The Calendar Brides (12 page)

“I guess I was trying to decide what to say for the calendar.”

“Is that all?” He laughed warmly. “For a moment there, you had me worried.” He shot her a smile. “It’s not like my Tiny not to eat.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what it was with her lately. She still felt ravenous most of the time, but certain things were starting to get to her. Some smells, too. Plus, she was queasy. Maybe she was coming down with the flu.

“Didn’t see you at the office this afternoon. Katie said you knocked off early,” he said, referring to Jason’s assistant.
 

Tiny and Jimmy both worked at the same place. Jimmy was Jason’s foreman, and Tiny manned the phones and handled scheduling for the home renovation business. But Tiny’s true passion was her photography. She sold photos of mundane subjects to the local paper from time to time, but she loved taking shots that were more artsy, and was fond of using a traditional 35-millimeter camera with a long lens in soft light. It gave her photos a dramatic edge, particularly when she developed them in black and white. Though the calendar would be full color.

“I had some shopping to do. Trying to get ready for the shoot.”

“Right, Friday at Victor’s.” He sampled his chili, then dumped in another dollop of hot sauce. “Well, I’m sure Jason didn’t mind.”

“I guess Angie filled him in.”

“No doubt.”

She brought a spoonful of chili to her lips, but the scent of cardamom mixed with cinnamon was enough to make her stomach roil.

Jimmy laid a hand on her arm. “Tiny?”

Uh-oh. Oh, no. Tiny pushed back in her chair as heat rushed up her throat. “I’ve…got to…”

Jimmy stood and took her elbow. “What’s wrong?”

She broke away and raced from the table, hands cupped to her mouth as she went.

Then she threw herself into the bathroom and gripped the open commode, knees smacking the floor.

Chapter Ten

Zoe

Zoe placed her newly found objects on the rough-hewn table Dillon had made her. He’d crafted the legs out of driftwood and refurbished an old door to fashion its top. Dillon and home renovator Jason had known each other back in high school, in the neighboring town where they’d both grown up. This connection proved handy for a furniture maker dedicated to recycling. Dillon and Zoe had that in common. Except that the treasures Zoe employed in her jewelry making came from the sea. She separated sea glass from stones, then shells and bird feathers…and slowly looked up. Dillon stood across the room wielding a miter saw. He was building them a hutch for their kitchen nook as a place for Zoe to store her pottery. A clay-splattered wheel stood in the hollow before the floor-to-ceiling windows, which afforded natural light. They lived on the top floor of an old barn that was still in use storing tractors. They weren’t close enough to see the ocean, but when they opened the windows they could smell and hear it.

Zoe felt lucky that the property owner had consented to her installing a kiln room in an adjoining space out back. But he’d given a stern warning:
You burn down my barn, you pay for it.
Since neither she nor Dillon had much cash to pay for anything, she took great care with her firing and always made sure the kiln was completely cooled down before leaving it unattended. She held a seagull feather up to each ear and smiled at Dillon.

“I was thinking of combining these with sea stones.” She dropped a feather to the table and held a shiny purple stone beside the feather at her other ear. She switched out the stone for a shell. “Or maybe I should use shells?”

Dillon cut the noise of the saw. He’d missed some of her words, but in watching her had caught the gist. “I’d go with the stones. Maybe some black and gray ones.”

“Isn’t that dreary?”

“I’d say dramatic.” He grinned through the light stubble that always dotted his chin and that matched his hair, a tawny brown. On his right ear, he wore an earring of his own: a small gold hoop. Zoe thought it made him look like a pirate, and awfully sexy. “Kind of like you.”

Zoe drew a deep breath and seized the moment. “Speaking of drama…”

Dillon, who’d been about to return to his work, stripped off his goggles, revealing moss-colored eyes. They reminded Zoe of meadows, or somewhere she’d like to become lost in. Even after three years, she was still lost in Dillon. He leaned sinewy arms into his workbench and muscles rippled. “Yeee…es?” he asked, drawing out the word.

“It’s about my Nona.”

“And that calendar,” he surmised.

This was so awkward, Zoe wished she didn’t have to say it. Still, she felt she had to ask. “You don’t feel weird about it? I mean, weird about me dressing up all in white and—”

“You’re wearing white?” he teased, with a grin.

“You know what I mean.”

He shrugged his shoulders, still angling forward on his hands. “You can wear whatever you want, babe, and I’ll love you in it.”

“Yeah, but…” She hesitated a second, biting her bottom lip. “This is a dress.
A wedding gown, Dillon.
It just seems a little…” She shook her head and her chin-length hair bounced. “Weird, you know. Since I’m not married.”

“Susan’s not married either,” he reminded her. “Or Bev, last time you checked.”

“That’s true.”

“Besides,” he said. “It’s a gimmick, right?”

“Gimmick?”

“Sure, a tool, like marketing. An angle for selling the calendar. It probably wouldn’t do as well if you just called it ‘The D’Amato Cousins.’”

She studied him, twisting her lips. Dillon was always so reasonable and cool. Ultracool—that’s why she loved him. Well, one of the reasons. She wished she could tell him, but there’d never been the right time. Plus, she didn’t want to be the first one to say it. What if he didn’t say it back? “You’re right.”

He dusted off his hands and took a long swig of water from a bottle by the radiator. “I hope that thing works this winter,” he said tilting his head toward it.
 

“The super says it’s fixed.”

“That’s what he said about the shower door,” Dillon reminded her. The sliding glass door had fallen off its dented track so many times Dillon had finally removed it. Zoe had purchased a cheap plastic curtain at the Dollar Store to serve in its place instead.

“At least it’s not that cold yet,” Zoe told him.

“It’s early October. It’s going to get colder. Way colder, and you know it.”

“Yeah.” She smiled just as sweetly as she could. “But we’ll keep each other warm, right?”

“Sure.” He nodded and studied her a moment. “What makes you think you have to wear white?”

“What?”

“To the shoot.”

Zoe thought about this. “It wouldn’t look right otherwise.”

“Take a chance, Zoe. Be a little different.”

“I
am
a different from the others, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” Sunlight caught in his eyes and Zoe’s heart stilled. When he spoke again his voice was husky. “I’m glad you’re different, Zoe. You’re amazing, just the way you are.”

She stood and walked to him and they joined in an embrace. “I think you’re pretty amazing, too,” she said, looking up at him.
 

He kissed her and his beard stubble tickled. “Do I get to see the dress you pick out?”

“Do you want to?” Zoe asked with surprise.

“I’m just kind of curious.” He rested his forehead against hers. “About the choices.”

“I guess Victor will have a selection.”

“Think he’ll have anything Greenwich Village?” He growled and tugged her to him. “That could be kind of sexy.”

“I’ll definitely look for vintage.” She laughed and kissed him again. “Not that you’ll get to see.”

He lightly nibbled her lip and whispered, “Why not?”

“Because, you big dodo, it’s…bad…luck,” she breathed back.

“I thought that was for people who were getting married?” His hungry mouth closed in and Zoe whimpered into his kiss, not wanting to admit to herself what she already knew. Deep in her heart and in a totally insane way, she wished she
was
marrying Dillon. Or that they could at least pretend they might want that some day. A small ping of rain hit the window, and then another, and another again.

“It’s raining,” he said, showering her with kisses.
 

Zoe returned each kiss in kind, trying not to think about anything but right here and now. She never even imagined she’d find someone like Dillon. Now that she had, she needed to savor every moment they shared. Maybe it was greedy to hope for more, when their relationship was already so much better than that of so many others. “Yeah,” she said, drifting away. Then without even traveling to the bed, they fell to the floor and made their way to each other.

Chapter Eleven

Lena

Lena plucked out the final chords of the last song in her set, then rested her guitar against her knee. Applause echoed from the corner of the room. Somewhere beyond the glare of stage lights, someone had been watching her. She squinted through the murky bar, which seemed perpetually shrouded in smoke, even though smoking indoors hadn’t been allowed here in years.
 

“Bravo,” a deep voice rumbled as a man stepped forward. He had honey-blond hair with caramel streaks that he wore tied back. His eyes were the color of almonds. She saw this as he approached, still bringing his hands together in a slow, rhythmic motion.

Lena’s gaze darted to the soul patch on his chin that on other men might have looked out of place. Somehow, it suited him. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

His hands stopped clapping and slid into the pockets of his jeans. They showcased a rugged frame that was also outlined by his coal-black T-shirt. On it a logo read,
Let Me Rock You.
Yeah, Lena could just bet plenty of women would. He smiled and one side of his mouth turned up higher than the other. “Sorry if I startled you. Didn’t mean to.”

“The bar is…closed,” she said, uncertain if he was a patron looking for a cold one.

“That’s why I’m here.” He nodded behind him to a large keg on a dolly. “Resupply.”

“Ah.” She smiled with understanding. “A bar can’t get by without that.”

“I’m Ryan, by the way.” Instead of extending a hand, he folded his arms across his chest.

“Lena.” Fingers wrapped around the neck of her guitar. “If you’re looking for Dave,” she said, referring to the bar manager, “he’ll be back in a bit. Just stepped out to the bank.”

“I know that bank,” he said unexpectedly. “Nice one.”

Lena laughed with surprise. “What are you? Some kind of bank robber on the side?”

His brow rose with intrigue. “Never considered that as a sideline. Times aren’t that tough.”

“Tell that to the roadies,” she said with a sigh. Every musician who’d come through this joint had regaled her with tales of woe. Playing for your supper was harder than ever these days, with so many folks watching their wallets and fewer partaking of outings involving live entertainment.

“Are you one of those?” His eyes registered interest. “A traveling minstrel?”

“Not really,” she answered. “I make my music right here.”

He glanced around the poorly lit space. “I guess there are worse gigs than Chandelier.”

“That’s what I hear.”

He studied her a long beat as if he was about to say something else, then thought better of it.

“Well, good luck with it, then. Your show.”

“Thanks.”

He turned and she saw his ponytail draped partially down his back, hitting right between his shoulder blades.

“Ryan!” she called after him. He stopped and turned. “Thanks for clapping. Not everybody does.”

He lowered his eyebrows with mock disapproval but one end of his mouth turned up. “What
are
those people? Tone-deaf?”

Just then, Dave entered through a side door, and the two of them exchanged pleasantries. Lena went to work packing up her mike and guitar, but couldn’t help stealing glances toward the bar where the two men chatted. She’d never seen Ryan in here before. Then again, she normally didn’t practice this early. Today was different because Dave had a private party coming in, several ladies hosting a surprise party for one of their friends who’d gotten engaged. He’d given them permission to arrive before the bar opened to set up and decorate. Lena knew she could have practiced in front of them, but never felt right about displaying her music until she’d gotten everything exactly right. She probably would have stopped playing if she’d known Ryan was listening. That last song was a new one, and she was still working out the kinks. Although Ryan had seemed to take to it all right.

When Lena stepped off the stage, she was disappointed to see that Ryan had gone. Well, what did she think, anyway? That they might somehow continue their conversation? That he might even ask her out? Ha-ha. There weren’t a lot of eligible guys in Chandelier, and the ones who came here were only passing through. Exactly like Ryan, she thought sadly. She waved goodbye to Dave, who was busy taking inventory, then made her way to the parking lot out back. That’s when she saw the delivery truck was still there. Its rear door was ajar and he was fiddling around with something inside. He caught her peeping at him and grinned. “Well, hey there! Lena…”