as she rested her hand in the bend of his arm. He murmured something but she couldn’t quite hear him due to the resounding applause. As it turned out, Mitch’s words would remain a mystery, since the wedding party was quickly ushered into separate limousines brought all the way from Oklahoma City for the reception—the bridesmaids in one car, the groomsmen in the other. Bobby and Stella climbed into Bobby’s truck, now sporting a lengthy string of beer cans, inflated condoms tied to the antennae and She Got Him Today, He’ll Get Her Tonight emblazoned in white letters across the closed tailgate.

  “Classy,” Tori muttered as they traveled the mile to Sadler’s that had been reserved for the private reception. “I’ve never understood why men get such a kick out of writing dirty sayings on the wedding vehicle.”

  Janie sighed. “I’ve never understood why Stella chose Bobby, but she’s stuck with him now.”

  “She’s in love,” Brianne said. “And we’re all just jealous.”

  Tori remained silent even though she secretly acknowledged that in some ways Brianne was right. Human nature dictated a need to be loved. She was no different.

  After they arrived, Tori trailed her friends into the club, her heart doing a jig when she considered Mitch was probably already inside. Her assumptions were confirmed when she glimpsed him standing near the beer keg talking to a leggy blonde with a neat upsweep and a neck as slender as a swan’s. Her strapless dress revealed abundant breasts that looked as if they might launch from the bodice if she raised her arms even a tad. Her lips were unnaturally full and her diamond-encrusted hand kept landing on Mitch’s arm. It wasn’t until she glanced her way that Tori recognized the woman—Mary Alice Marshall.

  Stung by an utterly ridiculous prick of jealousy, Tori wandered away from the disconcerting sight to stand in line with the guests waiting to congratulate the bride and groom, while Clint kept Janie and Brianne entertained near the bar with Lord only knew what kind of stories. But she couldn’t keep her eyes off the harlot and Mitch still involved in a conversation. And by the way, wasn’t Miss Mary Alice engaged? Tori wondered exactly where the fiancé might be. Maybe he hadn’t been invited. She seriously doubted that. She did not doubt that Mary A. still had designs on Mitch, apparent by the way the woman kept moving closer to him, touching him with a familiarity shared by longtime lovers. Lovers who were still lovers.

  Tori experienced a sense of satisfaction when Mitch began tugging at his bow tie and glancing around the room. After he frowned and pointed toward Stella and Bobby, Mary Alice left his side with a flip of her wrist and swayed away, tossing a suggestive look and steamy smile over one shoulder.

  In order not to look too interested in Mitch’s whereabouts, Tori studied the groom’s cake as she waited for the crowd surrounding the honored couple to dissipate. Leave it to Bobby to request a plastic pickup truck and toy horses as decoration. But then, Mitch might prefer something similar at his wedding. Boy, wouldn’t he make a terrific-looking groom? And she wouldn’t mind being his bride.

  Heavens, where did that thought come from? She needed to quit thinking about him on those terms. After all, they’d spent only one night together in the bed of a truck. Pure and simple lust, spontaneous sex. That’s all it had been, and she didn’t plan on an encore. She had to start considering how she would ask him for the interview, now that she gathered he was still speaking to her. But how long would that hold true once he learned she was a member of the hated media?

  She’d give it her best shot at explaining why she hadn’t told him sooner, ask for the story and, if not successful, return home tomorrow and forget everything that had happened between them…in a year or two.

  The tap on her shoulder startled her, stealing her breath when she considered that maybe Mitch was standing behind her. Even though her heart was running at sprinter speed, she retained enough composure to turn slowly instead of spinning around like a frenzied top. Disappointment, then surprise, overtook her when she realized Mary Alice Marshall, not Mitch, had taken her place in the dwindling receiving line.

  “Do I know you?” she asked, her tone just a little too sweet for Tori’s taste.

  “I graduated from Quail Run High three years after you.”

  Mary Alice tapped a perfect pink nail against her chin. “Oh, that’s right. You’re that really smart poor girl.”

  And you were that stuck-up, cheerleader hussy. “True, I was valedictorian.”

  “How nice. Why are you back?”

  Sheesh. Wasn’t that obvious? Tori decided Miss Mary Alice probably didn’t make it into the top seventy-five percent of her class of twenty-five. “I’m Stella’s maid of honor.”

  The light came on in Mary Alice’s expression. Dim, but still on. “Oh, of course.” She made a sweeping gesture toward Tori’s gown. “That’s the reason for the, um, dress. You know, velvet would not have been my choice.”

  Tori graciously chose to ignore the dig at Stella’s taste. “I didn’t see you at the wedding.”

  “That’s because Brady and I didn’t go to the wedding. We had a prior commitment.”

  Probably engaged in riveting conversation about the new hardware store the bank had financed, Tori decided. “Ah, yes. Brady, your fiancé.”

  Mary Alice wrinkled her nose. “How did you know about him?”

  She pointed at the comet-sized diamond on Mary Alice’s left hand. “Well, that’s a dead giveaway. And people are fairly free with the latest gossip.”

  “True. The news of mine and Brady’s engagement has been the talk of the town.”

  A prime example of a definite lack of excitement in Dullsville. “So when’s the big day, Mary Alice?”

  “Oh, not until next summer. Brady’s building us a new house. Four-thousand square feet on Hunter’s Hill.” She nodded toward two men conversing in the corner. “That’s my sweetie over there, talking to Daddy. He’s absolutely wonderful. He will do anything I ask of him.”

  Anything that involved money, no doubt, because Tori couldn’t imagine, or didn’t want to imagine, Mary Alice having randy sex with Brady Stevens.

  Tori smiled and raked her brain to try and think of something complimentary to say about the town’s banker. That was a tough one considering he was at least two inches shorter than Mary Alice, suffered from the beginnings of male pattern baldness and wore the most ill-fitting green suit Tori had ever seen. She found it hard to believe that Mary Alice Marshall had traded in Mitch for a milquetoast. Or maybe Mitch had traded her in. She couldn’t imagine what Mitch had seen in her. Actually, she could imagine. It probably involved her bra size, not her brain.

  Enough with the nastiness, Victoria.

  She gave Mary Alice a benevolent smile. “I’m sure he’s great.” And rich.

  “He is. He’s going to make a fine husband.” Mary Alice presented an artificial grin. If she were any more transparent, she’d be invisible. “How long will you be staying? Maybe we could do lunch.”

  O
h, yeah. Down at the local barbecue joint gnawing on messy ribs with the local debutante. What a nice way to spend a day. “That depends. I could be leaving tomorrow or hanging around for a week or so.”

  “And what will determine that?”

  Tori didn’t dare go there, although it was tempting to tell Miss Mary Alice she might be spending her days with the former boyfriend. “If Stella and Bobby need my help settling in, I’ll be here a little longer.”

  “Then you’d be staying out at the Independence Ranch?”

  Tori simply couldn’t resist getting a rise out of the woman. “I haven’t talked to Mitch about it yet, but I’m sure I’d be more than welcome there.”

  The smile dropped from Mary Alice’s overly painted lips. “You’ve met Mitch?”

  “We met last night at Sadler’s. He’s been very accommodating.” If Mary Alice knew exactly how accommodating, she’d probably fall over in her fake designer heels. “He’s a very nice man.”

  “Yes, he is, if you like that cowboy sort. Frankly, I prefer someone more refined.”

  As Tori suspected, Mitch had dumped the deb. “Like Brady?”

  “Yes, and that reminds me. I should join him now. I’m sure he’s wondering where I am.”

  Tori glanced to her right to find Brady chatting with a roving waitress, not looking at all concerned. She hid her smile when she turned her attention to Mary Alice. “Aren’t you going to congratulate the bride and groom?”

  “Actually, no. I don’t know Stella all that well and I’ve never cared much for Bobby. I just think it’s so sad they had to get married.”

  Tori saw red, and it wasn’t the beer sign in the corner. “Bobby and Stella love each other very much.”

  Mary Alice flipped her ring-bedecked hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m sure they do. They’re perfect for each other. Down home without a pot to pee in. I hear they can’t even afford a real honeymoon.”

  Tori had the sudden urge to kick off her heels, hike up her dress and take Mary Alice down to the ground for a good hair-pulling cat fight. She’d never done that before, but then she’d never done what she’d done last night, either. Neither would qualify as classy, so she chose to verbally sink in her claws. “Stella and Bobby chose not to go on their honeymoon right away because Mitch needs him on the ranch for now. And speaking of Mitch, I think I’ll go find him and ask him if he has room for me. You have a nice night with Brady.”