“Shut up,” I smacked his arm with the back of my hand. “I do so wear heels. Sometimes.”
“Well, if that’s the extent of your acting skills, I can see why you gave up on that dream.”
I heard Yvonne’s gasp from behind me and I knew that for some people, that would be an insult of the highest caliber. But for Taylor and me, it was like old times. Sarcastic banter like this was what we did together in Guys and Dolls. We hated each other back then—or at least, we pretended to. I hated that they had cast the stupid football star rather than my friend Grant who had worked all four years for a leading role. We were enemies, Taylor and I… until we weren’t. “At least I don’t get concussions for a living. What I do takes skill. And when you’re retired in, oh, two years, wondering what the heck to do for the rest of your life, I could still pick up and begin acting any time I choose.”
His smirk widened, crinkling his eyes in the most charming way. “There she is,” Taylor whispered.
“God,” Kyra said from the open door. “It’s like seeing you two on stage all over again.”
I lifted a brow at Taylor and started humming the tune to I’ve Never Been in Love Before, one of the duets we sang together in Guys and Dolls. “What do you say?” I paused my humming. “Want to do an encore with me.”
His face split into a grin and he shook his head. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Oh, come on. You know you want to.” I started singing the lyrics, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Yvonne and Kyra exchange glances.
Taylor crossed his arms, but his smile stayed firmly in place. “After closing night, I made a vow to never watch, listen to, or sing that damn show again.”
I pushed my bottom lip out in a pout. “Not even with me?”
His mouth dropped from its smile, only slightly, but it happened all the same. “Especially not with you,” he whispered.
5
Paige
I could feel his eyes on me the rest of the night. I felt them as I walked inside and heard his hiss of pleasure as I slid my coat off my shoulders, revealing the whole outfit Kyra and I had settled on. It was a little bit Kyra and yet, still a little bit me. A short, tight leather skirt with the black panty hose and heeled boots. But on top, I was my conservative self, wearing a gray sweater vest and ruffle collared shirt beneath. It was skin tight. And I was freezing cold having just come in from outside, making it way obscener than a preppy sweater vest should have been with the way my nipples pressed against the material.
I felt his eyes watching me as I ordered a glass of pinot grigio, and again, as Dave chatted with me in the corner of the room.
But as we sat down to dinner in the dining room, I didn’t see him anywhere. I slid into the chair Dave had pulled out for me beside Kyra.
My phone buzzed and Kyra’s name flashed on my screen. Why the heck was she texting me?
Aren’t you glad I made you shave your legs tonight?
I looked up, giving her a questioning glance as her eyes drifted past Dave and over my shoulder somewhere behind me.
Before I could turn to look, a deep baritone voice rumbled beside me, straightening my spine with a jolt of electricity that buzzed my body to life. My blood turned hot just at the sound of that voice.
“This seat’s taken,” Taylor said as Dave moved to take the chair on the other side of me.
Dave didn’t seem phased. I, on the other hand, shivered at the dark tone of his voice. “Oh, really?” Dave asked. “It wasn’t taken literally two seconds ago.”
“Weird how things change, isn’t it?” Taylor said and leaned back in the seat.
I looked around the table, hoping to find two more seats together to help diffuse the situation. Although something told me that moving to a seat away from Taylor probably wouldn’t appease him.
“Here,” Kyra said, standing up and shifting to the empty seat beside her. “Dave, you can sit here.” He smiled at Kyra, and with a smug glance at Taylor, took the chair on my other side.
“Thanks.”
My cheeks went hot with embarrassment. Why did this feel like a pissing match? Over me? Men hardly ever glanced in my direction… why tonight were there suddenly two pretty-incredible possibilities just in front of me. Well, that was a stupid thought. Taylor wasn’t a real possibility. He’d be leaving for Boston again as soon as his duties here were done. Dave was the real contender. Taylor was simply a distraction.
A delicious distraction.
I cleared my throat and gestured to Dave. "Taylor, you remember Dave Bolton, right? Dave is now the wrestling coach at Maple Grove high."
"How could I forget Bolton?" Taylor grunted. "He was one of about a dozen guys that Tiffany cheated on me with senior year."
I winced. Everyone did stupid things in high school. Maybe not so stupid as cheating on your boyfriend of two years with half of the senior class. And with his own dang father. Oh yeah, I knew about that. Everyone knew about that. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that Dave was one of those guys she had cheated on him with.
I opened my mouth, ready to go into a speech about letting bygones be bygones and how high school was a long time ago, but before I could, Dave spoke.
"I'm really sorry about that," Dave said. I had to hand it to him, it sounded awfully genuine. "When I hooked up with Tiffany, I honestly wasn't thinking. Or considering how cruel it was to you." Dave reached across me, holding out his hand to Taylor. "I hope you can accept my apology."
"Dammit," Taylor muttered beneath his breath and reluctantly reached across me taking Dave's hand. "You always were a damn nice guy," Taylor said.
Dave chuckled and shrugged. “Guilty as charged.”
I sat there between them while food was served to us, really considering for the first time how harsh Taylor's senior year was. Of course, I knew it was a hard year for him, but with my own brother being in the thick of it, I never really stopped to consider the vast amount of betrayals Taylor had dealt with that year. I mean, your girlfriend cheating on you once is betrayal enough. But over and over again, and with people you considered your friends and family? I had always thought he was being a little dramatic when he refused to come home. But right now, sitting here with him, I understood. He didn't just have to do this once with my brother, or once with his father. He had to face person after person in this town and hear apology after apology. While for me, Maple Grove represented heartache and goodbyes. Maybe for him it meant betrayal? Showing up here tonight, even though it was a decade later, and we had all been practically children, I could still feel how hard it was for him.
Once the conversation between Dave and Taylor had tapered off, I waited until Dave was deep in conversation with Kyra and Rick, sitting next to her, about this year’s wrestling tournament. Then I leaned into Taylor and whispered quietly in his ear. “I think you are really brave coming here this weekend. I just thought you should know that.”
His expression morphed into one of shock, his eyes growing wide and his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. But no sound came out. After another moment silence, he finally said, “You are the only person who's ever said that to me. Almost everyone just tells me that it's time to move on. That it was ages ago and should be water under the bridge.”
Under the table, I rested my hand on his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I believe all that as well,” I said. “But it should be at your own pace. And it doesn't change the fact that it is really brave to show up to a room full of people that you haven’t seen in years, where many have betrayed you.”
His hand found mine, still resting on his knee. He laced his fingers into mine and gave my hand a squeeze. We stayed like that, locked into each other's eyes, hands intertwined, his expression sharp. Sharp enough to slice right through me to the bone. And I would happily embrace the wound he inflicted. Smooth skin was taut over his sharp, angular features and his light brown hair was wavy in an unruly way that only he could pull off. He was more than just textbook handsome, he was stop you in your tracks, hypnotizin
gly gorgeous.
The energy between us crackled with intensity, like a fire roaring to life just after somebody poked it with a stick. That same energy shot straight down to the pit of my stomach. It felt like I was seeing him; really, truly seeing him. Warmth swallowed me, engulfing me as we sat there for what was only a few seconds, but could have just as easily been hours, breathing and gazing into each other's eyes.
“Hey, you’re empty,” Dave said, lifting my wine glass and giving it a shake. “What are you drinking? Chardonnay?”
In the blink of an eye, I watched mine and Taylor’s connection break and a quick flash of confusion filled Taylor's expression. I blinked, and that confusion was once again gone, vanished in a fraction of second, replaced with his standard issue calm reticence.
“I'll get it for you,” Taylor said, pushing his chair back and standing up.
“Oh, um, thank you. I'm drinking —”
“Pinot grigio,” Taylor answered, giving a pointed look to Dave. “I know.”
6
Taylor
The rest of dinner went of fairly well without a hitch. Well, except for my pesky erection that wouldn’t fucking go away. Luckily, I could spend most of dinner not getting up from the table once I got Paige her glass of wine.
I also made a point to come back to the table and scoot my chair several inches away from her. Because if she reached out and put her hand on my knee again, I may just do the same to her. Then, I might just slide my hand up under her skirt…
I grunted in frustration, taking another forkful of dessert and shoveling it into my mouth. I was dying to know what those legs would feel like beneath those silky stockings she wore. I wanted to feel them wrapped around my waist, my face, and I wanted to grab the nylon and shred them off her body, revealing her soft flesh beneath.
What in the serious ever-loving fuck was that connection we shared before dinner? Did she feel that too? That buzzing connection that tethered us together? She must have. Must have. And it was my stupid fault. Why did I have to slip in and take the seat beside her, as if I was staking my claim over a woman I would never and could never have. I should have just let Dave take the damn seat. I could have creepily watched her from across the table, just like I’d been doing all night up until now.
Dave was a nice guy. A good guy, despite what happened in high school. And she seemed to be enjoying his company… kind of. I watched her with a sideways glance, downing my whiskey and feeling the booze catch up to me. The floor was spinning a little, but I liked it that way. If I could dull this whole damn weekend with booze, that’d be fine with me.
Dave leaned in, chatting with her, but she looked… bored. She looked bored with him. His body language was all about her. His torso was turned, facing her. He had his arm resting along the back of her chair, and every now and then his fingers would graze her shoulder. She, on the other hand, she had her legs crossed away from him… toward me, might I add. Legs crossed away from your partner? Always a surefire sign of disinterest. When a woman wanted to fuck you, hell when she wanted to get to know you better, she crossed her legs toward you. Paige kept fidgeting with her napkin in her lap and when he casually touched her arm, she didn’t lean into the contact. If anything, she shifted away from it. How did I know that? Because when she shifted away, her elbow collided with mine and a quick jolt of static electricity shocked us both.
She yelped, then covered her mouth and giggled. “Sorry. That startled me.”
I smiled, a flicking upturn of my lips that just as quickly vanished when her bright blue eyes locked with mine. “It’s okay. Sometimes two people can’t help it when they have a spark.”
What was this shit coming out of my mouth? It’s like with seeing Paige again, I turned into a walking Hallmark movie.
Her grin widened. I didn’t want that smile to disappear. It was too fucking gorgeous.
“You know,” I said, leaning in, despite the inches I had tugged my chair away from her. “I think it’s pretty rude of you…”
She pulled back, that smile dropping and her brows knitting together. “What?”
“It’s pretty rude of you how stunning you look tonight. I mean, it’s supposed to be Lydia and Cam’s evening and you show up here looking like that?” I shook my head, tutting at her. That tight little leather skirt she wore was pure torture. Hot as hell, but still classy. And paired with her sweater vest, she looked like a sexy librarian. “Pretty, pretty rude. The least you could do as her friend is be forgettable on her special night.”
And just like that, her smile was back. And it made the victory all the more sweeter. “Well, I guess I’m going to have my bridesmaid title stripped away.”
My insides iced over and a skitter of excitement shimmied down my spine. She was a bridesmaid. I didn’t know that. I was a groomsman, too. Maybe we’d be walking down the aisle together…
No. Stop that. I chided myself and instead changed the subject. “I’ve wanted to ask but thought it would be rude to bring it up to Cam and Lydia. Why’d they wait so long for an engagement party? Didn’t they get engaged months ago? It’s nearly Christmas.”
Paige tilted her chin to Noah, Cam’s youngest sibling, sitting across from us. “They try to plan events around Noah’s crazy schedule. He can’t make it home all that often, so they waited until he was coming home for Christmas.”
I nodded, completely understanding that reasoning. I had an intensely busy schedule, too and it wasn’t about to let up any time soon. Especially not around the football season holidays. I still had to be back for practice the day after Christmas, which usually wasn’t a big deal since I had no family to spend it with. If anyone could understand Noah’s schedule, it was me.
“Don’t you have a game on Christmas?” Paige asked.
“Nah, you’re thinking of Thanksgiving. We only play on Christmas if it falls on a Sunday or a Monday.”
Apparently tired of sharing Paige with me, Dave leaned in and slid his cannoli toward her. “Want to split it?” he asked.
Paige snorted a laugh that on anyone else would have sounded ridiculous and clumsy. But on her, it was adorable. “Dave Bolton, you never have to ask me twice to split a dessert.”
I watched in awe as she took a forkful of pastry and ricotta into her mouth. Then, I slid my gaze to her empty tiramisu plate. The woman was rail thin, yet she ate two desserts? Did she do that regularly? Not that I cared, it was actually refreshing sitting next to a woman who didn’t eat one bite of romaine lettuce and then claim she was stuffed. No wonder Tiffany hated her. Women all around the globe would kill to have that kind of metabolism.
“Oh my God,” Paige said with her mouth still full. “It’s so good.” She piled another forkful and held it up to my mouth. “You’ve got to try it.”
I smirked and opened my mouth, wrapping my lips slowly around the fork as she dragged it back. Our eyes locked, not for the first time that night and I let out a low moan of satisfaction. She wasn’t wrong. It was a damn good cannoli. But there was something else I wanted to taste even more.
Her lips parted a little at the sound of my moan, her eyes dipping to my mouth as I chewed.
Once more, Dave cleared his throat. “We should get the caterers information,” he said. It was so transparent the way he was constantly vying for her attention that I couldn’t help but smile. “They should cater our next fundraiser. You know, at the school.”
Paige’s gorgeous smile shifted to Dave as she nodded in agreement. “That’s a great idea.”
My stomach twisted, watching them. Watching him have what I could never have. Not just with Paige, but with anyone here in our home town. Not that I wanted anyone else here in Maple Grove. I gulped and looked down at my own half eaten tiramisu.
I finished what was left of my whiskey and stood to get another as Paige’s hand rested on my forearm. “Maybe you should slow down,” she whispered, her eyes darting to my empty glass.
How many had that been? Three? Even still, I scoffed at her concern
in a stupid, chauvinist way that even I hated myself for a little. “Sweetheart, the team and I put down twice this many whiskeys and still won the Super Bowl last year.”
She tugged her hand away from my arm, and though I immediately missed the feel of her touch, I could breathe a little easier without her hands on me, without her silky soft fingertips tracing little strokes on my forearm. “Is that supposed to impress me?” she said, her eyes narrowed.
“It’s not supposed to do anything. It’s simply the truth.”
She opened her mouth to respond, but I spun and made my way back to the bar and ordered another drink.
Why did I care? Why was I obsessing over this woman? Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, we had shared a mind-blowing kiss more than a decade ago… but I’d had my fair share of kisses since then. Why her? Why now? And why God, why, did it have to be here?
“Did it really take you almost thirty years to realize how awesome she is?” A voice asked behind me. The whiskey glass was warm in my hand and I spun, finding Kyra standing there, her arms folded.
I grumbled and took a swig. I needed to numb these feelings quickly, but the burn of alcohol didn’t seem to be helping. “No,” I grumbled, staring into the swirling amber liquid of my glass. “It took me eighteen years.” Which was still pitiful. I just never looked at her that way. She was Scott’s older sister, the same age as me and Cam. We all joked how cute she was, but that was mostly just to piss Scott off. It wasn’t until the show. Until we were paired opposite each other that I started looking at her—truly looking at her. And by then, I didn’t want to trust anyone. I didn’t want to get attached to a single other person in this goddamned town. “The second rehearsals started, I knew how awesome she was, even though I pretended to hate her back then.” I glanced over at the table where she and Dave seemed to now be sitting in silence. Dinner was winding down and I wondered, no, prayed that that meant the party would be coming to an end, too. “Then I spent twelve years trying to forget how amazing she was, secretly hoping she had moved on. Gotten married so that I could put the nail in this damn coffin.”
Holiday Intercepted Page 4
