No Time for Promises (The No Brides Club Book 3)

by Lindsay Detwiler

  “All set? You look amazing, by the way,” he said with caution, as if not sure how far he could tread before reeling it all back in.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself,” she quipped, smiling at the handsome man who was taking her out for some food and wine and some sweet relief from the hellish prison of monotony she’d been stuck in for a week.

  As he led her out to get a cab that would whisk them to a night of food, conversation, and adult beverages she couldn’t wait to taste, Rachel decided to not complicate things like she so often did. She decided not to worry about drawing lines and rules and regulating this—whatever it was. She chose to just bask in the company of a guy who seemed like a perfect gentleman and excessively interesting. She thought she’d just savor the night for what it was, which was simply a nice dinner out with a man who had just happened to be in the right place to be her hero for one night and one night only.

  Rachel Winters was a strong, sassy woman, after all. She didn’t need a hero for more than one night, she assured herself as she walked into the restaurant, insisting on holding the door for herself even though it wasn’t easy with crutches and a bum ankle.

  * * *

  “You’re joking,” Rachel said after almost spitting out her wine. Zander had just finished telling her a story about a camping trip gone wrong he’d taken his senior year. Apparently, Zander’s brother Ian was quite the wild child, to his parents’ chagrin.

  “I’m not. But it all worked out, I guess, because now my little brother’s actually a stuntman in Hollywood. Works for the big guns and all. So my parents can’t fault him too much for all of his crazy, risky behaviors.”

  Rachel shook her head. “You must be their quiet sense of relief.”

  Zander grinned. “So you’re saying I’m the boring one.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being… well, stable. Safe.”

  “Oh yes, that’s just what women look for,” Zander teased. “I’ll have you know, I do have quite the wild side.”

  Rachel shook her head. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. “Really now?” Zander might have a not-so-perfect vibe to him, but edgy wasn’t quite the word that came to mind now that she was getting to know him.

  “Oh, yes. Yes, I do.” He twirled the stem of the wine glass between his fingers, staring intently at her.

  “You might just have to prove it to me,” she replied.

  Zander’s eyes sparkled as he looked at her and then stood up.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, looking around the fancy restaurant. All around them, tables of finely dressed women and men were barely whispering, laughing politely, and eating fancy finger foods very properly. Zander and Rachel already stood out a bit in Rachel’s flamboyantly orange dress and Zander’s penchant to talk a bit loudly.

  Zander hadn’t realized the restaurant was actually quite high-end, and neither had Rachel. They’d laughed a bit about it after ordering enough wine to make it all seem okay.

  Now, though, the patrons were looking at Zander as he held out a hand to Rachel. “Dance with me,” he said, grinning, only looking at her.

  Rachel felt her face burn. Sure, she was used to being in the spotlight—but not like this. This wasn’t the kind of thing she did.

  “This music isn’t really dance-worthy,” she whispered. “And I’m on crutches.” The soft music playing sounded like elevator music mixed with a dash of funeral dirge. Not quite the thing to slow dance to or any kind of dance to, and the restaurant didn’t seem to think dancing should be part of the dining experience, judging by the atmosphere.

  “We can make it work,” he assured.

  It was crazy and childish. They were respectable—or semi-respectable, the crowd around them would argue—adults who didn’t just get up and dance in the middle of a fine restaurant. Did they? And Rachel didn’t, in fairness, dance with any man, anywhere.

  But looking at his eyes alight with mischief, Rachel found herself saying yes instead of no. There was something about this semi-nerdy yet semi-crazy man who brought something to life in Rachel. He was the quirky to her quirky, and the nerdy humor to her own.

  So she took his hand, and he helped her onto her crutches.

  “How’s this going to work?” she asked, feeling dozens of pairs of eyes burning her back.

  “Very carefully,” he whispered, but his hands on her waist as she set one crutch down, leaning on his shoulder as they swayed to a made-up rhythm in their minds. “We just won’t be pulling any Footloose moves.”

  “Or West Side Story. Or any semblance of dancing in reality,” she teased.

  He just kept swaying, not taking his eyes off her, adding a little West Side Story snap for good measure. Rachel couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I feel like this could be a super romantic moment if I weren’t on crutches,” she spewed as the whole room melted away and she stared into Zander’s eyes as they attempted to sway.

  “It still can be. Who says what romance has to look like, right? And if nothing else, I’m sure we’re giving these people something to talk about.”

  Rachel grinned, shaking her head. “Your brother would be proud,” she said.

  “Not really. If my brother were here, he’d probably rappel from the ceiling or something equally as crazy. But hey, we’ve all got our strengths, right? I’m not completely square.”

  “I see that.”

  “I know, look at me, being all risqué, dancing in the middle of a restaurant.”

  “You mean hobbling about,” she quipped as he pulled her a little closer.” For a moment, she looked up at him, his lips close enough to hers to feel his breath on her face. Her heart throbbed in her chest, and she held her breath as she thought for a second he had turned his head just a little bit. Just a tiny, tiny bit.

  For a second, Rachel Winters thought this was going to be the moment her heart careened into his, that it was all over, and that her promise was going to go right out the window. She thought her heart was going to become the unabashed property of Zander Riley, no matter how much she wanted to deny it.

  But right before Rachel prepared for a kiss she both wanted and didn’t, someone cleared their throat right beside their table.

  “Um, your food is ready. Shall I just set it down?” the waiter asked, giving them a judgmental look that said they clearly should take their seats or just give up on the restaurant all together and head somewhere more suitable like fast food.

  “Oh, perfect,” Rachel responded, offering her charming smile.

  The waiter wasn’t buying it.

  They pulled apart slowly, Zander helping Rachel to her seat.

  “So, where were we?” she teased as she eyed the plate of ravioli in front of her. It was a small enough portion to be an appetizer. Her stomach growled in response.

  “I think we were talking about how we should scarf down this appetizer and then go get some real food. I’m sorry, I thought this place would be perfect, but, well, to be honest, it’s not really my cup of tea. I’m more of a burger and fries kind of guy.”

  Rachel beamed. “A burger sounds fabulous.”

  “Check please,” Zander said loudly, holding his hand up. The waiter shook his head, sighed, and then presumably walked off to get the check and get them out of the restaurant.

  Rachel ate her ravioli snack while Zander woofed down whatever was on his plate.

  “So, at our next restaurant, I want to hear more about you,” he said after washing down his bite of shrimp whatever with some more wine.

  “Well, trust me, there’s not much to know. I don’t have any fun siblings or crazy stories.”

  “You’ve got a few blocks to think about it. Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook so easy,” he responded.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, thinking about how it applied to so much more than just the conversation at hand.

  * * *

  “Now this is way more like it. Greasy burgers, too many calories to count. Yes,” Rachel said,
a mouthful of cheeseburger stuffed in her cheeks.

  “To being who we really are,” Zander said, holding up his chocolate shake in a mock toast. Rachel clinked her half-empty glass against his.

  “Do people really like fancy dining like that? Gosh, it’s just so boring,” Rachel added.

  Zander smiled, shaking his head.

  “What?” she asked, picking up a fry.

  “You. You’re full of surprises. You’re just so… amazing. You’re this perfect, professional Broadway star who also happens to be quirky and fun and not afraid to speak her mind. You’ve got this iron will mixed with a big heart. I love it.”

  Rachel bit her lip studying him, trying to quell the smile bursting onto her face. “Thanks. Most people just find me bossy, stubborn, and odd. It’s nice to hear those terms put in more charming ways.”

  And it was. For the first time in a long time, Rachel felt like someone got her. Her passion, her drive, but also her odd sense of fun. Being with Zander was just easy and freeing. There was no false pretense to who they were together. He was the guy shooting straw papers at her through his straw, and she was the woman shrieking with laughter before stealing one of his fries. With him, she could be herself, be Rachel the girl who loved theater instead of being Rachel the serious go-getter. She could let her guard down and not worry, for once, how she was being perceived.

  She could just be. And that was a freeing experience. So freeing.

  Zander and Rachel spent the next hour in the Burger Shack, as it was charmingly named, eating too many calories, exchanging notes about favorite musicals, and going over dream roles. They laughed until their faces hurt, they ate until their stomachs were about to burst, and they relished in the start of something comforting if also unfamiliar.

  So when they were ready to part ways, Rachel didn’t find herself feeling guilty or feeling like she’d made a mistake spending time with him. She just simply felt happy, content, and like she finally did something that was her.

  And perhaps it was for all of those reasons, or perhaps it was something else entirely, that before Zander headed off to his apartment, she shouted his name as he climbed in the cab.

  “Zander, do you want to get coffee tomorrow? Eight o’clock?”

  He patted his hand on the top of the cab door. “I’d like that.”

  “Me too,” she replied, waving like a giddy sixteen-year-old, chiding herself for being so ridiculous, and then promptly spinning around as gracefully as she could on crutches to head inside to her apartment.

  Chapter 10

  Zander

  “A re you sure you don’t want to take it easy?” Zander asked Rachel the next morning as she stood, crutches perched under her arms.

  He usually wasn’t up and moving this early on a Sunday, but her offer had jolted him to life. He’d set two alarms, not wanting to miss seeing her.

  Last night had been—well, there really weren’t words for it, not that Zander was very eloquent anyway when it came to love. He’d felt so content with her, so at home, that he’d just found himself smiling like a fool the entire time. From the fancy restaurant to the more fitting burger joint, Rachel was just the highlight of every moment. Her energy and her passion coupled with her sense of ease just made her amazing to be around. He loved that she could put the serious, go-get-it Rachel side of herself aside to just have fun. She was multifaceted in ways Sheila wasn’t. Rachel was just this enigmatic mix of so many things, and he liked that about her. He wanted to uncover all of her mysteries, to know her more. And even though that scared him, it also seemed to invite him in. It had been a long time since he felt this excited, this entranced by someone.

  “Look, my appointment is later this week, and I’m feeling great. The doctor is going to clear me, and it’ll be all good. My temporary imprisonment will finally be over. In the meantime, it’s a beautiful day, I need sunshine, and I need some coffee.”

  Zander nodded, happy to hear she was in good spirits. He could tell being unable to work was killing her. Still, a part of him wondered if once she was back at work and back to her routine if she would have time for him and his humdrum life.

  He brushed the thought aside. He would enjoy today and explore the city with a fresh set of eyes—ones that had taken in Rachel Winters and her aura. Besides, it wasn’t like he was looking for something more than coffee and conversation, right? They’d been brought together by an accident and had somehow managed to stay in touch thanks to her medical imprisonment. It was nothing more than two theater enthusiasts getting to know each other.

  Or at least that’s what he promised himself as he ushered her out of the apartment as he followed behind, taking in the sight of her neon yellow leggings and equally as bright T-shirt. She was like a walking ray of sunshine, and the more he got to know her, the more he knew her personality didn’t disappoint, either.

  Zander closed the door behind them, and he looked up to see two older women standing in the threshold of the apartment next door. They were an amalgamation of wild patterns, flowy garments, and costume jewelry worthy of a home shopping show. They were bold and vibrant, despite their age. Zander could tell they would be a handful after just a glimpse.

  They made quite the first impression, standing there studying the two of them, each holding a glass of wine.

  “Oh, he is a looker, and I don’t even like men that much,” the woman in a bright red hat said. The other woman nodded in agreement, wolf whistling.

  Zander eyed Rachel, who was chuckling. Before Zander could get clarification as to whether or not he should be worried about these two eccentric women, he felt a nip at his ankle.

  “Ow,” he exclaimed, jumping back. He looked down to see a tiny Chihuahua barking at his feet as if he were a mastiff and not a five-pound dog.

  “Frank Sinatra, we only bite creepy men, not the gorgeous ones,” the woman in the purple hat chided as she rushed over to pick up the tiny dog.

  “Zander, this is Gigi and Beatrice, my neighbors and good friends. They were both on Broadway,” Rachel said, and Zander smiled.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, outstretching a hand.

  The woman in the red hat—Zander didn’t know who was who—stepped forward, grabbing his hand. She pulled him in for a hug, a very long hug that verged on making Zander uncomfortable. Plus, his nose was bombarded by the scent of her very rich but very potent perfume. He stifled a cough.

  “Oh, he has a nice grasp. Yep, this one would keep you warm at night, Rachel. Good choice. Gigi, give him a try,” she said, ushering the other woman over.

  Zander was simultaneously horrified and endeared, these two characters clearly good at making a scene. He would’ve been able to tell they had a love for the stage even if Rachel hadn’t told him.

  “Gigi, Beatrice oh my goodness. It’s not like that. Zander’s just a friend,” Rachel announced as Gigi pulled Zander in for a hug. She had a firm grip for a woman her age, and Zander was caught off guard by the strength of her squeeze.

  “Oh, dear, come on now. Look at him. I’m an old lady and I think he’s freaking gorgeous,” she said. When she pulled back, Zander smirked.

  “Thanks, I think?”

  “Thanks, indeed,” Beatrice added, winking and Zander couldn’t help but laugh.

  “So tell us about you. Rachel’s told us a lot, but we’d love to know more. In fact, do you have time to come in for a drink? We’ve got a whole array of adult beverages, no matter what kind of man you are. Margarita to whiskey, we can quench any thirst,” Gigi said, winking, and Zander wasn’t sure how she made everything seem sensual. It was clearly a gift.

  “We’ve got somewhere to be. We’re sort of in a hurry. Thanks, though,” Rachel said quickly, clearly wanting to avoid the interrogation the two women were about to unleash.

  “It’s also a little early for drinking,” Zander added.

  Beatrice laughed out loud. “It’s never too early for a little drinking, trust us. Life’s too short to wait until five o’clock. Wh
o made that stupid rule anyway? Truly.”

  “Well, we’ve got to get going. Maybe next time,” Rachel added, reinforcing her stance.

  “Yes, thank you. Maybe another time. I’d love to hear about your Broadway careers. I’m sure they were marvelous.”

  “Oh, they were. We’ll tell you all about them the next time we see you over here. Which probably will be soon, I’d think, right? I see the way you look at our Rachel.”

  Zander shoved his hands in his pockets, not really sure what to say. He couldn’t help but like the two pushy, nosy, but fun women. “You never know,” he added, figuring it was noncommittal.

  “But sometimes you do,” Gigi said, winking. “You kids have fun.”

  “We will. Nice meeting you,” Zander added, and Frank left out a little bark as if to remind them all he was still there.

  Zander and Rachel made their way outside.

  “So sorry about that. Gigi and Beatrice are amazing, but they can be a little much if you’re not used to them,” Rachel apologized.

  “I think they’re awesome. Have you known them for a long time?”

  “Since I moved into my apartment years ago. They’ve been like mentors for me, which has been amazing.”

  “And it sounds like they’re probably good to have around in an alcohol shortage.”

  “Oh, yes. They do enjoy their liquor and wine. I’ve had quite a few nights where I was glad I could walk back to my place.”

  “It’s good to have neighbors like that. And friends.”

  “It is,” Rachel added, looking at Zander warmly. And he couldn’t help but think back to what Rachel had said to Gigi and Beatrice about how they were just friends.

  Which was perfect. It was what Zander wanted and needed right now. He loved spending time with Rachel. It was good to have another friend in the city.

  But as he walked on, savoring the sight of Rachel beside him, her face animated as she told him a story about Gigi, he couldn’t shove away the thought that he was fooling himself.

  From that first moment she walked into his life, he had known he’d never be the same. He’d known his “just friends” mentality he’d managed to cling to with every woman he met was going to be much, much harder with Rachel.