by Lori Wilde
“Yeah, it’s nice. I’m pretty sure my sister will want it, but she hasn’t texted me back yet. Could you possibly hold it until tomorrow?”
Jude shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“Hey, cheer up, there’s a lot to be said for not getting married young. You’re only—what? Twenty-one?”
“Twenty-six.”
Really? That surprised him. She looked much younger.
“Still a kid.” He grinned, but she didn’t grin back. “I just hit the big three-oh myself and I’m light-years away from taking the big step.”
“I’ll hold the dress until you check with your sister. If the price is a problem—”
“No, the price is fine.” He’d be embarrassed to buy it for any less. It was a beautiful wedding dress.
She walked him to the door, then closed and locked it behind him.
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with nice women,” he muttered under his breath. “They make guys feel like jerks in comparison.”
2
Later that night, Tara called him, and her first few words told him how edgy she was. The sooner this wedding business was over, the happier he’d be.
“Describe the dress to me,” his sister said. “Is it pure white or ivory?”
“It looked white to me. There are little beads on top.”
“Pearls? What about lace? It isn’t too fussy, is it?”
“It’s pretty and it’s never been worn. The woman who’s selling it was jilted on her wedding day.”
“Eww.”
“What does that mean?”
“Do you think the dress is jinxed?”
“Woman, you’re a pilot. Don’t be superstitious.”
“You’re right. Being snowed in is playing havoc with my nerves.”
“Ben loves you,” Tom reassured her. “It’s going to be fine.”
“I don’t know about that. First a fire in the bridal shop, then getting snowed in—”
“Nerves are understandable.”
“What’s she like?”
“Who?”
“The woman who got dumped at the altar.”
“Cute, petite,” Tom said without hesitation, remembering just how gorgeous Jude was, then added, “Nice.”
“So not your type at all. You go for the tall drop-dead knockouts that treat you with indifferent disdain.”
“That’s not true.”
“Amanda. Need I say more?”
“You don’t even need to say that.”
Tara shifted gears, thankfully leaving her criticism of his choice in girlfriends. “What if this woman sells the dress to someone else? Tom, why didn’t you just buy it? You know I’m desperate!”
“Don’t worry. She’s holding it for me.”
“Oh, sure. If she gets a better offer, she’ll turn it down just in case you decide to buy it. Be real. Not even you have that much sway over a stranger. Did you at least give her a deposit?”
“Never thought of it.”
He tried to be tolerant of Tara’s prewedding jitters, but he could feel his neck muscles tensing. He’d never tell her—and he hated admitting it to himself—but he wouldn’t mind going back for another look at Jude Bailey.
What for? You’ve got a bet to win. No sex for the next thirty-nine days.
“Buy the dress, Tom,” Tara insisted. “I can’t get married without a wedding gown. Go get it tomorrow and please don’t blow this.”
“I’m on it, I’m on it.”
“Everything needs to be perfect,” Tara said. “By the way, have you found a date for the wedding?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, get on it, will you, and this time, could you bring someone nice?”
“I can’t come stag?”
“You’ll mess up the seating arrangement.”
“Can’t have that, can we?”
“Please,” she whispered. “I’m hanging by a thread here as I stand at the window, watching the snow coming down.”
“Got you covered, sis. I won’t let you down. I’ll find someone to sit next to me at your wedding. Even if it’s a total stranger.”
Early the next morning, Tom called Jude after he arrived at his store. He breathed in the smell of sawdust and smiled. He loved his shop. Loved carving furniture and making something of quality that would last a lifetime in this throwaway world.
“My sister wants the dress,” he told Jude. “I can come over anytime today. I own my own business so I can rearrange my schedule as I like.”
“I’m in the car headed to work and I had to pull over to take your call. So I need to make this quick. Drop by after school, say fiveish?”
“School? You’re a teacher?”
“Librarian at Evergreen High School.”
That didn’t surprise him. From all the bookshelves he’d seen in her living room, the career choice fit.
“No librarian jokes,” she said.
“I wasn’t thinking of any.”
“Oh.”
“Your apartment is on my route home. I’ll be there at five.”
“See you then.”
At one minute after five he buzzed her apartment and identified himself. This time she let him in without hesitating.
Her cheeks were pink, as though she’d just rushed in from the cold, and she seemed a little breathless.
“I left the dress out in case you wanted another look,” she said, leading him to the couch in the cozy living room done in shades of bright yellow and muted green. The end tables that she’d painted a nice sage green resembled raw tables he carried in the store.
“Nice tables,” he said, wondering why he hadn’t noticed them the first time he’d been here. Probably because he’d been too busy scoping out Jude’s firm little butt.
“Thanks. I bought them unfinished and painted them myself.”
“Did you get them from the Artisan Gallery on Euclid?”
“Yes.” Her eyes rounded in surprise. “How did you know?”
“That’s my store.”
“No kidding?” She looked impressed. “It’s a terrific store. Awesome selection. Unique products.”
“Thanks.” He nodded at the end tables. “You did a good job with the painting. A lot of people just slap on paint without sanding or priming first, and then they wonder why it looks shoddy.”
Why was he talking about this? None of it had anything to do with getting a dress for his sister. It was dumb to feel so darned pleased because Jude had bought a couple of his end tables, but dang it, he was flattered.
“I guess you bought them from one of my clerks,” he added, wondering how he could have possibly forgotten someone as attractive as Jude. “I don’t remember you.”
“It was an older woman,” she said. “With a bubbly personality.”
“My mother helps out sometimes when she needs mad money.”
“She was very helpful.” Jude grinned wide.
He canted his head. “Is something funny?”
She tapped her bottom lip with an index finger. “I probably shouldn’t tell you.”
Wondering what stunt his gregarious mother had pulled, Tom shook his head “Nothing Mom does surprises me.”
She giggled self-consciously. “She mentioned something about wishing her son would find a nice woman. She complained that his ‘girlfriend picker’ was broken.”
He groaned.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” she said. “It was small talk. I mentioned I wanted the tables for a new apartment after I got dumped—”
“About the dress…” He wasn’t going to give her a chance to reminisce about the wedding that wasn’t. It was time she moved on. “I have cash.”
“Great. I’ll put the gown in the garment bag it came in.”
“That’d be nice—er—good, thanks.”
She disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a transparent garment bag and a padded satin hanger, and then Jude looked around as though she’d lost something.
“Is there a problem?”<
br />
“No, I’m just deciding how to do this without wrinkling the dress.”
“Can I help? I’m pretty good at getting big things into tight spaces.” Belatedly, he realized how that sounded, and it was his turn to blush. “I was talking about furniture—you know, packing a lot of product into the delivery van.”
“Uh-huh,” she said dryly.
Ducking his head to hide his flushed cheeks, he said, “Here, give me the bag, and you get the dress. If we do it on the bed, everything will be fine.”
Inwardly, Tom groaned. Had he actually just said that?
“Fine?” She seemed puzzled.
He kept digging himself in deeper. “I mean, that way the dress won’t drag on the floor.”
“Oh, okay.” She picked up the voluminous dress, folded it over her arm, and led the way to her bedroom.
Once there, Tom spread the bag on her quilted patchwork bedspread and pulled open the zipper, trying not to inhale the teasingly feminine fragrance of the room. She had good taste in scented candles, if that was what he was smelling.
The bed was full size, and they nearly bumped heads when they both bent over to ease the gown into the bag.
“Don’t let the skirt catch in the zipper,” she warned.
“I’ll let you handle the zipper.” He straightened and watched the top of her head as she carefully zipped the bag closed.
“There.” She straightened and stared at the dress with forlorn nostalgia.
That look did something to him. She’d been through a lot, and he felt a surprising kick of sympathy. To her, the dress must represent lost hope.
“Hey,” he said. “Why don’t you come to the wedding with me?”
Huh? Where in the heck had that come from? Tom clenched his jaw and prayed she hadn’t heard him.
She blinked. “To your sister’s wedding?”
“It might be good for you.”
“Good for me?”
“You know, face the trauma head-on.”
She made a face.
“Besides,” he said. “I need a date. My sister is as anxious as a cat on a hot tin roof and she says if I don’t have a date it will mess up her seating chart. I’m trying to keep her freak-outs to a minimum.”
“You waited until the last minute to find a date?”
“Well, no. I had a date, but we broke up.” C’mon, lady, just say no. I goofed when I made the invitation.
“I see.”
“There will be lot of single guys there. You might meet someone.” Shut up, Brunswick. Stop trying to sell it.
“So might you. Wouldn’t it be better for you to go alone?”
Yes, well, that was the thing. He’d made this stupid bar bet and while it might be immature of him to let competition get the better of him, he was determined to best Dirk this time. Having a date that wasn’t really a date would keep other women at bay, which was the point.
He made a big show of gathering up the dress, deeply regretting his impulsive invitation and expecting her to turn him down. The last thing a jilted bride wanted was to watch someone else get married in her gown. Right?
She paused, studying him, and then stunned him by shrugging and saying, “Sure, why not? I survived my cousin’s wedding last month, and no one at your sister’s will be whispering ‘Poor Jude’ behind my back.”
The woman made it sound as much fun as a root canal, but he didn’t see any way to renege. Besides, a wedding might be just what she needed to get out of her slump—although he didn’t have a clue why he should care.
“If you’re sure,” he said, giving her a chance to back out.
“Unless you want to change your mind?”
“No, not at all. You’ll be helping me out. My mother has her three sisters dedicated to finding a nice woman for me. You’ll be doing me a huge favor.”
“Um…”
“Yes?” His eyes met hers.
“There is one thing.”
“What’s that?”
She headed for the living room and he followed, pulling the envelope of cash from his jacket pocket. “For the dress.”
“Thank you. I don’t quite know how to ask this but—”
“Straight-out works for me. Spill it.”
“I was wondering, while we’re at the wedding, if you could watch me in action and give me a few pointers on what I’m doing wrong?” She was blushing so furiously he didn’t have the heart to make a joke of it. She was serious about this.
“Look, I’m really the wrong person to ask. It’s not like I’m a relationship whiz or anything.” In fact, he hadn’t been in a long-term relationship since well, college.
“Think of it as tutoring. I’m tired of being Miss Goody Two-Shoes and want to cut loose and enjoy myself, but I really don’t know how.”
“Don’t you have girlfriends you could ask to teach you how not to be nice?”
“They tell me I’m perfect the way I am, but I’m not.”
“You’re being awfully hard on yourself.”
“I just feel stagnant being a Goody Two-Shoes. It’s hampering my growth as a person.”
“Goody Two-Shoes?”
“It’s an inside joke. My brother used to call me that because I never got into trouble and now, I feel like I have that sign around my neck that says, take advantage of me.”
Tom shook his head. “Maybe attending the wedding as my date isn’t such a good idea after all.”
“You’re uninviting me?”
“No, but if you’re having second thoughts, I get it.” He was the one who should be wearing a sign. A Kick Me placard.
“So you won’t help me?” A shadow of sadness clouded up her eyes.
“Okay, I’ll give it a shot.”
“I’m thinking of a business arrangement—an exchange. My ex-fiancé gave me two season passes to the Bulls games as an engagement present.”
“Do you love the Bulls?”
“No.”
“Then why did he give you season passes?”
She shrugged. “I’m starting to realize he didn’t really pay much attention to what I liked. Of course, he intended to use one of the seats himself, but so far, he hasn’t had enough nerve to ask me to return them. You don’t have to guarantee results. Just give me some advice on how I can be a little bolder, a little less ‘nice,’ and the tickets are yours.”
Tom felt slightly panicky. “I’m more than willing to buy them from you.”
“They’re not for sale.”
“You’re willing to give them to me in exchange for dating advice, but you won’t sell them. That’s whack.”
“I’m desperate.”
“Desperate?” he echoed.
“I feel like I’m stuck in a mud bog while everyone around me zooms on by with their life. Please help me?”
Lord, she looked so beguiling. Plus, Bulls season tickets!
He couldn’t hold back a grin. Season tickets in exchange for showing her how to cut loose and have fun? Why not?
“This is the craziest deal I’ve ever been offered,” he said.
“Does that mean you’ll do it?” She looked so hopeful with her wide blue eyes and earnest smile that he couldn’t resist.
“I can’t make any promises. I may not be much help.”
“Maybe not, but if my ex-fiancé gets up enough courage to ask for the tickets back, I’d love to tell him what I did with them.”
He took a deep breath. She deserved a bit of sweet revenge. He liked her more, knowing she wasn’t quite so nice. See? He had something to work with.
“Lady,” Tom said and stuck out his hand. “You’ve got a deal.”
3
“I’d love to do a Zoom call with you tomorrow to see your new house, but I have plans,” Jude said on Friday afternoon, her cell phone tucked underneath her chin as she shelved books after the last class of the day had left the library.
“Plans?” her cousin Leigh asked. “Do you have a date?”
“Sort of, but not really.”
“It’s not a real a date. I’m just attending a wedding.”
“Wedding?” Leigh, the woman who’d gotten married in a palace, squealed. “Why didn’t you say so? Who’s getting married?”
The phone slipped from under her chin, but she managed to catch it before it hit the floor. Any other time she’d be eager to tell Leigh about her date, but how could she explain Tom Brunswick and the weird bargain they’d struck?
“A female pilot named Tara is getting married. That’s all I know.”
“You’re attending the wedding of someone you don’t know? Are you crashing the wedding?”
“No, I’m the last-minute date for the woman’s twin brother, Tom, so that he doesn’t have to go alone.”
“Jude, that’s great! I’m so excited for you. Even if this date doesn’t lead to anything, it’s high time you got out of that apartment—”
“It won’t lead to anything. We’re doing each other a favor. Quid pro quo.”
“Still, that sounds like it could have possibilities. Is he cute?”
“Very.”
“Woo-hoo. I want to hear everything.”
“If I get home early enough from the wedding, I’ll call and tell you how it went,” Jude promised.
“Remember I’m six hours ahead. Call me no matter how late it is your time,” Leigh said. “Unless things get hot and heavy with you two. In which case call me on Sunday.”
“Things won’t get hot and heavy.”
“Not if you say it won’t. Think positive! Open yourself up to possibilities.”
“Talk to you later.” Her palm was sweaty as she slipped the phone into her pocket and shelved a Stephen King novel. She focused on filing the books as efficiently as possible, but before she could finish shelving the stack of books on her rolling cart, her cell phone buzzed again.
Tom Brunswick.
Dude, just text. His voice was way too sexy. She didn’t want to hear it when she was already so nervous. Then another thought occurred to her, he’s calling to cancel; that’s why he didn’t just text.
She answered the phone with, “If you’ve changed your mind, I totally get it.”
