The teen was locked in her room, refusing to come out.
Having been an emotional teen herself, Kate knew yelling through the door was a waste of time. She went to the kitchen and pulled a lasagna casserole from the freezer. She wrote out specific instructions on a sticky note, which she placed on the tinfoil. Then she made the chocolate-chip pancakes for a very happy Tommy. Finally, she searched out her dad who was in the living room and had both his laptop and Channing Tatum in his lap vying for space.
“Dinner’s on the counter,” she told him. “With instructions.”
He grimaced. “Ashley told you about last night?”
“She texted to say you burned dinner and set off the fire alarm.”
“I don’t know what happened.”
“I do,” Kate said. “You put the casserole in the oven and forgot about it.”
He’d forget his own head if it wasn’t attached. Once upon a time he’d been a brilliant biologist. He’d studied at Stanford, taught at Berkeley, where he’d met Kate’s mom. They’d lived the dream—until Belinda had died in a car accident.
Eddie had been driving, and a part of him had died with her. He’d lost himself and his way. Drowning in guilt, he’d fallen into a depression, and then he had turned to his painkillers to numb his pain while Kate had fought for her family. He was one year sober, and she was proud of him, but he still hadn’t stepped fully back into the ring.
He sighed. “I’ll be more careful tonight.”
She leaned in and kissed his jaw. “Set the timer this time, okay?”
He smiled and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “I promise.” He squeezed her hand. “You should be running your own life, Kate, not mine.”
“I don’t know what that looks like,” she said. “You all are my life. I love you guys. Plus you can’t do without me.”
“Of course we can.” He set the laptop aside and tried to nudge the cat off of him, but Channing Tatum refused to be budged.
“We’ve talked about this,” Eddie said to the cat. “Stop soaking up Ashley’s bad ’tude.”
The cat hissed and then jumped down, stalking off, tail straight up in the air.
Eddie rose, but then he scratched his head as if forgetting what he wanted to do.
“Dad.”
“We’re fine, Kate. Get to the rehearsal dinner. We’re all good here. Go have a life.”
“Sure, go.” This was from Ashley, standing in the doorway in all her teenage attitude and glory, and far too little clothing. She looked a lot like Kate, actually, minus about ten pounds of stress ice cream. “Go off and forget us; we’ll be fine even though Kyle is a two-timing jerk and Kia is a two-timing bitch and my life is over.” By the end of this sentence she was wailing at a decibel that only dogs could hear.
Her dad blinked. “Who’s Kyle and Kia?” he asked Kate.
“Her boyfriend and best friend.” Kate moved to Ashley.
“Ex-BF. Ex-BFF,” Ashley said. She burst into tears and then threw herself into Kate’s arms.
Kate looked over her head to her dad, hoping he would step in.
He looked horrified.
Kate sighed and hugged Ashley. “Boys can be jerks, Ash. But Kia dated Kyle first, remember?”
Ashley sniffed and shoved free. “Well, if you’re going to be mean . . .”
“Ash—”
“No.” She stormed toward her room. “Just go, I don’t care. My life isn’t as important as a rehearsal dinner.”
“Honey, your life is very important to me,” Kate said. “But last week you didn’t even like Kyle anymore. Remember? Is it possible that you’re just getting your period?”
Ashley turned back, her eyes filling again. “Yes! And there’s no more Midol! Dad still can’t bring himself to buy it. Or tampons. I used to get both from Kia,” she sobbed.
Kate emptied out her purse, contributing her stash to the cause, and then she left after being assured by her dad that he wouldn’t leave Ashley alone until the Midol kicked in.
Back at her own place, Kate realized she had time to exercise before Holly and Adam’s rehearsal dinner.
Dammit.
She changed into her running gear and hit the trail that ran behind her row of townhouses and through a wooded park to the lake and to her tree. Her place.
She started off at a walk but kicked it into gear and ran. She hated running.
Hated.
But it burned calories. Halfway through her torture, she passed the park and then the concession stand, and she slowed. They had fresh popcorn. Damn.
“Got any spare change?”
She looked down at the guy sitting on the park bench. Larry was somewhere between fifty and ancient, and he liked to watch the geese. He’d been here as long as she could remember. Well, except for when the sheriff occasionally rounded him up and dragged him to the homeless shelter. Over the years he’d been placed in the occasional halfway house, but he wasn’t good at following the rules, so it rarely lasted long. He wore at least three layers of clothing on his huge frame and took up most of the bench where he always sat, clutching a bottle inside a brown bag.
Kate would absolutely give Larry her spare change—if there were a single hope of him spending it on something other than alcohol. Instead, she did what she usually did. She went to the stand, bought two bags of popcorn, and brought him back one.
He dug in with childlike gusto and a sweet smile. “Thanks, Ms. Evans.”
She walked up the hill to the top of the dam, to her favorite place. Her tree. Someone a long time ago had built a makeshift tree house in the tree next to the fallen Jeffrey Pine, but there was a warning posted on it. No climbers allowed.
No problem for Kate; she was afraid of heights. But she’d had to stop bringing Tommy out here because he wasn’t, and he always wanted to climb it.
Walking around the trunk of her fallen tree, she sat facing the lake far below and munched on her popcorn.
Some exercise.
She’d run twice as far next time, she promised herself and her jeans.
* * *
An hour later, Kate got to the wedding rehearsal. Standing in the doorway of the church, she let out a big long breath and hopefully all of her tension along with it. Tonight was for Holly. Tonight was not for throwing herself at any sexy-as-hell soldiers turned groomsmen.
Absolutely not. Just because he’d refused to take advantage of her last night or because he’d rescued her brother today or because he’d looked so out of his element in her classroom and yet had still managed to be an authority figure to the kids . . .
No. She was not going to soften toward him and try again.
Probably.
Luckily, as the maid of honor, she had a list of wedding duties running through her head and a clipboard to help make sure she didn’t forget anything. She’d slapped a little yellow sticky note to the top of the clipboard. It said:
NO ALCOHOL, YOU ’HO.
Things started off smoothly. The music was cued. Each of the bridesmaids took her turn walking down the aisle. When it was Kate’s turn, she was pretend-holding flowers and working on getting the right rhythm when she looked up and found Adam, Dell, Brady, and Griffin standing at the top of the aisle in their places, waiting shoulder to shoulder.
Hot guy overload.
Griffin’s eyes were on her, dark and serious, and when she stared back, his gaze heated.
Kate tripped over her own feet.
Adam smiled.
Griffin was thinking about smiling, she could tell.
Ignoring him, she took her place at the front of the church next to the other bridesmaids to watch as Holly walked down the aisle toward Adam. Even though it was just the rehearsal, the two of them stared into each other’s eyes, completely ignoring the insanity around them.
Kate couldn’t help but well up a little. It was beautiful. What they had was beautiful. So much so that it was like she was intruding on a moment of intimacy. Looking away, her gaze again collided with gray steel.
Griffin didn’t smile, just held the eye contact until she broke it.
The dinner itself was held at a local restaurant, and a few additional close friends joined the group. This worked for Kate. She needed the anonymity of a crowd tonight. She was at the bar grabbing two pitchers of beer to bring back to the head table for Holly and Adam when she bumped into Ryan, once again making headway with one of the cute bridesmaids. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to leave him to it when she nearly plowed over Griffin.
“Easy,” he said, deftly removing the two pitchers from her hands before she could spill down the front of the both of them.
Easy? There was nothing easy when it came to her reaction to him. “Sorry,” she said. “I have a propensity for spilling.”
He just smiled. “And for fancy words.”
She felt herself flush. “I have a word-of-the-day calendar.” She paused. “And a fact calendar.”
“What’s today’s fact?”
“An ostrich egg is bigger than its brain.”
“Good to know,” he said. “How about naughty facts? Got any of those?”
She had to bite her lip before it escaped, but he laughed again, low and sexy as he moved in closer. “You do. Tell me, Kate.”
She closed her eyes, but he merely brushed up against her as if he knew the power his body held over hers.
“Your invisibility cloak isn’t working,“ he said. “Spill it.”
Dammit. She opened her eyes. “Our earlobes line up with our nipples.”
He grinned. “Why, Ms. Evans. You said nipples.” While she was still blushing—and kicking herself—he brought the pitchers of beer to the head table for her, and letting out a slow, careful breath, Kate absolutely did not watch his ass as he walked away.
“You’re drooling,” Ryan murmured in her ear as he came up behind her.
Kate swiped at her chin, but he was of course lying. “What are you doing talking to me, where’s your conquest?”
“Restroom.”
“What are your odds?”
“Better than you accepting your scholarship in the twelve days you have left.”
She rolled her eyes and then leaned in to take a sip of his beer.
“Hey,” he said, trying to pull away.
“Just a sip,” she said, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. “I’m not allowing myself my own alcohol tonight. It doesn’t count if it’s yours.”
“You realize that’s stupid,” Ryan said, fighting her for his drink. “And stop it— Get your own!”
“I can’t. Last night I attempted to seduce a groomsman.”
Ryan stopped fighting her and looked up in surprise. “You did? Which one?”
She sighed. “The perfect one.”
Ryan made an I-don’t-want-to-hear-this grimace.
“And he tasted better than double-fudge ice cream,” she said. “Do you know who tastes better than double-fudge ice cream? No one.”
“Hey,” Ryan said. “I’ve kissed you. I taste good, right?”
Kate patted his arm. “Can we concentrate here? I have a problem. I want him. Bad. Badder than bad.”
Ryan made the face again and then went still.
Kate closed her eyes. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”
“Yep,” Griffin said.
Ryan shrugged and took back his drink.
With a wince, Kate glanced over her shoulder. “Um. Hi.”
“Would you like your own drink?” he asked with absolutely no mockery in his voice.
Because it was all in his eyes.
“No.” Face flaming, she stuck her arm through Ryan’s. “I’m good, thanks.” Ryan tried to free himself, but Kate held on tight, digging her fingernails into him.
Looking amused, Griffin shrugged and moved to the bar, presumably to order his own drink.
“Shit,” Ryan hissed, pulling free to pull up his sleeve and check his arm. “You almost broke skin.”
Guilt had her leaning over him to see, but suddenly, Ryan gave her a little push. “Sexy bridesmaid at two o’clock,” he said. “Don’t touch me.”
Out of Kate’s peripheral view she could see Griffin leaning against the bar, all easy charm . . . watching her. “Quick, smile at me.”
“What? No!”
“You have to,” Kate said urgently. “He rejected me last night. I don’t want him to think I’m still pining.”
“How about crazy? Are you worried about him thinking you’re crazy?” Ryan asked.
“Okay, you know what? You’re fired as my wingman.”
“Thank God,” he said fervently. “Now, don’t go away mad, just go away.”
Eight
Grif was doing his best to be present for Holly and Adam, but the truth was he’d rather have had a root canal without meds than attend a wedding rehearsal. But any idiot, even those who’d completely failed at the love game like himself, could see that his sister and best friend were meant to be together.
He was happy for them. And okay, so he’d not completely failed at the love game. He’d given it a half-ass shot a couple of times. It hadn’t worked out, that was all. His life hadn’t exactly lent itself to a long-term relationship anyway. Still didn’t, since he had no idea what his future held, and at the moment he didn’t care too much.
The best that could be said about the wedding rehearsal dinner was that the food was good and his father kept to the other side of the room.
Grif had shoveled horseshit for hours that morning, and he had the pleasantly sore shoulder and arm muscles to prove it. It had felt good to do something after weeks and weeks of forced inactivity. But this, the socializing, was going to kill him. A fiery poker had been stabbing slowly and steadily behind one of his eyeballs for an hour now. He put a finger to it, pressing hard, but it was too late. He’d ignored the signs of the impending migraine, and it had hit him like a f**king freight train.