by Karen Cimms
Chapter Ten
I heard nothing from Preston for three weeks. But instead of listening to my mother or Diane remind me that they had warned me, I pretended I was fine. I even agreed to a blind date Diane set up with a guy she worked with.
What a nightmare.
The guy was cute. And he seemed nice. Funny too. But when he took me to a club where a bunch of his friends were hanging out, I began to feel like I was some sort of conquest. When I overheard him ask a buddy if he thought I could pass for one of the Victoria’s Secret models, I knew he was only interested in me because he wanted to make his friends jealous.
Maybe I should’ve been flattered, but I didn’t want anyone that needy.
When word spread through Blondie’s that I was unattached (as if I hadn’t been the only one actually attached in that relationship), one of the staties brought his brother around to meet me. He was a state trooper too and just about as sweet a guy as I’d ever met—maybe a little too sweet, especially after he rushed home the night we met to get his accordion.
After Irena locked up, about a half dozen troopers remained, including Brian, who led me into the back room to play for me. He was puppy-dog adorable and a great catch, but I just didn’t see how it could work. First of all, I hated the accordion, and I struggled not to laugh at his earnest playing, especially when I could hear his buddies cackling in the bar.
But he was so sweet that when he asked me out, I agreed. He took me to dinner the following week at a very nice restaurant, where he was attentive and well-behaved—a real gentleman. At the end of the night, he gave me a sweet, chaste kiss. Although I didn’t feel any kind of spark or chemistry with him, I agreed to go out with him again the following week for dinner and a movie. He was a nice guy.
And nice guys didn’t cheat or lie about their supposed ex-girlfriends.
I was living my life backward. I already had a kid, and now I was working my way back to the type of dating everyone else did back in high school while I was drinking and screwing around.
Late Thursday, after his shift, Brian came in with his brother and some of the other troopers. He wasn’t much of a drinker, and I wondered how much time he spent practicing that awful accordion.
I was a little self-conscious about how I was dressed, but he seemed unfazed. I was wearing low-slung, skintight leggings and a crop top that showed off my new belly button piercing. Brian just smiled whenever I looked his way, nursed his beer, and took turns at the pool table in the back with his buddies.
It was a little after eleven when Preston walked in. I ignored him, wishing my heart would do the same, and dipped into the kitchen under the guise of getting ice. Let Lynette, the new bartender, or Irena wait on him. Better yet, let him take the hint and just turn around and go.
I was still in the kitchen ten minutes later when he came in after me.
“You can’t be in here,” I said, forcing the words out.
“I don’t care. I had to see you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. You need to go.”
“Please, Rain.” He reached for me, but I stepped back. Unfortunately, I was right up against the walk-in freezer with no place to go. He grabbed me about the waist and pulled me to him. I pushed against his chest, but he wouldn’t budge.
“Please don’t.” I begged. “You made your choice. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”
He ignored me and alternated between kissing my neck and whispering in my ear. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so unhappy without you.” He planted desperate kisses on my neck. “Don’t push me away.”
I wanted to put my arms around him and scratch his eyes out at the same time. And I hated myself for it.
“I love you, Rain, you know that. I need you.”
I hated how much I wanted to hear those words, how badly I needed to hear him say them to me. And I hated how my arms slipped so easily around his neck.
I’d become nothing more than a marionette, and he held the strings. I wanted to ask if he was still with Suzanne, but what would it matter? Even if he said he wasn’t, who knew what tomorrow or next week would bring?
So I didn’t say anything. I just let him kiss me.
The kitchen door swung open, and Brian stood in the doorway. His eyes traveled from me to Preston and back again. When our eyes connected, it felt like he’d already begun to hate me.
“I assume tomorrow’s off.”
I pulled away, although Preston kept one arm around my waist. I pushed on his hand, but he held firm.
“Brian, I’m sorry. I—”
He held up his hand to silence me. “Forget it, Rain.” The door swung closed behind him.
I jerked away from Preston and followed Brian back into the bar. He and the other troopers were already settling up with Lynette. He headed for the parking lot as soon as he saw me, and each of his buddies gave me a long, hard stare before they left.
I didn’t need to be psychic to know there was a big fat traffic ticket in my future.
I spun on my heels. “Why are you here?”
“I told you. I missed you.” Preston actually had the nerve to look shocked that I was questioning him. “And I also had news. Good news.”
I narrowed my eyes. I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say.
“Not interested.” I pushed past him and scooted back behind the bar. He wouldn’t dare follow me. Irena would skin him alive.
That didn’t stop him from following me along the outside. When he went one way, I went the other. I began to feel like a duck in one of those arcade games on the boardwalk in Seaside Heights.
“Will you stay still?” he shouted “I’m trying to talk to you.”
I couldn’t decide if I was angrier at him or myself. Since I preferred it to be him, I crossed my arms in front of me and glared at him.
“Talk. You have ten seconds.”
“A few weeks ago I nominated you for one of the most beautiful bartenders in New Jersey, and you won.”
He’d lost his damn mind. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s a calendar to raise money for kids with cancer. I sent them a few pictures of you. Once they got a look at your photos, they sent someone here to see you in person. I got an email tonight saying you were chosen to be Miss February.”
I wasn’t sure what to say or even what to think. Turned out, at that moment, it didn’t matter.
“Go!” Irena yelled, her eyes magnified to twice their normal size behind the thick lenses of her glasses. “You go!”
At first I wasn’t sure if she meant Preston, me, or the both of us. But when she took my arm and propelled me toward the door, I knew she meant business. Irena measured everything in dollars, and I’d probably just cost her at least a hundred bucks when the state troopers walked out.
I stormed into the kitchen, grabbed my things, and pushed past Preston and out to my car. I unlocked the door and got in, while he slid in on the other side.
“Talk to me.”
“No!” I cried. “You do the talking. I don’t have anything to say.”
He talked. But everything he said, I’d heard before. He and Suzanne had been dating since high school. Their families had always been close. They belonged to the same club. Suzanne had become even closer to Preston’s mother since her own mother died, and not having a daughter of her own, Mrs. Jamison adored her. Everyone expected them to get married—everyone but Preston, or so he said.
“That last night I saw you, I stopped to visit my parents on the way home, and Suzanne was there. She was crying and telling my mother we’d broken up. Then I had the two of them ganging up on me . . .”
The expectant look on his face told me he seriously expected me to feel bad for him.
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t hold back on the sarcasm. “I’m pretty sure I saw a pair of balls hanging behind your dick.”
“C’mon, Rain,” he chided. “Don’t be so crude.”
I snorted. He had no problem with me serving boob shots
for bigger tips or apparently nominating me to pose half naked for a calendar—but he drew the line at being crude.
“Get out of my car.” He didn’t move, so I said it again. Louder. “Get out! Now!” When the bastard still didn’t budge, I grabbed my purse and jumped out, slamming the door so hard, I was surprised my three hubcaps didn’t fall off.
“It’s six miles home, Rain,” he yelled after me. “Are you seriously planning to walk?”
There was only one answer to that. I just hoped it wasn’t too dark for him to see the one-finger salute I gave him.
I walked for about five minutes, before Preston pulled up alongside me in his Corvette.
“Get in.”
I kept walking.
“Just get in, and I’ll bring you back to your car and leave you alone.”
I kept walking.
“I promise.”
I turned, opened the door, and dropped down into the seat, staring straight ahead. As soon as he took a breath to speak again, I opened the door to get out.
“Fine. I’ll take you back to your fucking car.”
I wanted to remind him that he had no right to be angry, but I didn’t want to open the door to any type of conversation. As he slowed down next to my car, I jumped out and was in my car with both doors locked before he could park. I nearly hit him as he climbed out of the Corvette, but I finished backing out and headed for home.
As I suspected, he wasn’t far behind, and by the time I stepped out of my car behind the luncheonette, he was already waiting for me.
“You don’t listen very well, do you?” I snarled.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice thick. “I love you. Why don’t you believe me?” He grabbed hold of me and held me tight against him. He smelled of sandalwood and citrus and a scent that was singularly his own.
“I can’t believe you, because you’re in love with someone else.”
“I’m not. And you know it won’t last.”
“It has lasted, Preston. Since high school. You said it yourself.” I tried pulling away.
“I’ll break up with her—I will. It’s just complicated.”
This was ridiculous, and I was an idiot for listening. Now it was his turn.
“Do you expect me to live my life in the shadows for you? To never be seen in public together? To go to every party and wedding I’m invited to alone, because you don’t want to risk someone seeing us together?”
“Of course not.”
“Then when you’ve got it all figured out, you let me know. Now step aside and let me pass. I don’t want to do this anymore. I hurt a really nice guy tonight because of you, and that makes me feel like crap. That’s not me. I’m not even sure who I am anymore, thanks to you.”
“Please let me come in.”
“Just go.”
I pulled away, and this time he let me. When I looked out the apartment window a few minutes later, his car was still there but I didn’t see him. Not long after I turned off the porch light, the engine of the Vette fired up, and he squealed out of the parking lot.
I sent my mother a text and told her I’d pick Izzy up in the morning. Then I poured myself a glass of wine and took a long, hot bath. I plugged my phone in to charge before I went to sleep and discovered a message.
Preston: You know you’re the only one for me.
My fingers flew over the keys.
Me: I’m not the one you need to be telling that to then.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning there was another delivery of red roses. I held my breath, ready for the worst, although I’d already done that.
Preston: It’s over. You’re all mine. Big dinner tonight. Pick you up at seven. Dress up.
Although it wasn’t lost on me that he had written “you’re all mine” rather than “I’m all yours,” I was cautiously optimistic.
My mother, much less so. She even threatened to refuse to babysit, but when I told her I’d call a neighborhood teenager, she caved. No one was good enough to watch her granddaughter. There were times I was sure that included me.
Other than Jeff’s senior prom and Diane’s wedding, I’d never been somewhere that I had to really dress up. I owned nothing fancier than my bridesmaid’s dress. Most of my clothing allowance, such as it was, I spent on skimpy outfits for the bar. At the luncheonette, I wore T-shirts and jeans. I deserved a splurge on something special, and it had to be a knock-your-socks-off kind of outfit.
As soon as the lunch rush ebbed, I zipped off to the mall, where I found the sexiest, barely-there cocktail dress on sale at Victoria’s Secret. Once Preston got a look at me, he wouldn’t even remember Suzanne’s name.
When Preston arrived to pick me up later, I met him at the door already wearing the long wool coat I’d borrowed from my mother. Why not build a little suspense? There was nothing wrong with making him wait until we got to the restaurant to see what I was wearing. I thought I was playing it cool. But when we pulled into the gates of the Bernardsville Country Club, I had a hard time finding my words. Preston’s BMW followed the curve of the long, winding road until an enormous white brick building flooded with about a million lights came into view.
“Your club?” I started to panic. “Why didn’t you tell me this is where we were going?” I tugged on the sleeves of my coat. “I’m not sure I’m dressed properly.”
“Nonsense,” he said, leaning over and kissing me. “You look beautiful.”
My door opened just as he stepped out on his side.
“Preston,” I called after him, but the door slammed shut.
The valet held out his hand. I took it against my better judgment and let him help me onto the sidewalk.
“I thought we were going to a restaurant,” I whispered as Preston escorted me up the steps.
Most of the women I could see ahead of me were wearing gowns, although some wore cocktail-length dresses under their fur coats.
I gripped his sleeve. “I mean it. I think you should take me home. You can come back.”
“Don’t be silly. I can’t wait to show you off.”
That was what I was afraid of. I clung to him tightly as we walked into the stately mansion. The lobby was the grandest room I’d ever seen. Large squares of black and white marble covered the floor. The ceiling soared to an impressive, multicolored dome. Two curving staircases covered in plush red carpet led to the second floor. Straight ahead was a ballroom where elegant couples mingled, conversing softly.
Preston slipped off his overcoat and handed it to the woman in the coat room. I nearly choked when I saw he was wearing a tuxedo.
“Preston, really, I think this is a mistake.”
“Give me your coat.”
I shook my head. “I’m cold. I’ll keep it on.”
He lowered his voice. “Rain. People are beginning to stare.” He smiled at the two couples waiting behind us, then returned his focus to me. “Give me your coat, please.”
I took a deep breath and slowly unbuttoned the long black wool coat.
“Oh my,” someone said from somewhere behind me.
I smiled up at Preston and shrugged.
He looked a bit shocked but to his credit, he recovered quickly.
“You should have told me we were going to your club.”
The dress I had found on the clearance rack was barely suitable for a restaurant and probably more appropriate for a rave. It was dark brown with a deep V-neck that displayed more cleavage than this club had probably ever seen before. The halter style showed off the constellation tattooed on my left shoulder. Since I was wearing five-inch heels, I was taller than Preston, something I’m sure he wasn’t too happy about. My skirt was quite short and I wasn’t wearing pantyhose. Thank god I’d had enough sense to wear panties.
“Wow,” he said.
I grabbed the sleeve of his tuxedo. “If you want to take me home, I understand.”
“No way.” With his hand against the small of my back, he moved me across the foyer and towa
rd the bar. “Besides, I need a drink.”
I couldn’t have attracted any more attention if I’d been completely naked, which was exactly how most of the men were looking at me. Preston introduced me to several people. Friends I assumed, although all of the couples at our table, he explained, were clients. Fortunately, the men launched into a discussion about some building Preston was designing for them, so I wasn’t forced to make small talk with their wives or girlfriends. Chances were pretty good we had nothing in common anyway.
Several waiters appeared, setting the first course in front of all eight of us at the table in unison. I was impressed until I realized that whatever sat in the middle of my plate had tentacles. I didn’t consider myself a fussy eater, but there was no way in hell I was eating that.
Preston lifted his knife and fork and was about to cut into what he’d been served, when he noticed I hadn’t moved. “What’s wrong?”
I leaned closer so that I could speak without anyone else hearing me. “This looks like a baby octopus.”
He snickered. “Yep. Pretty sure it is. Don’t you like octopus?”
“Um, no.”
“Would you like to switch?”
“Do you like octopus?”
“I could take it or leave it, but if you won’t eat it, I’ll trade with you.”
I couldn’t imagine “taking or leaving” octopus. I wish the waiter would come back, take mine, and leave with it.
“What did you get?”
Preston poked at the food on his plate. “I believe this is the smoked salmon with sturgeon and trout roe served on a potato pancake and topped with crème fraîche.”
“Isn’t roe fish eggs?” I whispered.
“Yes,” he whispered back.
“No thanks.”
“Should I call the waiter over and get you something else?”
And draw more attention to myself? “No. I’m fine. I’ll just skip this course.”
He kept insisting on flagging down the waiter, but I insisted that he not. He eventually settled in and ate his fish eggs.
