Whirlwind (2 page)

I jumped out of the way of Beth’s swat. “Give me a break, Mel. You look great, especially in that color. It makes your eyes glow.”

I automatically looked away.

“Thanks” was my halfhearted reply. My eyes, like my hair, weren’t quite any one color. With flecks of green and blue, they tended to match whatever I happened to be wearing. I could only imagine the nauseating color my teal blouse made them. “Maybe some of your fashion sense is rubbing off on me.”

“Ha, you don’t need my help. Maybe just more reasons to get dressed up.” She smiled and gracefully swept her freshly cut bangs to the side. “When was the last time you went out?”

I sighed. “I go out with the guys all the time, just like you do.”

“Let me rephrase the question. When was the last time you went on a date? Specifically, just you and
one
guy—no interview, no story, no business. You know, a
real
date.”

“You sound like my mother,” I groaned. “Let it go.”

Beth put a hand on my arm, but I pushed off the car and walked into the sun. How long had it been since I’d been on a real date? A year? More? I worked with a plethora of eligible, ruggedly attractive men, but none had shown any interest in me. The one time I’d taken the initiative, the polite rejection hurt enough that I didn’t try again.

“So up the stairs is where all the action is?” I asked.

With a frown, Beth nodded. “Yeah. I guess I should get back. I’m sure Mitch is freaking out waiting for this.” She waved the scrap of paper at me. “He’s been a nervous wreck all day. You sure you don’t want me to drop any hints to the guys for you?”

“NO!”

“Kidding, Mel. Geez.” She took a step toward the church. “Besides, there’s always the reception.”

“Beth,” I warned.

She just laughed. “I’ll tell Mitch you’re here. That should make him feel a little better,” she said.

“And tell him if he doesn’t suck it up and act like a man, I’m going to come in there and kick his ass again.”

Beth smirked. “Okay, Mel, I will. Should I also tell him you’re saving yourself for your biggest fan, Craig?”

Before I could find something to throw at her, Beth took off at a run, slipping in a side door of the huge building. How could she move so fast in heels?

While the freshman reporter held absolutely no interest for me, I did have to give him credit. He took his new job seriously, even if it was one of the worst beats at the
Mission Daily
.

Was I that annoying my first year?

When I’d started college almost three years ago, I’d had visions of becoming the next Murrow—or better yet, a Woodward or Bernstein. When I’d landed a spot on Poly’s campus newspaper, Mom had seen it as the perfect job for me to score a husband. She’d sent two books to get me started:
Dating for Dummies
and the latest edition of
A Woman’s Guide to Self-Defense
.

“Dad would’ve wanted you to have this,” she’d said of the latter, only half-joking. “It’s a man’s world you’re diving into, and you need to be prepared—for anything.”

I didn’t get choice assignments that first year. My calendar wasn’t filled with the glamour of sweaty football players or muscular bicyclists in skin-tight shorts. No, as the only freshman on the staff, and a city girl to boot, I was sent to cut my teeth on the “real world” of newspaper reporting in the hot, smelly, dirty hell of the rodeo circuit.

I ran into champion steer wrestler Mitch McAlister at my first rodeo—literally—and ended up on my ass in a pile of horse shit. “Road apples” he’d called the green muck, picking me up off the ground like a discarded penny. At six foot two, Mitch was tall, but it wasn’t his height that had me withering in my Levi’s. Built like a wrestler, the guy was two hundred and ten pounds of muscle, topped with closely cropped dark hair and matching ebony eyes. It was no wonder he’d tied the school record for bulldogging wins. I was pretty sure he could bench press most of the steers he dragged to the ground.

When I introduced myself as a reporter, I thought he was going to push me right back in the crap.

Dubbed the
Mistakes Daily
, the campus newspaper didn’t have the love and respect of the rodeo team. I spent most of the day trying to overcome a reputation I had no hand in making. Quoting statistics and obscure rules didn’t help. Only when I admitted I really didn’t know anything about horses did Mitch finally consent to an interview.

“It’s about damn time,” he’d said. “Why come all the way out here to ask me about numbers you already know? Isn’t the real story what you
don’t
already know?”

Almost three years later, those words still adorned the cover of my notebook.

I reached in the car and grabbed my purse, hiding my glum face from the parade of arriving guests.
Get a grip, Melissa!
It wasn’t as if Mitch was an ex-boyfriend—he and I were never
that
close. I had no right to expect anything from him. He’d found his soul mate and would have a wonderful life with her. How could I not be happy for my best friend?

A cold ache grew in my chest, a void I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Was I jealous? No. Envious, I decided. Mitch, Beth—all my close friends, really—had found someone with whom to share their lives and with hardly any effort. In Mitch’s case, it was as simple as offering to drive his roommate, Chase, home for Labor Day. Chase introduced his sister and that was it. Mitch proposed only a month after meeting her.

I couldn’t keep a plant alive for a month, let alone a relationship.

In my case, love—or what I’d thought was love—had been unable to withstand the slightest of tests. Perhaps that’s why I felt so maudlin. Mitch’s wedding highlighted my social ineptitude. Looking down at my dark blouse and black pants, I realized I’d even dressed for a morbid occasion.

No, I’d worn this same outfit to a job interview last week. I could have worn brown slacks, I guess, but what’s the difference? As for the blouse, well, pastels did nothing for my complexion.

Yeah, keep up the excuses. Your nose is rivaling Pinocchio’s.

Setting my jaw, I locked the car and started toward the church. What I wore or how I felt didn’t matter. I didn’t need a date to celebrate Mitch and Ann’s happiness; I just wished I could share it.

Marching with new purpose toward the ribbons and balloons, I was halfway across the asphalt when two tuxedo-clad men stepped out of the shadows near the foot of the stairs.

One I recognized. At six-and-a-half feet tall with straight blond hair that constantly hung in his eyes, Chase Linwood was hard to miss. He said something I couldn’t make out, pointed at his collar, then lifted his chin.

His companion, several inches shorter, turned his back to me and went to work on Chase’s tie. His identity was a mystery. Slowing my approach, I tried to paste on the appropriate I’m-so-happy-for-the-bride-and-groom face.

Held up by another passing car, I inspected Chase’s friend. Not a strand of his thick, wavy brown hair was out of place, and the tailored fit of his suit coat emphasized his broad shoulders and trim waist. The jacket didn’t have tails, but it was long enough to prevent me from checking out his ass. Beth was right: this guy was hot…and
way
out of my league.

I waved another car by. I wasn’t in a hurry to make a fool of myself in front of Mr. Sexy-From-the-Back. I had to pace myself.

As if he’d sensed me, the unknown groomsman dropped Chase’s tie. He fished something out of his pocket and peered at the small, shiny item in his hand. Giving Chase a chuck on the shoulder, he jogged up the stairs.

“Hey, Chase!” I called after his companion disappeared.

Chase squinted in the bright sun and waved halfheartedly, his hands twisting his bow tie into a floppy mess. “Hey, Mel,” he mumbled, continuing to fumble with his tie. Finally he gave up, leaving it hanging limply from his collar.

“Would you like some help with that?”

He brightened a bit. “Could you fix it? Linda tied it this morning, but it came apart.”

“No problem.” He started to bend his lanky frame toward me, but I dragged him to the edge of the staircase instead. “This’ll work better if you stand up straight. Hold still a minute, okay?”

It took me standing on the second step before I could look Chase in the eye, he was so tall. “You’ve been pulling on this, haven’t you?” The ends of the tie were way too long to make a bow at his neck.

“Maybe just a little. Why?” One dimple peeked out of his guilty grin.

“It’s too loose. Turn around.” Taking hold of his shoulders, I spun him so his back was to me.

As I worked the slide and shortened the tie, Chase craned his head back. “So, did you drive all the way down here this morning from Santa Lucia?”

What’s the big deal about my driving today?
“Uh-huh.” I reached around and checked the length of his tie.

“Oh.”

Chase wasn’t the most loquacious person I knew, but his reply was uncharacteristically short.

“Why? Is that a problem?” Satisfied with the first phase of bow tie repair, I tugged on his shoulders again. “Turn around.”

I ignored the pensive squint Chase gave me and concentrated on his neck.

“No, of course not. I was just wondering why you didn’t come earlier.”

“I wasn’t really invited to anything else,” I said without thinking.

“That’s not what I heard.”

No way.
There was no way Mitch told anyone I’d turned down his offer to be part of the wedding. Chase was guessing.

I made the mistake of peeking at his slate-blue eyes. With burning cheeks, I worked on the tie, looping the butterfly-shaped ends around and through each other.

“You heard wrong.”

Taking my hands in his, Chase stopped me and waited until I looked up again. “Mitch asked you to be in the wedding, didn’t he?”

I didn’t bother answering.

“Why’d you say no?”

I started to tell Chase what I’d told Mitch: I was too busy, I knew Ann wouldn’t appreciate me there, and I’d much rather see him from the front—not the back—while he made his vows. The disappointment in Chase’s face told me he wouldn’t believe that story either.

“The truth?”

Chase nodded. “Yeah, the truth.”

I tried to swallow, but something…guilt, maybe…clogged my throat. “It’s stupid. I didn’t want to spoil his big day.”

“Spoil it? How? He was more stressed because he didn’t think you’d come at all.” Anger leaked into his voice.

I hadn’t realized Mitch thought I might bail on him. “I didn’t mean to worry him,” I whispered. “Look, today is about Mitch and Ann starting their new life together. Everyone is supposed to be all happy and excited—”

“And you’re not.”

“No.” Admitting my selfishness out loud hurt more than I’d anticipated.

Chase let my hands go, and I started over on his tie, evening up the ends.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I know how you feel. I’m going to miss him too.”

My eyes darted to his. “He’s marrying your sister. It’s not like you’re never going to see him.”

“Sure, I’ll see him. On holidays and at family reunions.” He turned away.

“It’s better than nothing,” I barely breathed. Thankfully Chase didn’t hear me.

This was exactly what I wanted to avoid: spreading my selfish melancholy around like a virus. Why couldn’t I just be happy like everyone else?

“So, have you found a new roommate yet?” I tightened the knot and straightened the bow.

Chase flinched, and for a second I thought I’d put my foot in my mouth again. “Not quite that tight, Mel. I do need to breathe,
ya
know.” His smile wasn’t quite as forced as mine was.

“Sorry. There. I think it’s done.”

He fingered the tie and nodded. “Thanks. Actually, don’t tell Linda, but I have a roommate in mind.” His smile widened.