Wedding Willies

“But you do like him?”

“He’s a nice guy,” Kit repeated.

“Because Cutty was wondering if this dinner tonight was a cover.”

“A cover?”

“You know—a group thing to cover up the fact that Ad really just wanted to have dinner with you.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Kit said.

And she didn’t. She believed Ad’s motives for arranging the dinner tonight were exactly what he’d said they were, to give Kira and Cutty a break.

But it did give Kit a twinge of pleasure to entertain that other possibility. “He’s seen plenty of me,” she added in spite of it. “He’s doing this for you guys.”

Kira just smiled.

The door to the fitting room opened and the tailor came in just then, putting an end to the conversation before it could go any farther.

But even as Kit watched Kira’s gown being pulled and pinned, and even as the hem was turned up on her own dress, she still couldn’t suppress a tiny thrill at even the suggestion that Ad had had her in mind when he’d devised the evening to come.

No matter how hard she tried.

Ad and Cutty left the alteration shop after they had finished having their tuxedos fitted and went to the restaurant to wait for Kit and Kira.

The dinner rush had begun by then but they found two free spots to stand at the bar and ordered beers.

“We missed you at that last game,” Ad was saying to Cutty as his bartender slid frigid bottles in their direction. “Their pitcher had an arm that wouldn’t quit. Struck half of us out and didn’t even break a sweat.”

Ad and Cutty—and several of the other men in town—played seasonal sports on a local team. Summer was softball season and it was in full swing. But Cutty hadn’t been able to participate since breaking his ankle and even though the cast had been removed the week before, he was still in physical therapy.

They each took a swig of beer and replaced their bottles on the bar.

“So tomorrow night you’re just coming to watch? You really can’t play?” Ad asked.

“I really can’t,” Cutty answered. “Kira and the physical therapist ganged up on me. The ankle can be pretty wobbly still and they pointed out that I shouldn’t risk doing damage with everything that’s coming up.”

“They didn’t want you limping down the aisle,” Ad said.

“Or messing up the honeymoon,” Cutty added with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. “I agreed with that part of it.”

“I’ll bet you did.”

They drank more beer and tossed back a few of the complimentary peanuts from the bowl in front of them.

“We really appreciate you having Kit stay in the apartment,” Cutty said then. “Our guest room is construction central—it’s full of tools and paint cans and light fixtures. It’s a mess. And I don’t know where we would have put all the stuff if we had to clear it out for her—the garage is packed, too. That’s where the wall-board and the new bathtub and the sinks and the rest of the plumbing supplies are.”

“It’s no big deal,” Ad assured. “The place was empty anyway. Why shouldn’t she use it?”

“Yeah, but you’ve been picking up the slack for us as hosts, too. I didn’t mean for you to have to entertain her but—”

“I’m hardly entertaining her. She’s with Kira most of the time. I just did a little kitchen duty last night is all.”

“And you picked her up at the bus station and kept her company for us when we were getting Mel stitched up.”

“No big deal.”

“Yeah, well I owe you.”

“Believe me, you really don’t,” Ad said slightly under his breath, thinking that none of the time he’d spent with Kit had been a hardship on him. In fact, it had been the opposite.

Maybe that had somehow echoed in his tone because it drew a curious look from his friend.

But Cutty didn’t comment on it, and Ad didn’t expound. Instead they both raised their bottles to their mouths again.

When they’d set them down once more Cutty said, “This was a good idea tonight. I’ve been so damn busy it seems like ten years since we’ve just had a beer and a burger.”

“Buying a new house, moving, remodeling, getting married—that’ll keep you occupied all right.”

“’Course I did wonder if it was really my company and Kira’s you were after tonight. Or if maybe you’d just worked up a plan to get a little Kit-time in for yourself—if maybe you’ve liked picking up the slack for us.”

Ad gave his friend a sideways glance. “That’s what you were wondering, huh?”

“Is it true?”

“I invite you for a beer, a little dinner, and you think I have ulterior motives,” Ad joked, pretending he was injured by the suggestion.

“Uh-huh. I notice you aren’t denying it, though. Could it be you’re interested in Kit?” Cutty asked.

“She’s an interesting enough person. We have some things in common—restaurant work for instance.”

“Uh-huh,” Cutty repeated. “So you’re definitely interested.”

Ad took another drink of beer. Then he said, “Nah.”

“Okay. Let me put it a different way. If Kit had been born and raised in Northbridge, would you definitely be interested?”

“Definitely?” Ad hedged.

“Would you be interested?” Cutty said insistently.

“Maybe,” was the most Ad would concede. But it wasn’t because he was playing games with his friend. He really didn’t want to give in to being attracted to Kit, and it seemed as if admitting anything to Cutty would be the first step in letting down his guard.

“But since she isn’t a permanent fixture around here, you aren’t interested?” Cutty finished for him.

“Right.”

Cutty ate some more nuts. “Seems like the number of Northbridge women on your dance card is pretty low.”