The Gambler (6 page)

“Then hum. Or sing.”

“What do you expect me to sing?” he asked in disbelief.

“I don’t know!” she groaned. “How about ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall?”

“If I sing the damn song will you pee already?”

“Yes. Do it. This is getting painful.”

He groaned, but then began to sing.
“Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer.”

Libby felt herself relax and began to pee.

“Take one down, pass it around
—” He stopped singing. “Oh, my God. I think you’ve ruined beer for me forever.”

“You’re listening to me
pee?
” she shrieked.

The door opened again, and this time Noah oozed in a pseudo-cultured voice, “Good evening. I’m the Golden Cowboy Café bathroom attendant, and I’ll be happy to help you with your personal hygiene needs as soon as I’m done with the current customer.”

There was a several-second pause, the sound of the swooshing door, and then Noah said, “That’s the second woman who has run off in horror. If I get arrested, you better bail me out.”

“Unfortunately for you, I don’t have any money . . . or toilet paper.” She felt along the wall of the stall. “I think this stall is out, but my dress is hiding the dispenser anyway.”

“What do you want
me
to do about it? I’m holding up the front end.”

“Do you want me to drip dry?” she asked, annoyed.

“That’s what I do!” he protested.

“Newsflash, Noah. I can’t just give it a tiny shake and be done with it. That’s not how the female anatomy works.”

“I’m very familiar with the female anatomy.” The door hinges squeaked again. “Oh, hello, ma’am. That’s not as bad as it sounds, but while you’re here, could I ask a small favor? Would you mind reaching into that stall and grabbing us some toilet paper? The bride can’t find hers.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble, dear?” a phlegmy voice asked. “Is this some kind of sex-slave kidnapping? Were you forced to marry an old man against your will?”

“Old man?” Noah asked in horror.

Libby tried to push down her rising giggles. “No, ma’am. I’m just a regular bride trying to pee.”

“In the Golden Cowboy Café bathroom?”

Libby rolled her eyes, though she was aware the effect was lost on her audience. “Do you think you could grab some toilet paper for me? Noah’s hands are full and I don’t think I have any in here.”

“The Sizzler has nicer bathrooms.” The door to the next stall banged into the wall.

“The next time I get married and go out for steak while still in my wedding dress, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Oh, dear,” the woman said. “I hope you’re not one of those polygamists.”

“No, ma’am,” Libby said. “I couldn’t even handle one marriage. I think society is safe from any matrimonial deviancy from me.”

Noah’s hand reached over the top of her sea of silk and crinoline, handing her the toilet paper.

“Well, good luck, dear,” the woman called out, then her voice tightened in disapproval. “And you, young man. The least you could do is take your bride somewhere decent to eat. The Chinese buffet is just down the street.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Noah said in a chastised tone, echoing Libby’s previous statement. Several seconds later, he addressed Libby in a whisper, “Are you done yet?”

She stood, careful to keep the back of her skirt from touching the toilet. “I’m done; now back up so I can get out.” Her dress tugged her forward as Noah started to lower the skirt and she laughed when she saw his horrified face.

“Can we get out of here now?”

“I have to wash my hands first.” She glanced over her shoulder at him as she made her way to the sink. “Personal hygiene. But then maybe you don’t think you need to wash after your little shake.” She winked at him in the mirror as she turned on the water.

“I’ll have you know it’s more than a
little
shake.”

She laughed. 

“I suddenly feel the need to affirm my manhood.”

“The size of your shake has nothing to do with your manhood.”

He moved behind her, lightly pressing his chest to her back. “I’ll have you know it has
everything
to do with my manhood.”

“Too bad for you, I’ll never have it confirmed,” she teased.

A few days before she proposed to Mitch, Noah had suggested a change in their relationship. She’d refused, but not because the offer wasn’t tempting. In truth, she’d considered sleeping with him months ago, right after they first met. But she was with Mitch at the time, so she and Noah became friends instead. Now she marveled at everything she would have missed if she’d given in to her initial lust—the late-night talks about nothing and everything. The long walks in the park with her dog Tortoise. All the things she’d never done with a boyfriend.

Their friendship was more intimate and wonderful than any of her other relationships, but she knew who she was—and who he was, for that matter—and there was no way they could introduce sex to their friendship without ruining it. What they had was worth more than a few days—or months, at best—of what was sure to be amazing sex. But knowing it and accepting it were two different things.

When she turned off the water and reached for a paper towel, she caught his reflection in the mirror, and from the look on his face, she wondered if he was waging the same war.

“Finally done?” Noah asked. “Let’s eat.”

Libby shook her head in disbelief. “You seriously still want to eat here?”

“Of course. I didn’t do all of this just to get back in the car.”

“Noah.”

“Get moving.” He opened the door to the hall, then grabbed her elbow and guided her out the door. He released his hold as they walked to the hostess stand.

Still wide-eyed, the hostess grabbed two menus. “You’re still here. I thought this was one of those TV shows. Especially with all those women running out of the bathroom.”

“Nope, just us,” Noah said. “And we’re starving, but remember, we’d appreciate something romantic.”

 “Follow me.”

They walked through the Western-themed restaurant, drawing the attention of every guest and wait staff in the joint. Noah waved to one family and then pointed at Libby, lifting his eyebrows in a
can you believe this
look.

Libby smacked his arm. “Stop that!”

“What? I told you that you’d be the talk of the restaurant. It’s like being in a parade.”

“Then maybe you should go see the Cotton Bowl Parade with Mitch.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. The mention of her fiancé’s name—ex-fiancé’s name—reminded her of her selfishness as well as her public humiliation.

The hostess stopped and motioned to a corner booth. The seat back was dark stained beadboard and a lantern with a candle sat in the middle of the round table. She turned to Noah and grimaced. “This is the most romantic table I have.”

His grin spread from ear to ear. “It’s perfect.” He motioned for Libby to slide in and she glared up at him, waiting for him to change his mind. But his grin widened even more. Rolling her eyes, she surrendered, and he scooted around the opposite side.

The hostess placed their menus on the table. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“He’ll have a beer,” Libby said with saccharine sweetness, remembering his earlier comment in the bathroom.

The hostess shook her head. “Sorry. We don’t serve alcohol.”

Noah shuddered. “Thank God. I’ll have a water.”

Libby couldn’t resist a small grin. “Water too, please.”

The young woman looked eager to get away. “Your waitress will be right with you.”

“You frightened that poor girl,” Libby said, trying to ignore all the people staring at them.

“Why? Because I cringed when you ordered a
beer?
”

“No! Me. This dress. You coming on so strong.”

“Please,” he scowled good-naturedly. “Why would someone be afraid of a wedding dress? I wrestled it and lived to tell the tale. Now you . . . you’re on the cranky side tonight. She’s probably frightened of
you.
”

“I’m entitled to be cranky! I ran out on my own wedding!” The words came out louder than she’d intended, catching the attention of the people at the tables nearby—not that they hadn’t been openly staring in the first place. “How did we end up in Junction City? How far are we from Kansas City?”

“About two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“Like I said, we’re here because you told me to keep going.”

“Yeah,” she waved her hands around in circles. “I meant drive
around
. Not take a
road trip.
”

He shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I made a judgment call.”

She pursed her lips and stared at the menu without really reading it, berating herself for her mistake. How could she have done this to Mitch without stopping to consider his feelings?

“Lib.”

His soft tone caught her attention, and when she looked at him, she was surprised by the seriousness in his eyes. She was used to teasing and humor from Noah, not this resolute side of him.

“What happened?”

Did she really want to admit what an idiot she’d been? Wasn’t the fact that she was sitting here in Junction City, Kansas, on her wedding night proof enough?

She opened her mouth, unsure of what exactly to tell him, but their waitress appeared and saved her from speaking. “Welcome to the Golden Cowboy Café. I hear you two are celebrating your wedding.”

“That’s right.” Noah’s wide smile returned. “We decided to make the wedding dinner an experience to remember.”

She put her hands on her hips. “So you came to the Golden Cowboy Café?” Her tone suggested she was calling bullshit.

Noah laid on the charm thick. “I hear your fried pickles are to die for. How about we start with those. Then I’ll take your eight-ounce sirloin, medium, with a baked potato, and the lovely bride will take the same.”

Libby started to protest that she could order her own food. But they had eaten enough meals together for him to know what she liked. Besides, hadn’t she made enough stupid choices lately to last a lifetime? Might as well let Noah decide on her meal.

The waitress walked away and Noah’s grin fell, his concern returning. “Libby, what happened?”

“I made a stupid decision, okay? Does that make you happy? You tried to stop me and I blew you off. Do you want to gloat now?”

“No. God, no.”

A tear slid down her cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb. She wasn’t prepared for the shot of electricity that zipped through her. Of course, it wasn’t the first time her body had reacted to his touch, but in her emotional state, she was worried she lacked the strength to restrain herself.

“Libby, you’re my best friend. I’d rather be dead wrong than see you hurt like this.” He left his hand in place, spreading his fingers to cup her cheek. “Now tell me what happened.”

Should she tell him about the curse? It was obviously a figment of her imagination. No sense looking like an even bigger idiot, but his touch was making it difficult for her to concentrate. “Megan, Blair, and I made a pact to get married by the time we were thirty.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “My birthday is next week.”

His eyes widened in surprise and his hand dropped. She felt a strange sense of loss without it.

“Really?” he asked, shaking his head. “Blair doesn’t seem like the type of woman to care about that sort of thing.”

“She’s not. We were all nine when we made the pact.”

“And they seriously went through with it? That’s why they got married?”

She shook her head and released a sigh. “No.
They
forgot about it. It was purely coincidence that they planned their weddings when they did.”

“So they got married according to the pact”—his voice trailed off as his eyes met hers and held them— “and you felt compelled to do the same.”

She glanced down at the table. “Something like that.”

“Oh, Lib.”

“It was stupid, I know. Idiotic. Moronic. I’m the—”

“Stop. It’s so you. I love it . . . even if you picked the wrong guy.”

She narrowed her eyes, waiting for the
but.
“You’re kidding.”

“Libby, I’ve never met anyone with more gusto for life. I love your quirky ideas and beliefs, and I love that you believe in palm reading and pacts made by nine-year-old girls. It’s who you are.”

“But Mitch got caught up in this disaster. I literally ran away from the altar.”

“Come on. It’s Mitch. How broken up can he be? I’m sure he’ll be far more upset if the Razorbacks don’t make the Cotton Bowl.”

She shook her head. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but what I did was wrong.”

“Okay, it was wrong. You screwed up, but you’re owning it. If you’re worried about Mitch, why don’t you give him a call to apologize?”

“I don’t have my phone.”

“I’d give you mine, but it’s dead. And in my hurry to pack, I forgot my charger.”

She shook her head, remembering that he was supposed to be thousands of miles away. “Why aren’t you in Seattle? You told Josh you weren’t coming.”

He gave her a sad smile. “Just like you, I realized I’d screwed up. I raced to make my flight . . . only to discover it was delayed. That’s why I was late.”