“Brilliant, Dr. Templeton. Just...brilliant.”
Sighing, she fit her shoe back in place and, limping only a little, made her way back to the house and the celebration.
Jane and Casey were finished opening the gifts by the time Hayley slipped into the living room. Tristan’s wife had vacated her spot on the floor next to the couch in order to clear away the piles of discarded wrappings, so Hayley made her way to it, sitting down on her knees because that was the only position her skirt allowed. Now that the gifts were dealt with, most of the guests were milling around talking and filling their plates with food from the buffet set up across the room.
“Sorry I’m so late.”
Casey was busy talking with one of his numerous cousins and Jane waved away the apology, her diamond engagement ring sparkling. “No worries,” she said, smiling. “This is the tenth party we’ve had.”
“Second,” Hayley corrected her. “And you’ve got one more party next weekend to live through, remember? Your bachelorette party.”
Jane’s grin was impish as she leaned toward Hayley. “Remind me why I didn’t think running off to Vegas was a good idea.”
Hayley chuckled softly. “Because even in your supposedly modern, independent heart, you want to walk up that church aisle and pledge your troth in front of everyone.”
“Everyone is right.” Casey turned and joined the conversation. “We have more people coming than can fit into the church.”
Casey’s father, Daniel, obviously had overheard. “A common enough problem where Clay family weddings are concerned,” he commented before taking an enormous bite of the chocolate cake on his plate.
“Well, you’re related to half the town,” Jane told Casey. “So I guess it’s not really a surprise.”
“Not half the town.” Casey gestured toward Hayley. “Last I checked, we weren’t on the same family tree. So I know there’s at least one.”
Hayley laughed along with the others. But inside, she felt a pang. The Templeton family wasn’t quite as extensive as the Clays, but there were still a good many of them. She was just persona non grata with her father right now. And after several months of trying, she was beginning to fear she’d never get him to see reason.
She pushed away the depressing thought and gestured at the array of gifts spread across the coffee table and beyond. Some were very traditional, like the set of towels she’d chosen. And some were less so, like the case of beer she could see sitting on the other side of Casey. “You’re going to be writing thank-you notes until next Christmas.”
“Don’t remind me.” Jane’s voice was rueful. “I didn’t work the bar last night and—”
“She spent the entire time writing out thank-you notes from the shower her sister gave her last week in Colorado,” Casey interrupted, “instead of lavishing attention on her fiancé.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “You poor soul, you.”
Casey smiled and kissed Jane’s nose. “You made up for it this morning.”
Jane pushed him away, laughing and blushing at the same time. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Marry him in two weeks, I’d say,” Hayley offered.
“Speaking of... Are you sure you don’t mind staying at our place to watch Moose while we’re on our honeymoon? Every time we’ve tried to leave him with one of Casey’s relatives, Moose is either terrified of the other animals there, or his hosts end up terrified of him eating them out of furniture, doors and shoes.”
“I’m positive.”
“Your grandmother won’t mind?”
“Vivian has already said she’ll be glad to have my place to herself for a few weeks.” After having her grandmother staying with her for the past six months, maybe they would both benefit from some distance. When Hayley had rented the place, she hadn’t done so with a long-term guest in mind.
“She’s still going to come to the wedding?”
Hayley shrugged. “That’s what she says. But I’ve learned not to count on anything until it actually occurs.” Ever since Vivian had come to stay with her, she’d changed her mind about doing something she’d said she would at least a half-dozen times. “Vivian’s a law unto herself.” In that, Hayley’s father’s assessment of his mother was spot-on. “Considering the brick wall my dad and Uncle David have put up to the idea of seeing her, I’m really not sure why she hasn’t gone home to Pittsburgh by now.”
“She likes your company?” Jane’s voice was amused.
“Or else she just likes having someone around to bug about their love life. Yesterday she actually told me I’d be better off finding a real date for your wedding since I wasn’t getting any younger.”
“What’d you tell her?”
Hayley made a face. “That I didn’t think I was in danger of drying up into an old prune just because there’s no man of interest around.”
But even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true.
There was a man of interest.
Seth Banyon.
A man with whom she’d had a one-night stand three months ago.
A one-night stand she couldn’t even remember.
Chapter Two
“You threw a great bachelorette party, Hayley.” J. D. Forrest gave Hayley a hug before throwing her slender arm around Jane, who was standing beside her. “Are you sure you want to marry my little brother? He’s kind of a pain in the patoot.”
Jane’s eyes glinted with humor. “Pretty sure. He has a few good points.”
J.D. grinned. “Yeah, but I’m his sister, and I definitely do not want to know what they are.” She finished wrapping a lightweight scarf around her neck and leaned forward to kiss Jane’s cheek. “Seriously, you’ve made him one happy camper, which makes those of us who love the guy happy, too.” Moving with her typical quickness, she started for the door of Colbys, where the party had been held. “And we’re all hoping you can do something about his wardrobe. He wears the ugliest shirts any of us have ever seen!” Still smiling, she pushed through the door into the evening.
The moment her future sister-in-law was gone, Jane plopped down onto the nearest chair and covered a yawn with her hand. “Getting married is exhausting.”
Hayley started gathering up the glasses scattered around on the tables. “It’s not the getting married part that’s exhausting. It’s the wedding itself and all of the busyness leading up to it.” She shook her head when Jane started to push to her feet. “No, no, no, my friend. The only reason I agreed to have your bachelorette party here was because you promised to pretend you didn’t own the place and agreed to let your employees be guests, not workers. You’re not helping me clean up.”
Jane collapsed back into her chair. “I could overrule you, you know. I am the bride as well as the owner of this establishment.”
“You could.” Hayley stacked the glasses on a tray and carefully carried them behind the bar, rattling them only a little as she went. “But why? This is one time in your life when you can let your friends do things for you. So let us.”
“There is no us,” Jane pointed out. “There’s only you, since you refused all the people who offered to hang around and help clean up.”
Hayley set down the tray and flipped off the country music that had been playing over the sound system all night. The sudden quiet was welcome. “Sam would have stayed to help if she hadn’t gotten called in for duty.” Hayley had seen Jane operate the dishwasher behind the bar often enough that she figured she could manage it herself. She began loading glasses onto one of the racks. “Casey’s going to be here to pick you up in a few minutes anyway.”
“But if you need help, you can check—”
“—with Jerry,” Hayley finished, glancing across to the open doorway that led to the restaurant side of the bar and grill, where Jane’s cook was still at it. Even though
it was past closing time for the grill, the lights were still on over there and with the music turned off in the bar, she could hear the rattle of dishes and murmur of voices from his late-night customers.
“Okay, so maybe I am a bit of a control freak,” Jane admitted. At the sound of the door opening, she turned and looked over her shoulder.
“Did I actually hear the words ‘control freak’ come out of your lips?” Casey asked as he entered.
Hayley didn’t bother trying to hide her smile as she bent over to slide the rack into the dishwasher.
“You heard nothing of the sort,” Jane countered blithely. “The brightness of your neon orange shirt has affected your hearing. Speaking of... Your sister wants me to do something about your shirts.”
“Admit it.” Casey leaned over his fiancée and kissed her before pulling her to her feet. “The only thing you want to do about my shirts is get me out of them.”
“Save it for the honeymoon,” Hayley told them. “My innocent ears can’t take any more.”
“Please.” Jane rolled her eyes and ducked under Casey’s arm to come around the bar. “Are you sure you don’t want—?”
“Get out of here.” Hayley gave her a hug and a push. “The party is over, so go home. I’ll make sure everything’s locked up.”
“I know. I just—” Jane closed her mouth when Hayley pointedly looked at Casey for help. “Fine. Fine!” Her friend tossed up her hands and went back around the bar. She took the costume tiara that Sam had mockingly insisted she wear during the party and fit it back on her head before joining Casey.
“Think it suits me?”
“Well, you’re already the queen of my heart,” he drawled, nearly frog-stepping her to the door.
“Oh, brother.” Jane sent Hayley a look as they left, but Hayley knew just how deeply in love the two were and once the door finally closed behind them, she couldn’t help but sigh a little.
Not with envy. She wasn’t envious of her friend’s happiness.
But she couldn’t help being even more acutely aware of her own solitary life in the face of all of that happiness.
Blowing out a breath, she peeled off her high-heeled boots and wiggled her stocking-clad toes as she went around to each of the tables, picking up paper plates and crumpled napkins and dumping them in a trash bag.
“Looks like you got left holding the bag.”
She startled, jerking around at the sound of the deep voice, and somehow managed to spill the trash she’d just collected. She spotted Seth standing in the doorway to the grill. “What are you doing here?”
He held up his plate and fork as if it should have been obvious. “Jerry’s got good pecan pie. And I was hungry after working a double.”
She hadn’t seen him since she’d tried to chase after him at the wedding shower the week before, and she felt as foolish now as she always seemed to feel around him. “Well, the restaurant might have stayed open to serve you, but the bar’s closed.”
“I gathered that from the girly-looking Closed for Private Function sign taped on the wall.” He took a few steps closer anyway. “Didn’t know that Colbys was fancy enough for private functions.”
She crouched to scoop the plates and napkins back into the bag again. “I threw Jane’s bachelorette party here.” She grimaced when her fingers sank into an unfinished piece of cake but scooped as much as she could into the bag. She wasn’t about to tell him that she was the one who’d fashioned the pretty signs. “There’s more room for a party here than at my place.” Particularly with her grandmother still in residence. And Jane had insisted that if she had to have another party in her honor, she wanted it held someplace where she was extremely comfortable.
Hayley rose and wiped her sticky fingers on another paper napkin that she added to the bag. “What did you mean last week—” she pushed the words out before she lost her nerve “—about being a gentleman?”
He forked another bite of pie into his mouth, not seeming surprised by her abruptness. “I said I wasn’t.”
She finally looked right at him and felt the usual lurch inside her when she did. He was wearing blue jeans and a snug black T-shirt with SECURITY printed in white block letters across the front. “What you said before you left the Clays’ party last week. I had the sense you were implying something. I just don’t know what.”
His vivid blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Afraid you’ll have to clue me in, Dr. Templeton.”
She frowned at him. “Don’t call me that.”
“It’s what you are.” As if he were perfectly at home doing so, he went behind the bar and grabbed a towel and a bottle of spray cleaner. Then he came back around to where she’d dropped the trash and smoothly knelt to wipe up the bits of cake that had landed on the floor.
Feeling stymied, she stared down at the back of his head as he worked. His hair was starting to curl around his nape and the T-shirt tightened across his muscular shoulders every time he moved his arm.
“It’s ridiculous to call me that after we’ve slept together,” she said, wishing she didn’t feel as uptight about that fact as she did. She was a therapist, for heaven’s sake. She was supposed to understand human nature.
“Ah. I get it now.”
She wished she did.
He gave the now-clean floor a last buff with the towel and stood. “We didn’t. Sleep together. Have sex. Whatever you’re thinking that’s got your panties in a twist.” He left the bottle and towel on the table, tugged the trash bag out of her hand and headed for the uncleared tables. “Not that I didn’t have that in mind when we left here that night.”
Her face was hot. She knew she ought to tell him to stop cleaning up. She’d hosted the party and cleaning up afterward was her responsibility. “I woke up in your bed!”
“Yep.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “That’s where I put you after you passed out. I spent a very uncomfortable night on a couch that’s too damn short.”
She pulled out a chair and sat. There was no real reason for her knees to feel weak, but they did. “But I thought we—”
“Nope.” He gave her a longer look. “Believe me, sweetheart. I’d remember if we had. Call me conceited, but I’d like to think you would, too.”
A shiver slid down her spine. “But when I woke up that morning, I wasn’t dressed.”
He came back to her and placed the half-full bag on the center of the table in front of her. “Unless you managed to strip yourself off while you were dead to the world, you still had on your undies when I put you to bed. I’m sure you weren’t naked when you decided to bolt at 4 a.m. either.”
Considering how hot her cheeks felt, she probably resembled a summer tomato. And she had been wearing her bra and panties when she’d crawled out of his bed. “I didn’t bolt.”
He deftly twisted the ends of the bag into a knot. “That’s what it looked like to me.”
“I didn’t even know you were there.”
His lips twisted. “Yeah, I got that loud and clear when you nearly face-planted on my living room rug in the middle of me kissing you.”
“I meant when I left.”
“Bolted.”
She ignored that. “You weren’t in bed with me. You weren’t anywhere in your apartment at all.” She lifted her shoulder as if it was of no consequence. As if his absence that morning hadn’t heavily factored into her many reasons for regretting her behavior that night. “I figured you’d left.”
“I was sitting on the patio.”
She studied him for a moment. “My recall of that night is admittedly limited. But I certainly haven’t forgotten that it was the beginning of January. There was at least a foot of snow on the ground. The average high that time of year is below 30 degrees. And you want me to believe you were out on your patio. At four in the morning.”
“It happe
ns to be the truth. But if you don’t want to believe me, you can always talk to my neighbor, Mrs. Carson. Old woman’s always looking out her windows watching what’s going on.” He shrugged. “I was awake. I wanted a cigarette. I was outside. Sitting in a chair, freezing my ass off, smoking said cigarette, when what to my wondering eyes did appear but one doctor skidding her sweet way across the icy parking lot below me like the hounds of hell were on her heels.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Convenient to have a friend in the sheriff’s department. After I saw you make a call on your cell phone, it took less than three minutes for that cruiser to arrive.” His lips kicked up in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You stood under the streetlight, stomping your feet to keep warm, but you kept stealing looks back at the apartment building and shaking your head. Face it, Dr. Templeton. You bolted. And ever since then, you’ve avoided me. I haven’t even seen you running in the park lately.”
She flinched. His description of that night—that morning—was too detailed. Too accurate. “I told you already. I was embarrassed.” She lifted her hand quickly when he began to smile again. “Not because you’re a security guard at Cee-Vid.”
His expression didn’t change. “Say whatever it is that helps you sleep at night.”
Irritation was building inside her. “I’d make a pretty poor therapist if I judged people by their career choices.”
“I didn’t take you home that night because I wanted to have my head examined. And that’s not why you went with me, either.” He planted his hands on the top of the table and leaned closer. His blue eyes were laser-sharp and uncomfortably shrewd. “You were drunk. We both wanted to get laid. Whether it worked out or not is beside the point. I would still be the guy you want to pretend you never went home with.”
“I think you’re the one with issues about a person’s career.” Sitting while he stood was unnerving, so she rose, lifting the trash bag by the knot and carrying it over to the door. She would drop it in the bin out back when she locked up and left. “Have you considered talking to someone about that?”
One Night in Weaver... Page 3
