A November Bride (10 page)

She pressed her hand against the page, as if she could soak in the truth. She needed a direct message from God. She loved her job, loved the Hartnett kids. What they were offering her was the chance to pursue some new adventures, as well as the chance to be closer to her parents. And what was holding her here except her beloved routine? Of course, no one in Oregon would know her as the girl who freaked out on the local morning news show—not that the incident bothered her anymore. Much.

And then there was Erik . . . but what exactly was going on between them, anyway? Why the sudden romantic turn in their friendship? And what would happen in a few months when his internal warning system blared?

At the sound of an elephant trumpeting through her bedroom, Sadie’s hand slid off the page, ripping it partway from the binding.

An elephant?
She silenced her phone before answering it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sadie Jehoshaphat!”

“Now you’re messing with my ringtones and guessing some obscure Bible name? Honestly, Erik, if you’re calling to say you’re sorry for the other night, you now have two reasons to apologize.”

“I’m calling to ask if you’ll go out with me.”

“I’m not even certain I’m talking to you.”

“Well, talk to me long enough to say, ‘Yes, Erik, I’ll go out with you.’ ”

Sadie choked on her giggle.

“You can’t be that mad at me if you’re laughing.”

Sadie ran her fingers through her unwashed hair. “Erik . . .”

“Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

It was useless to resist the man—and did she even want to? “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock.”

“Tonight?”

“No, this morning. See you then.”

When he hung up, Sadie stared at the screen.
This morning?

Where were they going? What should she wear—and how was she supposed to be ready in an hour?

When Erik showed up, Sadie had showered and changed into a pair of comfortable jeans—ones that she normally wore around the house. She accessorized them with a yellow sweater, opting to wear her hair loose. She applied her makeup but finally gave in and slipped on her glasses, an admission to a lurking headache. In all the years they’d known each other, Erik might have seen her wear her glasses a dozen times.

When she opened the door after Erik’s knock, the first words out of his mouth were, “Forgive me?”

He bowed his head, looking at her through lowered lashes, his bottom lip poking out like a pouty three-year-old’s.

No way was she responding to that. “Overdoing it a bit, aren’t you?”

“And I thought I had it down pretty well.”

“I know you too well.”

“I disagree.” He lifted her hand and pressed a warm kiss against it. “You know me perfectly.”

Sadie fought the desire to step into Erik’s arms and give him a real good-morning kiss. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her best friend, but she liked it—a lot.

“So where are we going?”

“To breakfast.”

“Perfect. I’m starving.” Sadie linked her arm through his, enjoying the feel of his fingers intertwined between hers. “And where are we going for breakfast?”

“Have you ever gone to the Brown Palace’s brunch?”

“No—but isn’t that served on Sundays?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know that when I planned this date. And the Broadmoor’s brunch is—”

“On Sunday too.”

“And it’s also where you did your culinary training, so why would you want to go eat there?”

“Well, there is that.”

Erik ushered her into his car. “I did find a very elite place to eat.”

“Really? Where?”

“My apartment. I thought I’d make you breakfast.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. We’re being chaperoned.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No. If we’re going to be careful about being alone in your house now that we’re dating, we need to uphold the same standards at my apartment.”

She had to wait to continue the conversation until Erik was settled in the driver’s seat. “You did not ask someone
to come to your house and chaperone us. We’re adults, not teenagers.”

“Agreed.” Erik offered her a quick smile. “The question is: Which is the worse temptation?”

Good question. This grown-up Erik was much more tempting than the eighteen-year-old version. “Erik, who is at your house?”

“Nobody yet—but there will be.”

Once they arrived, Sadie gripped her seat belt. “I am not getting out of this car until you tell me who else is going to be joining us for breakfast.”

He covered her hand with his. “You know me better than anyone, right?”

“Ye-es.”

“Well, then come to my apartment, knowing that I am perfectly trustworthy. Nothing is going to happen—except breakfast.”

“It never occurred to me that anything else might happen.”

“Of course not. And I’ll try not to be hurt that the thought of kissing me again hasn’t kept you awake.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Really? That’s nice to know.”

“Let’s go have breakfast, please.”

Erik needed to remember that this morning was about breakfast—waffles, bacon, orange juice—and nothing else. But he’d need to work hard to concentrate on cooking and
not on whether Sadie would let him kiss her again before the end of the day. Or the bigger question: Was Sadie having anything besides “best friend” feelings for him?

No matter what, he had a plan in place to ensure the only thing they indulged in at his apartment was breakfast.

Once Sadie was settled at the table—cleared of the pile of mail and magazines—he opened his laptop and activated Skype.

“We’re Skyping with someone?”

“Phillip and Ashley. I don’t think Annalisa is joining us.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hold on a second.” Erik activated the video chat. “Hey, Phillip.”

“Morning, Erik.” Phillip’s hair looked damp, as if he’d just showered. “Sadie there?”

“Yes.” He positioned the laptop so Phillip could see Sadie. Phillip waved, prompting Sadie to wave back.

Phillip cleared his throat and put on his best I-mean-business face. “Okay, so here are the ground rules for you two: Keep the laptop powered up and open while you’re having breakfast. Keep Skype open at all times. And you stay where we can see you. Pretty simple. Other than that, enjoy yourselves.”

“Where’s Ashley?”

“She’s getting Annalisa dressed. She’ll be joining the Skype session too—Ashley, not the baby. I’ll be sitting over here working on my sermon about self-control.”

“Subtle. Very subtle.” Erik tossed his friend a salute. “Well, I’m going to get started.”

“Do you want any help?” Sadie half-rose from her seat.

“No, thank you. I’m the chef today. But I do have some orange juice if you’d like—freshly squeezed.”

“You’re kidding me.” Sadie retrieved two small glasses from the table and joined him in the kitchen.

“Well, that’s what it said on the label. And it has pulp in it too.”

“Hey, you two!” Phillip’s voice came from the laptop screen. “Can’t see you.”

Erik pulled a container of juice from the fridge. “Will you carry the laptop in here, please?”

“Sure.”

When she returned, Erik was setting up a Belgian-waffle maker.

“Waffles?”

“Yep—homemade, if you ignore the mix. And do you prefer sausage or bacon?”

“Bacon.”

“Ah, a woman after my own heart. I have both—but why zap sausage in the microwave if we both want bacon?”

He was showing Sadie the extent of his cooking skills. But once it was all made—and served on real plates, not paper—she’d be impressed.

She sipped from the glass of juice, angling her hip against the counter. “Is there anything you want me to do?”

“Just stand there and look pretty. I’ve got this.”

Sadie shook her head, as if dismissing his comment.

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget about it. Focus on your waffles.”

“Are you disagreeing with the ‘I’ve got this part’—or the ‘look pretty’ part?”

Sadie waved away his question. “Don’t mind me. Show me your skills, chef.”

“Hey.” Erik took her hand, pulling her close, and using his other hand to tilt her chin up so she had to make eye contact with him. “I don’t care if you know I’m a lousy cook—you’ve probably already figured that out. But you have to know you’re beautiful to me.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, when she looked away. “Sadie?”

“It’s okay, Erik. I don’t want to talk about it.” She motioned toward the laptop on the counter. “We’re not alone.”

“He can’t hear us. Besides, he’s deep into Greek verbs by now.” Erik lowered his voice. “Do you remember asking me to the Sadie Hawkins Dance?”

She sniffed and offered him the hint of a smile. “Of course I do. You said no and practically ran to homeroom.”

“You want to know why I said no?”

“I know why—you didn’t want to go with me.”

“Nope.” Erik traced the curve of her face with the back of his hand. Her skin was so soft. “I couldn’t believe a cute girl like you was asking a nobody like me to the dance.”

“What?”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. Today the scent of vanilla lingered in her hair. “I thought it was a joke—like maybe your girlfriends were watching, laughing.”

“After all I went through in grade school—wearing an eye patch and being teased? Being called a pirate by those mean girls?”

“Well, I didn’t know that then, did I?”

“No, I guess you didn’t.”

“All I knew was this cute girl with long brown hair asked me out to a dance . . . and I was too scared to say yes.” Erik slipped his arms around Sadie’s waist, easing her closer. “If you asked me today, I’d say yes. And the whole time we were dancing, I’d be wondering if . . .”

“You’d be wondering if . . . ?”

“If you’d let me kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t believe in kissing on the first date.”

“But this is our third date.”

“We were discussing the Sadie Hawkins Dance that never was.”

“Were we?” He pressed a kiss to one corner of Sadie’s mouth.

“Yes.”

“If you say so.” He swept his lips across hers and pressed a kiss on the opposite corner of her mouth, noticing how she stopped breathing. How her lips trembled beneath his.

Kissing Sadie was becoming a take-his-breath-away habit. Something he’d like to do every day of his life. The way she’d leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and then slipping them up around his back and pulling him closer, made him think that maybe, just maybe, she enjoyed kissing him too. The way she exhaled his name on a sigh as he sought the warm curve of her throat, and then ran her fingers through his hair and gently tugged him back to her and whispered, “Kiss me again.”

She didn’t have to ask him twice.

They weren’t eighteen-year-olds on a roller coaster, but Erik felt as if he were falling . . . falling deeper in love
with the woman in his arms. And he wasn’t letting her go this time.

“Hey! Hey! I’m still here!” A sharp, staccato rapping pulled Erik away from Sadie.

He opened his eyes as she buried her face in his shoulder. “Who is that?”

“Um, we forgot about Phillip.” Sadie’s voice was muffled. “On your computer.”

He cradled the back of her head with his hand. “I guess we did.” An acrid plume of smoke billowed from the waffle maker on the counter. “And we forgot the waffles, which are now burned.”

“Oh, Erik. I’m so sorry.” She stepped out of his embrace. “Let me clean up this mess and fix breakfast.”

“Absolutely not. I’m fixing you breakfast—but you have to stop being a beautiful distraction. Go. Sit over there and talk with Phillip and Ashley. I’ll clean up this . . . charcoal . . . and start again.”

S
adie ran her finger along the edge of the folder where it lay on her desk, then tapped it with her fingers.

Decisions, decisions.

Did she take the job in Oregon or didn’t she?

When she got home from work, she received an unexpected phone call from the Hartnetts’ friend in Oregon, who spent a good thirty minutes discussing the culinary school and the possible ways she could use Sadie’s skills. The information compiled by the Hartnetts—magazine articles about Portland, a spreadsheet detailing salaries for private chefs nationwide with a suggested salary—was fanned out across her dining room table. And of course, her parents, who lived in Northern California, loved the idea of their only child being closer.