It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time

by Kylie Scott

  Holy cow. This really was starting to sound like a fairy tale. I should probably have Hazel check me out in case I really had become delusional. Meanwhile, I stood there taking deep, calming breaths yet still sort of wanting to hit something. This was not how I’d intended to celebrate my dad’s wedding. Fucking Pete.

  “You alright?” asked the man himself, emerging from the back hallway leading to the bathrooms. Boy did he looked hot as sin in that suit. I wanted to grab him by the tie and do bad things. Angry things, to work off my foul mood and heavy heart.

  “Just had a little talk with your girl who’s a friend,” I said.

  He scrunched up his forehead. “What?”

  “Leona. Duh.”

  “What about her?”

  “You told her you talk to Dad and me about things.”

  He looked away. “I might have.”

  “Way to throw me in the middle of your half-assed relationship.”

  He gazed at me like I was the lunatic. It only fed my rage.

  “Actually, what she said made some things clear to me, interestingly enough.” I rested my hand on the back of a chair, gin and tonic still at the ready. “I was safe back then, wasn’t I? That’s why you talked to me about things, because there was no real emotional investment in opening up to me. I was just a kid, after all.”

  He cocked his head. “Am I meant to be following this?”

  “Oh, I think you can work it out if you try.” I smiled. “Though I won’t keep you hanging. Leona was curious about you and thought I’d answer some questions about your background and so on.”

  Good Lord, the frown on the man’s face. He’d turned it all the way up to eleven.

  “How lonely,” I said. “I mean, you spend time with these women, but you don’t open up to any of them.”

  “Adele—”

  “That’s why you freaked out over our chat the other night.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “And why you acted like such an asshole to me yesterday and then were all pancakes of remorse this morning.” I narrowed my eyes on him, putting all of the pieces together. “You just can’t make up your mind, can you? You’re all kinds of mixed signals. On the one hand, a grown woman got behind your walls and you didn’t like it. It might actually mean something, being real with me now.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “But on the other hand, you missed me, just like I missed you.” I tilted my head from side to side. “Boy, did I write you some bad poetry.”

  “Are you finished?” He turned to the windows, straightening the knot of the black tie at his neck. “We should be getting back out there.”

  “I used to be safe and now I’m not.”

  He stood tall, shoulders back, gaze set.

  “The connection between us is still there, though,” I said with a smile. “Oh no. This breaks all of your no-emotional connection rules. Alarm bells must be going off inside your head. What are you going to do, Pete?”

  “I’m going to go back to the fucking party,” he rumbled. “You do what you want.”

  “Okay.”

  He strode out of there quick smart. It was kind of thrilling, having him on the run, figuring him out. A little, at least. And maybe I should have been less joyous about putting him in a bad mood. Though generally speaking, the man seemed to live in that emotional state when I was around. I certainly had no issues about selling out Leona, however. The woman shouldn’t have put me in that position in the first place.

  “I hate you.”

  “In all honesty, you’re not my favorite person either,” I said.

  There was happy drunk, sloppy drunk, crying drunk, and then, apparently, there was Leona drunk. Morose and resentful, mostly. Definitely no tearful “I love you, mate” coming from her. She sat wilting in the corner, a glass of chardonnay in hand. Makeup still perfect. God knows how she managed that.

  “He told me he doesn’t want to see me anymore,” she slurred.

  I kept my mouth shut.

  “You just told him I was prying in order to drive a wedge between us. Admit it.”

  “Leona, you did that all on your own,” I said. “Maybe try not pumping veritable strangers for personal information about your boyfriend next time. It’s dodgy as hell.”

  Mostly, I felt not guilty. Mostly.

  I stood in front of her, blocking the view of the rest of the room. No one else needed to see what a mess the woman was making of herself. Not that I particularly blamed her. I knew firsthand what being relegated to the void by Pete felt like. It hurt.

  Dinner and all of the speeches were finished. Along with most of the other guests, Shanti and Dad were on the dance floor getting down to some vintage disco. Pete was dancing with one of Shanti’s sisters. Meanwhile, my date and some other business types were drinking and chatting at one of the tables. Pretty sure Jeremy was more interested in attending the wedding to network than in getting into my pants. Fine with me.

  Leona made a good show of sitting up straight and acting sober. “That was a private conversation. You had no business repeating what I said.”

  “Oh, please. You were way out of bounds and you know it,” I said. “You invaded his privacy and put me in a deeply shitty position.” I met her scowl with one of my own. “You wanted inside information on him? Well, here it is: he’s a moody son of a bitch who refuses to open up to anyone and holds a grudge like nobody’s business.”

  She pouted at nobody in particular. “I want to go home.”

  “Fair enough.” This was undoubtedly a good thing. Nobody wanted Dad and Shanti’s wedding to be forever remembered for a drunken showdown shouting-match debacle on the dance floor. Their day should stay perfect. Full of all the happy and love. “Do you want me to call you a cab?”

  “I drove here.” She frowned. “Guess I’m in a slight predicament.”

  Dammit. I should just make Pete deal with her. That would be fair and just. But the chances of me extracting him from the dance floor without alerting Dad and Shanti to what was going on were nil to none. And I wanted to avoid any further harsh recriminations between them.

  “Okay,” I announced. “I’ll drive you home.”

  “You’re not driving my Lexus!”

  “Well, it’s either that or cab it home, and then cab back tomorrow and pick up your car.”

  “How will you get back home?”

  I sighed. “I’ll call a cab from your place.”

  She stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the darkness beyond. “Well, I suppose it’s the least you can do, considering.”

  I bit my tongue. She was right, even though there were a hundred reasons why she was out of line by prying, and I was entirely within my rights complaining to Pete about it. But the truth was, I would have kept my stupid mouth firmly shut if I had known the jerk would just up and dump her.

  “Are we doing this, or what?” The sooner I put this whole thing behind me, the better.

  “Yes. Alright,” she said, unsteadily rising to her feet. She held her head high. “I’ll talk to Pete when I’m good and ready to.”

  “Mm.”

  “He’ll come to his senses. We make a great couple,” she continued as I escorted her drunken ass oh so subtly out of the restaurant.

  Hopefully, the happy couple would be too busy to notice my absence. I didn’t want to leave, but I sure as hell didn’t want to risk Leona causing a scene either. Later, I’d text Dad and Shanti, make up some excuse. Jeremy probably didn’t care and Pete certainly wouldn’t. If he was furious at Leona, there was a definite side order of irate just for me. And I was over the emotional confusion of dealing with him in general. Done. It’d been good to spend some time with my father and to meet Shanti. But the fact was, the sooner I got in my car and left tomorrow morning, the better things would probably be for everyone.

  Chapter Eight

  Seven Years Ago . . .

  “Queen Adele?” I asked, brows raised.

  “What?
You don’t like it? I made it myself. I even drew little stars on there, see?” Pete wrapped one solid arm around me, lowering the embarrassing cardboard sign he had been holding up. Thank God. “Good to see you, kid.”

  “Good to see you too.”

  “Happy belated eighteenth.” He smacked a kiss on my cheek. I’d have preferred some on-the-mouth action, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Thanks.” I smiled. “Dad’s at work?”

  “Ah, yeah. He got tied up with something, so I said I’d pick you up. That okay?”

  “Of course.”

  People pushed past us, the arrivals lounge at the airport busy as hell, what with universities and schools all going on summer break. I tugged at the bottom of my T-shirt self-consciously, covering my small belly. So my first year at university had involved a small-to-medium amount of partying with the occasional bout of overeating. It was a pretty damn common circumstance. Didn’t keep me from being annoyingly overly self-conscious in front of him, however. At least now I could fill out a bikini. There had to be a bright spot to everything, even thigh dimples.

  A woman walked by, checking out Pete and then some. Kind of amazed she didn’t give herself whiplash. Sheesh. I linked my arm with his, gave him my warmest smile. Hopefully we looked like lovers reunited. Like the man was all mine. I could dream.

  “Let’s go get your bag,” he said, leading me through the crowd toward the luggage carousels. “How much did you pack this year? I hope you don’t break my back.”

  “You look sturdy to me.”

  The show pony flexed his biceps with a grin. “What, these guns? Do I pass muster?”

  “Oh God, don’t call them guns.”

  “Not cool?”

  “Not even a little.”

  He laughed.

  “So,” I cuddled up to him. “I’m eighteen now. Legal. You can’t dump me on Saturday nights when you go out drinking anymore.”

  His eyes widened. “Yes I can.”

  “Nope. I’m coming with.”

  “Absolutely not,” he said. “Forget it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because your father would kill me, for starters.” He ran his gaze over me from head to toe. My chest area got a definite frown, followed by a shake of his head. “It’s not happening. I’d have to spend the whole damn night stopping idiots from cracking onto you.”

  Oh, please. “You would not.”

  “I would,” he said. “You stay home, spend time with your dad. That’s what you’re here for.”

  “Oh, come on. You know he works twenty-four seven.”

  “Answer’s still no.”

  “Fight it all you want, Pete.” I grinned. “But things are going to be different this year.”

  Saturday Night . . . Now

  Dad and Shanti’s place was alive with light and music when I got back at around midnight. Guess the restaurant eventually kicked them out. Meanwhile, I was not only mostly broke, but dead tired. Leona lived in some fancy high-rise in Noosa, nearly an hour up the coast. What a not-so-delightful surprise that had been. The wait for a cab on a Saturday night had been long. Followed by probably the most expensive car ride of my life.

  I’d done my penance. Any residual guilt I had over telling Pete about her snooping was long gone, eroded minute by minute on the cab ride back with every uptick in the meter’s fare.

  Pete had to be across the road with the wedding party, because his house sat in darkness. Suited me just fine. I could go to bed without having to see him and set my alarm for bright and early, before he’d be awake. Surely even he’d want to sleep-in the day after a wedding. With a little luck, we could go another seven years without seeing each other. An ideal situation for everyone involved. I’d sent Dad a message apologizing for missing the end of the night, saying I had a headache and was going to bed. They were leaving on their honeymoon in the morning. Now that we’d reconnected, hopefully we’d be better at keeping in touch in the future.

  On the off-chance Pete was home, I kept the lights off and removed my shoes at the door. As pretty as the heels were, my feet were about ready for a massage or at least a good soak. Sadly for them, and the rest of me, there’d be neither. Just me in my lonely bed with an aching heart.

  Inside, there was enough ambient light with the moon shining in through the kitchen windows. Enough to get me to the guest room without walking into anything. Especially if I used the kitchen counter as a guide.

  “Look at you creeping in,” said a voice out of the darkness.

  I actually jumped, almost dropping my shoes and purse in the process. “Shit. I didn’t see you there.”

  “Obviously.” He sat at the dining table, the good old glass and bottle of scotch in front of him. The white of his dress shirt stood out, the rest of him little more than a shadow. “Did you get Leona home okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Saw you walking her out. I would have looked after her, but it’s probably better this way.”

  “She was pretty drunk. And I don’t think anybody wanted a scene.”

  “Hm.” He said nothing more.

  Now was my chance. “Well, it’s been a long night . . .”

  “Been thinking about what you said earlier.”

  “Oh?”

  The scotch bottle clinked against the glass as he poured. “I still think you’re wrong.”

  “Of course you do.”

  The bottle went down on the table, and he stood, scooping up the glass and walking toward me. The closer he came, the more I could see. Like the disarray of his hair and the top three or so buttons undone on his shirt, offering a glimpse of his gorgeous chest. How he’d rolled up the sleeves to his elbows and taken off his shoes and socks. It did something to me, seeing him a little undone. I started breathing a bit faster, my thighs tensing. My heart and loins were nothing if not predictable. Even after all of tonight’s resolutions regarding leaving posthaste, avoiding him, moving on with my life, meeting Prince Charming, and all the other stuff I had resolved as the taxi meter ticked off the last of my savings.

  “Did you enjoy the wedding?” he asked.

  “W-what?”

  The man stood much closer than necessary. “The wedding. It was nice, right?”

  “Sure.”

  Faint strains of music carried from across the road. It seemed worlds away. He downed a mouthful of scotch, gaze never leaving my face. All I could smell was the single malt, his cologne, and the slight scent of salt on his skin. After all, it’d been a hot night and he’d been dancing in the suit. He wasn’t happy; I knew the signs well enough. The tension in his jawline and the look in his eyes. All heated and intense.

  “So you’ve been sitting in the dark, drinking and brooding, huh?” I asked. “That sounds constructive.”

  “What did Leona have to say?”

  I laughed. “Oh, hell no. I’m not getting caught in the middle of you two again. Why don’t you try settling your issues like normal people and actually talk to one another?”

  “You have such a clever mouth, Adele.” He cocked his head. “Always got an answer, don’t you?”

  “Enjoy your scotch, Pete.” I turned away. “I’m going to bed.”

  “What’s the rush?” Strong fingers wrapped around my arm, not gripping me hard, just enough to hold me in place.

  “I’ve spent enough time tonight in the company of a drunken asshole, thank you.” I smiled.

  His return smile was lopsided. “You’re angry.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “You’re angry and tired. Me too,” he said. “Less so on the tired, though. Actually, I’m wide the fuck awake.”

  “Good for you.”

  He finished off his drink, then reached past me, setting the empty glass on the kitchen counter. “Keep me company.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” he asked, expression full of false interest. “Thought you’d love the chance to tell me off some more.
”

  I looked away. “We’re done here.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “Yes, we are.” I pulled my arm out of his grasp. “We’re finished, Pete. Our friendship or whatever the hell it is these days . . . It’s over, kaput, the end. Took me seven years, but tonight I finally wised up.”

  “That so?”

  “Yep,” I said. “I refuse to keep feeling this way about you. It’s such a stupid waste.”

  His gaze narrowed.

  “You know, I even have a plan.”

  “What might that be?”

  “In the morning, I’m going to go home and fuck every available man I meet until one of them does it for me.” My smile felt jagged and horrible. It couldn’t have been pretty so see. “And then I won’t think about you anymore.”

  His fingers curled into tight fists. Nice to know I wasn’t the only one affected. I put my hand on his chest, getting up in his face. Two could play the invading-personal-space game, for fun and intimidation. As if I would back down.

  “It works for you, right?” I asked. Maybe I should have been a little wary of the hard set of his face, the fury in his eyes. But I couldn’t stop now. “Why shouldn’t it work for me?”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

  “I’ll be heading out early. Doubt we’ll be seeing each other again anytime soon.” Leaning into him, I went up on tippy-toes. This was it, the end. Later, it would hurt. Right now, though, I couldn’t even say I was sorry. He’d been a storm inside me for so long, messing with my head and my heart. Unrequited love was a bitch. “’Bye, Pete.”

  It was meant to be a soft kiss. A chaste one, even.

  The minute my lips touched his, however, everything changed. Callused hands grabbed the sides of my face and my mouth opened on a gasp. His tongue swept inside, taking me over. Holy hell. Shoes and purse hit the floor, forgotten. Nothing about this kiss was slow or easy. The man devoured me. Every ounce of emotion poured into that kiss, all of the anger and frustration between us. His tongue was teasing and tasting, driving me wild. Then he drew back to suck and nip at my bottom lip. One hand slid around the back of my neck, the other over my hip to grab at my ass. His hold was firm, a little rough even. He treated my body like it belonged to him and I wasn’t gentle either.