“Huh,” I said, because I eventually had to say something. He was right, of course. We would need to coordinate to make sure the bridal shower and bachelorette party didn’t conflict with the bachelor party, make sure the travel and accommodations for the guests went smoothly, work on the formal wear for the bridal party, etc., etc. I was already composing a list in my head. And all of this would involve talking to Cole and being close to him. My rebellious, masochistic imagination explored the possibilities…
“Kate? Earth to Kate?” Ward reached out and poked my shoulder.
“What?” I blinked at Cole and Ward, both of whom were now wearing confused expressions. I got the distinct impression my brother had been trying to get my attention for a while.
“What do you mean ‘what’? You totally zoned out!” He was looking at me like I was crazy.
I smirked apologetically. “I was just planning out the zoot suits you two are gonna’ wear.”
“I think we’re supposed to wear tuxedos to the wedding,” Ward said innocently. Of course, he had no idea what a zoot suit was. I rolled my eyes. Ward never understood my fashion jokes.
“So, can I have your number?” Cole asked, quickly following it up with a glance at Ward and a polite, “so we can coordinate wedding stuff?”
Considering that he asked in front of Ward, and had a perfectly reasonable reason for asking, I couldn’t very well refuse. I was trapped. I frowned and ponied up the digits. The seconds ticked by afterward, excruciating and slow.
My rescue came from Vince. Tonight, he was my knight in shining khaki. He appeared over my shoulder with the glass of water I’d requested over an hour ago. The poor man had clearly been looking for me all that time.
“There you are,” he said breathlessly.
I smiled at him sweetly and drew him by the elbow away from Ward and Cole’s table. “Hi Vince, thanks for the drink. Where’ve you been? I thought you lost interest.”
Vince blushed. “I thought you lost interest.” He looked at his feet, and then up at me in a puppy-dog-eyes-way that was probably meant to be endearing, but just struck me as weirdly submissive and sad.
I felt more than a little bit evil, but knowing that Cole was watching me flirt with Vince was an undeniable thrill. I knew jealousy when I saw it, even if it was probably just motivated by disappointment that I wasn’t throwing myself after him anymore. When Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies’ started playing, I knew it was fate. Heading towards the dance floor, I took off the cozy sweater I’d been wearing to reveal my black crop top and pierced navel. Vince looked at me appreciatively, and a glance back at Cole showed he was still equally riveted. If was going to have to spend time around Cole, at least I could do it in style.
3
Cole
My uncle Jimmy, who was one fry short of a happy meal even when he was stone cold sober, had taught me an expression back when I was a kid. Jimmy said a girl’s shirt ought to look like ‘two puppies fighting under a silk sheet’ when she was dancing. It didn’t sound hot at all when I was eight, but it turns out that Jimmy knew exactly what he was talking about. You can take the boy out of rural Arkansas, but you can’t take the rural Arkansas out of the boy. Watching Kate dance was torture.
She moved around the dance floor like she owned it. She was as confident and sexy as she’d ever been and seemed to have gotten even more outspoken than I remembered. The guy she had in tow stared at her like he’d just hit the jackpot, and practically every other guy looked at him like he’d just stolen it out from under them. Especially me.
“Be careful,” Lucas said to me, “if you aren’t, your face is gonna’ get stuck like that.”
I looked over at him and frowned. Did I look as jealous as I felt? Probably.
Lucas laughed at me. “Are you doing ok?” He raised his eyebrows and glanced back at Kate. “Because ogling Ward’s baby sister is asking for trouble, and the whole reason you retired was to avoid head injuries, not invite them, right?”
Lucas was a know-it-all pain in the ass, but he was also my friend. I bit back a snide reply. It wasn’t like I could really deny I’d been staring.
“It’s not my fault I have eyes,” I protested. “Don’t pretend you don’t see her. I’m only human.”
Lucas shrugged his shoulders. “Kate? She never has been my type.”
I’d known a few women who had been Lucas’ type and they weren’t for me. He liked a mysterious, exotic, evil genius sort of woman. His type was somewhere between Pepper Potts and Black Widow (always redheads, too). He’d once said that Cake’s “Short Skirt, Long Jacket” was written about his true love. What a weirdo. His last girlfriend had been a total nightmare psycho. Thank god they hadn’t lasted, although Lucas was still getting over her.
“You have bad taste,” I told Lucas. He didn’t deny it. He just stared at his beer.
Lucas liked redheads while I preferred a more red-blooded type of woman. The girl next door, but sexier. I liked a woman who didn’t mind things a bit wild, and Kate was all that and more. She’d added a few tattoos and piercings to her collection since the last time I’d seen her. She hadn’t had those when we first met, or even the last time I’d laid eyes on her. I wanted to know all about them, but didn’t dare ask Ward—or god forbid, Kate herself.
“At least I don’t have a death wish,” Lucas added. I pretended he was talking about my football career.
“Didn’t you hear? I’m retired.”
Lucas laughed. “Retired from sex? Dude, you aren’t even thirty yet. By the way, they make pills for that these days.”
“Fuck you.” I said it without emphasis, and it was received with the intended disinterest. Lucas made a dismissive gesture.
“No thanks. You’ve never been my type, either,” Lucas quipped.
“We’ve already established that you have bad taste.” I made a kissy face at him and he flicked me off.
While Lucas and I watched, Ward’s future bride, a tiny little pixie of a girl that looked like she weighed ninety pounds soaking wet, cornered Kate. The two took one of those girl selfies in the middle of the dance floor. Next to Emma, Kate looked leggy and tall, but next to me and Ward, she looked positively petite. Why someone Ward’s size would go for somebody he could throw for twenty yards was a mystery for another day. A different mystery was more pressing.
“I still can’t believe Ward’s getting married,” Lucas remarked, reading my mind. It was pretty bizarre.
“For real. After he and Jessie broke up, I didn’t think Ward would ever get serious again, let alone married.” I shook my head.
Ward had recovered from his broken engagement, but it had taken years.
“You’re the only one of us three that hasn’t ever really dated somebody for long,” Lucas added as if the thought was occurring to him for the first time. I supposed it could even be true. My carefully designed appearance of being a happy bachelor was generally excellent.
“I’m just waiting for the right girl to come around,” I answered, still staring at Kate out of the corner of my eye. I’m not sure what possessed me to come back here to Austin. I could have gone anywhere. I could have gone home to Arkansas. But instead I came here. I told myself it was because my best friends, Ward and Lucas, were here. The inconvenient truth was still dancing away with some business-casual wearing jerk.
She glanced at me over her shoulder then, tossing her long, glossy hair back and flashing her blue eyes in… what? Challenge? Loathing? I probably deserved it. She looked away again before I could decipher her expression, and tipped her head back to laugh. The long, slim column of her neck had a blue butterfly tattooed on it, just behind her ear. Like something rare and beautiful, just like that blue butterfly, Kate was always just within my reach while still being totally beyond my grasp.
“Hmm,” Lucas remarked, watching our little staring contest with amusement. I’m not sure if he was perceptive or I was letting my image slip, but I wasn’t fooling him. “Whatever you say, man. This ought to be ent
ertaining, though. I’m gonna’ go grab another beer.”
He wandered off in the direction of the bar with a knowing look in his eyes.
I knew it was going to be an uphill battle. But being in the same city with Kate meant the chance to spend time with her. And I had a lot of lost time to make up for.
4
Cole
“Cole—Cole—Mr. Rylander!” The voice that was calling me was dripping with the loud, smiling, fake-nice enthusiasm that I’d come to associate with reporters. I smiled a tight-lipped, equally false smile at the man who owned the voice. Another pearl of wisdom from my uncle Jimmy drifted through my memory as I took in the man’s shiny shoes, staid button down, and tape recorder: don’t ever let your battleship mouth overtake your rowboat ass.
“Yes?” I asked, preemptively committing to one-word answers. I hated talking to reporters. No good would come of it. The reporter dropped down into Lucas’ recently vacated seat with a gleam in his eye. He smiled at me like a predator looks at its next meal.
“I’m Edward Nassar from the Texas Advocate,” he announced like I ought to care. “I thought I might find you here. Heard you were in town. Would you like to give a statement on your recent retirement and plans for the future?”
I looked at him like he’d just grown a second head. Was I really famous enough to stalk to a party? That was news to me. “Nope.”
“How about—” Edward began, and then turned a sickly white. His eyes were fixed behind me, and I turned to see Ward approaching from the bar with Lucas. Lucas and I exchanged a smile, and I sat back in my seat to enjoy the show. Nobody hated reporters like Ward. I’d retired from the NFL at the peak of my career, and it had been one hundred percent my idea (well, in actuality, eighty-percent my doctor’s idea, but whatever). Ward had a much less pleasant exit from the League. As in, he had a career ending compound knee injury and then his mean, gold-digging fiancée split. Imagine having to answer thousands of questions about that mess, and it’s easy to understand his dislike of the press.
“Dammit Eddie!” Ward snapped, menacing the much smaller man by his tone and size alone. He was still a good six feet away. “How many times have I told you not to come into this bar?”
“I just came in to use the bathroom,” Edward—Eddie—squeaked. His voice had climbed a good half octave in fear.
“Bullshit.” Ward wasn’t buying it.
“And—and then I realized that bathrooms were just for customers, so I bought a beer…” He trailed off when Ward got within striking distance.
“This is a private party. Leave now or I call the police. Then, once you’re arrested for trespassing, I’m calling Nancy,” Ward continued.
Whoever this Nancy was, and I was guessing either his boss or his girlfriend, she put the fear of god in Eddie. The mere mention of her name turned him from white to nearly green. His eyes went huge and round in terror.
“I’m going!” he stammered, rising and making a beeline for the door. I did notice that he left his card sitting on the table. I flicked it toward Ward when he and Lucas sat down. Ward set his beer down on top of it with a decisive clunk.
“Fucking press,” Ward said unnecessarily. “Did he bother you?”
I smirked, entertained. “Not nearly as much as he clearly bothers you.”
“We’ve had words in the past.” Ward’s expression was dark.
‘Having words with someone’ was Texas for ‘I’ve come close to punching him before but haven’t… yet’. Ward didn’t let his upbringing in the peaceful suburbs of sprawling Dallas prevent him from using the more colorful southernisms. I liked that about him, even if he was pretty much a city boy.
“At least you got to threaten him with Nancy,” Lucas added. He shook his head. “She scares me, and I’ve only witnessed her from afar.”
Unlike Ward, Lucas was a true city boy. He grew up in LA and converted to the southern lifestyle in college. I tried not to hold it against him too badly.
“Ok, I’ll bite,” I said. “Who’s Nancy?”
Ward smirked. “Nancy is the editor in chief of the Texas Advocate. Eddie’s boss. She also happens to be Willie’s battle-axe of an ex-wife.”
“Willie had a wife?” I asked. Lucas and Ward nodded solemnly. I tried to wrap my brain around it.
I knew Willie from our college days, back when Ward, Lucas, and I were patrons at this very bar. Back before Ward bought it from him. However, I had no idea Willie had an ex-wife. Or a life outside of the bar. I sort-of imagined he folded himself up into the broom closet at the end of his shift.
“Willie has a son that lives in Lubbock too. He’s even got a grandkid or two as well. Nancy’s second husband recently passed away, actually,” Ward said conspiratorially. “Willie’s been making noise about asking her out again.”
That was the best gossip I’d heard all week. My expression must have been as mystified as I felt, because it made Lucas and Ward laugh. I looked around for Willie, but he was nowhere to be found. I’d seen him earlier, but maybe he’d gone home. Or maybe, he’d gone to meet Nancy. It was a Friday night.
Willie might be damn-near eighty, so he if could go after a second chance, what excuse did I have not to try with Kate?
Ward cracked his knuckles dangerously. “I’d better not see Eddie back around here again,” he growled. “Next time it won’t be words.”
Oh right. Her protective, six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-thirty-pound hulking beast of a brother. My best friend.
5
Kate
After the engagement party, I went on a full-fledged Cole Rylander Googling spree. It was a complete and total relapse to my teenage years. I hadn’t fallen so deeply down the Cole-fangirl rabbit hole in years. It wasn’t my finest moment by a long shot.
When I emerged from my creepy-stalker psychosis, it was Sunday morning. I hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t done anything really for almost twenty-four hours. I had, however, learned a great deal about what Cole had been up to since I was eighteen.
I knew the general story already. He’d graduated right along with Ward and had been the only other UT player in his year to be drafted into the NFL (not bad considering only 2 percent of college players went on to play pro). He played for a few years, first in Oregon and then in Wisconsin. Then he took a few too many knocks to the head and decided to make a good choice and retire early.
What I didn’t know, and what I didn’t want to know but still somehow desperately needed to know, was who he’d been with when he wasn’t with me. My answer could only be determined through careful sleuthing. I started by looking at how many girls he’d been photographed with over the years. There were a lot. Hundreds of them.
I spent hours scouring the photos for repeats. Girls that corned him for selfies didn’t bother me much. What I wanted to see were his girlfriends. I carefully pieced together Cole’s relationship history through pictures. I was looking for Cole taking the same date to lots of parties in a row or being spotted at dinner over a series of months. Tabloid or society stories helped me to figure things out too. Surprisingly, there were only two real relationships I could trace.
The first, Delaney Melrose, was a model. And not just any regular catalog model, either. She was a Victoria’s Secret Angel. She was drop-dead gorgeous, of course. Tall, toned, and tan, Delaney’s face looked like something that had been designed for maximum sex appeal by a super-intelligent AI. I traced their six-month relationship through photos until she suddenly disappeared.
Then about two years later, Mattie Diaz appeared. The popstar-turned-actress was known mostly for her wild period after a successful Disney channel career, but her time with Cole was during her ‘reformation period’. She’d already successfully kicked her embarrassing substance abuse problem before they were together, and they made a pretty couple, although it hurt to admit it. Her petite, delicate, olive-skinned beauty was a surprisingly lovely complement to his tall strength. But like Delaney before her, Mattie only lasted a few months on Cole�
�s arm and then disappeared. It didn’t look like he maintained any kind of lasting contact with his ex-girlfriends.
Did he love them? Staring at the pictures didn’t tell me. The pictures seemed affectionate enough, but they also looked posed. Even the ones that were more personal looked oddly stilted. Perhaps Cole just didn’t like having his picture taken very much. All I could do was wonder.
But all good fugue states come to an end, and eventually I needed to turn off the computer and return to the real world. The real world had been impatiently waiting. I had four missed texts from Vince, two missed calls from Lily, and an invitation to brunch from Emma.
It took every iota of my energy not to call Lucas and try to enlist his tech-genius help to wage an enhanced cyberstalking campaign on Cole. Too risky. I also had more pride than curiosity, but only by a small margin. Instead of humiliating myself, I focused on pulling myself together to meet Emma.
She wanted to meet at a particularly trendy boutique hotel that had a particularly trendy all-brunch restaurant. Unlike Ward or me, she hadn’t yet come to terms with the fact that the vast majority of the food and drink for the rest of her life would come from the Lonestar Lounge. She’d figure that out eventually.
I had to hand it to Emma when I pulled up though, the trendy boutique hotel was super cute. Located on the hip shopping and dining thoroughfare of South Congress Avenue, all you had to do was look north to see the sprawling state capital. On either side of the street, hip vintage shops mingled with fancy coffee joints mingled with art galleries. It was a hipster paradise.
And I’d dressed for the occasion. I was wearing one of my favorite vintage outfits, a two-piece tweed skirt suit from the sixties that looked just like Chanel. It might even be Chanel, but someone had cut the tags out, which was the only reason I could afford it. In order to keep from looking like I was wearing a Mad Men Halloween costume, I paired the cream suit with an edgy black bustier, messy modern hair, punky combat boots, and dramatic dark eye makeup. I may have been sleep deprived, but at least I looked fantastic. Some people might say that my look was a bit much for brunch, but some people are stupid and wrong.
Kiss Me Like You Missed Me Page 3
