Burn for You (2 page)

And she really didn’t want to let Camille down.

Camille was the closest thing she had to a sister and the only female Victoria could call a true friend. Victoria didn’t want to cause her even a moment of frustration—not on her dress-shopping day.

Weddings were stressful enough without having to play referee to one’s future sister and mother-in-law.

Which was why Victoria remained seated on a rolling dress rack, buried among silk and ruffles and taffeta, while the other bridesmaids battled it out.

Let them pick the dress. Victoria would wear whatever the bride and her other bridesmaids agreed on. And she would probably enjoy it, too. But heaven help her if she had to listen to her mother’s fashion police commentary while she tried on one more dress.

“Vicki?” Loretta Russo called again. “Oh, where is that girl?”

“I think she just went to use the restroom.” Camille’s sweet voice cut through the chatter of the other five bridesmaids. “She’ll be back in a minute, I’m sure.”

Victoria unwrapped her Snickers bar and smiled. Camille knew exactly where she was. Well, not exactly. But she damn well knew Victoria wasn’t in the bathroom. Camille would never rat her out though, and that was just one of a million reasons why Victoria adored her.

“I think this is the one, Camille,” one of the bridesmaids said. Sounded like the tall blonde one. What was her name? Bethany? Beth Anne? Victoria couldn’t remember because she’d taken to calling her Barbie in her head. “Don’t you love it?” Barbie asked.

“I do,” Camille answered. “And the neckline is similar to this bridal gown.”

Peeking out from between dresses, Victoria could see Camille holding up a gown from the row of possibilities. “I think they’d look really good together.”

“I don’t know,” Victoria’s mom said. “The neckline is the part I’m worried about. I think you’ll want to see it on Vicki before you decide.”

“I think Victoria will look beautiful in it.” Another reason to love Camille. Not only did she have faith Victoria could pull off the dress, but she was also the only person who called her by her real name.

Not Vicki like her mother and not Vic like her brothers and the guys at the firehouse, but Victoria.

Truthfully, Victoria had lived twenty-eight years feeling like none of her names really fit.

Vicki was the name of a spunky, outgoing, life-of-the-party girl. And that wasn’t her. If she was at a party, she was probably on the sidelines, boring whoever she happened to trap in conversation about the merits of one craft beer over another.

Vickies didn’t care about thermo-nuclear brewing methods.

And Vic? She wasn’t a Vic, either. Vic was the guy barking, “Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs!” in a nasal Chicago accent at the corner of Irving and Sheffield.

Granted, she was more Vic than Vickie, but still, it didn’t fit.

But Victoria?
Victoria
was the name of a confident, smart, sometimes sensual woman. Victoria was the name she most wished she could embody.

But it never stuck.

She could introduce herself as Victoria until she was blue in the face, but eventually, people always started calling her Vic. And maybe she
was
more of a Vic than a Victoria.

Perhaps she should just accept that.

Taking a bite of her chocolate bar, she let the chatter of the bridesmaids dance around in her head like background music. And in the same way that one begins subconsciously humming a familiar melody, Victoria’s brain pricked to attention at the mention of a familiar name.

“…and Graham will be there, of course,” Camille said. “He’s Tony’s best man.”

Graham McAndrew. Firefighter. Her older brother’s best friend. And the one that got away.

Repeatedly.

“Graham McAndrew?” Barbie replied. “Is it true that he and his girlfriend just broke up?”

Victoria stood up so quickly she hit her head on the top of the dress rack. “Ow.” Holding her head in pain, she leaned back too far. She tried to regain her balance, but when she stepped back, her foot landed on the bottom of the rack, and the wheels rolled out from under her. She grabbed a dress with her non-candy-bar-holding hand, but she kept falling backward, and her tight grip on the purple taffeta brought the whole rack down on top of her.

“Oh, good heavens!” Her mother’s voice sounded muffled through all the fabric. She could just imagine what her mom was seeing—a huge mountain of dresses with an arm sticking out, like a flagpole, waving a Snickers flag.

She fought through the dress avalanche and was greeted by a circle of bridesmaids looking down at her.

Turning to the side, Victoria rubbed her aching tailbone while her face heated with embarrassment.

“Let me help you up,” Camille said, holding out a hand.

“Thanks,” Victoria mumbled, standing up.

“Your reflexes are amazing. You saved the dresses from getting smudged with chocolate.”

“To be honest, I was trying to save my chocolate from the dresses. Not the other way around.”

Camille laughed.

“What on earth were you doing?” Her mother righted the dress rack with Barbie’s help, and everyone started hanging the dresses back up, probably eager to have it cleaned up before the pushy dressing room attendant returned.

“Just hanging out.”

“You weren’t hiding from me, were you?” her mother asked.

“Now, why would I do that?”

“I know you’re not a fan of all this girly stuff, but we need you to try on a dress.” Loretta pulled Victoria toward one of the dressing rooms—an over-glorified closet with a heavy white curtain.

“I have no problem with girly stuff,” Victoria said, but her mother was busy finding the dress she wanted her to try on. Her mom thought she didn’t like getting dressed up, but that wasn’t the case at all. She liked putting on a touch of make-up and a fancy dress as much as the next girl. She just didn’t get the opportunity that often. Not when she was in the army. And not now that she was working as a paramedic. Not to mention the fact that anytime she did have an opportunity to glam it up a little, she and her mother had drastically different ideas of what looked good.

“Here.” Her mom handed her a strapless, periwinkle dress. “Put this on so Camille can see if she likes it on you.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it on you,” Camille said from the pedestal where Barbie was helping her into a gorgeous ivory wedding gown.

Victoria gave her a small smile before pulling the curtain and stripping off her sweatshirt and jeans. Wrestling herself into the dress, she strained her ears, hoping that whoever had been gossiping about Graham would pick up where they’d left off.

Could it be true? Had Graham finally broken it off with that vapid airline attendant he’d been dating?

Yesterday at work, he’d said he wanted to talk to her—to get her opinion about something, but her ambulance team had been dispatched to a car accident and they’d never connected. Could he have wanted her opinion on breaking up with his girlfriend?

Nervous excitement made her stomach jittery.

Graham McAndrew—
the
Graham McAndrew might be single again.

For the first time in years, they were both single and living in the same country. In the same state. In the same town even. The thought that their on-again off-again relationship might have a shot at being on-again—for good—was everything she’d been hoping for.

“Vicki, what’s taking so long? Do you need help?”

Sighing, Victoria stepped out of the dressing room and offered her back to her mother. She couldn’t grab the zipper because her hands were sweaty. And a little shaky.

Her mother, however, had no trouble with it. “There. Now turn around, and let’s see.”

Obediently, Victoria turned and modeled for her mother, Camille, and the other bridesmaids.

“Oh, I love it,” Camille said, stepping off the pedestal to grab Victoria’s hands. “It’s just perfect for you. And the cocktail length shows off those toned legs of yours.”

Victoria turned to her mother. “What do you think?”

“It is lovely,” Loretta said, her voice warm. “But Vicki, what are we going to do about your tattoo?”

“What about my tattoo?” She glanced down at the colorful butterfly wings that were peeking out above the top of the strapless dress.

“I just don’t know why you felt you had to mark your lovely skin with a big tattoo where everyone can see it.”

Victoria chuckled. “What’s the point of having a tattoo if nobody can see it?”

“One might wonder what the point of having a tattoo is period.”

“Mom, you know why I have this tattoo.”

Her mother sighed, lifting her somber brown-eyed gaze up to Victoria’s face. “I know, sweetheart. I remember.”

At her mother’s sudden silence, Victoria turned to Camille. “If the tattoo bothers the bride, I’ll find a way to cover it up. It doesn’t have to be in your wedding photos.”

“Don’t be silly.” Camille gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I love you. And your tattoo. And you look stunning in that dress.”

“Thank you.” Victoria walked toward the half circle of mirrors to see for herself.

Camille sidled up behind her and whispered low for Victoria’s ears only. “And I think a certain recently single groomsman is going to think so, too.”

“You do?” Victoria smoothed the dress over her stomach and hips and looked in the mirror.

She was glowing. Her short, pixie-like haircut meant there was nothing to cover her face, nothing to hide behind, nothing to detract from the secret smile beginning to emerge. She looked like a woman who finally had a shot at her dreams and was ready to see them through.

She looked like a
Victoria
.

Chapter 2

Two months later…

With every footfall, Victoria felt better, stronger. More at peace with herself than at any other point in her day. The wet, packed sand of the Lake Michigan shoreline offered an added resistance, an added challenge that drove her to run harder, run faster. The warm June sun beat down on her shoulders, but the breeze off the lake cooled her skin. Perfect running weather. Her breathing settled into a sustainable pace, and she let her body take over, finding that rhythm that made her feel as if she could run forever.

Next to her, Graham huffed and puffed laboriously. He hadn’t found his rhythm yet. “I…hate…beach running.”

“No pain, no gain,” Victoria said.

Graham didn’t answer. Probably didn’t have the air in his lungs to do so. He was incredibly muscular from long hours in the gym, but while lifting weights had sculpted him into every woman’s dream, his cardiovascular fitness was a little lacking. Part of his break-up therapy had been starting a running regime with Victoria. Two months in and he didn’t like it any more now than he did when they’d started.

“We’re almost done,” Victoria said when Graham’s pace began to falter. “We can stop after a lap around the fountain.” She turned them away from the beach and toward Dawes Park. They left the sand and hit the path around the fountain. After running in sand, the paved path made her legs rejoice. She quickened her pace.

“It’s not…a race…Vic.”

Victoria smiled. “Afraid you’ll lose, McAndrew?”

He didn’t answer and Victoria let her legs slip into fifth gear. Graham’s pace quickened as well. He was competitive to his core, and Victoria reeled him in, knowing she had another level left in her. At the last second, when it was too late for him to react, she kicked it up another notch, reaching the brick steps several strides before him.

“Good run, Graham,” she said, sitting down to stretch on the tall steps that doubled as park benches. “Or should I call you Graham-ma?”

“Very funny,” he said, without even a hint of a smile.

“Aw, don’t be a sore loser, McAndrew. If you ran with me more regularly than once a week, you’d have no trouble smoking me.”

“True.” Ego sufficiently stroked, he smiled and sat next to her, putting one leg up on the step to stretch.

She shouldn’t goad him. If she ever wanted to be seen as more-than-a-friend material, she should probably stop treating him like one of her brothers. But old habits die hard and all that crap.

She’d been reluctant to put the moves on Graham since his break-up—oh, who was she kidding? She didn’t have any moves. But still, she hadn’t made any effort to break the friend barrier, because she hadn’t wanted to be his rebound fling.

But two months had passed, and it was time for Graham to move on. Preferably, with her.

Her first effort to be seen—really seen—by Graham was the fancy schmancy sports bra/tank she’d picked up for their run today. The tag said the cinched lycra material was guaranteed to
lift and separate
. No sports bra uniboob with this contraption. And flat as she was, she could use all the lift she could get.

Turning so that she mirrored Graham’s position on the step, she swung a leg up and leaned forward to stretch. If Graham looked up from his toe-touch he’d get an eyeful of her almost-cleavage.

He didn’t look up.

“Vic, I’ve got to tell you, you’ve really been a godsend since Tabitha and I broke up.”

Enough with the Tabitha already. If Victoria heard her name one more time, she might vomit in her mouth.

Still stretching, he said, “You’ve always been there for me, you know? You’re the one constant in my life. The one person I can always count on.”

Her breath caught in her lungs. This was it. If he would just look up, maybe she’d see that he’d finally realized what she’d known for years. They belonged together.

“Not like Tabitha,” he muttered. “Definitely couldn’t count on her.”

“You’re better off without her, Graham.”

“You think so?” He looked up, but didn’t seem to notice her lifted and separated girls. Didn’t seem to notice her, really. “I don’t know sometimes. We were together for a long time.”

“She cheated on you. And not even in a creative way. I mean, the stewardess and the pilot? Could she be any more cliché?”

“Flight attendant.”

“Pardon?”

“They don’t call them stewardesses anymore. They’re flight attendants.”

Victoria sighed. That was Graham for you. Even after Tabitha had stomped on his heart, betrayed him, and humiliated him, he still felt the need to defend her. The hero complex was strong with this one. It was one of many things she loved about him. He was a good man, plain and simple.