First Date - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 01]

by Karen Kendall

  She'd been busy lately, meddling in other people's lives. Perhaps it was time to get back to her own. To tell Marv once and for all that he could do his home book-cooking on his own. He could rave and holler about ingratitude to his heart's content: She did not owe him a guilty conscience, a criminal record or jail time for her stint at boarding school or her college education.

  Speaking of a guilty conscience, though she had to do something about the damn engagement ring. After the talk they'd had, she couldn't just drop the bomb on Julia. And hadn't she said she didn't care about the ring? That she'd marry Roman even if he was a crook?

  She had. So why tell her? What was the point?

  Because she should know what a creep he is.

  What if it doesn't bother her that he's a creep?

  It bothers ME.

  Aha. But you are embracing a new philosophy of Butting Out. Isn't that right?

  Yes but I still can't let him get away with it. I have to confront him. I just have to .

  The telephone rang beside her, making her jump. "Hello?"

  "Miss Sydney, you have a delivery here," said Hector's voice. "You want me to bring it up to you?"

  A delivery ? "No, that's okay, Hector. I'll come down. Thank you."

  She padded downstairs in her bare feet, not wishing to put on her emu crap-encrusted sling-backs, her hiking boots, or Kiki's again.

  Her bare feet were apropos for the occasion: On the registration counter sat a pair of beautiful, hand-tooled Western boots full of Indian paintbrush and bluebonnets.

  "It's illegal to pick those," Hector informed her as she gaped.

  "What?"

  "Bluebonnets are the Texas state flower. You ain't allowed to pick 'em."

  "These are for me?"

  "Yep. There's a card, too. I tried real hard, but I couldn't see the signature through the envelope."

  They had to be from Alex. She opened the card, being careful to step away from Hector's prying eyes.

  Dear Jersey,

  I thought you might want a pair of your own cowboy boots, since you're now an expert two-stepper. I had a great time last night, Gorgeous. Sorry I was so gruff this morning. Love, Alex.

  She felt tears well up in her eyes for the second time that day. The boots were polished, chestnut brown hide with a deep burgundy inlay over the shank. They had a medium heel and a sexy, pointed Texas toe. She would love them forever.

  He'd remembered her mortification over wearing his ex's boots. He'd called her Gorgeous. He'd sent her flowers and apologized.

  She'd fallen into deep, deep trouble when she'd met Alex Kimball. She'd fallen in love.

  A half hour later, she'd put the flowers in her room, the narrow twin vases side by side on Marv's cheap, mass-manufactured idea of a dresser. She'd slid her feet into the boots, spun around in them a couple of times, and had to stop herself from calling Alex to say thank you.

  Focus, Sydney. Focus on what you're going to say to that rat bastard Roman out at the vineyard . She needed to get it over with, and before he and Julia met for dinner and other indoor sports.

  She made her way out to her rental car, and had the sense to open both the driver's side door and the passenger side door, turn on the ignition and let it cool down a bit before she got inside. She was not going to show up at the vineyard in a pool of perspiration this time. Noit was her turn to make Roman sweat.

  You're a fake, just like your ring , she'd say. You are as twisted as one of your damn vines. I'm going to yank off your little twin grapes, you jerk .

  Yup. That pretty much summed up her message.

  You either tell her that ring is fake, or I will . She needed to add that, too.

  Sydney finally got the car cooled down enough to get inside without singeing her butt on the black vinyl seat and then melting. She took the roads she remembered Alex taking, and within about fifteen minutes she was pulling in to the Sonntag Winery. She parked the car, wiggled her toes in her new boots for courage, took a deep breath and headed inside.

  There was nobody there. The lights were on, the shelves were stocked, the stemware gleamed from the hanging rack behind the counter, but she saw no human being.

  Then she discerned the puff of cigar smoke coming from just beyond the little verandah, the one looking out over the vineyard. The door was ajar. Sydney stepped to it and pulled it open, her pulse kicking up as she mentally prepared for her standoff with her sister's fiance.

  Roman's laughter carried to the door. "Yeah. Oh, absolutely. Uh-huh. Listen, Alex, I can't thank you enough for distracting her and keeping her out of the way. She was sending Julia right over the edge, especially with that pregnancy thing"

  Sydney stood rooted to the spot, her heartbeat arrested. Please, God. I didn't just hear that, did I ?

  But she had.

  Listen, Alex, I can't thank you enough for distracting her He'd taken her out because Roman had asked him to! He'd been assigned to keep her out of the way. To insulate Julia.

  The breath she didn't know she'd been holding whooshed out of her, and she never wanted to take another. But her lungs disagreed and forced her to gasp for air.

  She turned on her heel and ran from the place, because if she didn't she would either throw up on Roman or break down in front of him, neither of which was acceptable.

  She reached the car and fumbled in her pocket for the keys, her whole body shaking. Then she had to fit the damn thing into the cheap compact's door and then into the ignition.

  The makeover. The skintight bondage jeans. The tiny top. The lack of underwear. All of that she had done for Alex. He must have found her oh, so amusing! All the smarmy, ingratiating compliments that she'd fallen for, hook, line and sinker. The way she'd kissed him back and let him touch heroh, God, the way she'd yanked on him to get him inside her. He must have been laughing his ass off.

  And he was probably sharing it all now with his best buddy, Roman Sonntag! How he'd sent the desperate, homely sister into orbit, calling his name.

  Sydney sat in the rental car, hyperventilating with rage at Alex and humiliation. Her palms sweated, but the rest of her body was ice cold in the sweltering heat, and she hadn't even turned on the ignition and AC.

  Little by little she got control over herself and evened out her breathing. Then she put the compact into drive and sped out of the winery's gates.

  The little piece of junk didn't want to go over seventy. Sydney didn't care. Pedal to the metal, she got it to ninety-two miles per hour, though the mechanical whine set her teeth on edge and the vibrations almost knocked her hands off the wheel.

  She was about two miles away from the Kimball house when the siren went off behind her and she saw red flashing lights. Too bad. She was not pulling over, not when she was this close to ripping Alex a new one.

  She ignored the trooper, even though she knew it was a crazy thing to do. The compact wouldn't go any faster, so she couldn't outrun him. He'd already clocked her at ninety-two, so she saw no reason to slow down. The ticket would be for the speed, not the duration of the speed.

  She clenched her teeth and continued to drive like a madwoman.

  Obviously frustrated, the trooper rolled down his window and stuck out a bullhorn. "Ma'am, please pull over to the shoulder and stop your vehicle."

  She kept driving. Her gaze honed in on the two square stone posts that marked the entrance to the Kimballs' drive, and she slowed down only enough to squeal through them.

  Gravel sprayed from the car's wheels and her teeth rattled in her head as she bumped down the road with the cop following her.

  "Pull over immediately, ma'am. That is an order!" he squawked through the bullhorn.

  Alex's tall figure appeared on the front steps, no doubt because of the noise, and she was only too happy to obey. She slammed on the brakes, almost causing the hapless lawman to rear-end her, and ripped the key from the ignition. Then she was out of the car and running at a startled Alex.

  "You bastard!" she spat. "You son of a" She stoppe
d as she saw Mrs. Kimball's head pop into the kitchen window. "You took me out as a favor to Roman Sonntag ? He asked you to distract me and keep me away from my own sister?"

  "Whoa!" Alex threw up his hands. "No, you have got this all wrong."

  The trooper came panting up behind her and grabbed at her arm. "Ma'am"

  She whirled on him. "I know I was speeding! You can give me five tickets, but you'll just have to wait until I am done with this man!"

  "Hello, Wesley," said Alex. "Nice to see you again."

  The trooper opened and closed his mouth. He looked from one to the other.

  "Wes-Man, why don't you go on into the house and get a glass of iced tea from Mama. Doesn't that sound good?"

  The uniform frowned. He cleared his throat, about to turn down the invitation in the name of duty.

  "She just made a nice peach pie, too. I bet she'll set you up with a slice," Alex said.

  The man's head came up like a gopher's, his expression yearning.

  "Go on. Let me talk to the lady."

  Wes pursed his lips and gave Sydney a severe look. But he was a pushover. He nodded sheepishly and headed for the front stoop.

  Alex turned back to Sydney as the door shut behind the cop. "Now, where were we? I'm a bastard?"

  "Yes!" But she sent an apologetic glance toward the kitchen window. Not double-paned. Not insulated. And she adored Mrs. K.

  She grabbed Alex unceremoniously by the collar and hauled him over a few feet and down to her level. Then she was able to tell him exactly what she thought of himpipe it right into his ear. His eyes widened and then he nodded.

  "Okay. I think I get the gist of that, thank you very much. But I did not take you out last night because Roman asked me to."

  "You lying sack ofyou did, too! I heard it out of his own mouth just minutes ago, and he was talking to you ."

  "Roman was concerned about Julia, so"

  "Oh, spare me! Roman's so devoted to my sister that he gave her a fake diamond! Three carats of glass, that's what's on her hand. Proof of his undying love."

  Alex's face reflected shock. "What? That can't be true. That ring was his grandmother's."

  "And youtalk about birds of a feather. You are just as low-down as he is. Did you screw me because

  Roman asked you to? Were you laughing inside the entire time? At my gullibility? Did you figure you were doing me a favor because with this noseoh, your favorite part of meI couldn't be getting much, anyway?"

  "No! Aw, Christ"

  She disregarded his horrified expression and poked him in the chest with her index finger. "And then, today, when you thought it over, you felt a little guilty. Maybe you took your favor to Roman too far. So you sent me a gift to salve your conscience!"

  She backed away from him, bent over, and tugged at one of the boots. The damn thing wouldn't come off. She stepped on the heel of it with the toe of the other and tugged, dislodging her foot by a centimeter or two.

  "Sydney. Sydney, listen to me. None of that is true. Roman did ask me to keep you away from Julia, because you were upsetting her, and he's protective. I don't know where this business about the ring comes from"

  "I tricked her! I said the damn thing was filthy and we had to have it cleaned. While we were at the jeweler's I asked them to look at it. So don't bother trying to cover for that jerk. And you've just admitted all I need to hear." She got her foot free of the boot and threw it at him.

  He dodged it. "No. That's not all you need to hear.

  I said Roman asked me initially to keep you a little busy. But I don't take my orders from Roman. I drove you out around the hill country that day as a favor to him. I took you to Gruene Hall because I wanted to."

  Sydney hopped around on the remaining boot, her sock-clad foot perched on the heel. It refused to budge.

  "And I damn sure didn't sleep with you as a favor to Roman," Alex said emphatically. "I slept with you because I was dying to. You don't have a clue how hot you looked last night, and you don't have any concept of how beautiful you are right now, even doing a credible imitation of an amphetamine-crazed flamingo."

  "Saveyourbreath, Kimball." Hop, hop. Fucking boot . "You think I'm going to believe anything that comes out of your mouth?"

  "You know what, Sydney?" He was starting to look steamed, not just shocked. "I don't care if you believe it. I'm no liar, and it's the truth."

  "Bullshit."

  "So quick to condemn."

  "Yeah, sue me."

  "Okay," Alex said. "Then let's look at this another way. If you hadn't flown down here like a bat out of South River and stuck your very pretty nose in where it didn't belong, then nobody would have seen it necessary to distract you!"

  "Ooohh!" Syd leaned on the boot heel and pulled at her foot with all her might. No dice. "I can't even respond to that, it's so pathetic."

  "Is it, Sydney? Think about it. You are a meddler. You came down here to stop your sister's marriage. Along the way, you tell me and Uncle Ted how to run our business. Then you start trying to make my family decisions. What gives you the right?"

  She wouldn't look at him.

  "I don't care what you think you've discovered about Julia's engagement ring. Roman loves her one hundred percent. With every fiber of his being. He loves her more than he loves himself." Alex stopped. He swallowed.

  "I've only ever seen that kind of love one other time in my life," he said quietly. "It's very rare." He jerked his thumb toward the house behind him. "My parents have that. I doubt I ever will. But Roman and Julia" He stopped. "Open your eyes, Sydney. Open your eyes and you'll see. You might even forgive Roman for the favor he asked of me. He won't let anybody hurt or upset the woman he loves."

  Sydney gave up on the boot and clapped once, twice, three times. "A beautiful speech."

  His jaw jerked in irritation.

  "You've got quite a way with words, Kimball. That should come in handy for you later. Because I'm retiring from the meddling business. I'm not going to tell my sister about the ringshe wouldn't believe me at first, and then it would devastate her. And I'm not going back out to the vineyard to tell Roman, either. Because if I see that rat bastard, I am all too likely to wrap my hands around his lying throat and cling there like a koala bear until he keels over dead.

  "Since you are the one trying to reform my evil, meddling ways, Kimball, you can tell Roman yourself. Tell him I know that ring is fake, that it's been examined by a gemologist, and that he'd better come clean with my sister or I will take the information straight to Thelma Lynn Grafton and we can see what's left of his name once it's been dragged through the mud."

  Alex just stared at her.

  "Do you think you can take care of that, Kimball? If you have a shred of fairness in you, then I bet you'll see you owe me that."

  Sydney turned on her single boot heel and awkwardly stumped back to her rental car. She got in and started the ignition, only to see the trooper come flying out of the house brandishing a fork at her.

  She rolled down the window. "Keep your shorts on, Deputy. Just send me the damn ticket, okay?"

  He began to bluster.

  "To Marv's Motor Inn on Orange Street."

  "I'll vouch for her," Alex ground out. "Go finish your pie, Wes. If she skips it, I'll pay."

  Sydney looked at him for a long moment, unsure of how she felt about that. She didn't want to owe him a shred of gratitude, much less money. She hated him.

  He folded his arms and stared right back at her.

  She rolled up the window and took off, a red-haired, one-booted rebel. Everything else in her life might suck at the moment, but she had to admit she relished her only experience of being an outlaw.

  Sydney kicked the pizza box out of her path and listened to Marv, foaming at the mouth from South River. She'd stuck her cell phone on the nightstand and put it on speaker, so his nasal, profanity-spattered squawking filled room 239.

  It was the crack of dawn, but Marv got up at five a.m. every day, and she'd wanted to get t
his conversation over with.

  Normally his rages gave her tension headaches and curdled her insides. But at the moment she was curiously detached and only caught every other word.

  " victim of a blue-haired bandit!" Marv screamed, followed by a couple of obscenities.

  Sydney sighed and opened the pizza box with her toe, grimacing at the congealed mess of dough, cheese and pepperoni inside. She'd eaten one bite of one piece in twenty-four hours. What a waste. She closed the box and focused instead on the dent in the mustard-colored wall she'd made with her lone cowboy boot, before she'd ordered the pizza.

  " poker chips up that broad's hemorrhoidal, saggy ass!" shrieked the cell phone.

  Ugh. Really, Marv. That's disgusting.

  Sydney had been forced to lie on the floor and hook the toe of the blasted boot under the bed frame in order to pull off Satan's Shit-Kicker.

  Then she'd scarred the wall with it, stomped on it and tossed it into the bathtub.

  She entertained herself with thoughts of schlepping the boot out to Uncle Ted's place and holding it under the backside of the biggest emu she could find. Then she'd break the window of Alex's truck, put it on the driver's seat and set it on fire.

  Mature? No. Satisfying? Yes. And so much more original than slashing his tires.

  " hunt her down and nail her fat carcass to the living room wall!" howled Marv.

  Sydney sighed. "Ma would not appreciate the addition to her decor and it really would clash with her scale-model Versailles dollhouse." Sydney imagined Betty Lou Fitch's stuffed head and shoulders presiding over the mantel, much as Lupe did at the Gristmill in Gruene, or the twelve-point buck at the Biergarten.

  How would Marv describe his big-game trophy? As a ten-point bitch?

  " another smart-ass word outta you, because this is all your fault!"

  "What?"

  "If you'd'a kept closer tabs on the books, this would'na happened"

  Her ears tingled and then began to burn. Sydney stalked to the phone, scooped it up and yelled, "Hold it right there, old man!"

  An unintelligible but furious nasal New Jersey roar blared from the phone.