Fatty Patty (A James Bay Novel) (21 page)

I snap my gloves together. The last thing I need is Sam lecturing me on how to drive. I’m nervous enough as it is, terrified I’ll make some stupendous gaffe, terrified I’ll spill out of my dress, terrified I’ll fail to impress Nick. He’s the guest of honor and he invited me. I don’t want him regretting it. And as for Sam, he’s got no business making me feel like I’m doing something wrong.

Like I’m cheating on him.

It’s not like we’re dating.

Because we’re not.

“Take it easy on the roads. Remember, it’s Friday the thirteenth.”

I come up with a short laugh and my car keys at the same time. “I didn’t know you were superstitious.”

He cracks open the front door, peers outside. “Just be careful, okay? It’s getting nasty out there.”

“Don’t worry.” I’ve got a plan. Tonight, I intend to break all the rules. Isn’t that what everyone else does? Why should I always be the one who ends up playing it safe? Well, not tonight. Snow be damned. Maybe what I need is some danger in my life. Maybe what I need is to take charge, be more daunting, more fearless. And I’ve taken the first step. Tonight I’ve got a date with Nick.

Who knows what will happen?

Brand new dress, brand new shoes, brand new me.

I start for the door, but Sam grabs my arm.

“Whoa, are you crazy? You can’t go out there without your boots.”

“Boots?” I stare up at him. “You’re the one who’s crazy if you think I’m wearing boots.”

He nods at my heels. “You want to fall and break your neck?”

Neck, be damned. I’ve got no intention of showing up at Amy’s party flashing cleavage and those ugly boots. And who is Sam to tell me what to do? Obviously the man knows nothing about fashion or he never would have paired a red-checked shirt with that bright orange sweater. A woman would have to be desperate to take fashion advice from him.

“Don’t worry about me,” I breezily assure him as I open the door. “I’ll be just fine.”

An icy gust of wind catches the door, nearly snatching it out of my hand. Snow blows in the foyer, spilling over my rhinestone heels. I do a little dance to stamp them clean but my toes already feel frozen.

Maybe Sam is right. Maybe I should wear my boots.

And have everyone laugh at me?

I peer outside. It’s nearly a virtual whiteout, with snow squalls blowing across our front lawn and the wind howling around the corners of our house. I wrap my coat tighter around me. Sam said the roads were getting bad and I’m starting to believe him.

Do I really want to go to this party? I could run upstairs, shuck this dress and heels for my favorite pair of jeans and scuffed moccasins and be back downstairs in five minutes flat. Instead of flaunting myself in front of Amy, Nick, and God knows how many other people over cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, I could be sitting in a cozy kitchen, laughing and chatting over omelets with Sam and Priscilla.

I could say I’m sorry again and again. Maybe this time, she’ll finally listen.

What reason do I have to go out in the cold when I could stay home, warm?

None, except Nick.

Would he even miss me?

“Fine. You want to go in this mess, be my guest.” Sam shrugs, opens the door wider. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Duly noted,” I shoot back and slam the door behind me. I grab the railing and totter down the steps onto the sidewalk. A good two inches of snow has already accumulated and my feet are soaked. Damn Sam Curtis and his big mouth. Even if I did want to grab those boots, I’m not about to turn back now. I refuse to give him the satisfaction. He’s probably watching from the window.

No, he’s probably already in our warm, toasty kitchen with Priscilla, chatting and laughing as they make their stupid omelets.

I reach the garage and hit the switch to open the overhead door. The garage is unheated and the car is cold. I slide behind the driver’s wheel, my fingers numb as I start the engine. I’ll be an icicle by the time I get to Amy’s. The car wheels spin as I back down the icy driveway. I take a deep breath. If I’m going to make it in one piece, I’m going to have to take the roads slow. Hopefully Nick won’t be mad that I kept him waiting.

# # #

Not.

The street in front of Amy’s house is lined with vehicles, but Nick’s dark green sports coupe is nowhere in sight. Where is he? He promised he’d show up directly after practice, once he showered and changed. He’s already fifteen minutes late. I rub my hands together, snuggle deeper in my coat. My breath hangs like mist, and lacy frost designs etch the windows inside and out. This is ridiculous. The car heater is running full blast, but I’m so cold, I no longer care about the stupid party. I don’t care if Nick is the guest of honor. I’ll give him five more minutes and then I’m going home. I grit my teeth, close my eyes, and block out the sight of snowflakes piling up on the windshield.

A rap on the driver’s door brings me upright. Someone scrapes a little hole in the snow, peers through the window.

“Why are you sitting out here in the cold?” Nick twirls his car keys in a leather-gloved hand as he offers me a hand. “Are you crazy?”

I clutch my coat tighter and lock the door behind me. “I didn’t want to go in—”

“Without me? Patty, girl, what am I going to do with you?” He laughs, takes my arm, tucks it in the crook of his elbow. “Seriously, I’m flattered you waited for me. You’re really something, you know that?”

Stupid, that’s what I am. Stupid and cold, with wet feet, frozen fingers and toes. For all I know, my brain is frozen, too. And it’s all his fault. Where the hell was he? I fight down the urge to blast him with questions as we make our way up the walk. His hair is still damp, probably fresh from the shower, and the light woodsy scent of his cologne drifts through his heavy leather jacket. He smells so good, I almost forgive him for the wait he put me through.

Almost
.

My teeth chatter as we near the porch and head up the steps. Nick hits the doorbell, then wraps his arm around me and hugs me close. “Cheer up. You’ll warm up once we’re inside.”

That’s an understatement. Amy’s wrath could prove hotter than the fires of hell.

“Poor Patty.” He lifts a hand, brushes away some stray curls from my face. His brown eyes gleam in the soft glow of the carriage lanterns illuminating the porch. “So cold, waiting for me when you could have gone inside.” He leans over and kisses the tip of my nose.

He kissed me! My breath freezes as a warm thrill of desire surges through me. He kissed me! And suddenly it’s all right. No worries about my wet feet, tight dress, pounding head, empty stomach. Who cares? He kissed me!

“Listen, stick close tonight, okay?” His breath is soft and warm against my hair. “Last thing I want is Amy buzzing around me. Hang close and don’t let go.”

“Sure.”

“Promise?”

I nod. Right now I would promise him anything. “Absolutely,” I say as the door opens.

“Well, finally, you decide to show up.” Amy eyes Nick across the threshold. “I’d just about given up on you.” Then she catches sight of me. “Patty. Hello. What a nice surprise.” She turns to Nick, eyebrows raised.

“I brought along reinforcements,” he says with a grin.

I throw him an uneasy stare as I stamp the snow from my feet. Reinforcements? I thought I was his date.

“Whatever. At least you’re here.” Amy links her arm through his and tugs him through the door. “Now we can get this party started.”

I follow them inside the large foyer and peek around Nick. From the look of things, there’s already a pretty good party in progress. A loud party, with plenty of people milling about, music and laughter spilling from all directions.

“I’ll take your coat, miss.” A girl dressed in black, obviously staff hired for the party, offers an outstretched hand, but suddenly I don’t want to relinquish my coat. I clutch it tighter around me. Who am I trying to kid? Amy is sleek and elegant in a red silk jumpsuit that clings like a second skin. Sam’s words from earlier this evening jump to mind.
“There’ll be excitement… the minute you take off your coat and they see that dress.”

Nick shrugs out of his own coat, eyes me. “You coming?”

Time for the unveiling, whether I like it or not. Reluctantly I slip from my coat and surrender it to the girl. Amy’s eyes widen for a moment, then her face suddenly melts into a smile.

“What a marvelous dress, Patty. You look…”

Like a tart? Tramp? Trollop
? I’ve been in the room less than one minute but I already know coming here tonight was a horrible mistake. I don’t belong here. This isn’t my crowd. This is way out of my comfort zone, way out of my league.

I throw a weak glance in Nick’s direction. Why did I let him talk me into this? Will he forgive me if I grab my coat and bolt?

He gives me a thumbs-up. “Great dress. Nice and sparkly. I like it.”

Amy rolls her eyes and tugs him away from me. “Come on, Nick. Everyone’s waiting to meet you.”

He shoots me a backward glance as she pulls him toward a grand set of French doors opening into an even grander room. “You coming?”

“Right behind you,” I mutter, trailing behind them into a cavernous living room. As usual, I’m bringing up the rear. Just me and my big rear end.

Piano music drifts from one end of the room. Hang on tight, Nick said, but somehow he and Amy have disappeared in a crush of bodies. I stand on tiptoe, try to catch a glimpse of him, but I’m too short. I’ll never find him in this mess of people. I fight my way through the crowd, bypassing groups of people laughing and chatting. Everyone seems to know each other and they all seem to be having a wonderful time. I skirt the edges of the room and finally end up at the bar.

“Merry Christmas,” the bartender greets me. He sweeps his hand over delicate stemware with a little flourish. All the drinks are the same, a clear liquid with peppermint stick swizzles floating against the rims. “Christmas martinis,” he says. “Gin, dry vermouth, and peppermint Schnapps.”

Memories of Thanksgiving and my wine-induced meltdown float to mind.
Stick close
, Nick told me. If I’m going to find him, I need a clear head. “Is this all you’re serving?”

He nods. “Mrs. Lynn’s orders.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Leave it to Amy, putting her fashionable alcoholic beverages on holiday parade. “Thanks, but no thanks,” I say with a sigh. “My drinking days are over.”

He nods and leans closer. “I’ve got a bottle of club soda stashed under the counter. I could put it in a martini glass, add a peppermint stick and she’ll never know the difference.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure thing.” He winks. “I’m a friend of Bill myself.”

“Excuse me?” I stare at him confusedly. Exactly who is this Bill he’s talking about? Amy’s been married to Hugh for years.

“Better to keep the cork in the bottle than test your sobriety at a party like this,” he adds. “Have you been to a meeting lately?”

Good God, he thinks I’m an alcoholic. I grab a Christmas martini and whirl around just as someone in the crowd bumps me from behind. Suddenly half my drink is no longer in my glass, but dribbling down the front of my dress.

“Oh!” Crushed ice and vodka seep slowly between my breasts. My eyes widen as I peer down and see the peppermint stick poking out between my boobs.

The bartender’s eyebrows lift, but he never says a word, just hands me some napkins. I turn my back, fish out the candy, then stagger away, dabbing at the liquor soaking my dress. I reek of peppermint and probably look like a gigantic candy stick. Not exactly the type of image I hoped to project as a semifinalist candidate for Teacher of the Year. Who am I kidding? No one here cares anything about me. I should have known better than to come here tonight. I should have known better than to listen to Nick. This isn’t my kind of party. These aren’t my kind of people.

Maybe he’s not my kind of man.

Exactly where is he, anyway?

I wander the fringe of the crowd, dabbing at my dress while keeping an eye out for Nick. But pushing through the crush of people is exhausting, and my feet are killing me. Finally I give up and sink down on a sleek Italian white leather couch. If who you know and where you come from and what your house looks like is part of the criteria for the contest, I might as well drop out right now. Amy even has a designer Christmas tree. And while I hate to admit it, the elegant ornaments of red and gold shimmering against tiny twinkling lights are dazzling. If Teacher of the Year can earn votes based on a Christmas tree, I’d vote for Amy, too.

Amazing, the things money can buy, I think as I sip the leftover slosh of my Christmas martini. A cocktail party with hired staff. A house that must be over four thousand square feet. Obviously Amy’s husband is doing well. Hugh started out with us in grade school, a good old boy with a hammer and broad shoulders, and he’s built himself a solid reputation as a general contractor of custom-built homes. But I’ll bet a week’s paycheck Hugh doesn’t pound a hammer anymore. He’s probably got plenty of guys on his payroll to do that sort of thing.

Meanwhile, he’s stuck with Amy. Idly I wonder if he has a workbench in his garage where he can hammer out his frustrations. Living in a grand house is no guarantee life will be beautiful. That depends on the person you share it with.

I’ll bet Hugh spends a lot of time in his garage.

“Something funny?” A middle-aged man with thick, wavy hair and ruddy complexion sinks down on the couch beside me. His suit reeks of money, his breath reeks of booze and his gaze is centered directly on my chest. “Come on, sweetheart, I won’t tell. I love secrets.”

I scoot deeper into my side of the couch. “You wouldn’t be interested.”

The man moves in closer, drapes one arm against the back of the couch, grazing my shoulder. “It’s a shame, a pretty girl like you sitting all alone.”

Speak of the devil. Nick isn’t racking up any brownie points. Where is he?

“You look familiar.” He peers at me across the couch. “Have we met before?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You sure? I never forget a pretty face.” He slouches across the leather cushion and practically into my lap.