Jane and Austen (15 page)

I glanced over at Austen, and he obligingly met my gaze as if he had waited for me to connect with him all night. I was the girl who thought that everything Taylor did was genius, and Austen pretty much thought the opposite. Taylor might have us, but she needed a better balance of friends.

Austen shifted, and I followed his gaze to find Dancey as he made his fashionably late entrance. The best man prowled around the perimeter of the room wearing a dress shirt with a few buttons undone. His hair was disheveled; not like he’d slept on it, but as though he’d run his hands through it while deep in thought—I couldn’t help seeing him as some hero torn from the pages of my worn Jane Austen novels. He fit every romantic ideal I’d ever had.

He stepped into the spotlight just in time for Bertie to offer him the mic. Dancey shook his head once and dropped into the seat next to Bigley. His best friend was already grinning at his unconventional behavior.

Bertie wouldn’t take no for an answer. She gave a hard giggle, straightening her ramrod back so that she seemed more imposing. “Now that everyone has heard from the bride’s
best
friend, they want to hear from the groom’s. Take it, Dancey.”

Dancey didn’t attempt a smile. “I have nothing to say.”

The room went silent, and it felt smothering. Taylor’s hands tightened over her napkin, and she twisted it.

Before it could get too awkward, I rushed forward and took the mic. “Well,
I’m
not about to pass up an opportunity to express my love for my friends.” I had no idea what to say—I wasn’t even expecting to give a pep talk at this thing. I tried to cover my hesitation with another flow of words. “Taylor, I just want you to know that I admire you so much. You’re the sister I never had, and you know I’ve had my share of brothers.”

Taylor giggled at that, and I tried to relax. “I remember the first time I met you—you were balanced on a ladder and two chairs to change a light bulb on a twelve-foot ceiling. It was really hard not to like you after that. You’re so determined. It’s a tremendous honor to follow in your footsteps—you do so much good here. I’ll miss you. But I want your happiness more than anything,” as I said it, I felt the impact of my own words, “and I hope you’re happy . . .” Oh no, I realized that I was parroting Austen now. I avoided his cynical eyes. “I
know
you’re happy. Of course you are. Anyway, Bigley sees it. He’s a good man. Someone told me once that a kiss says it all. And since Bigley’s the only one here who you’ve kissed . . . that way . . .”
uh, hopefully. What was I saying?
“I’m sure Bigley could tell us all how much you love him. And he loves you too. You’re so lucky that you share that kind of love.”

That was a disaster.

I smiled weakly at Taylor. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears—at least
she
didn’t think I was a failure. Before I could slide the mic back into the stand for another unsuspecting victim to take, Dancey stretched his hand out for it.

After a moment’s hesitation, I gave it to him. He handled it like an old friend—holding a mic was what he did for a living. “Are you sure your coworker isn’t who you want for your best friend, Taylor?” he asked in his captivating British accent.

Bertie glared at me for that. I wanted to hold up my hands to defend myself, but Dancey wasn’t through with us yet. Besides sitting a little straighter in his chair, he didn’t stand. “You should listen to Jane, Taylor. You have love, you have everything. Your happiness means everything to those who love you. We’ll support you no matter what happens.” Even Dancey was sounding like Austen—hinting at something that I couldn’t figure out. I felt like I was missing a few episodes in a mini-series. What did he know that I didn’t? Dancey studied his best friend. “Chuck, it’s not every day that a man finds love—you have everything that I want. And you did nothing to deserve it. I positively hate you.”

Bigley leaned back and laughed at the joke. “At least you’re honest, Dancey.”

I gulped. When expressing affection, best girl friends said I love you and best guy friends said I hate you. Even though I had a lot of brothers, I still didn’t understand how guys worked, but at least the groom shared Dancey’s sense of humor. I could tell Taylor didn’t. She was chalky white.

Unaware of any disturbing vibes, Mary grabbed a hold of the microphone next. She went on about how she put her health in jeopardy to attend the wedding because Taylor meant so much to her. I tried to sidestep from the action. As soon as I did, Austen found my hand in the dim room and folded my fingers over a glass. “Get Taylor some water,” he said.

Turning, I saw Taylor was fighting tears again. I circled back to her and set the drink down in front of her. She gratefully tipped it back, swallowing the water like she couldn’t get it down fast enough. The poor girl was dying of thirst. I went to find more water and, spying Dancey’s unused glass, stole his instead and set it in front of Taylor, who drank that too.

She wrapped her hand around mine. “Jane, could you see about getting a pitcher of water from the kitchen? Dancey needs his glass refilled.” She smiled at me when I hesitated. “You can leave me; I’m good now.”

I wasn’t so sure about that, but sweet Bella took the microphone next. Crawley crouched on a chair near her, waiting for his turn—I was almost positive that the two had dared each other to go up. They were nervous, but at least
they
cared about the bride and groom. I spied Bertie glaring at the blond bridesmaid as if she had stolen Crawley from her—from a married woman? Everything was so confusing. I stepped back from Taylor, accidentally brushing past Dancey on my way out. He didn’t acknowledge me, just glowered at the room. Something was wrong with him, too. After Taylor’s violent reaction to his puzzling speech, I couldn’t stand to look at him.

I reached the kitchen and blinked under the harsh florescent lights. The caterers busily put the finishing touches on little pastries. Junie headed the little army, her rosebud lips pressed firmly together. She had stripped down to a simple white T-shirt and cut off shorts. She was barefoot and balanced on the counter, trying to get more pots from the highest shelves. For a moment, she looked so free that I wished we could trade places.

“Jane!” Ann-Marie tugged me away from the pot rack over the kitchen island. I got a good whiff of peroxide. Ann-Marie had gone platinum blond for the occasion. She looked like a bombshell in her elegant scarlet dress. Taylor’s wedding colors were the theme of the night. “Did you see him? The rock star. He’s so dark and mysterious.” She peered out of the kitchen at the wedding party in the Pemburkley. “He just says it like it is, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, real cool,” I said, spreading the sarcasm thick. Taylor couldn’t handle Dancey’s candor in her fragile state. He was worse than Austen.

Ann-Marie gave a little shriek that made my skin prickle in alarm. “Wait!” she said. “He’s coming this way. Dancey! He’s coming. Oh!”

What? I ducked behind a tall cabinet, seeing Dancey push his way into the kitchen as though he had every right to be there. I turned away and grabbed a potato and pretended to be busy at the sink. I could feel his stare and hoped I looked busy enough so that he would find someone else to pester. He had his dignity to preserve, right? I turned the water on and scrubbed at the potato. From the corner of my eye, I could see his chest rising and lowering while he considered me. After too long, he turned to go. I squeezed my eyes shut, glad I didn’t have to talk to him.

A shriek made me swing around. Ann-Marie crumpled into a heap of red skirts in the middle of the room, holding her ankle. “Oh! Help. My ankle. Help!”

“Ann-Marie!” I wiped my hands off on the nearest towel and ran to her.

She wiped at her dry eyes. “I stepped on my foot wrong,” she moaned. I knew when she was faking, but, too late, I noticed that Dancey was more than willing to play her game.

“Are you all right?” Dancey moved closer. He wasn’t looking at her—his eyes were on me.

I lifted my hands helplessly. “Ann-Marie, uh, has weak ankles.”

Junie hopped off her counter and sauntered over to inspect the madness for herself. She rolled her eyes when she saw Ann-Marie conning poor Dancey with the ankle act. Junie probably thought that I had something to do with it. “Jane?” she asked. “Can’t you take Ann-Marie somewhere else to
heal
?”

I blushed. “Yeah, just a sec.”

“Yes, yes, I need someone to carry me to my car.” Ann-Marie’s eyes were on Dancey. “I’ll never be able to make it on my own.”

Dancey knelt next to her. “Would you settle for my hand?”

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “Maybe you should check my ankle to see if it’s sprained before I put any weight on it first?”

Dancey glanced up at me, and I noticed his eyes twinkled with amusement. “Jane, perhaps you should call for an ambulance. This girl is plainly too hurt to make it all the way home.”

“It’s too bad,” I said, taking his cue. “There will be dancing tonight. So many cute guys. She’ll really be missing out.”

A look of genuine distress ran across Ann-Marie’s face. “Maybe I should test my ankle first. I can’t miss out on dancing.”

“I don’t know.” I tapped her ankle. “Does this hurt?”

She sucked in her breath, but after a moment screwed her face into a brave look. “It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it did.”

Dancey’s large hands wrapped around Ann-Marie’s smaller ones, and he helped her to her feet. Ann-Marie took a few experimental steps until she nodded in satisfaction.

“It’s a miracle,” Dancey said. “She can walk.”

“And dance,” she reminded him. “I can dance.”

“Then you must save one for me,” he said in his proper British accent.

She shrieked out a laugh. Dancey had just made a nineteen-year-old girl’s night—maybe her year. My heart softened towards him, too. “Right now?” Ann-Marie asked.

“Not while everyone is still bidding their final farewells to the bride and groom,” Dancey said with that same lingering bitterness from before. “Why don’t you enjoy the rest of your night until I meet you later?”

She nodded and practically ran out the door, leaving me still kneeling at Dancey’s feet. He smiled and wrapped his hands underneath my arms to help me up. I gasped at his strength. My feet hit the ground and he held me close, his face near mine, not letting me go. “Now you, on the other hand,” he said under his breath, “I wouldn’t mind carrying to your car.”

“I don’t have one.” My eyes widened when I realized what I had just admitted—I didn’t want to be the social inferior in this relationship. “I have a bike. I don’t need one—a car, I mean.” I was babbling now. “I live here, so . . .”

“Are you a mermaid who lives on the foam of the ocean, or are you a nymph in the woods?”

I relaxed at his teasing tone. “I’m the evil doll they keep in the attic.”

“A treasure then.” He released me, but stayed close, as though he was afraid I’d wander away. “I wanted to thank you for what you said to Taylor. She needs more friends like you.”

 “Why do you say that?”

“Her bridesmaids seem . . . interesting.”

Oh. He was just as confused by Taylor’s friends as I was. Maybe that made him worried for the groom. I gave him a reassuring smile. “Yeah. Taylor’s nothing like them—she’s stressed right now. That’s all. I hope we can still keep in touch when she moves to London—she’s not into long-distance relationships . . . which is why Bigley was so surprising to all of us who know her. It must be true love.”

Dancey looked pained, and I realized that he didn’t like talking about his best friend’s relationship with Taylor. Did he not want to lose his friend to someone he saw as unstable or was he so miserable with his love life that he didn’t like to see anyone else happy?

Crawley’s voice drifted over to where we stood by the kitchen door. From where we were, we could see him standing by Bigley with the mic. “I look up to my big brother,” Crawley said. “We might not be blood-related, but I want to do everything he does . . .”

“Come with me.” Dancey caught my hand in his. “I need some air.”

That sounded very intriguing. I let him lead me past Junie’s watchful eyes and out the back door. Tiny decorative lights sparkled through the trees outside and glittered over the top of the pool. The waves from the beach muffled the speeches inside. Dancey led me to the railing that overlooked a patch of trees framing the bright moon as it rose over the crashing waves.

Dancey wasn’t looking at the view; he was looking at me. His hand went to my hair, and he slid a curl from my carefully arranged updo. “You stand out from all those girls painted in red inside. You’re stunning.”

Austen would be frustrated to hear it—I could hardly wait to tease him about how his plan had backfired. Dancey’s fingers gently massaged the back of my hand and I banished all thoughts of the overprotective Austen out of my head. “I didn’t want to come to Bigley’s wedding,” Dancey said, “but I’m glad that I did, Jane.”

His eyes went to my lips. He wanted to kiss me. Things were going too fast for me, which made me realize that I really wasn’t into flings. I moistened my lips and decided to taint the situation with the ridiculous. “You always wanted to be a valet, huh?” I asked.

“I always wanted to be with a girl who didn’t care who I was.” His fingers caught my waist, and he pulled me closer. He smelled good. He was tall and manly and dressed really well—his arms felt like they belonged around me. His lips tipped up in a smile, and I knew he was going to kiss me.

Every girl instinct screamed at me that all I had to do was close my eyes and enjoy the moment. I cleared my throat instead. “Why didn’t you want to go to Bigley’s wedding?”

That killed the moment and I knew it. His hands loosened over me. “Weddings are—you know—they’re depressing.”

And now
he
had
killed the moment—pretty much stabbed it, skewered it and burned the evidence. “You don’t like marriage?” I asked.

“No. No. Jane, no. It’s just that I know Bigley . . .”

Now I was worried. “He’s not good enough for Taylor?”

“No.”

My heart fluttered. “You don’t think Taylor’s good enough for your best friend?”