A Bachelor Falls

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Well, thanks a lot. You could have saved me and you didn’t.” Bobby Joe tried to act offended, but wound up with a wry smile. He and Travis were both very happily married, and for all their bravado and macho denials, they didn’t fool anyone. “Did you hear that, Travis? If it hadn’t been for Ross and Ellie, I’d be a free man today.”

  Ross laughed, recalling a few of the great times he’d spent with these people. It always seemed so effortless and easy to fall back into the comfortable routines of good friends and familiar surroundings. He’d needed this, he realized. A little relaxation with people who accepted him for himself, who didn’t ask him a lot of questions, who didn’t expect him to be strong or smart or smitten with the glaze on a china plate. His gaze swept the rustic interior of The Wild Mouse, and he smiled. It was good to come home, no matter what Thomas Wolfe had written on the subject.

  “I’m looking forward to Saturday,” he said, watching as Ellie broke the racked balls for their rematch. “There comes a time for a man to settle down with the right woman...and Tori’s right for me.”

  “Did you say ripe?” Travis grinned wickedly. “Rumor has it, she’s blond, gorgeous and has great big—”

  “Blue eyes,” Ellie supplied succinctly, overriding Travis’s baser statement and reminding not-so-gently that there was a limit to what they could and couldn’t say in her presence. Ross had always admired her ability to be “one of the guys” without giving up her femininity. Ellie wasn’t a prude by any means, but she expected respect and she never let any of her male friends forget it.

  “I was gonna say that,” Travis protested, including the other men with a broad wink. “I was gonna say I heard Ross’s woman had great big blue eyes.”

  Ellie straightened and turned to look at him, her cue stick in hand. “How long before Tami gets back from visiting her cousin in St. Louis?”

  “She just left this evening,” Travis said, looking puzzled. “How’d you know she was gone?”

  “Lucky guess.” Ellie made another difficult shot and Ross decided she had been practicing. Maybe she hung out here at Ernie’s with these guys more than he’d thought. “Or maybe, Travis,” she continued, “it’s because you only act like an adolescent when she’s out of town. Ross’s woman.” She shook her head. “I’d like to hear you say that in front of Tami.”

  “Ellie’s got you dead to rights, man.” Bobby Joe leaned back against the bar, nodding agreement. “Carla would tie my pecker in a knot if she ever heard me say somethin’ like that. I bet Tami wouldn’t like bein’ called Travis’s woman any better.”

  “She wouldn’t mind it so much,” Travis said, but his tone lacked true conviction.

  “That’s one of the great things about Tori,” Ross said, smiling at the thought. “She’s not so sensitive about little slips of the tongue like that.” Ellie and her pool cue turned slowly in his direction and he realized how that must have sounded. “Not that I’d ever refer to her as my woman, of course. And I didn’t mean she was insensitive to women’s issues.”

  Ellie didn’t say a word, just looked at him, but he knew her too well and could read her thoughts almost verbatim. Tori, she was thinking, is a nitwit . Tori wasn’t a nitwit, but Ross figured the best defense at the moment was not to say so out loud.

  Ellie circled the table, eyeing the best shot and lowering her cue. “Six ball in the corner.” She indicated the pocket, then bent to attempt what Ross considered a completely impossible shot. She made it... even though he was rooting against her.

  “You’re all invited to the wedding,” Ross said, hoping to distract her enough so she’d miss a shot. “It’s at the Methodist Church. I hope you’ll all be there.”

  “You going, Ellie?” Shorty asked, stroking his chin. “I could come by and pick you up, if you want. We could go together.”

  “She’s my best man,” Ross said quickly. “We’ll have to be there early. Together.”

  “Thanks, but it looks like I’m going to have my hands full taking care of our eager groom Saturday.” Ellie gave Shorty what Ross considered to be one of her all-time best smiles. She had the kind of wide, openmouthed smile that could knock men for a loop, and Ross didn’t much like her encouraging a guy who had had a crush on her since second grade. It wasn’t that Shorty wasn’t a nice guy. He was. But Ellie wasn’t ever going to have reciprocating feelings for him and it wasn’t fair of her to bestow that kind of smile just because she had to turn down his offer of a ride. “But after the ceremony,” she continued, still smiling. “Maybe we could—”

  “Dance,” Ross supplied smoothly, wondering if he could accidentally bump the table, ruin her next shot and wipe that smile off her full lips. “There’s a reception at my parents’ house and, of course, you’re all invited to that, too. There’ll be lots of champagne and music, so Ellie can save you a dance, Shorty. If she wants to, that is.”

  He was aware of the slightest frown on Ellie’s brow, but he didn’t acknowledge that he’d been a bit high-handed in arranging her after-the-wedding schedule. Besides, she’d want to stay at the reception. She’d want to have at least one dance with the groom. Maybe more. They were still going to be friends, even after he was married. And he wasn’t going to stand by and watch her start dating someone so not-her-type as Shorty Silvers. Ross checked the slight tightening of her mouth and amended his silent avowal. Unless she really wanted to.

  “Save me a dance, too, Ellie.” Bobby Joe stepped around the end of the bar and motioned to Ernie for another beer. “I couldn’t miss this wingding, even if I wanted to, Ross. Carla’s already bought a new dress and she and Tami have had their heads together for a month, ever since the announcement came out in the paper, trying to come up with the perfect wedding gift.”

  “Let’s tell them to buy him a new billiard cue,” Travis suggested. “Ross needs some practice.”

  “You gotta get something for their house, knucklehead.” Shorty set his beer aside and rechalked his cue stick, undoubtedly anticipating Ross’s imminent defeat.

  “Yeah,” Bobby Joe said without enthusiasm. “That’s another thing about getting married, Ross. All the stuff you’d like to have, like a pool cue or a set of golf clubs or a fishing rod, makes the women laugh. Like they think you’re being really funny by saying it. But the stuff they want, like towels and dishes, well, that’s the stuff people give you tons of at your wedding showers. It’s like your opinion doesn’t matter even before you get hitched.”

  “The idea is to give something a couple can use,” Ellie said pointedly. “And men do occasionally have a use for a towel and even for a place setting of china.”

  “I’d have let Carla use my cue stick,” Bobby Joe stated generously.

  “Yeah.” Travis got into the spirit. “And Tami likes to fish. Someone could have given us matching fishin’ poles.”

  Ellie lined up another shot and sank it, leaving Ross two balls away from a second defeat. “The idea is to furnish a home for the newlyweds,” she said.

  “But men aren’t particular about furnishings, you see.” Travis picked up the complaint and took it further. “A man doesn’t care what color the towel is when he steps out of the shower, and when he’s hungry, he sure as hell doesn’t care if his dishes are made out of paper or china. Dishes are wasted on men, anyway.”

  “Ditto on silverware,” Bobby Joe said, eyeing the eight ball which was right in line with the corner pocket and directly in the way of a clear shot. “Watch out for the eight,” he advised Ellie before continuing his he-man theorizing. “A man can get by with just a fork. Remember all those times we camped out at the falls and didn’t even bother to take plates or anything? In the final analysis, a can opener’s the only thing a real man needs.”

  “You’re abso-damn-lutely right, Bobby Joe.” Feeling as macho as possible while having his socks whipped off, Ross settled back on a bar stool to watch Ellie sweep the final shot. “I’d forgotten just how far we’ve gotten away from a man’s basic needs.”

  “
Only a can opener away from the caveman,” Ellie observed dryly, setting her cue stick aside and taking the bar stool next to his. “How can you leave this cradle of civilization behind, Ross? You’re going to marry a beautiful woman and move to a city where you’ll be forced to use silverware and eat off china plates that actually match. And you’ll have no choice but to dry off after a shower with towels that are pretty as well as functional.” She sighed dramatically. “I’ll bet you envy me, getting to stay here and shoot pool with these icons of culture.”

  Ross looked at her, let his memory soak in the comfortable sight of Ellie, with her dark hair braided, her brown eyes alight with a familiar laughter, her wondrous smile not quite hidden by the teasing line of her lips. “Yeah,” he said. “Lucky you.”

  Her gaze flicked to him and then returned to the three-way game getting set up in front of them. “Yes,” she answered. “Lucky me.”

  Chapter Four

  Ross dropped onto the sofa as if he meant to stay. “Got any popcorn?”

  “What are you? A starving country?” Ellie slumped into the chair across from him, draping her legs over the cushioned arm. “You’ve practically eaten me out of house and home already. How can you stay so lean and eat like you do?”

  “Pure thoughts.” He looped an arm across the cushions and put his feet up.

  “Impure thoughts is more like it.”

  He shrugged. “Those, too. So, what about the popcorn?”

  “Microwave popcorn is in the cabinet next to the stove...right where we’ve always kept it.” She watched him stand and head for the kitchen. “Set it for two minutes, ten seconds, not the three minutes it says on the bag or else it’ll burn.”

  “Two minutes, ten seconds, or the popcorn’s toast. Got it.” His voice coasted back to her, followed by the sound of the microwave door opening and closing and then the melodic beeps as he punched in the cook time. “You want me to put in a bag for you, too?”

  She knew there was no point in suggesting he share his bag with her. In or out of love, Ross ate enough for two. “No, thanks,” she called. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Aha!” He returned to the doorway between the two rooms. “Obviously you have not been thinking pure thoughts.”

  “I’ll have you know my thoughts are every bit as pure as yours. They just don’t do much for my appetite.”

  “Just as I suspected, Eliot. Your thought levels are seriously out of balance and you need a strong dose of impure thoughts to put your life back on an even keel.”

  “My life is perfectly keeled, thank you.”

  He raised his eyebrows in a familiar and charming expression. “It is only my professional opinion, of course, but I believe that if you asked him, Shorty would be delighted to help you make adjustments. It’s pretty obvious he’s still having impure thoughts about you, even if your thoughts about him are pure as the drizzled snow.”

  “Driven snow,” she corrected. “And Shorty’s too nice a man to have impure thoughts.”

  “Ellie!” He made a tsk-ing noise. “No man is that nice. Don’t be fooled by his lanky Barry Manilow looks and shy demeanor. Underneath his plaid work shirt beats a heart as black as my own.” Ross paused to consider. “Well, maybe not that black, but you get the idea.”

  “Living in the Windy City has made you cynical, Ross. Shorty is a nice man and I might go out with him sometime. If he ever gets up the courage to ask me again.”

  “Oh, come on, Eliot. You don’t want to date a nice guy.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Why not? If all men have hearts as black as tar, then Shorty is at least as good as the rest of you. And undoubtedly better than most.”

  “I never said black as tar.” The testy tone returned to Ross’s voice. “You have nothing in common with Shorty Silvers. He does construction work, for Pete’s sake.”

  Her eyebrows climbed a little higher. “And your point is...?”

  His gaze dropped, but returned with the slightest touch of embarrassment. “I only meant he’s not good enough for you, Ellie. You need a man with a little more depth, a little more ambition.”

  She had to look twice to make sure he was serious. “Oh, come on, Ross. I’m an auto mechanic. If I’m too good for a nice man who works with his hands in a respectable profession, then your idea of a match made in heaven differs considerably from mine.”

  His easygoing smile fell victim to a glower. “If you feel that way, why didn’t you accept his invitation to be his date at the wedding? Why don’t you just call him right now and tell him you’ve changed your mind?”

  Ellie clamped her lips on the impulse to do just that, to pick up the phone and show Ross he was being ridiculous. “I’m your date until four o’clock on Saturday. If I start having impure thoughts about Shorty or any other man, I’ll have plenty of time to pursue them after I get you out of my hair.”

  Whatever Ross meant to reply—and he did mean to reply, Ellie could tell just by the way he squared his jaw—was interrupted by the beep, beep, beep of the pager he wore attached to his belt. He clicked it off without even checking the message. “May I use your phone?”

  Ellie made a face, telling him via expression that he certainly didn’t need her permission to call his fiancée. Tori had paged him four times while they were at The Wild Mouse. He’d called her back immediately each time...and each time returned cheerfully for another challenge at the pool table. Out of half a dozen attempts to win one game, he’d managed to lose not only his socks, but a handful of quarters, as well.

  Ellie listened without compunction as he dialed the number.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice deepening to the husky tones of Ross in love.

  Five seconds of listening came next, followed by a slight impatience in the sentimental tones as he replied, “No, now I’m at Ellie’s.... No...just me and Ellie.” A pause, then he said, “I don’t know. They were still playing pool when I left.... I left with Ellie, yes.”

  Ellie stared at the ceiling, remembering the time Belinda had come looking for Ross, certain she’d find him with Ellie. Which she had. They’d been working on the Land Cruiser and hadn’t even realized how late it was. Or how much fun they were having. Until Belinda showed up.

  “That isn’t necessary... No, really...I’m fine. I won’t be long,” Ross promised, turning his back so Ellie couldn’t eavesdrop on the conclusion of the call. Not that she had any problem filling in the I love you, too, and the I miss you, too, ending for herself. She’d done it plenty of times before.

  “Tori.” He gave the one-word explanation as he hung up the phone...as if Ellie might not know who he’d called.

  “Hmm.” She let her lips curve just enough so he’d know what she thought, even if she didn’t say it.

  And he knew. She could tell by the flash of irritation in his eyes. “She was worried that I might need a designated driver to get home safely.”

  Ellie nodded...and kept the Mona Lisa smile. “That was thoughtful.”

  “Yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if it truly ached. “Tori is very thoughtful.”

  “Hmm.” Ellie kept nodding and smiling. “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  “Need a ride home?”

  He eyed her consideringly. “Maybe. I did have a few beers.”

  “No, you didn’t. I watched you carry that one bottle around all evening, and if you took a single swallow, I certainly didn’t see you.”

  “That’s because you were making eyes at Shorty.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She glanced at her wrist, as if checking the time. “I wonder if I should call to make sure he has enough sense to call a cab.”

  Ross frowned. “Tori’s just being thoughtful,” he said in her defense.

  “Of course, she is. I wasn’t implying that she was being anything else.”

  The microwave chimed, but Ross didn’t move. He just stood there, looking at her, and for a moment, Ellie wanted to walk over and slug him for not having enough sense to know he was
about to marry the wrong woman.

  “She’s just worried about me, that’s all.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Like hell you do.”

  “You’re the one who brought it up,” Ellie pointed out. “The popcorn’s ready.”

  Still, he didn’t turn to go. “She’s very busy this week. But she still cares enough to want to know what I’m doing and who I’m with.”

  Ellie’s opinion of Tori inched up. For a nitwit, she was doing a good job of keeping Ross under her thumb. Pushing out of the armchair, Ellie walked into the kitchen, retrieved the bag of popcorn from the microwave and thrust it into his hands. “Here. You can feed your thoughts on your way home,” she said.

  He looked from the bloated bag to her. “I’d just as soon feed them while I sit and talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

  “My mind is not the one that matters. You’re engaged, Ross. Tori naturally wants you to be with her as much as possible and not with another woman.”

  “You’re not another woman, Ellie. You’re my best friend. Tori knows that.”

  The speed of his reply was somewhat daunting, but it wasn’t as if their friendship revolved around the difference in their genders, after all. Well, a couple of times on her part, maybe, but she wasn’t about to mention those.

  Ross plunged his hand into the popcorn. “I even told her about the time I wanted to be more than your friend and that didn’t seem to bother her.”

  “What time?”

  He tossed a couple of popped kernels into his mouth and chewed with maddening nonchalance. “Didn’t I ever mention that to you?”

  “I think I would have remembered.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, her pulse picking up for no good reason. “So when, exactly, did you ever think about being more than my friend?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t really recall.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” She reached out and grabbed his arm when he would have turned away, drawing him back to the doorway, back to the point. “If you ever want to see your socks again, you’ll tell me now and you’ll tell me the truth.”