Two Weddings And A Bride

“Nah. Just me and the boys.”

“Then why don’t you show Catherine here howda two-step. Jake’s kinda busy and I’m not much fun.”

Charlie took a step closer. With a smile wider than Texas, he extended his hand, palm up, and said, “Love to!”

“Oh, no!” Catherine shook her head and her hair flew side to side. “I couldn’t, but thanks for the offer.”

Charlie looked down at her left hand. “I see.”

She followed his gaze, stopping at the new diamondstudded band sparkling on her third finger. The anger she’d been denying for more than an hour finally broke the surface. In one quick motion she jerked off the ring and shoved it in her pants pocket. When she looked up the men were exchanging a knowing look.

“It’s…it’s not what you think,” she stammered. Neither of them looked convinced, but she wasn’t about to explain. Instead she stood and pressed her fists to her thighs. It was time to move. One way or the other, she had to expel this mounting energy raging behind her ribs. Her gaze darted to the door, then to the bustling dance floor. This place might not be the answer, but it beat standing alone on Woodward Avenue after dark.

She looked back at Charlie with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. He eyed her warily. She’d probably regret this in the morning, but what the hell. She could add it to the list. “Is that dance lesson still open?”

Jake watched the pair laughing and twirling around on the dance floor, a sense of dеj? vu stabbing at his gut. They’d been at it now for over an hour. What was she trying to do? Rub it in his face? Tease and flaunt until he jumped over the bar, picked her up and carried her off kicking and screaming? He dried the same glass for the third time, then slammed it down on the counter.

Damn! What was the matter with him? He had no claim on this woman. Besides, she barely knew he was alive. She was simply here to forget her troubles like everyone else in the place. Under the circumstances how could he blame her?

The band took a break and Jake watched Catherine lead Charlie back to Sarge, who seemed to be having a vicarious good time. More than once since Catherine arrived, Jake thought about telling the old guy what happened to her tonight, but discretion won out.

He checked his watch: one-thirty. Time for last call. By the sway in Catherine’s walk he hoped she didn’t ask for another. Between dances she’d been slamming back Baileys as if they were milk shakes.

Jake walked over to Tom at the service bar. “Mind closing up alone?”

“No problem, Jake. Thanks for sticking around. When Tim called in sick I thought I’d be stuck here alone all night. I owe ya one, guy.”

“I’ll remember that.” Jake smiled, patting Tom on the shoulder before heading back to the trio at the other end. Charlie was hanging over Catherine, practically drooling, and Sarge was laughing heartily at something she’d said.

Trying to appear uninterested, Jake strolled out from behind the bar. He stopped behind Charlie and spoke softly near his ear. “Too bad you have to leave now, my friend.”

Charlie looked over his shoulder ready to protest when he met Jake’s direct stare. Jake glanced in Catherine’s direction, then quickly back to Charlie. Charlie got the message. Loud and clear.

“See ya around, Sarge, Catherine,” Charlie said, his disappointment showing.

Catherine turned abruptly and looked up. For a moment Jake thought she might fall off the stool. “You can’t go, Charlie. Who am I going to dance with?”

Jake stepped between them and took her hand as the band began its last short set. “Guess you’ll have to settle for me.” He gave her a not-too-gentle tug and she stumbled behind him onto the dance floor. When he spun around to face her he pulled her close and she landed hard against the length of him, but not without a giggle.

She snuggled her head against his shoulder and made a mewing noise into his chest. Her arm was draped loosely around his neck. It felt as though she might fall asleep any second. He tightened his grip, knowing he should take her home, but enjoying the feel of her far too much to leave.

It was hot under the dance floor lights, just as it had been hot in the church earlier, but a chill passed through him when he pictured her then…and now in his arms. What was it about this woman that made him feel so protective? He’d seen enough to know she could take care of herself. Still…

The slow dance ended and as much as he wanted another he stepped back. He caught her hand in his when it slid off his shoulder. Her eyes were closed and she was listing to port. Gently he turned her toward Sarge, slipping his arm around her shoulder and guiding her back to her stool. When they arrived, Catherine made no effort to move. With his arm still around her Jake shuffled his feet in front of Sarge, feeling like an adolescent on his first date. He cleared his throat.

“I’m going to take this young lady home. Need a ride?”

“Nope. Charlie’s bringing his car around. Said he’d give me a lift.” He waved Jake off with the back of his hand and a sly wink. Jake picked up Catherine’s white purse and turned her toward the door. Halfway there Catherine stopped.

“Carryon…I brought a carryon….”

Jake looked over his shoulder and saw the burgundy bag under the stool. “Stay right here. I’ll get it.” Jake propped her against a wall and walked back.

Charlie had returned and was unlocking Sarge’s wheelchair. He stopped and poked Jake in the side with an elbow. In a stage whisper, he said, “I do all the work. You get all the fun.”

Another time, another woman, Jake might have let Charlie think what he wanted. “It’s not how it looks, buddy. Someday I’ll fill you in.” With that, he returned to Catherine and slowly eased her outside and into his Jeep.

About a mile up the road she finally spoke. “Didn’t we do this part already?”

He glanced at her quickly. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back, hair blowing helter-skelter.

Before he could comment, she said, “I like your Jeep.” From the corner of his eye he could see her turn toward him. “And I like you too, Jake. You’re a nice guy…you know that?”

He wanted to believe she meant it and would remember her words tomorrow, but he knew it was the booze talking now.

“Where we going?” she asked, not sounding as if she really cared.

“Toot’s Diner. I need some chow and you need some coffee.”

Another mile and he pulled into the restaurant parking lot, hopped out and ran to the other side before his passenger could fall on her face trying to maneuver on her own. She accepted his hand with a teasing smile and fell against him.

“Oops!” She giggled and righted herself.

When they slid into the booth nearest the door a minute later, Jake saw a waitress eyeing him. She came over with a pair of menus and shot him a judgmental look. Why is it all women assume the guy is some lech ready to pounce on some poor, helpless female? This female was hardly helpless. And by the looks of everything, not poor, either. He shoved the menus aside and ignored them along with the waitress’s scowl.

“We’ll have a couple orders of eggs, ham and toast. Make mine overeasy with rye.” He looked at Catherine. Her eyes were at half-mast; she seemed dazed. “How do you want yours?”

“Scrambled. Whole wheat,” she said in a monotone.

The waitress started to leave. Jake called after her. “And lots of coffee, please…soon.” She looked back, her lips a hard, straight line. Jake winked and flashed a toothy smile.

Catherine didn’t say a word. She slumped deeper in the booth, the back of her head pressed against the cushion, a cheek resting on her shoulder. Jake watched her doze, wondering if he should wake her and force some coffee down, or let her sleep. When the aroma of hot food and the noise of sliding plates didn’t budge her, he decided he had to say something.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty. Chow time.” He drank his coffee and watched her come around. She looked ghastly. Her complexion matched the pale green upholstery. He’d seen the signs often enough to know what was coming. Sure enough, she struggled to an upright position and moaned aloud, clasping her head with both hands. She took one whiff of the food, then slid quickly from the booth.

Jake pointed. “Down that hall, on the right.” He watched her snake a path to the ladies’ room and debated whether he should follow. Nah. There were some things a person preferred doing in private.

Ten minutes later Jake was just about to send the waitress in after her when Catherine emerged. Her mascara was smudged, her face wet and pale, but she walked straighter than when she’d left. It’d been years since he’d pulled such a stunt, but he remembered the feeling all too well.

She avoided his eyes when she slid back into the booth and reached for her water. She took a sip, then looked at him sheepishly. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”

“Not quite.” Jake dipped the corner of a napkin into his water glass. He leaned across and started wiping away the black from beneath her lashes. She inched forward, staring back at him with such a soulful look that he wanted to slide in beside her, crush her against him and never let her go. Now he wished he’d gone back and taught Studly a lesson he’d never forget. How could any man throw away a woman like this?

When he tossed the napkin aside, Catherine grasped his hand with both of hers. For the first time he saw a hint of moisture pooling above her lower lashes. He watched, certain tears would spill any second, but they didn’t.

She raised her chin and blinked them back, then spoke in a barely audible whisper. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”