The Light of Day (2 page)

Chapter Four

Cora

I have to give him credit, Brown Eyes —
Jake
— knows what he’s about, and if he continues looking at me like he is, I’m going to do one of two things: punch him and cause a scene, or jump him and ruin everything I’ve worked for.

Currently, I’m making no move because for the life of me I can’t decide which is really the road I want to take.  In the back of my mind I remember the words from group counseling a couple of months ago:
if something seems too tempting, too hard, or just makes you uncomfortable, walk away.  Don’t let uncomfortable situations push you to relapse—walk away
. 

              I’m saved from having to do just that when I hear the unmistakable voice of the Scientist behind me.  Disgust, mixed with just enough righteousness and an overall loathing for anything remotely contemporary coats her every word.

              “Jesus Christ, who are all of these people and have they ever heard of skin cancer?”

              Even Jake shifts his focus over my shoulder as the words slice through the noise of the crowd and bring a wince from Mia.  I smile and turn, watching in amusement as Mia’s best friend from high school marches her way through the swarm of bodies, breaking up some couples as she plows straight through their mating rituals and ignores the death glares she gets.

              Nina Torres (the Scientist, as I’ve always called her) couldn’t give two shits about social graces, as evidenced right now when she throws a snide look at a girl who dares to complain that Nina muscled by her.  “Watch it, Blondie, too many words at once will send you into convulsions.”

              I grin as the girl sputters in Nina’s wake, and watch as her boyfriend of four years—Max-- follows behind her with an amused smile on his face, his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his shorts, his green eyes alight with laughter. 
              “Must you make friends everywhere we go, Torres?” Max asks her.

“What can I say, I’m a real people person,” she tells him as they come to a stop in front of us.  Her eyes narrow and latch onto me.  I lift an eyebrow. 

“Barbie?” she asks.

“The one and only.”

“Well, what the hell did you do to your hair?”

“Oh you know how I like to change things.”  I lift a sardonic brow at her and motion to her black cropped shorts and white and black V-neck.  It’s a standard outfit for the Scientist, one she’s been wearing a variation of since I met her years ago, and though I would never admit it, the stark color choices and simple lines look amazing on her.  And I know damn well her shorts are tailored to fit her which is a new development and definitely a nod to fashion in her world, but I play along with our little game nonetheless. 

“Nice outfit.  Looks familiar.”

She grins, her white teeth glowing against her beautiful skin, that’s simply a luck of genetics.  Nina wears no make-up, and this is the one time I would recommend it.  Her heritage gifted her almond eyes that are almost black behind her square black frames, a dark sweep of shiny black hair, and brown skin the color of creamed coffee that’s twice as smooth.  When she catches me studying her, she grins.

“You change teams while I wasn’t looking, Barbie? That’s quite the stare you’re giving me.”

I hear Mia groan behind me, but I bark out a laugh and tug the Scientist in for a hug.  “Goddamn, Nina Torres, I’m happy to see you.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m glad to see you, too.”  She hugs me back, squeezing me in a way that reminds me of the last time we saw each other, when I was too pulverized by life to care about myself and she was too pissed off to let me give up.  When she leans back, her eyes are a little misty and I feel my own tear up.

“Christ, I’m glad to see you here.  And not that you weren’t pretty before, but I gotta say I prefer this look.  It’s a little more content.  Not so
fuck you
to the world.  Or yourself.”

I sigh and nod, staring right back.  “You look gorgeous.  Don’t tell me you’ve actually started using the skin regimen I recommended?”

This does the trick and has her eyes clearing as she scoffs.  “Do I look like I have time to pamper my skin? I’m three courses away from my aeronautical engineering degree and another six months away from graduate school at MIT.  My skin can fucking deal.”

Her eyes latch onto something over my shoulder and I edge back.  “Nina, this is-”

“Jake Ferrari,” she finishes.  “Pitcher, all-American, scheduled first round draft pick.  Busted elbow.”

He nods, but I see the cords of his neck tighten, his shoulders stiffen.  “That’s the one.  You’re Nina Torres, genius girl with a big mouth and pretty eyes.”

She whoops out a laugh.  “That’s right — I forgot you were a flirt.  Well, don’t let Canfield see.  He’s crazy about me.”

“Or just plain crazy,” Jake mutters and I can’t hide my smile.

“Bummer about your arm.  Your chances of recovery are good, though, so all the books say.  Don’t let Canfield talk to you about it — ever since he’s been accepted to med school he’s been throwing knowledge around like he’s already an M.D.”

With this she gives me a light slap on the shoulder and heads over to Mia, embracing her friend in the no nonsense manner that can only be considered friendly when coming from her.  Max steps up in her place and gives me a gentler hug, his foot barely landing on mine as he steps back again.  Then he grins at Jake and holds out his hand to shake.

“Believe it or not, she was worried about you.  Both of you,” he adds with a small look at me.

I smile because I know, but the sensation is so unfamiliar that I don’t know what else to do.  Max motions to Jake’s elbow.  “How’s recovery going? Your doctors tell you your prognosis?”

Though his shoulders are still stiff, I watch Jake’s struggle to remain calm.  “They say anything’s possible.  Though we both know that doesn’t always mean probable.”

“Hang in there, man, this surgery is a dime a dozen now.  You’ll be back before you know it.”  Jake doesn’t say anything, just nods when Max wanders off to see Ryan.  When Jake clears his throat, I turn look at him.

I’m almost tempted to ask him what happened, but I can see clearly enough that it’s more than a bruised ego feeding him now.  Instead, I smile.  “So, you’ve known Ryan for a while, if you know Nina and Max.”

He visibly relaxes.  “I’ve only met her once, but man I’d forgotten how scary Canfield’s girl is.”

This makes me laugh because it’s true.  Nina’s never been one to employ tact.  Whatever she’s thinking is what comes out of her mouth.  I think that’s the reason we’ve always gotten along — there’s something refreshing about knowing someone who isn’t going to lie or sugarcoat every word they say.  If Nina has an issue with something, she’s going to tell you.

When I see that Jake’s still watching me, I lift my brow again.  “Is there something I can help you with?”

His grin is lightening quick, and I’m suddenly aware that even at the top of my game this boy would have been hard to be in charge of.  Now, when I’ve pulled myself from the game and have been sitting on the sidelines for almost a year, I understand that he’s dangerous territory.

“I want to get to know you, Blue.  What do you say we take a walk?”

“Even if I were interested — which I’m not — you’d have to do better than that to get me out of here.”

“Are you calling me lazy?”

I shrug, relaxing a little as our banter progresses onto familiar ground.  “Well, it doesn’t look like you’ve had to work too hard for what you want, not with a face like that, so it’s understandable.”

“Ah, so you
are
interested.”

“More like observant.”

“Semantics.”  He leans closer.  “You sure you don’t want to take a walk? I’d put twenty on the fact that I could change your feelings from observant to interested in under a mile.”

Under a half-mile if my body keeps reacting to him this way.  Because I’m actually tempted, I smile and pat his cheek condescendingly.  “You’ll have better luck with the blonde over there in her daisy dukes and combat boots — she already looks primed.  You might just get to keep being lazy.”

With that, I turn and head toward Mia and Nina, letting out a slow breath.  I know if I turn his eyes will still be on me and for that reason I don’t, but I picture him in my head, all brown skin and dark eyes, that disheveled hair and tough body that speaks to who he is.  Delectable, absolutely delectable.  And bad, like most good things are.

Jake never makes contact the rest of the night, but each time I glance at him he’s looking at me, and each time I feel his look as if it’s his hands.  Breathing deep, I turn away, but not without the slightest of shivers.  Heading back to our hotel a few hours later with the Scientist and the bride in the car, I listen absently to their chatter, thinking that Wedding Week just got a whole lot more interesting.

Chapter Five

Jake

The warm desert air blows through the golf course and offers a slight bit of relief from the unseasonably warm late December weather.  La Niña, they call it, though right now the heat might be from the lovebirds, I think as I watch Murph make up vows during this practice run, misquoting Shakespeare like an asshole.  He’s got both of the Angel’s hands in his, and from the way she’s looking at him, with both tears and laughter in her eyes, I’m guessing this must mean something to her, like it’s their thing (though the English Lit major in me wants to pull Murph aside and let him know that
Macbeth
is most definitely not a romantic tale to be whispered to his bride).

              When Murph finishes, Mia brings his lips down to hers, rising on her toes to meet him, to get closer, and the guy running the wedding has to break them apart so we can practice our procession off of the golf course and into the clubhouse for the reception.  They laugh and out we go, the lovebirds first, followed by Max and Blue, who’s looking gorgeous tonight in a pale pink dress that should be demure with its simple lines and fitted material that slicks down her body almost to her knees, and has instead ended up making me want to lick her like a piece of candy.

When that image makes me uncomfortably hard, I shift and take a deep breath, working to alleviate the need that seems to claw its way through me every time I’m anywhere near her.

We’ve been circling each other all week.  I’m staying in Ryan’s guestroom, and Cora’s staying at Mia’s house, which is conveniently located across the street.  I haven’t had much time with her since we’ve been pretty divided by wedding parties, girls to luncheons and fittings, boys to tee times and bars, but I’ve glimpsed her going for a run every morning, sometimes with company, sometimes without, and I have to say, watching her move is a real pleasure.

Like right now, as she strides confidently down the aisle in some sort of barely-there shoe with a sky-high heel, showcasing her legs and other assets in that pretty candy pink dress.

              I hear the wedding coordinator chirp my name and say go, as if I couldn’t figure out when to step next, so I tear my eyes away from Blue’s retreating figure and step to the center aisle to grin as Nina clomps her way toward me from the other side, holding out my right arm for her, where she shoots her fist through it and begins dragging me down the aisle.

              “It’s not death row, Torres, mind easing back on the throttle? I’ve already got one busted elbow, I don’t need you giving me another.”

              “Listen, pretty boy, if I don’t eat soon, I’m going to rip some heads off. Knowing Mia’s mom, she’s probably already got a night of photos and toasts and God knows what else planned, events which will keep me from eating my dinner without being scorned with a look, so before she can do that, I’m going to get some grub.”

              The minute we enter the atrium with its high ceilings and sun washed tile floors, I spot Murph’s future mother-in-law fussing with her daughter’s hair, her mouth moving a mile a minute as she talks to them both.  Murph looks amused, Mia patiently resigned.  Stopping, I shed Torres.

              “Better go fast, because it doesn’t look like we’re moving very far from this spot for the time being.”

              “Oh, Christ, what can she possibly want to do now? Isn’t that why this is called a rehearsal dinner, because people get to sit around and drink and eat after rehearsing?”

              “Your guess is as good as mine.  This is my first wedding.”

              Nina scoffs and I see her eyes scanning the crowd, probably looking for an exit or a way to safely escape and get to the food that we can smell already being set up.  My eyes are scanning, too, but I’m looking for that pale pink dress and chocolate brown hair.  I tune back in when I hear a name tumble from Nina’s lips.

              “What did you say?”
              She stops and looks at me, a scowl on her face.  “Some partner you are.  I said, this is my second wedding as an attendant, but I don’t feel like Cora’s counts because it was in Vegas and some guy dressed in a loin cloth pretending to be cupid performed the ceremony.”

              I feel like I’ve taken a blow to the head.  “Blue’s married?”

              “Was.  It’s over now.”  Nina must focus on me because she scowls and gives me a thump on the shoulder that jolts me out of my shock.  “Jesus, Handsome Jake, you okay? Maybe you need to eat.”

              I actually think I want to hurl, but instead I shake my head.  “No, but I could definitely use a drink.”

              I turn and head in the direction I think the bar might be, ignoring the chirpy voice of the wedding coordinator whose been running us all through the gauntlet for the past hour.  It’s fucking walking and standing, lady, get a grip.

              I hear my name called, but I ignore that too, striding through the archway that leads into a room filled with linen tablecloths and white china.  It’s clear this is our room, so I stop and look around, spotting the bar set up between the open doors that lead to the veranda which overlooks the golf course.

              “Handsome Jake, wait a second.”

              “You probably need to let me be for a second, Torres. I’m not feeling very friendly right at the moment.”

              “Well, suck it up, this shit isn’t about you,” she snaps.  I want to tell her to back off, but I can’t because underneath whatever the fuck I’m feeling, I’m struck with how right she is.  I blow out a frustrated breath and pause on my way to the bar, turning to stare at her as she leans on the back of one of the chairs and removes her heels, shoes that were no doubt picked out for her as she doesn’t appear to be the fancy, high heeled, strappy sandal wearing kind of girl.

              I scrub my hands over my face and give a wry laugh as I try to calm my speeding heart.  “Christ, you’re right, I’m sorry.”  Reaching out, I help steady her while she rubs at the arches of her feet.  “New shoes?”

              “More like torture devices. Crap, I knew letting Barbie pick out the dresses and shoes would bite me in the ass, but like I’m going to waste time looking at fabrics and colors when I’m in the middle of my senior project.  Now, I’m trying to break in shoes that I’m almost positive were used as torture devices on my ancestors when their feet were still bound.”

              “The price you pay for not caring.”

              She glares at me as she finishes re-fastening the strap around her ankle (a slim, gorgeous ankle that as a man I appreciate seeing in the shoe.  Not that I’d tell her that.  I like my face the way it is, thanks).  “The same could be said about you.  Now, I’m guessing this little fit has something to do with whatever mating dance you’ve got going on with Barbie.”  I tuck my hands safely in my pockets and rock back on my heels.  She nods.  “That’s what I thought.  I don’t know how I feel about that yet as I like both you and her, but I’m not sure you’re best for each other at this stage in your lives. So we’ll move past it and come back later when we have time.   For now, let’s go back in there and take this goddamn photo so we can come back here and get a drink.  When we’re done, I’ll show you how to sneak out the side and we can sit on the green and look at the lights.”

              “You hitting on me, Torres?”

              “You can’t be that lucky, Handsome Jake.  Besides, I know damaged goods when I see them, and you’re definitely damaged.  And it’s not just your elbow I’m talking about.”

              I wince.  “You don’t pull punches, do you?”

              “What’s the point? You’re still hitting someone in the face, you’re just ultimately telling them they’re too much of a pussy to handle the whole thing.  Talk about insulting.”

              “Well, when you put it like that.”

              She smiles and looks at me.  “You ready for this?”

              I nod and hold out my arm again, waiting for her to loop hers through it before we head back to where everyone else is being arranged in front of and around certain sides of the entryway, the course, the atrium.  I wait on the sidelines until I’m called, and then I go and do my duty of posing and laughing, of smiling my ass off and pretending that the cool tempered brunette in the edible dress isn’t on my mind.