Four Weddings and a Break Up (16 page)

Ginny shrugged. “Depends on your definition of the word. I can follow a recipe and, sometimes, if I’m lucky it doesn’t burn.”

“How about you bring me over some cookies some time?” His dad smiled. “None of those little itty bitty ones. Or the ones with the nuts or coconut. I like those black and white cookies.”

“Dad.”

“What? Times are tough. I’m not above getting free cookies.”

“Of course I’ll bring over cookies for you. Do you want some for everyone?”

“Are you crazy? Those cookies will just be for me. If they want them, they can go buy them on their own time and dime.”

“Dad, you do realize that Ginny’s not a short-order cook, and that she’s not your maid?”

“And here I had gone and bought one of those little French maid uniforms, too.”

Wes glanced at his dad. “I so don’t want to know what you wear in your spare time, thank you very much.”

His dad ignored him and beamed as she laughed hard. “This girl . . . Well, just don’t mess this up, Wes.”

“Me?” Wes shook his head. “Never.”

“You know who you should really talk about food with is my sister, Julie.” Ginny called out to her sister, who soon joined them, and Ginny made the introductions. “Julie is the one who owns Just Desserts. Julie, Nick here was just talking about how much he wanted a certain type of cookie.”

“Whatever you need, Mr. Flaherty—”

“Call me Nick, sweetheart.”

Wes rolled his eyes. Ginny wasn’t sure if she should be affronted or not that his dad hadn’t called her sweetheart. Blondes. They always had all the fun.

“Nick.” Julie smiled. “Whatever dessert you want, it’s yours.”

“I like you,” his dad said.

“Doesn’t take much,” Wes muttered. “Ginny, we have to get to the dugout. The game should be starting in a few. Dad, I don’t know if you should be sitting so high.”

His dad drew back and narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, he won’t,” Julie said smoothly, linking her arm with Wes’ dad’s. “He’s going to sit right by me. We’re going to have fun and heckle people. Aren’t we, Nick?”

“There definitely will be some heckling.”

“Good,” Wes said, drawing Ginny away as a blond man made his way to the dugout. “Make sure you aim most of your insults TJ’s way. You know how he thinks he’s all that.”

The blond man stopped and came closer. “That’s because I am all that. Not every day you meet a man who rides a Harley, can quote Keats, and has never struck out.”

“You’ve never struck out?” Ginny asked.

TJ flashed a smile, his eyes the same deep blue as the sky. “Not where it matters.”

“And this is why you’re still single,” Wes quipped. “You already know TJ?”

“Not that well. He was a few years behind me in high school.”

Either way, Wes reintroduced her to TJ, then brought her to the dug-out where she met his other two brothers, Jake and Seth, whose looks were more similar to Wes with their dark hair and gray eyes. She even met Liam Worth, who was Cape Hope’s version of a celebrity since he came from the wealthy Worth family who owned the Worth Hotel and most of Cape Hope. Liam’s black hair and black eyes and unshaven jaw looked nothing like the suave, sophisticated man that had been photographed just a week ago on the front page of the Cape Hope Sentinel.

After she’d met everyone, they sat on the bench and waited for the game to begin.

She just hoped she didn’t embarrass herself too much and had some fun.

S
he hadn’t lied
, Wes realized. Ginny was far from athletic and had struck out each time she’d gotten up to bat. But she wasn’t horrible. Just unpracticed, untried—not a baseball phenomenon.

From his kneeling position behind the home plate, Wes quickly looked at Ginny, stuck in right field. He’d found her a baseball cap after a few innings when the sun had started pinkening her skin, and now the visor covered her head, the ponytail sliding through the back opening. She was so cute; her body slightly bent forward, her hands on her knees in the standard ready position. Then, Wes turned his attention back to the game and made a pitching signal to Liam, who nodded in agreement.

The other team was ahead by four runs to their one, which wasn’t surprising since they ran faster, hit better, and had a stronger defense and offense. The team he was on was good, but it was apparent they were all just having fun. Kind of like a grown up
Bad News Bears
.

Liam pitched the ball, a low knuckleball, and the batter swung and missed.

Strike One
.

The next pitch went a little too high and was marked as a ball. But the third time, the batter made contact with the ball and set it sailing deep into right field.

Ginny glanced up, her glove outstretched, the ball arcing toward her.

Wes held his breath. Oh, it didn’t matter if she caught it or not. But he hoped she did. He’d love to see a triumphant smile light her face, and hear her scream with glee. It would be the final out of the inning. They were up last to bat, one more attempt to claim a victory.

The ball landed in her glove. She raised her arm, the one holding the glove as in an instinctive manner, and . . .

The ball popped out.

It landed on the ground and rolled away from her feet. Ginny looked at it and then back toward the infield. He saw her mouth form the word and could almost hear the curse from here.
Shit
.

He started laughing. After they got the next player out, they were up to bat and managed to score another run, but in the end they lost. Ginny hung back after they’d gone down the line with the other team, exchanging hand slaps of fives with a “good game.”

“I was so bad,” Ginny said with a wide smile. “But you were right. I had a great time.”

Then she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him.

“Thanks, Wes.”

Thanking him for what? He really had done nothing in the scheme of things. He still felt like he had to make up for last week. There was just something so good about her, and he didn’t want to lose that.

“We’re all going out for pizza and beer.” Was that his heart beating so fast? And why were his palms so sweaty? It had to be the heat. “Want to join us?”

“I’d love to.”

A
fter pizza and beer
, Wes drove her home. He couldn’t help but keep stealing glances at Ginny. Trying to figure her out. Wondering how things had changed so fast from a one-night stand to friends to whatever this was.

Yeah, he was man enough to admit to it. He wanted to kiss her. Hell, he wanted to do more than kiss her.

He wanted her. Badly. He wanted to pull over, yank her on top of his lap, and ravage her mouth even as his cock slid into her tight entrance.

Ducks
.

He’d been repeating that word to himself ever since the game had ended. Instead of counting sheep, he’d counted ducks to stop acting out on his fantasies. Ginny had been perfectly clear. No more kissing.

She was probably right. They couldn’t have sex when this wasn’t real. Except he missed the feel and the taste of her; he’d gotten to know her touch and how she felt in his arms, and now it was gone to him. What did he want exactly? Did he want to be with her for real?

Except he was returning to Las Vegas at the end of the summer, and he didn’t believe in love.

Although not all dating relationships developed into love . . . just a slaking of lust until the embers of desire burnt out. Was that all they had between them? That didn’t seem right to him anymore. If it was, he suspected they both would have just called it a day after that one fight, or never even agreed to the fake dating in the first place.

Maybe they didn’t need a label. They could just continue along this path—the fake dating. There were no expectations that way. By refusing to call what they had a real relationship, there were no worries that one of them would leave before the other was ready.

And he didn’t want to screw things up more than he already had.

He pulled in front of Ginny’s apartment building and walked her to the door. The light next to it cast a small spotlight on them. She unlocked the door, opened it, and started to go inside.

Before he knew what he was doing, his hand was on her arm, turning her back to him.

“Wes?” She stared up at him, her eyebrows drawing together in a question.

“I . . .” He didn’t know what he was doing. He dropped his hand away. “I just wanted to remind you about this weekend. It’s Seth’s wedding.”

“Yes, I have the date circled on my calendar.”

“I’m in it now.”

“In the wedding?”

“It was either that or sing. And since I’m a horrible singer . . .”

She laughed, a low sound that sent a pang of need to his heart. “So you’ll have to attend the rehearsal dinner the night before.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to attend that—they’re actually not doing a dinner thing anymore. The bride decided she didn’t want to do a run-through. Something about superstitions.”

“Oh.”

Wes could tell from her facial expression that she thought that was odd. He had, too. “I’ll still pick you up for the wedding.”

“Don’t worry about that, Wes. You’ll be so busy that morning, with getting ready and spending time with your family. I can drive myself over.”

“No.” Why was he so nervous? Why wasn’t he acting like himself? “I’ll pick you up. It’s not a problem.”

“If that’s what you want.” Ginny stared at him for a moment longer. “I’d better be going inside. It’s late. It’s been a long day. The baseball game. The pizza. The drinks.”

“Okay.” He didn’t move.

Neither did she.

“Wes.” She licked her lips. “I know what you’re thinking.”

She did? That made one of them. He had no idea what he was thinking. “You do?”

“You want to reinstate the kissing thing. You think it’s going to be hard to be a ‘couple’ with no kissing, especially at a wedding.” She fidgeted, now worrying that same lip. “I think . . .”

He stepped closer to her, placing one hand on the side of her apartment building, the other on the knob of the door, effectively closing her in. “You think what?”

“Maybe I was too hasty before. That fight”—she gave a shake of her head—“that fight was so stupid. I don’t want that hanging over our heads anymore. I was mad. I need to take back the no kissing thing.”

“You want us to kiss?”

“Just for pretend. It’s a wedding. We’re going to have more of them. My cousin’s is on July 4. There’s another toward the end of August—an old family friend’s son is getting married. Who knows what other invites will come? And . . .” She straightened, her chin going up. “I made a deal. With you. I don’t like going back on my word or breaking a promise. We said in the beginning what the rules were. We’re both reasonable adults. Grown up. Mature. Intelligent. Realists. It’s not like either one of us is going to get carried away by a kiss and forget ourselves. It’s not like—”

He stopped her rambling the only way he knew how. He kissed her, short, long, sweet, hard—all the adjectives in the world couldn’t begin to fully describe the way he explored her mouth. Maybe it was the stupidest move he’d ever made. Maybe it was the smartest. Whatever it was, Wes couldn’t deny one thing—it felt so, so right.

Her hands came up to his chest, when he deepened the kiss, and she turned her face away. “Ducks.”

He got his breathing under control and slowly stepped away. “See, you’re perfectly right. Kissing doesn’t affect either one of us.”

She stared at him for a moment longer, then shook her head as if to clear it. She smiled, almost relieved. “You’re right. We can do this. See you Saturday.”

Then she disappeared inside, locking the door behind her.

He wasn’t feeling so relieved as she was. In fact, a part of him was distinctively
un
relieved.

G
inny woke
up the next morning with a horrid realization. She didn’t have anything to wear for the wedding that weekend, which meant she had to go shopping. Spending any time in the shops, trying things on and on and on . . . was the ninth circle of Hell.

Out of desperation, she called Julie and her mom. She needed help. She needed the perfect dress for Saturday. She wanted to look beautiful and sexy, and her mom and Julie always had a good eye for fashion.

She didn’t want a simple black dress. She wanted something . . . Ginny sighed. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted. If she had a clear picture, she would be going to the store herself and selecting a dress.

Luckily, her sister and mom readily agreed. Her mom, in fact, leapt at it. Julie wasn’t opening the bakery today because she was busy getting ready for weddings this weekend, but said that she could take a half-day to help her out. Her mom agreed to drive, calling it a girls’ day out. About twenty minutes after Ginny called, her mom beeped the horn and Ginny exited her apartment. Julie was in the passenger seat, switching the radio station.

Her mom held out a cup of coffee and a small bag. “Here. We stopped along the way. Coffee and a chocolate donut.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She was hungry, and it’d been so long since she had a donut for breakfast. She usually tended to skip that meal, or at the most have a piece of toast with peanut butter. The smell of coffee and the warm, soft donut, reminded Ginny of when they used to have breakfast as a family, her and Julie’s fingers sticky from the icing, their dad going for just one more donut, and Mom laughing. She missed that. “Where are we headed?”

Julie, on the phone, had told her there was no way they were going to the usual spots for dresses. That this called for something special, something fabulous, something wowza.

“There are just so many places I have in mind,” Mom said, exchanging a look with Julie. “We want to make sure you get the
perfect
dress. I’m just so excited about this whole thing that I did something special.”

Ginny paused in the middle of eating her donut. “Something special?”

“Girls’ Day Out, remember?” Mom laughed. “Julie doesn’t know about this part either. A woman has to have her secrets after all.”

“You have secrets?” Julie seized on that. “What sort of secrets? Sexy secrets?”

Their mom flashed a secret smile. “I will never tell.”

“Okay, Mom, you can have your secrets.” Ginny doubted there were that many. “What exactly do you have planned for the day?”

“We’re going shopping. Julie picked out the store, and I completely agree. It’s perfect. And you
never
go in there because you have this whole thing in your head that you’re heavy—”

“Mom, I
am
heavy.”

They stopped at a red light, and Mom took the opportunity to turn around in her seat and shoot her a death glare. “Ginger Belle Michaels, if I ever hear you say that again or insult yourself in any way, I’ll take you over my knee and spank you.”

Julie laughed. “Mom, you’ve never spanked us.”

“I’ll do something to make you regret it. Look at me, Gin.”

Ginny reluctantly met her mom’s gaze.

“You are a beautiful, smart, intelligent woman, and you are perfect just as you are. I love you. I love both of my girls.”

Ginny’s eyes watered. “Damn it, Mom. You’re going to ruin my mascara.”

Her mom snorted. “Nice try, Ginny. You’re not wearing any.”

“Mom, we love you, too,” Julie said softly. “We’re so lucky to have you, even if you won’t tell us anything about the sexy Scot.”

“You know his name is Grant,” Mom said on a huff and started driving again. “We’re seeing each other, and that’s all I’m saying. Now, girls, the first order of business is to find Ginny a dress.”

“Do you think we’ll find something?” Ginny was suddenly nervous. What if they didn’t? What if nothing fit? What if everything looked horrible on her? Oh, she so shouldn’t have eaten that donut!

“We’ll find something, Gin,” Julie said brightly. “We’ll find something that’ll knock Wes off his feet.”

“We’ll do better,” her mom corrected. “We’ll find something so awesome that it’ll take everything in Ginny’s man to not rip off her clothes and have his wicked way with her right then and there.”

“Mom!” Ginny and Julie cried out at the same time.

“Please, girls.” Mom turned down a street. “I’ve raised my daughters right. When there’s a man that sexy, nice, funny, and intelligent, if you’re not having sex with him then I would seriously question your sanity.”

Ginny so didn’t want to be talking sex with her mom. And from Julie’s looks, neither did she. She decided to switch the topic, or rather, redirect it to the matter at hand.

Her mom pulled into an empty parking spot on Birch Tree Avenue before a whitewashed storefront. The charming store had stones that looked like jewels embedded below the bay window, which displayed dresses and other antiquities.

“We’re shopping at Vintage?”

Vintage was an antique shop with a contemporary flair. It specialized in clothes, jewelry, and other things. Most things hailed from the Victorian or Edwardian era; others were slightly more modern. It was on a side street of Main Avenue where the outdoor market was, and the prices in the shop ran anywhere from the moderate to the extravagant.

Ginny hardly ever shopped there, but had always admired the jewelry and clothes. Vintage was owned by Rachel Ambrose, a girl who had been a year below Julie in high school. Rachel had always been so studious, so quiet, so solemn that it had surprised Ginny when she’d opened the shop that had a decidedly romantic flair.

“I don’t know if anything will fit me.” Ginny had never tried on any of the clothes. She had doubts there would be a dress that would be perfect for the wedding.

“If we don’t find anything,” Julie said, “we’ll go to another store. But I doubt that’ll happen.”

“Me, too.” Mom turned off the car. “Now let’s go shopping.”

That sounded distinctively like a battle cry.

And that frightened her. Just a little.

G
inny was
in the dressing room, in her bra and panties, surrounded by dresses. Lace, silk, satin, chiffon. Blue, green, yellow, pink. It was a sea of fabric, waves of colors. She needed a life raft. A distress signal. Something. After trying on most of the dresses, she had come up empty each and every time.

“Try on the pink one,” Julie instructed from outside the curtain.

“With the glittery shoes,” Mom added.

They had settled into two plush red chairs, drinking coffee, and chatted briefly with Rachel.

“Which pink one?” There was a ton to choose from.

“The lace one.”

Ginny grabbed the dress and put it on. It had spaghetti straps and was a simple sheath that ended at her knees; the zipper was at the side so Ginny didn’t need any help with that. A soft blush pink that looked pretty on the hanger but horrible on her. Her breasts were smashed into the dress. She pulled back the curtain and walked out.

“I don’t like it,” Julie said. “It does nothing for you.”

“Agreed. It’s a straight line. You’re curvy. I didn’t think that dress would look good in the first place.”

Ginny looked at her mom in the mirror. “You’re the one who picked this out.”

“I don’t remember that.” Her mom eyed the dress over. “I do like the shoes though. They’re adorable.”

The shoes were a soft pink with satin bows at the top. They were utterly feminine and seductive. Ginny liked the shoes, too.

“Okay, next dress,” Julie said and stepped into the dressing room along with their mom and Ginny. “Any one you like?”

“They’re all pretty,” Ginny said diplomatically.

“What about this gold one?” Her mom held up the cocktail-length dress. “It’s almost got a Vegas showgirl look to it.”

“Maybe that would be good for Deb’s wedding.” Ginny paused.
Shit
. She’d told her mom she’d already bought a dress. Thankfully her mom didn’t seem to notice her gaffe. “Or another one if I get invited to anything.”

Her mom turned the dress this way and that, inspecting it from all angles. “It’d also be nice for the August wedding. It has that sort of end of summer feel to it.”

“Let’s focus on one wedding at a time,” Ginny said. “I really need to find a dress for this wedding. I just want something wow. All of these dresses, while pretty and beautiful, just don’t wow me. If they don’t wow me, then how will they . . .”

She stopped before she could continue. Oh, what a fool she was! How could she have been in such denial? How could she go on pretending?

She
liked
Wes.

It wasn’t just lust. She had feelings for him. That’s why she had been so upset with him. That’s why she had tried to find a way to continue the kissing.

“Oh, God,” Ginny moaned. She needed to sit down. Plopping down on the one chair in the dressing room, she put her hands to her head. “Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.”

“Ginny! What’s wrong?” her mom asked, concerned.

“I like him,” she whispered. “I really, really like him, and I’m just realizing how much I like him.”

“Of course you like him!” Her mom beamed at her. “And it’s obvious that he likes you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you at that dinner.”

Julie, who knew the whole story, pulled Ginny back to her feet. “Well, then. You like him. You’ve figured that out. Finally. What are you going to do about it?”

What was she going to do about it? Nothing! How could she say that to Wes? They’d both agreed that there would be no emotions whatsoever. That there was nothing real in their pretend relationship. And he had no desire to be with her—for real.

So she liked him. People liked each other every day. It wasn’t like she
loved
him. Thank God for that. Her heart was still perfectly safe.

Ginny let out a deep breath. “I’m going to find a dress. Something spectacular. There’s got to be something I’ve missed. Something I haven’t tried on in this pile.”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Rachel stood just outside the dressing room door. “I overheard that you’re having trouble finding a dress for a wedding. This is for Seth Flaherty’s wedding, correct?”

“Yes. I’m going with his oldest brother, Wes.” Ginny explained what she was trying to go for, and Rachel nodded her head. Rachel’s vibrant red hair was tucked into a neat French twist, her green eyes intent and focused. She was dressed in an Audrey Hepburn black dress with pearls at her throat and simple black flats.

After Ginny finished and Rachel took a quick survey of the dresses that she already had tried on, Rachel pursed her lips together.

“Hold on for just a minute,” Rachel finally said. “I think I have just the dress for you.”

Ginny watched her disappear. Julie grabbed the discarded dresses. “I’m going to put these away so Rachel doesn’t have to.”

Her mom went back out front, looking at the shoes and jewelry on display. Ginny took off the pink dress, hanging it back up on the hanger. It really was a pretty dress, just not the one for her.

A knock on the wall outside the dressing room was followed by Rachel’s voice saying, “I’ve found something for you. I had it in the back—I found it a few days ago on my last shopping trip.”

Ginny peeked out the curtain. The dress was still in a garment bag. She reached for it.

“Before I do so, I have to make you promise me one thing.” Rachel’s forehead furrowed. “Actually a few things. One) You have to let me get the shoes that will look just perfect with this dress. Two) Also, the jewelry. And three) You can’t look yourself in the mirror. You have to wait until you come out.”

What did she have to lose? “I can do that.”

Satisfied, Rachel handed over the garment bag. “Do
not
open that garment bag. Faith! Come over here. Make sure your daughter doesn’t do anything with this dress until I return.”

Rachel scurried off after Mom promised to guard the dress like a watchdog. A few minutes later, Rachel returned with Julie. Julie held a shoebox and a small velvet case. Rachel had a scarf in her hands.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re going to blindfold you. Actually I am.” Rachel stepped closer. “That way you can’t look until you’re dressed.”

Ginny glanced down at her scar. “I’m not comfortable in just my bra and panties.”

“Put this on.” Rachel handed her a slip. “You need it anyway for this dress.”

The slip was a light silver. Best of all it covered her up.

“Now step away from the curtain, and your mom and sister will wait outside. By the time she’s unveiled, it’ll be like Cinderella!”

Mom and Julie smiled, seemingly excited about the whole makeover turn to this shopping event.

With that, Rachel stepped inside the dressing room and held up the scarf. “Ready?”

Ginny paused. Ready? Not really. But it did have a certain draw to it, too, at the same time. “I didn’t know you had a flair for the dramatic.”

“I know! It rather surprised me, too.” Rachel tied the scarf around Ginny’s head, covering her eyes. “When I opened this place up, I discovered how much I loved it. Some of the dresses I’ve bought and modified. Some I’ve kept the same. Some I’ve even made.”

“You got this one a shopping trip?”

Rachel unzipped the garment bag. “Yes. It’s an antique. You probably already noticed that the dresses are from an assortment of time periods. I wanted this shop to appeal to everyone.”

Ginny nodded. “It’s very pretty.”

“Thanks. Now you’re going to take a step, and I’ll shimmy the dress up.”

Ginny did as requested, slipping her arms through—what she assumed were—capped sleeves. “Exactly what time period is this dress from?”

“1920s.” Rachel pulled the zipper up. “It fits like a glove, and it’s gorgeous on you. Now let’s get these shoes on you.”

Ginny stepped into shoes, and gasped when she straightened. “How high are these?”

“Three inch heels. Not too bad. Hold out your arms.” After bracelets were clasped onto her wrists, Rachel put a pair of earrings in Ginny’s palm. “Put these on. After you do that, gather up your hair.”

“Am I going to look like a decked-out showgirl? Is this too much?”