She slowly shut the dishwasher door and dried her hands on a towel. “Did you decide the data was accurate at least?”
“It’s accurate.” He turned away from the window. “I think Mrs. Wachowski and Mr. Rowe are getting busy.”
She blinked. “I...what? He’s fifteen years younger than her!”
“Yeah, well.” His lips tilted in a smile. “The heart wants what it wants and all that.”
How well she knew it.
“You’re imagining things.”
“He just left her place wearing a pink flannel robe over his boxers.”
She clapped her hand over her eyes as if she could rid the image from her mind. “Oh, good grief. Don’t tell me that.”
Justin chuckled as he went down the hall. She thought he was going into her bedroom, but when she followed, she found him in her studio, looking through the paintings that she hadn’t yet decided were good enough to give to Bolieux.
“You sent off that blizzardy-looking one, didn’t you.”
“Yes.”
“I liked it.”
“So did I. I think it was one of my better efforts.” She didn’t want to think about the painting or the sentiment that had inspired it. But she did know she was going to do everything she could to get it back. “I’ll grab my coat and we can head out. If you’re ready.”
He straightened. “I am.”
Less than a half hour later, they were back at the diner. It was as quiet as it had been when they left it.
“I think I’m going to stay,” she said after Justin had successfully gotten into his truck and pulled out his bulging bag. “If I know you, you’ll be working on that stuff the rest of the day, anyway. I might as well be useful here. Get a jump on things for tomorrow.”
“Unquitting?”
She pressed her teeth together in a crooked smile. Apparently, she could no more stick to her resolution about Ruby’s than get over Justin. “So it would seem.”
“Good.” He kissed her thoroughly, then hitched the bag over his shoulder. “I’ll walk over to the hospital,” he told her. “Easier than driving on ice. Call me when you’re finished.”
She nodded and watched until he disappeared around the corner. Then she sighed a little and went back inside the diner. No matter what had occurred between her and Justin over the past twenty-four hours, they were still the same people they’d always been.
She turned on Bubba’s radio, found a station playing Christmas music without too much static and pulled on an apron.
She was crazy in love with a man who would probably never stay. Which meant there was only one thing to do.
Start another batch of dough. Same as she’d done day in and day out for years.
* * *
The lull lasted five days.
Five perfect days of Justin working at the hospital lab, and filling her nights with passion and laughter, and more than a few arguments when it came to the television remote control and whose turn it was to take Beastie out to do her business.
Five perfect days that came to a screeching halt the day before Christmas when Tabby got home from a quick run to Classic Charms only to find a painfully familiar blonde woman hanging around outside the triplex.
Even though the desire to keep driving was strong, Tabby pulled into the driveway and parked. She clipped Beastie’s leash on the puppy’s collar. “Come on, sweetie.” She slowly pushed open the car door and climbed out of the car.
The ice from the winter storm had all melted. So had most of the snow. After Beastie hopped down from the car, she trotted over to a corner of dead grass and squatted, staring up at Tabby for approval. “Good girl,” she murmured and pushed her car door closed.
She didn’t speak as Gillian headed toward her, the high heels of her tall black boots clicking on the sidewalk. She had on camel-colored pants tucked into her boots and a clinging ivory turtleneck beneath a long black leather coat that looked expensive as hell. She made Tabby, dressed in checked flannel and jeans, feel like a bumpkin.
“I remember you,” the other woman greeted. “You were at that quaint little diner when I came looking for my fiancé. It appeared to be out of business when I drove by there today.”
Tabby’s neck stiffened. “Not out of business at all,” she said. “Just closed for the holiday. What are you doing here, Gillian?”
Gillian pushed her blond hair behind her shoulder, looking pleased. “I guess Justin told you all about me.”
Bat-crap crazy, Tabby thought. She didn’t voice it.
“He’s working at the hospital.” He was finally making headway with his research paper and expected to finish it today. Then in the evening, they were heading to her parents’ place to spend Christmas Eve with their families.
But Gillian shook her head. “I’ve been to the hospital. He wasn’t there. They told me he’d left several hours ago.”
Tabby ignored the uneasy surprise that niggled at her belly. There could be a dozen reasons to explain Justin’s whereabouts. Just because he’d very specifically told her he’d be busy there the entire day was no cause for concern. “I can leave him a message if you like.”
Gillian rolled her eyes, dismissing the offer. “I’ll wait.” She smiled confidently. “He’ll want to see me. I came all this way, after all.” She gestured toward Mrs. Wachowski’s window. “The old woman told me you own the building.”
Tabby knew her neighbor was watching behind the twitching curtains. “Yes.”
“Perfect. You can let me into his apartment.”
“Is Justin expecting you?”
Gillian laughed lightly. “No. But he loves my little surprises. He’s going to be so glad I made it for Christmas Eve. We always spend that together, no matter what’s going on in our lives. It’s kind of our own special time. I’m sure you understand.” She held out her hand. “And I’ll take our dog. Nice of you to watch her for us while Justin’s busy. I hope he’s paying you for it.”
The niggling gained little claws that scratched from the inside. Justin hadn’t been home to Weaver for Christmas in years. Before Tabby’s imagination could start running riot, she handed over Beastie’s leash. If nothing else, she found satisfaction in the puppy’s total lack of interest in Gillian.
“So, the key?” Gillian rubbed her bare hands together. “I don’t want to be an ice cube when Justin arrives.”
“Sure,” Tabby said, abruptly deciding that letting Gillian into the end unit was better than inviting her into her own. The other woman couldn’t do any harm. There weren’t even very many pieces of Justin’s clothing left over there. “I’ll get the key.”
She unlocked her door and went inside, closing it after her, just in case Gillian got the idea of following her. She knew it was probably rude leaving her outside on the sidewalk, but she didn’t care.
She called Justin’s cell phone as she retrieved the spare key. Not only did he not answer, but the call went straight to his voice mail. That was typical when he was working.
But if he wasn’t at the hospital, he wasn’t exactly working.
“Call me when you can,” she said after the beep, and hung up.
She looked at herself in the dresser mirror and abruptly grabbed her hairbrush, yanking it through her disorderly hair. Then, annoyed with herself, she tossed the brush down again, grabbed the spare key and stomped outside.
The sight of Gillian in Justin’s arms punched the breath out of her.
She must have made some noise, some animal sound of distress, because Beastie bolted toward her, yanking the chain out of Gillian’s grasp. The puppy shot across the sidewalk, chain dragging behind her, and vaulted into Tabby’s arms.
“I knew it,” she told Justin over the dog’s head. “She’s not out of your life.”
At the sound of Tabby’s woun
ded voice, Justin finished impatiently yanking Gillian’s arms from around his neck and pushed her away. She’d launched herself at him so fast he hadn’t been able to evade her. “Yes, she is,” he told Tabby firmly.
Then he looked back at Gillian. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She huffed. “We spend Christmas together. We always spend Christmas together.”
“We aren’t a we.”
“Of course we are,” Gillian returned. In her typically self-involved way, she wasn’t fazed at all by his cold welcome. “You’re getting the promotion, by the way. Daddy told me just yesterday.”
“I know I am.” He looked toward Tabby where she was standing like a statue on her porch. “He called me this morning.” Charles had said he wasn’t waiting on the research paper. He’d made up his mind and wanted to make the announcement official before the end of the year.
And Justin had spent the rest of the morning deciding what to do about it.
“Congratulations,” Tabby said. Her eyes were dark as she studied him over Beastie’s silky head.
“I got a promotion, too,” Gillian added.
“Your father told me.” He was aware of the look she was sliding between him and Tabby.
“So you know that if I say so, your promotion turns to dust. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“I already turned it down.”
He was sure the only time in the history of the world when Tabby and Gillian would think alike was that moment, when they said, “What?” in unison.
He ignored Gillian and focused on Tabby.
“I turned down the promotion,” he said, slowly heading toward her. “In fact, I turned everything down.” Aside from admitting to Tabby that he loved her, it had been one of the most freeing moments he’d ever known. “I told him I’d finish the paper. But I’m not going back.”
Gillian grabbed him from behind. “Have you lost your mind?”
He shook her off. “Gillian, you don’t really want me. You just don’t like losing.”
Her eyebrows skyrocketed. “Losing.” She looked from him to Tabby. “I suppose you mean to her?”
He gained a visceral, abrupt understanding of Squire’s continued hatred of Vivian Templeton for once snubbing his wife.
“I can be polite,” he warned softly, “but wipe that sneer off your face when you look at the woman I love, or I’ll do it for you.”
She gaped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“He wouldn’t,” Tabby said suddenly. She stepped off the porch and let Beastie down as she approached. Color rode her cheeks, and her dark eyes snapped. She looked like a dark-haired Valkyrie set on attack. “But I would.”
“My father’s never going to stand for this,” Gillian warned Justin, even though she took a wary step back from Tabby.
He almost smiled at the sight of it.
“Get off my property,” Tabby told her.
Gillian rolled her eyes. “People like you don’t tell people like me what to do.”
He saw Tabby’s fist clench and caught it midair. She shot him a look, and his smile did break free. “You don’t know what kind of damage I just saved you from,” he told Gillian. He kissed Tabby’s knuckles. “She packs a punch. Always has.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Tabby said, looking as if she still wanted to break Gillian’s plastic surgery–perfect nose.
He firmly peeled open her fist. Turned her palm upward and kissed it. “There’s a better use for your hand,” he said. He pulled the small ring box out of his pocket and set it on her palm. He’d searched all three jewelry stores in Braden that day before finding the perfect one.
Her eyes widened. Her lips parted. “What, uh, what is that?”
“You know what it is.” He opened the box. The diamond ring nestled on the velvet inside sparkled in the winter sunlight. “It’s our future.”
She moistened her lips. Her eyes suddenly shimmered.
“Marry me, Tabby.” He offered a crooked smile. “You might have to give me a job down at the diner for a while until I find gainful employment here in Weaver, but—”
“Yes,” she said thickly.
Gillian made a disgusted sound. “You’re an idiot, Justin Clay. You have no idea what you’re turning down.”
He didn’t even glance at her. He was too busy sliding his ring on Tabby’s trembling finger. “I’m not an idiot anymore,” he said and leaned down to press his lips to hers. “I love you, Tabbers.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck.
“I’m taking my dog,” Gillian snapped and snatched up the puppy, who immediately started whining.
Tabby slid her fingers through Justin’s hair and smiled into his violet eyes. Violet eyes that she’d be looking into for the rest of their lives. “She probably deserves Beastie,” she murmured. “She’d love making a meal out of that leather coat Gillian’s wearing.”
His eyes crinkled. “Yeah. But Beastie doesn’t deserve her.” He snapped his fingers, and the puppy launched herself out of Gillian’s arms. He scooped her up and put his other arm around Tabby again. They turned to go back into the house. “Did you finish your Christmas shopping?”
“I did.” Her arm came around his waist and her head found his shoulder. “Still in the car. I’ll need to wrap it before we go to my parents. Did you really quit your job?”
“I really did.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “What time do we have to be at your folks’?”
“Little later this afternoon.”
“Good.” He handed Beastie to her and swept her off her feet.
She gasped, catching his shoulder with her free hand. “Justin! What are you doing?”
He laughed. “Carrying my family inside,” he said and did exactly that.
Tabby glanced over his shoulder as she reached behind him to push the door closed. The only thing she saw of Gillian was the exhaust from her car as she roared away.
Tabby pushed and the door closed with a soft click. She expected him to put her down. Instead he just carried her down the hall toward the bedroom. “You’re really sure about this?”
“Yup.” He lowered her onto the bed and started pulling off her shirt. “Plenty of time.”
She unclipped Beastie’s leash and let the dog loose on the bed. The diamond ring felt strange and unfamiliar on her finger. “I mean about marrying me. About staying.”
“Yup.” He suddenly knelt on the floor in front of her and kissed her finger where the ring sat. “I had planned to wait until tonight to ask you, but when the moment strikes and all that.” His eyes met hers. “Are you sure?”
She pressed her lips to his forehead. His cheeks. “I’ve been sure about you since I was fifteen years old,” she whispered and brushed her lips over his.
Behind them, Beastie pawed experimentally at one of the pillows, then sank her teeth into the fabric, giving a sharp little pull. It tore, and she discovered a fantasy world of feathers that puffed out around her when she pounced. She gave a blissful yip.
Neither Tabby nor Justin even glanced her way.
Epilogue
“Happy New Year, Mrs. Clay.”
Tabby wrinkled her nose against a tickle and opened her eyes to find Justin wielding a little white feather. Even after a week, they were still finding them all over the house.
She rolled toward him. “I’m not Mrs. Clay yet.”
“You are in my mind.” Beneath the quilt covering her bed, he swept his hand down her bare hip. “Only thing holding it up is a marriage license.”
“And a wedding,” she said on a chuckle that ended with a little gasp when his hand slid between her thighs. “Both—ah—both of our mothers will revolt if we don�
�t give them that.”
“So pick a date and I can stop avoiding the question when my mom calls every day asking. I think she’s afraid I’ll mess it up or something.”
Tabby pushed his wide shoulders until he was flat on his back and slid over him. “No, she’s not.” She grasped his hard length and watched his eyes roll. She loved the fact that she could make him just as crazy as he made her. She balanced herself with one hand on the wall behind his head, accidentally knocking into the painting she’d recalled from Bolieux. It had arrived by messenger on Christmas Day. It had cost her a small fortune, but it was the only gift she wanted to give him. Justin had flattened her in return by giving her his gift—ownership of Ruby’s. He and Erik had both signed the deed. She still couldn’t believe they’d done it. Or that they’d refused to take it back when she argued with them that it was too much.
She moved her hand away from the wall and the painting slid back in place. “February twenty-eighth,” she said, suddenly guiding him into her.
“What about it?”
“Wedding.”
“Right.” His fingers tightened around her hips. “Wedding. Perfect.”
She exhaled shakily. “Have you decided about Rebecca’s offer? The lab directorship?”
“Probably take it.” He inhaled on a hiss.
“What about Charles?” His former boss hadn’t taken Justin’s resignation lying down. He’d come back with an offer that Justin could work wherever he wanted. As long as it was for CNJ. He’d even promised reassigning his daughter to a position in Europe—something Gillian had leaped on with glee.
“It’s good to have options,” Justin said and suddenly reversed their positions. “Wanna make a baby?”
She stared into his eyes, easily forgetting everything else in the world but him. “How do you know we haven’t already?”
He went still. Deep inside her, she could feel the heat of him reaching to her very soul. “Trying to tell me something, Tabbers?”
She smiled slightly. “No. But we haven’t exactly been careful.” In fact, they’d been downright uncareful, if she wanted to put a fine point to it.
The BFF Bride Page 18
