Runaway Groom (18 page)

“Don’t even go there, Nicole. The only thing Scott and I share in common is that we both like to dance.”
And to burn up the sheets.

Nicole opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something but she seemed to change her mind. They locked up the office and got into Nicole’s car for the short trip back to Main Street.

“Can you spare five more minutes?” Nicole asked as she pulled out into the road. “I was feeling so sick this morning that I totally forgot to pack Max’s lunch. I promised to bring it to him at school.”

“Sure, why not? I haven’t been to Whitetail Elementary in years. Do they still hang the kids’ art in the corridor?”

“They do. Mrs. Lindem is still teaching fourth grade too, so you better be careful.”

Melissa grimaced. “She wasn’t my biggest fan and then I got Mr. L at middle school so of course he never believed anything I said.”

Nicole pulled up in the school parking lot, which was located between the elementary and middle schools. At the far end, in stark contrast to the other utilitarian, brown brick buildings, was the preschool and kindergarten campus with its brightly painted fence and adventure garden and play equipment. “Are you coming in?”

“And risking the wrath of Mrs. Lindem? I think I’ll stay here.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in five.” Nicole walked quickly toward the double doors of the elementary school.

Melissa checked her phone for messages and found three. Amy had texted to say she might have to put back the first planned fitting by forty-eight hours. Emily wanted her to water her house plants because she was staying in Madison longer, and a supplier had dispatched the two wedding gowns Melissa had ordered to add to her slowly growing collection for future brides.

Her eye traveled to the text from Scott that he’d sent at 8:45 this morning. “How do you take your coffee?”

A shimmer of bliss ran through her as she remembered how he’d arrived at her door ten minutes later with coffee and a kiss that had led to her almost being late for her meeting. He’d mentioned he was working tonight but the bar closed early on a Tuesday so she wondered if he might want her to bring him over some pizza and beer. Or wine. Did he drink wine?

She shook her head, realizing how little she knew about him and then promptly reminded herself that she knew enough to know she didn’t need to know more. He was Johan’s single nephew, an unemployed classical musician working two jobs to meet rent like most people who failed to make it in the arts. All of it added up to him being a bed buddy only and, in that respect, he checked all the boxes and then some.

She glanced up from her phone and noticed the preschool and kindergarten children were out playing. They looked so cute and the increasingly familiar pang she got whenever she saw babies and little children burned her. As her gaze moved along the fence, she noticed the high security gate opening and a child wearing jeans and a sweater ran out. From the distance, it was hard to tell if it was a little girl or a boy.

A man hurried out, catching the child around the waist. He swung him or her up in the air, both stopping the kid from running away and creating delight at the same time. A moment later, he lowered the child back to the ground and with a firm hold of his or her hand, they started walking toward the sidewalk.

Melissa’s breath stalled and she blinked three times but nothing changed the image. She’d recognize that fluid gait anywhere. Dressed in his Udder Bar polo shirt and jeans, Scott Knapp was collecting a child from preschool.

Her mind lurched from point to point like a drunk trying to absorb and translate the messages from her eyes. Maybe he was helping Johan? She instantly ruled that idea out because she knew Johan’s grandchildren weren’t old enough for preschool. She squinted trying to see the child’s face but they’d moved farther away not closer.

As they reached the curb, Scott stopped and bent down as if he was instructing him or her on road safety. As his head touched the child’s she saw the identical chocolate-brown match. A hundred different emotions hit her at once making her nauseous and dizzy. The guy she was having no-strings-attached sex with was a father.

* * *

When the last customer said good-night at a conveniently early ten-thirty, Scott was pleased. As tonight’s shift had been unexpected due to staff illness, it meant his high school babysitter could get home before eleven and her parents wouldn’t be calling him saying they didn’t approve of her working for him midweek. It also meant an earlier night for him. When he’d done bar work in the past, he hadn’t been a dad so he’d been able to sleep late the next morning. No such luck now. In fact, he had a load of washing to do because this morning he’d allowed himself to get deliciously distracted with Melissa.

Melissa.
What an unexpected gift she’d turned out to be. There weren’t many gorgeous women out there who just wanted him for sex, but when he’d pulled the no-dating card on her, relief had danced across her cheeks. Uncomplicated sex was usually an oxymoron, but this thing with Melissa seemed to be the real deal and as straightforward as the agreement they’d made. She wanted sex but not a relationship and as that fitted in with his needs and desires, who was he to argue?

He commenced the locking-up process, starting with the interior door, just in case someone decided they’d try to stop by for that one last late beer while he was still tidying up. As he flicked the latch he heard tapping on the outside door and he glanced up. Surprise and delight whipped through him. Melissa stood on the stoop, wearing a tightly sashed midlength trench coat, sheer stockings and high-heeled shoes.

Oh baby.
She was a fantasy come true. He quickly opened both doors and pulled her in against him. “Perfect timing, Missy.” He kissed her neck and whispered, “I hope you’re naked under that coat.”

“No,” she said, her eyes a chilly blue, matching her tone.

The last time he’d seen her thirteen hours ago, those eyes had been slightly unfocused and full of post-sex euphoria.

She pressed her palms firmly against his forearms and pushed him away. “We need to talk.”

“Okaaay.” In his experience when a woman spoke those four words, it never meant good news would follow. He walked directly back behind the bar. “Do you want to argue with me with or without a drink?”

“You’re a father?”

Her rising infliction bounced around the empty bar loud, incredulous and accusatory, slamming into him with the velocity of a bullet. Uncomplicated sex? Who was he kidding?

He poured a finger of whiskey into two glasses and pushed one toward her. “I am.”

“Are you married?”

He raised his glass to her as fury simmered deep down inside him. “And thank you so much for the vote of confidence in my moral compass.”

She slammed her purse on the bar. “You don’t get to be self-righteous here, Scott. I would never have had sex with you if I’d known you were married.”

There was no point doing anything other than telling the truth. “I’m divorced.” He drained his glass and poured another one.

Relief crossed her face but then her shoulders straightened even more. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t you tell me you were a single dad?”

Where to start?
“It isn’t relevant to us.”

“Relevant?” Her brows shot to her hairline. “This is a small town, Scott. Did you really think you could just hide your child away?”

She’s an embarrassment.
Margaret’s words burned him and he slammed his fist on the bar. “Hell no. I didn’t tell you about Lily because you’re
never
going to meet her.”

She stared at him as if she didn’t recognize him and then she gulped down the whiskey and stood up, clutching her purse close to her body. “Thank you for making it perfectly clear that I’m good enough to screw when the need hits, but I’m not worthy enough to meet your daughter. Goodbye, Scott.”

Fuck!
He heard the pain in her voice—pain he knew he’d put there. All the reasons he’d known so clearly as to why he should never have given in to the chemistry that swirled between them came home to roost.

“Melissa, wait.”

She kept walking. He strode out from behind the bar and caught her arm. “I’m sorry. It’s complicated, is all.”

She stood perfectly still, her shoulders rigid, but she didn’t turn around or say a word.

This was his worst nightmare. This was why he hadn’t mentioned Lily. “Lily’s special.”

She turned around and her mouth, which that morning had kissed him so thoroughly, was now rigidly tight. “All children are special, Scott.”

He sucked in a breath and spoke the words that always hurt. “Lily’s got Down syndrome.”

He watched for the expected judgment, distaste and pity to shine in her eyes but instead he got speared by blue-and-silver anger.

“You really don’t think very much of me, do you? What did you think I was going to do if I ever ran into the two of you on the street? Cross to the other side?”

Weariness flooded him and he sighed. “This isn’t about you, Melissa. This is about Lily.”

Scott’s quiet words, heavy with resignation and grief, shattered Melissa’s anger like a hammer against china. “I get that you’re protecting her but I would have liked to have known she existed.”

His jaw jutted and he brought his fingers up to make quotation marks. “‘Definitely no relationship’ were your words, remember?”

“Yes, of course I remember, but, God, she’s your child. A huge part of your life. Even if I never meet her, don’t you want to talk about her? I mean, if I had a kid I think I’d be boring everyone stupid with stories.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “It’s not quite the same when your beautiful little girl doesn’t fit neatly into the normal bragging box. When I get excited that she built a four-block tower, it usually evokes sympathy not celebration.”

She realized that some of the lines around his eyes had been put there by sorrow and heartache. “Next time she does something you want to celebrate, tell me. I’ll high-five it.”

He stared at her as if he didn’t recognize her and then he quickly pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “I have to get home and relieve the babysitter.”

He sounded isolated and tired and she didn’t want him to go home alone. “I’ll walk with you.”

He rolled his eyes. “In those shoes?”

She opened her purse and pulled out ballet flats, quickly exchanging them for her heels.

He ran his hand through his hair. “I won’t be inviting you in, Melissa.”

The fact he’d used her full name underlined how serious he was. “I don’t expect you to, but it’s a clear, crisp night out and I can do with a walk to blow away the head of steam I’ve worked up over the day.”

“How did you find out?”

“It was an accident. Nicole was dropping off Max’s lunch and I was waiting in the car when I saw you come out of the preschool.”

He flicked off the lights and opened the door for her. “Lily’s five.”

She walked past him, catching the scent of beer and laundry powder. “Pretty name.”

“I think so.” He locked the door behind them. “Nancy thought she’d do better in kindergarten if she took an extra year in preschool.”

The moon shone on the dewy sidewalk. “Sounds sensible.”

There was so much she wanted to know, like who and where was Lily’s mother and how long had he been doing this sole parenting gig, but she knew enough that if she peppered him with questions, he’d tighten up faster than a Maine clam. She let the silence continue even though it almost killed her.

He broke it as they turned into his street. “How’s your piano practice going?”

“I’ve been playing straight after breakfast each morning, only today I was interrupted.” She elbowed him playfully in the ribs.

He elbowed her back. “You need to get your priorities sorted out if you want to reach your goal.”

“I promise I’ll practice as soon as I get home tonight.”

“Or in the morning.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m guessing our deal is off?”

Disappointment rolled her gut. “I’m sorry I got all bent out of shape. It was mostly the idea of you still being married that did my head in.”

“Yeah.” He rocked back and forth on his heels. “I can see how that would be a sticking point but I promise you, there’s nothing else. What you see is me. Divorced classical pianist, music teacher and bartender, Lily’s dad and home renter.”

Excess baggage in every shape and form.
The sort of baggage that had destroyed her sister’s marriage. She clearly pictured the massive line of red Xs marked in every box on her list, but then again, she’d known that from the start.

She met his gaze and the moonlight cast shadows on his face, only not all of them were caused by the moon. Some were always there and now she knew why. It accounted for his mostly serious demeanor.

Except when he’s flirting with you.
Except when he’s in bed with you.
He was the single dad of a special-needs child. Fun probably didn’t feature that much in his life. And even though he wasn’t the guy for her, he was a great lover and after her self-imposed celibacy since the new year, she wasn’t about to walk away from it just yet.

“Up until I bit your head off were you having fun?”

He brought his hand up to her cheek. “The most fun I’ve had in a very long time.”

She smiled at him, oddly glad that she lightened his load in some small way. “As long as we’re both really clear on what we want and what we don’t want, I can’t see any harm in keeping the deal on the table.”

She turned her mouth into his hand and flicked her tongue out, drawing a wet and lazy circle on his palm.

He groaned and she grinned, stepping quickly away from him. “Sleep well, Scottie.”

“Very funny, Missy.”

“See you around.”

He pulled her back in against him. “See you in the morning?”

“Yes, please.”

Chapter Fifteen

“I wonder if all Australian young men are as thoughtful as Ben,” Ella said to Al as they waited by the truck. “If I was thirty years younger...”

They’d spent the afternoon at the quilt and car fair and now Ben had gone to find Lisa and Todd so they could head back to Whitetail.

Al crossed his arms. “You wouldn’t have given him a second glance because he rides a bike and they’re far too dangerous for you.”

She crossed her arms right back at him. “I can’t believe you’re still going on about that, Al Swenson.”

“I can’t believe you won’t even give it a try. I’ve ridden it every day this week without incident, just like the last forty years.”

“I know you’ve ridden it,” she said testily, thinking of how the noise had woken her up with a start every morning, making her heart race and leaving her feeling both alive and terrified all at the same time. “Exactly why you feel the need to kick-start it outside of my house escapes me.”

“Just giving you the chance to change your mind.”

“That’s not going to happen anytime soon,” she said, waving to Ben who was walking back with Amy’s parents.

“So we’re good to go, eh?” Al asked, opening the truck doors.

They all piled in and the men started talking engines, each one of them as enthusiastic as the other as they waxed lyrical about the simplicity of the Model Ts. She’d noticed it was the only time Todd seemed warm toward Ben.

She caught Lisa’s eye. “I have to hand it to Hayward. The organizers sure knew what they were doing staging the quilt show at the same time as the vintage car fair. They got double the attendance because of it.”

Lisa laughed. “That’s true. I know it made me want to get out my quilt board again and do some fussy cutting.”

Ella nodded, thinking the same thing. “I’ve been so busy with wedding cakes I haven’t done any quilting in a long time. Did Amy get her sewing talent from you?”

Lisa looked surprised. “I suppose but she hasn’t sewn anything in years.”

“But she’s—”

“My mother’s a keen quilter,” Ben offered up, suddenly breaking away from the engine conversation. “Although today she would have been torn between going to see the quilts or the cars. She met Dad when her Beetle ran out of petrol...gas...and she’d forgotten to close off the emergency tank. He gave her a ride on the back of his motorbike and they’ve been together ever since.”

“See, Ella, some women ride bikes, eh?” Al said pointedly, his eyes finding hers in the rearview mirror.

Ella pursed her lips. “I imagine Ben’s mother wasn’t in her sixties.”

“She is now,” Ben said cheerfully. “She and Dad have graduated to a Gold Wing, which is really luxurious and my brothers and I give them heaps because it’s not a Harley. Dad just laughs and says he and Mum are growing old disgracefully and busy spending our inheritance. I think it’s great.”

“Actually, Todd and I bought a motorcycle this summer,” Lisa said with a quiet smile.

Ella didn’t understand the attraction at all. “Why?”

Todd chimed in to the conversation. “We had our kids pretty young so we’re catching up on the things we didn’t do in our twenties.”

“You can borrow Red if you like,” Ben offered, adding at Lisa’s confused expression, “my vintage Harley.”

“Weather’s looking good for the next few days. Maybe we could take the rustic road up by Lost Lake, eh?” Al suggested. “It’s a real pretty ride with the fall colors, and I’ve seen wolf packs up there.”

“Oh, I’d love that,” Lisa said, leaning forward enthusiastically and putting her hand on Todd’s shoulder.

Todd turned around to face the backseat, giving Ben a quizzical look. “Are you certain you’re okay with us riding your bike?”

Ben tapped his slinged arm. “Someone should be riding her. I’ll run through the whole kick-start process but apart from that the only other thing you need to know is she’s thunderously noisy so I’m not sure you’ll see any wolves.”

“I think I’ll trade wolves for riding a vintage Harley,” Todd said happily. “What do you think, Lisa?”

“I’m all for it.”

Al turned the steering wheel, taking the right fork in the road. “So that’s three then, eh? Excellent. We can have a picnic.”

“You’re not able to come?” Lisa asked Ella.

“Oh, Ella can come. She just won’t,” Al said before she could open her mouth. “She thinks bikes are noisy and dangerous so she’ll stay home and do something real safe like climb on her roof and clean out her gutters.”

“You do that?” Lisa asked in a stunned tone. “I think riding a motorcycle is a lot safer than climbing on a roof and it’s definitely way more fun.”

Ella glared at the back of Al’s head, furious at him for making her look like a killjoy in front of others. “I’ll come but only because Al’s picnic food will probably poison you.”

Al gave a good-natured laugh. “Hell, I was going to buy lunch but if you’re offering to make your beef subs, Ellie, that’s even better.”

Right then, she knew Al Swenson had just played her.

* * *

It was Saturday night and Amy had never seen Whitetail so busy. Although the trucks and cars that filled all the parking spaces on Main Street looked familiarly modern, the people walking on the sidewalk did not. Everyone had gotten into the spirit of the evening and it was like taking a step back in time to the roaring ‘20s. Lindsay and Keith had even set up a mock speakeasy in the foyer of the movie theater, serving drinks in teacups and asking people to cloak their guns.

She was looking around for Ben, who’d texted her earlier saying there’d been a problem at the garage and he was staying longer to help out Al. He’d promised to meet her here. His height usually made him easy to find but tonight, in the crowded small space, she couldn’t see him anywhere.

“Amy!” Melissa waved and made her way over, looking very glamorous in a red beaded flapper’s dress and with a long, black cigarette holder between her fingers. “Doesn’t everyone look wicked awesome?”

She noticed Melissa’s gaze linger on Scott who was talking to Keith. “Wow, who knew Scott could look so debonair out of jeans and a polo shirt?”

“Hmm,” Melissa murmured before seeming to shake herself. “He’s just getting into character. The movie pianist always wore white tie and tails.”

Amy glanced down self-consciously at the costume she’d patched together using a combination of her own clothes, a shirt of her father’s and some bits and pieces she’d found in the Rasmussens’ cloakroom. “With my parents visiting and Janey’s gown, I didn’t have time to make a dress.”

Melissa smiled. “I think what you’ve done is very inventive and very Marlene Dietrich. You look great.”

“Thanks.” She just wished her curls weren’t constantly trying to dislodge her fedora.

Keith’s voice boomed down the microphone, cutting across the chatter in the foyer. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to take your seats but don’t worry, the usherettes...” He paused while Lindsay and another woman wearing a short skirt and balancing a big tray, curtsied. “...will be coming around and selling ice cream cones, popcorn and candy cigarettes.”

People started moving into the cinema, all talking excitedly about the upcoming silent movie but still Amy couldn’t see Ben anywhere. She checked her phone for a message. Nothing.

“Are you coming in, Amy?” Melissa asked, drifting toward the doors with the crowd.

“You go in. I’ll be there soon.” She cut back through the crowd and out onto the sidewalk, looking both ways up and down and across the street for Ben. She saw two couples hurrying toward her but no one else. Disappointment sat on the top of her gut like oil on water.

She had the evening all planned. They were going to snuggle up on their own in the very back row of the old cinema in the seats everyone had told her to avoid because they were really uncomfortable. Then, under the cover of darkness, they were going to make out. She was determined there’d be some fondling involved. Her fondling Ben to be exact, because up until now, that had never happened. Whenever they were having sex and she got close to experiencing the sensation of holding him, let alone getting her mouth to him, he always changed positions and she lost the opportunity. Sure she slid the condom on him but the moment it was on, he caught her hand in his.

She knew she probably should tell him what she wanted—or to be more precise, what she thought she wanted because she’d never actually given a guy a hand job or a blow job. Although she’d come a long way sexually since meeting Ben and he seemed to get a kick out of her relative inexperience, she still wasn’t comfortable initiating a discussion.

Just thinking about it made her all quivery, agitated and excited but nothing could happen unless Ben arrived. She took another glance up and down the street before stepping back inside. Should she just go take a seat and tell Lindsay where she was sitting? After all, that would give the usherette a chance to use her flashlight and direct Ben to her just like in the olden days. No, that wouldn’t work. Lindsay would just direct her to the seats farther down the front.

Come on
,
Ben.
As she checked her phone again, she heard Keith say, “You bet, Ben. I guess you were looking for a flapper but Amy’s standing right over there.”

She turned around and there was Ben, standing in front of her wearing a white open-neck shirt, a chocolate V-neck sweater, jodhpurs and long leather boots. A felt cap sat on his head and a pair of goggles rested around his neck along with the obligatory sling.

“Oh, how fantastic,” she squealed in delight. “You’re a 1920s biker!” Emboldened by the fun of being in character, she pulled out a silver hip flask with one hand and stretched out her other to Ben. “Hey, bad boy, do you wanna come make out in the back row?”

He didn’t move and she realized he was staring at her. “What?” Her fingers automatically brushed her cheeks. “Do I have a smudge on my face?”

His usually smiling eyes narrowed to slits. “What the hell are you wearing?”

His words poured over her like the hit of icy water and all her insecurities floated fast to the surface. Fighting to keep them at bay, she tilted her chin and snapped her suspenders. “I’m a gangster.”

“Every other woman in that cinema is dressed like a woman.”

His quiet and deadly-low voice sent an uneasy shiver through her. “This is my costume, Ben. Melissa thought I was very Marlene Dietrich.”

“Exactly my point.” He grabbed her arm and hustled her outside.

Shocked at his rough-arm tactics, she tried to pull away. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“This isn’t nothing. We’re supposed to be having a lovely evening and you’ve pushed me outside.”

“There’s no way I’m making out with you dressed like that.”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms against her hammering heart that was overflowing with confusion and hurt. Memories of similar comments by other boys and men who’d been dismissive of her looks and clothes, slugged her. “We’ll just go and watch the film.”

He shook his head so hard, his cap slid off. “You don’t get it. I’m not going anywhere with you dressed like a man.”

She stared at him slack-mouthed. “Have you been inhaling gas fumes this afternoon?”

Without a word, he spun on his booted heel and strode down the street.

“Ben!”

He kept walking so she ran after him and this time she grabbed him by the arm. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m going home.”

“You’re walking five miles because I’m not wearing a flapper’s dress? Can you hear how crazy that sounds?”

“Whatever.” He tried to shrug her hand away.

She held fast, pulling back. “It’s not whatever. Even when I hit you with a flashlight you made more sense than you do right now.”

“Let it go, Amy.”

The threat in his voice wasn’t lost on her but neither was the pain that vibrated behind it. “You’ve just ruined what was supposed to be a lovely evening and I don’t understand why.”

The streetlamp illuminated the planes of his face, making them appear stark and hard when she knew they could be soft and tender. He let out a sigh. “I’m not stopping you from enjoying the film.”

“Oh right, you tell me I’m unattractive and you refuse to be seen with me, but I’m to go watch the movie anyway?”

Ben hated the catch in Amy’s voice and, worse still, he hated the fact that he’d been the one to put it there. Seeing her in that suit had brought the past back so fast he had whiplash, but that wasn’t her fault. Now she was standing in front of him like a vulnerable child and it was all his fault.

Shit.
What a mess. He tried to appease her. “You’re beautiful, Amy, you know that.”

Her enormous eyes stared at him, filled with hurt and anger. “The thing is, Ben, most of the time I don’t know that, and just when I dare to believe it something like this happens.”

He wanted to touch her, hold her but that fucking outfit was doing his head in. “I’m sorry. Of course I’m happy to be seen with you.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “Ben, I have an IQ of one-twenty and I can understand most things but you are not making any sense tonight.”

He started walking again. “It makes sense to me and that’s all that matters. It’s my issue, not yours.”

Red curls bounced everywhere as she marched beside him. “Oh, no. You don’t get to play that card again. Strike two and you’re out.”

Hell.
He immediately remembered saying something similar back when he’d first kissed her to silence a question. “I think that’s strike three and you’re out.”

“You’re Australian,” she said accusingly, “you’re not supposed to know about baseball. Stop changing the subject.”

“Just pointing out a fact. I thought facts are important to lawyers.”

“It’s not going to work, Ben. You won’t distract me.”

He saw the in-control lawyer—the woman who was sure-footed in her area of expertise—and he knew he could no longer avoid telling her. Before now, he hadn’t told anyone. Granted, his family and friends knew but he hadn’t told them either—he hadn’t needed to. They’d been there to witness the implosion of his wedding. More than anything, he wanted to be able to hop onto Red and ride out of town, ride away from this like he’d been doing for months but he couldn’t even start the damn bike, let alone ride it.