Timing (170 page)

Timing

27

LINDA CANTWELL, Be

B n’s

’ mother,

r aske

k d the

h gro

r om-to-be and all the

groomsmen, plus me

m , to wear the

h ir tuxedos downstairs before dinner so

she could se

s e the pro

r ble

l m that her son was ta

t lkin

i g about. She had felt

that whit

i e

t tuxe

x dos with

h tails would

d be ele

l gant

n . Ben and Cha

h rlotte and

the rest

t of the wedding part

r y

t had insiste

t d it was

s a very da

d ted look. I

I

was the last

s down becaus

u e I overs

r le

l pt, and when I walked over to Ben,

he groaned.

“What?”

“You look fuckin’ great,”

, he ge

g stured a

t me

m .

“Oh, now see,” Linda said to Charlotte

t , taking hold of my hand.

“St

S efa

f n looks like he c

ould have wa

w lke

k d off the cover

r of a magazine.”

.

“Linda, you can put Stefan in any

n thing

g and

d he’l

’ l look good; he

doesn’t

’

t count,” she ra

r nte

t d, gesturi

r ng at

t her fia

i nc

n é. “Look at your son,

for crissakes.”

“Hey!”

Every

r one

n ’s laughter

r follow

o ed me ba

b ck up t

he stairs

r .

Later

r that ni

n ght, I re

r a

e li

l zed

d I

I was having fun just watc

t hing

everyone da

d nce, and Rand’s absence ma

m de the evening muc

u h more

r

enjoyabl

b e

l fo

f r

r me

m . So

S mehow or other, I got

o roped into be

b ing a

designa

n ted driver, along

g with Charl

r otte’s cousin,

n Weston. We had a

long talk about TV show

o s and soccer

r and his jo

j b as a tax attorney. I

zoned out a couple

l of times but mana

n ged to loo

o k interest

s ed. When

Charl

r otte

t deci

c ded that

t all

l she wa

w nted to do wa

w s be draped over me with

28

Mary Calmes

her head on my shoulder, I let her. When Ben found us, we were in the

back, sitting as we always did, me stretched out with my feet up and

her in my lap, her legs between mine.

“You know, you all look like you’re the ones getting married.”

I smiled up at him, but I could tell from the steady breath on the

side of my neck that his bride was asleep. She shifted position, and her

lips opened against my throat.

“If she bites you, I’m gonna smack her,” Ben grumbled. “That

ain’t right.”

“She’s asleep,” I told him.

“Asleep or awake, that woman is crazy about you.”

“It goes both ways.”

He grunted. “Well, pick her up, boy, we gotta head home. The

rest of us can sleep in, but don’t you hafta go meet that woman

tomorrow?”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

“You want me to come?”

It was a really nice offer. “No, but thanks, really.”

Back at the house, I carried Charlotte up to her room, and Ben

followed after me. Once she was in bed, I ended up following him to

his room and lying on the bed listening to him. We talked until two in

the morning.

WITH only five hours of sleep, I hid my eyes behind my oversized

Prada sunglasses when I came downstairs looking for coffee the

following morning.

“Little early for acting like a rock star, ain’t it?”

Looking up, I saw Rand Holloway sitting at the kitchen table.

“What? No snappy retort?”

Timing

29

Even the intoxicating smell of coffee could not lure me any

further into that room with the beast. I turned around and walked out,

heading for the front door.

“Joss!”

I kept walking and slammed the door on my way out. My car was

parked at the end of the large, gravel-covered circular drive, and I had

almost reached it when there was a hand on my bicep. I was spun

around so fast I almost lost my balance.

“Jesus, can you wait?” he barked at me.

Realizing it was Rand, I yanked my arm free, again almost falling

down.

He grabbed the same arm and jerked me forward so hard that I

had to put a hand on his chest to keep from slamming into him.

“What the hell?” I snarled at him, twisting free, taking several

steps backwards.

“You never listen.”

“Go away,” I sighed, looking up at him, realizing how close he

was now that he had bent toward me. We were almost nose to nose.

The muscles in his jaw clenched. “Where are you going?”

“Why is that your business?”

He breathed air in through his nose.

“Seriously?”

He pushed the cowboy hat back on his forehead, telling me,

without benefit of words, that he would wait all day if I didn’t answer.

“I have an appointment to see a lady about a ranch.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Just go inside,” I told him, trying to get around him.

“I want to talk to you.”

“About what?”

He didn’t say, just stood there staring at me.

“I hafta go.”

30

Mary Calmes