by Deb Julienne
“You did a beautiful job on Sabrina’s dress.”
“It was Trent. He told me what he wanted.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Trent may have told you what he wanted, but it was your interpretation that made it one of a kind.”
She stared into his eyes and listened to his responses. A guy could get used to attention like that. In rehab, he’d learned a great deal about himself and the reasons his alcohol consumption had gotten out of hand. He didn’t know her, but he sure wanted to find out more.
Kat’s clinking silverware on crystal stopped the dancing. “Attention, everyone. It’s time for the bride and the groom to cut their wedding cake.”
“Leave it to Kat. She always has to be in charge.” He steered Angel toward the cake.
Behind Sabrina, Trent faced their cake with his arms around her, his hand over hers as they made the first cut in the simple two-tiered cake decorated with fresh, fragrant soft pink freesias and stephanotis, flowers their grandmother had grown in her hot house.
Angel leaned in and said in a hushed, breathless tone, “They look so happy.”
“Indeed they do,” he whispered, wanting to nibble her earlobe.
“Trent, you be nice, and don’t make a mess on Sabrina, or I’ll kick your ass.” Kat’s sarcasm and waggling finger made the crowd laugh.
Sabrina glared at Kat. “Really?”
Trent raised an eyebrow. “What? Are we children or something?”
“Just warning you.” Kat threw back her shoulders and raised her chin.
Sabrina winked at Kat, her face lit with mischief.
With the gold-trimmed china plate in Sabrina’s hand, Trent lifted a small piece to her lips and cupped his other hand, taking every precaution to keep from spilling on her dress. No doubt, if Trent ruined Sabrina’s dress, he’d never make it to the honeymoon.
Sabrina accepted the bite then picked up a piece of cake and put it to Trent’s lips. She pushed it in Trent’s mouth, wiping the frosting on her thumb across the corner of his lip. She leaned forward and kissed it off, lingering over the kiss, adding a dash of tongue, which brought hoots from Kat and Jill.
Travis ran his finger along the collar of his shirt. “It’s getting hot in here.”
“Ah yeah—I feel like we’ve walked in on something. I feel like a voyeur.” Angel fanned herself.
“No kidding. That must be our cue. Want to cut out of here?”
Angel nodded.
Travis backed away from the crowd, an arm around Angel’s shoulders. He hoped to sneak away. Hell, Trent was probably ready for them all to disappear and be alone with his wife. He helped Angel into her coat.
They headed to the door.
Trent cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me, but if you two are planning to cut out on us, you might want this.”
Travis and Angel eyed one another and froze. Angel’s blush made him want to laugh. He squeezed her hand then twisted around to the sea of faces.
Trent tossed Sabrina’s bouquet. Travis caught it before it bounced off the top of Angel’s head. He smoothly handed it to Angel. “This is for you.”
“Correction, big brother. It was meant for you. Now, it’s your move.” Trent let out a cackle worthy of a laying hen.
Laughing, Sabrina covered her mouth.
“What do you think of this, little brother?” He swept Angel into his arms. In all his twenty-nine years, Travis had never done anything so impetuous. It felt damn good.
“Put me down,” Angel shrieked and threw her arms around his neck, but he was too busy laughing to comply.
He carried her out to one of several waiting limousines and deposited her in the backseat.
Back at the house, they could see the family crowded at the door, laughing and waving, except for his mother, who stood stiffly with her eyes as big as cake plates and a giant “O” formed with her lips.
“Would you care to tell me what that was all about?” Laughing, Angel scooted over, making room for him.
Travis got in, put his arm around her, and let out his own laugh. “What could be more romantic than being swept off your feet in front of a gawking crowd?”
Angel swung around and glanced out the back window then slumped into the seat. “Uh-oh.”
“Our very own fairy tale, don’t you think? At the very least, we kept your shoes dry.”
“I appreciate your concern about my footwear, but I don’t believe in myths. My life is more along the lines of dark comedy.”
Even in the dim light of the limousine, the hesitancy on her face showed. His heart stuttered. “Maybe we can write a better ending.” He deposited a chaste kiss on her cheek, determined to give her a fabulous night to remember.
“Give it up.” Angel stared out the window.
The snow-covered view and the warmth from the woman beside him warred with his mind. She had been afraid of him, he was sure of it, but after she’d talked to Sabrina, it seemed her fears had vanished.
He was determined to make sure she enjoyed the rest of the evening. “We’ll see about that.” He pressed the button to lower the window between them and the driver. “Can you take us to Harrah’s, please?”
“Sure thing. We’ll be there in a jiffy. You folks sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Travis hit the button to raise the privacy window. “We’re on our way.”
On the ride to the casino, it continued to snow. Delicate flakes collected on the window.
“What’s the plan?” Angel sounded more relaxed, but she’d crossed her arms, barriers once again in place.
“It’s not every day you’re in Tahoe on New Year’s. Maybe we could spend the rest of the night getting to know each other before we meet the others for brunch. Would you be okay with that?”
“What the heck. Sure. Why not?” She sighed then laughed. She leaned back into his arms, fitting nicely into his embrace.
He went to press a kiss to her temple, but she moved and he got the top of her head. He leaned into Angel, feeling more relaxed than he’d been in years.
On Thanksgiving he’d checked himself into the center to take control of his drinking, and he’d learned a number of things about himself there. He now understood how he’d let things get out of hand. The pressures from the family had enabled him, but they’d also controlled him and how he handled things. He had to stop living for others.
Christmas lights lit their way. The drive was a breathtaking spectacle, with the moonlight reflecting on the tops of the snow-covered mountains, but the view was not nearly as gorgeous as Angel.
This was his time.
Time to simply be happy.
Chapter 2
The aroma of fresh pumpkin pie made the cozy Harrah’s coffee shop feel homey. He had no idea how long he’d have Angel to himself, so he was determined to make the most of it.
Brown eyes twinkling, Angel shifted in her seat, taking in their surroundings.
He blew on his coffee and took a sip. “Greatest rock group ever?”
“The Beatles—who else?” Angel tilted her head. “You?”
“Nope, the Rolling Stones.” He spoke over the busboy’s table clearing clatter next to them. “Best guitarist?”
The busboy dropped a glass, and it shattered on the floor.
Angel jumped then leaned forward and pursed her lips. “That’s a no-brainer. Eric Clapton, but I’m also partial to Brad Paisley.”
He threw his arm across the back of the booth. “Nope. Keith Urban.”
“Okay it’s a draw. All three are great,” she said.
“You’re right, it’s a draw. Does that mean you’re a fan of country music?”
She mimicked his position, sat back with her arm draped along the back of the booth, angled her head slightly, and gave him an amused eye roll.
He was eager to find out if she was a romantic at heart. “Favorite Paisley song?”
With her thumbnail between her teeth, she mulled the question over. “I’m Gonna Miss Her.”
“
Really? I’m surprised. It’s a song about a guy who dumps the girl for fishing.”
“I disagree. It’s about a guy staying true to his heart. She never should have given him an ultimatum.”
“I never thought of it that way,” he said.
Just outside the coffee shop door, an excited gambler shrieked a win.
Angel flinched. “It’s all about perceptions. What’s your favorite Urban song?”
“But for the Grace of God.”
“I love that song. It’s so honest.”
Her prickly persona started to crack. She even favored him with a smile.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
She drummed her fingers on the table. “Favorite food?”
“Mexican.”
“No way! Me, too.” She lowered her arm and leaned back into the seat.
He liked that she at least appeared to be loosening up. “Favorite season?”
“Fall. I love when the leaves change color.”
“Depends on where I’m at. I love the winter, the first blanket of snow, untouched. It’s a great excuse to stay inside in front of a fire.”
“Oh God, don’t tell me you’re a hopeless romantic.” She raised one brow, yet her lips thinned as if his response perturbed her. Then she stared wistfully into space.
Maybe she wished she were a romantic. Trying to read her left him flummoxed. “In some ways, I am. How about you? Romantic or not?”
“Not.” She wrinkled her nose.
He flashed her his lopsided grin that never failed to make a woman smile. “I thought all women were romantics at heart.”
“I thought all men weren’t. Well, except for Trent. He’s the first one I’ve ever seen in action and he did a magnificent job.” She was shredding her paper napkin, focused on the bits.
It seemed he’d lost her, and it bothered him. “No argument there. Do you believe in love at first sight?”
She gaped at him.
He stared back until she ducked her head.
“No. Lust possibly, but not love.” She pinned him with a pointed stare.
“Before today I’d have said no, but I’m reconsidering.”
Tiny pieces of napkin piled up. She sipped her coffee and continued avoiding eye contact. She stiffened, pressed the bits into another napkin, and crushed it into a ball. “This is why we should end it now. We’re just too different.”
“End it? We’ve barely started. I never pegged you for a chicken.” He’d swear she was afraid, but of what—him or a relationship?
She scowled. “I beg your pardon. Do you honestly think calling me names is going to earn you brownie points?”
He swallowed his laughter, but a snort escaped. “I’m sorry—I said that all wrong. I guess I was just reacting to your insistence that we stop before we start.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” Impatience crept into her voice. She crossed her arms and fixed him with an insolent frown.
The waitress came by and refilled their mugs.
“Can we get a slice of chocolate cake and two forks?” Travis asked.
“Sure, back in a jiffy.”
He gulped a large mouthful of coffee, which burnt his tongue then he cursed himself six ways. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you. I’m sorry.” He waited for a response.
None came.
“I, um—I’m not good at this either. Well, obviously. I seem to have found a perfect fit for my size elevens in my mouth.” So much for fun. He’d pushed her too hard, too soon.
She stared silently at a painting on the wall.
“Angel, listen. I’m not perfect. I’m working hard to change and be a better me.” He clasped his hands on the table. “I’m attracted to you. I want to get to know you better, much better. Can you understand that? I’d like the chance to be that better man with you.” He stroked her hand with his thumb. “Besides, you’re fun to tease.”
She looked down at his hand on hers then up into his eyes before she squeezed his hand. “Damn, you sure know how to knock the bluster out of a perfectly good mad. We all make mistakes.” Her shoulders slumped, but she kept squeezing his hand.
“So, can you forgive me for saying stupid stuff?” This was the second time he’d said the wrong thing and then backpedaled to explain. She seemed to soften when his human side came out, and he assumed she’d been there herself. He was starting to get a glimmer of how the woman ticked.
She blew a gust of air out then gave him a simpering grin. “Yes. There was a time I felt the same way, when no one was willing to fight for me or with me. But you’re forgetting something else—you live on the East Coast and I’m here. It bears repeating—I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Maybe instead of running from the altar we could just start with friendship? In spite of my many shortcomings, I can be a loyal and dependable friend, even on the East Coast. Besides, you never know when you might need an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on.”
She looked at their clasped hands and jerked hers away.
He couldn’t help chuckling.
“Fine. I’ll do the listening and you do the crying. Deal?” Her eyes crinkled and there was no denying the smugness in her tone.
“Somehow that didn’t work out the way I meant it to.” He ducked his head.
“It’s the best I can do for now.” Her face reddened.
“Fine. Back to our game. Top or bottom?”
She let out a bubbly laugh. “After everything I just said you’re going there?”
“A guy’s got to try.” Travis clasped his hands around his coffee mug and shrugged.
“Fine.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “But I thought everyone knew food cooks best on the middle rack.”
“Touché. I deserve that.” He tipped his head to her in defeat.
“Yes you do.” She added cream and sugar, held her mug in one hand, and stirred with the other.
The waitress delivered the cake.
Travis placed his hand over his cup. He didn’t need any more caffeine, but Angel nodded to the waitress for refill.
“Oh shoot, I forgot the forks.” The waitress headed back for the kitchen.
“You didn’t ask me my preference.” He leaned forward, keeping his hands on his cup to resist touching her.
“I don’t plan to either.” She smirked and put down her spoon.
The waitress came back and set a fork in front of each of them. “Anything else?”
“Well, I like the bottom, totally submissive.” He tried to keep a straight face.
“Oh-kay, I guess not.” Shaking her head, the waitress walked away.
Travis couldn’t hold it in, and he burst out laughing.
“That’s not funny. You said that on purpose. Somehow I don’t imagine you submissive about anything.” Her eyes twinkled and her face was radiant. It was the first time she’d smiled showing her beautiful white teeth. He liked the way her eyes wrinkled at the corners when she was amused.
Looking thoughtful, she chewed her bottom lip then shot him a mischievous smile. “How many women have you slept with?”
“Four. You?” He picked up his fork to take a bite. The cake was almost as enticing as Angel. He scooped up a bite and put it in his mouth. The chocolate melted in his mouth. Delicious.
“None. I prefer men.”
Travis choked on the bite then took a sip of coffee to wash it down. “Good one.” Her quick wit impressed him. “Breakfast, lunch, or dinner?”
“Dessert.” She picked up her fork and stabbed the cake then slowly put it in her mouth. When she finished chewing, she licked the fork. Her lips quivered as she stared at him.
He wasn’t sure how to interpret her answer, but her tongue action sent heat straight to his groin. “What, you’re not going to ask me that either?”
“No way. Because I’m sure your answer will be all of the above.” She flicked her hand matter-of-factly at him and took another bite.
“True. How many dates do you require b
efore going to bed with a man?”
She sat up straight, crossed her arms over her chest, and tried to stare him down. “It was my turn, but I’ll answer anyway—enough to decide if I even want to.”
“Ouch.”
“You asked for it. Now I get two questions.” Grinning devilishly, Angel took another bite of cake and moaned. “What’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?”
He was afraid she had a bit of a vindictive side like Sabrina. “Trent and I were dating identical twins and he walked in while I was in bed—with his. He recognized the mole on her shoulder. I hadn’t.”
“Ohmygod. Smooth move, Romeo.” Angel covered her mouth.
“We laugh about it now. Next question?” Travis rubbed his chin.
Angel peered at him somberly.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her next question.
“Why did you and your last ex break up?”
“Wait. You didn’t tell me yours.”
“That’s because I’ve never had an embarrassing moment. Now about the ex…” Regardless of her words, she blushed.
She was lying to him, but he wouldn’t press the issue. “Delaney hated that my job was more important than she was. She said I never made time for her.”
Angel regarded him with concern. “Was that the case?”
“Yes. That’s when I realized I’d allowed my job to be the most important thing in my life. My priorities got lost. I won’t make that mistake again. When I go back, I plan to put things in a new perspective. I need a life that’s not all work.” This conversation was depressing him, but he also wanted to know if a past relationship was the reason for her reluctance. “How about you? Why’d you break up with your last ex?”
Angel paled. “Glad to hear your story. I’ll pass on telling mine.”
He chose not to challenge her. “Okay. My turn then. Does size matter?”
She took a giant bite of cake and took her time chewing. “Depends on how hungry I am.” She licked her lips. “What’s your deepest, darkest secret?”
“I’m jealous of my brother.”
Her mouth dropped. “Really? What part?”
“He married the girl of his dreams tonight.” He reached for her hand again, covering but not grasping it. He simply wanted to feel her warmth.
