The BFF Bride

by ALLISON LEIGH,

  The howling puppy Justin had been trying to contain had received a better welcome. Jaimie had grabbed Beastie and disappeared upstairs with her, crooning softly.

  Gloria had intervened on Justin’s behalf, though, ushering him personally down to the basement and one of the guest rooms there.

  “Vivian didn’t do a thing,” his grandmother went on, taking the seat next to Justin.

  “How do you know?” Squire demanded testily. “You weren’t there.”

  “Only because I didn’t want you to work yourself into a heart attack if I went,” she countered mildly. “I’ve gotten enough accounts from everyone to feel like I was. Get off your high horse, dear. This isn’t about Vivian. It’s about Justin.”

  “And Tabby.” His grandfather’s gaze pierced through him. “I’ve always had a soft spot for that little filly. What the hell did you do to her?”

  Justin pushed aside his untouched plate. He didn’t even want to have breakfast with himself. Was it any wonder Matt and Jaimie had avoided him, too? Not even Beastie had found her way to his lap.

  “Squire,” Gloria chided softly. “Barking won’t solve anything.” She covered Justin’s clenched fist with her cool palm. “I’m sure everything will work out.”

  “Yeah,” Justin muttered. “Once I haul my ass back to Boston. Sorry, Grandma.”

  She looked vaguely amused. “I’ve certainly heard worse. And from all accounts, you behaved like an ass last night. Fortunately, I have plenty of practice loving people who do that.” She slid her gaze to her husband as she squeezed Justin’s fist with one hand and moved the plate back in front of him with her other. “But not eating won’t help, either.”

  “Only you have the gift of making me feel chastised and cherished all at the same time.”

  Squire thumped the end of his walking stick against the wood floor. “That’s why I married her, boy.” He grinned at his own humor and actually winked at Gloria.

  Justin scrubbed his hands down his face. “None of this would’ve happened if she’d have just come to Boston with me,” he muttered. He dropped his hands and stabbed his fork into the waffle, then realized that his grandparents were staring at him.

  Gloria leaned toward him. “You asked Tabby to go to Boston?”

  He set down the fork again. “For all the good it did. She turned me down. Flat. Cares more about the diner and Weaver than she does anything else.” He caught the look the two of them exchanged. “She was pretty clear,” he said in self-defense.

  “But she quit managing the diner.” Gloria sat back. “In front of close to fifty people, it sounds like.”

  “She doesn’t mean it.”

  Neither Gloria nor Squire looked convinced.

  “She doesn’t.” Justin’s tone was confident, but only because it stemmed from something that felt uncomfortably like desperation churning inside him. “Tomorrow morning comes around, she’ll be serving up those cinnamon rolls of hers at Ruby’s just like usual.”

  * * *

  She wasn’t.

  The diner did open.

  Bubba had seen to that, according to Erik, who came by the hospital Monday afternoon to lay into Justin again about the whole thing.

  But Tabby had never shown. Bubba had assured Erik that she wasn’t going to, either, and had grimly produced the keys to the restaurant that Tabby’s brother had dropped off.

  “What the hell went on between you, anyway?” Justin’s brother filled the doorway of the office he was using.

  He shut the laptop and the damned report he was trying and failing to write. “Nothing that’s anyone else’s business.”

  Erik gave him a look. “This is Weaver. You don’t want other people in your business, you shouldn’t be having scenes like you did the other night at that party.”

  “Did you come here to offer any helpful advice or just to bust my chops some more?”

  His brother’s expression darkened. “Dammit, Justin. This isn’t a joke.”

  He stood so fast that the rolling stool he’d been using bounced off the wall and tipped onto its side. “You think I don’t know that?” He got into his brother’s face, staring him straight in the eye. “This is my life, Erik. When have you ever known me not to take that pretty freaking seriously?”

  They were the same height, but his brother outweighed him by a good thirty pounds. Erik had always been patient. Peaceful. It was Justin who’d been an instigator, always trying to take down his older, brawnier brother. There’d been few times in their childhood when Erik hadn’t been able to flatten Justin just from his sheer strength. Until Justin had gotten smarter. Wilier. Used his brains against his brother’s brawn. Stopped trying to measure up in an area where he never could and started focusing on his own strengths. His own dreams.

  Tabby had been the one to help him realize that.

  His anger oozed out of him.

  What was left was weariness.

  He turned away from Erik, righted the stool and sat down on it. “She hates me.”

  Erik glanced behind him at the hospital lab, then stepped into the office and closed the door. There wasn’t another seat, and he leaned back against the door, folding his arms over his chest and the visitor ID tag he was wearing. “Despite the somewhat overwhelming evidence, I kind of doubt it.”

  “I never should’ve slept with her.”

  Erik’s eyes sharpened. “So that’s it.” Then he smiled faintly and shook his head. “I always wondered. The two of you were as close as Frick and Frack when we were kids. Even when you left for college and took up with Nosebleed. So what’s the problem?”

  “She won’t come to Boston.”

  Erik’s eyebrows shot up. “You asked Tabby to marry you?”

  “What? No!” Justin shoved off the stool again. The office was suddenly too claustrophobic with the door closed, but he didn’t want to open it and chance even more people overhearing his business.

  “Well, what did you say?”

  “I asked her to come! I got a ‘thanks, but no thanks’ in return.”

  Erik rubbed his hand over his face, looking as though he was trying not to laugh.

  It annoyed Justin as much now as it had when they were kids. “Glad I’m entertaining you, bro.”

  Erik dropped his hand. “For a guy who runs circles around me in the brains department, you are an idiot.”

  “Once again. Helpful.”

  “Jesus, Justin. This isn’t rocket science or the cure to cancer. Are you in love with Tabby or not?”

  “What good does it do me if I am?”

  His brother’s eyes were laughing. “You’ve got fifty square feet in here, genius. Don’t need to yell.”

  “I should’ve poisoned you with my chemistry set when we were kids.”

  “I’d have seen you coming and just dumped you in the water trough.” Erik shook his head again and wrapped his arm around Justin’s neck in a hug disguised as a choke hold. “You’re a damn idiot, but you’re my brother and I love you. So I’m gonna help you even though I came here to kick your butt.”

  He released the choke hold and pushed Justin toward the stool. “When you asked Tabby—and when I say asked, I’m playing fast and loose with the term—did you happen to mention the way you feel about her? I might not have a bunch of university diplomas on my walls, but I have learned a thing or two about women. And one is that you have to say the words!”

  The spot between Justin’s shoulder blades itched. “Tabby knows me better than anybody.”

  “Really?” Erik leaned back against the door again. “And I’ll bet you think you know her just as well.” He spread his arms. “How’s that working out for you?”

  Justin pushed open his laptop again. “I’ll get her back to the diner.”

  Erik swore. “If you think this is
about the diner, you are even more dimwitted than I thought. And maybe you do deserve Nosebleed.” He yanked open the office door. “Fix it, Justin. Not for me. Not for Mom and Dad. Fix it for you. And for her.” Then he stepped out of the office and slammed the door.

  * * *

  “Tabby.” Jolie followed her from the bedroom back out to the living room. She’d shown up as soon as she heard Evan had dropped off Tabby’s keys with Bubba. “I know you’re upset. But that diner means everything to you. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider quitting?”

  Tabby set the cellophane tape she’d just retrieved on the coffee table and sat down on the floor. The only Christmas gifts she’d managed to get so far were for her nieces and nephew. At least she’d bought them before she’d quit her job. “I’m sure.” She unrolled the wrapping paper.

  Her mom sat on the couch beside her, setting her hand on Tabby’s shoulder. “Honey.”

  Tabby blinked away the moisture that glazed her vision. “I’m fine.”

  Jolie sighed and moved her hand away. “I should have seen what was going on between you and Justin.”

  “Why?” She sniffed and tore off a piece of tape, securing the festive red-and-green paper in place. “Not even Justin can see it.” She snapped off another piece. “Of course he’s an impossible male,” she added darkly.

  “They all are at one time or another,” Jolie replied. “Even your father. It’s in their genetic code, I think. Just as being an impossible female at one time or another is in ours.”

  Tabby’s lips twisted. “Fair-minded as always.”

  “Have you, ah, spoken with him since—”

  “Nope. No reason to. We’ve said more than enough.”

  “Hope told me he’s staying at the Double-C.”

  Her hands faltered for a moment. “Good place for Beastie,” she said. And Justin had always had a soft spot for his grandmother. And Gloria for him.

  Tabby folded the ends of the paper, taped them down and finally pushed aside the wrapped box. “I’m not going to stay at your house on Christmas Eve this year. I’ll, uh, I’ll come over on Christmas Day instead.”

  “I’m not losing your company on Christmas Eve because you’re afraid of running into Justin.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she muttered. “But I embarrassed myself in front of everyone at Vivian Templeton’s party. I’d rather just—”

  “Hide.”

  She wasn’t going to deny it. “If that’s how you want to put it.”

  “You’re my daughter. If it’s a choice between you and the Clays—”

  “Don’t.” She pushed off the floor and paced around the couch. “You and Hope are like sisters. You’re not going to change a tradition I’ve known my entire life because of this. That’s exactly what I wanted to avoid!”

  Her mom sighed. “Well. Christmas Eve is still five days away. We’ll figure it out.”

  Jolie could do all the figuring she wanted. But it wouldn’t change Tabby’s mind.

  “I’m just glad you’ve got income coming in from your paintings. But if you need money—”

  “I’m not going to ask you for money,” Tabby cut her off before she could go any further. “I’m an adult. I have savings. And I’ll find another job.” She pushed her fingers into her pockets so her mom couldn’t see them shaking. “In fact, I have enough savings that maybe I should just open my own restaurant! It would have to be smaller than Ruby’s. But with the right space, the right staff?”

  Instead of looking comforted, her mother just seemed even more alarmed. “Opening a restaurant is a huge undertaking.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe it’s time I did something huge.” Besides sleeping with Justin or causing a scene in front of darn near the entire Clay family.

  Jolie glanced at her watch and pushed off the couch. “I don’t want to go, but I’m doing a fitting with the mayor’s wife. She’s throwing a New Year’s Eve party for the town council.” She caught Tabby’s shoulders and gave her a steady look. “Don’t do anything rash.”

  “Anything more rash than I already have, you mean?”

  “Yes.” She kissed Tabby’s cheek. “Call me if you need me.”

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “Mmm.” She tucked her finger under Tabby’s chin. “I remember what it feels like when your heart is breaking. So you call your mother if you need her.”

  Tabby’s eyes flooded, and she caught her mom in a fast, tight hug. “I’ll always need you,” she promised thickly. Then she let her go and sniffed hard. “Now go on for your appointment before we start bawling.”

  “Tell me what you’re doing for the rest of the day.”

  “I’m not going to throw myself off a cliff, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She gestured at the toys sitting on her coffee table. “I still have to finish wrapping these. And I never got around to putting up a Christmas tree here.” Her throat tightened again. She hadn’t needed to, because she’d already put up the tree at Ruby’s. “There’s a tree lot in Braden. I might drive over and get one.”

  “For heaven’s sake. We always cut ours fresh from behind—”

  “Rebecca and Sawyer’s house.” She shrugged. “I’d just rather buy one.” She wished she hadn’t even brought up the subject, which she’d only done in order to emphasize just how fine she supposedly was. “We’ll see.”

  “If you’re going to go, don’t go too late. They’re calling for a winter storm by tonight.” Jolie looked at her watch again and muttered a soft oath.

  Tabby opened the door and nudged her mom through the doorway, getting a gust of icy-cold wind in exchange. “Go. I am—ugh. I will be fine.” She’d been getting over Justin for years now. She ought to be used to the process by now.

  She waited until her mother reached her SUV parked on the street before she closed the door and leaned back against it.

  Who was she kidding?

  She was never going to be used to anything when it came to Justin.

  She sat back down at her coffee table and finished wrapping the presents, only to realize she was missing one for Hannah. The custom storybook was still in her locker at Ruby’s.

  Swearing under her breath, she looked at the clock. If she hurried, she could get to the diner before it closed up for the day.

  She grabbed her coat and keys and headed out. Once she was done there, she’d keep driving on to Braden.

  Get that Christmas tree.

  She’d be back before dark, and tonight, anyone driving by her place would see a festively lit Christmas tree through her front window.

  She was going to act like everything was fine, even if it killed her.

  * * *

  When he started out that morning, Justin had intended on finishing at least the first rough draft of his paper before calling it quits for the day. Getting raked over the coals by Erik had been only one of his interruptions. But even if he’d had none at all, he still wouldn’t have gotten anything more accomplished than the few pages of crap he’d managed to eke out.

  The hospital had been issuing announcements all day about the coming storm. Nonessential personnel were sent home. Medical teams were put on alert.

  After hearing the same announcement for about the tenth time and staring at the same nonsensical paragraph in his paper for just as long, he finally packed it in. He shoved his materials into his messenger bag, locked up the office and signed out of the lab.

  Outside, the weather had turned to crap. The sky couldn’t seem to decide if it wanted to spit out ice or rain or snow. It wasn’t dark yet, but it might as well have been with the solid sky and miserable visibility.

  He flipped up his collar and bent his head against the driving cold as he ran across the lot to his truck. He saw at least a half dozen other people doing the same thing and hoped they didn’t
have far to drive.

  He cranked the engine and mentally blessed his uncle Matt, whose attention to everything on the Double-C—equipment, vehicles, stock—was as reliable as always. The cold engine started without a hitch. He let it run for several minutes until the heater kicked in. By the time it did, he was shivering from the cold.

  “Couldn’t wait until I go back to Boston to throw down the weather, I guess,” he said to the universe at large and finally put the truck in gear. He didn’t even realize he was heading toward the triplex until he turned the corner of Tabby’s street, and he cursed his distraction. He noticed her gunboat of a car wasn’t parked in the driveway when he used it to turn around and reverse course.

  His tires slid as he turned the corner again, and he swore once more. Getting out to the Double-C in this frozen soup wasn’t going to be a picnic. Trying at this point wasn’t particularly anything he wanted to do, either.

  Waiting out the storm somewhere was an option. Except the weather report said they were in for hours of it. Sleeping in his own bed at the triplex was out, but some of his cousins had places in town. The entire family was pissed with him, but not everyone would turn him out in a storm like this.

  And if they did, he’d rent a bloody room at the Cozy Motel if he had to.

  There were only a few other cars on Main Street as he stopped in front of Ruby’s and pulled out his cell phone. He wasn’t surprised that the service was out. The lights were still on in the diner, though. Leaving his truck running so he wouldn’t lose the heat, he darted across the sidewalk to pull on the glass door. It was locked, and he banged his hand on it hard enough to raise the attention of Bubba back in the kitchen.

  Only it wasn’t Bubba who appeared and quickly crossed the diner to let him in. It was that one waitress whose name he kept forgetting. “Hey,” he greeted, glancing at her name tag. “Paulette. Just need to use the phone.” He started toward the counter and the kitchen door. “Weather’s getting really bad. Do you have far to go to get home?”

  “No.” She shook her head, following on his heels. “I’m just over by the community church. Uh—”