Redeeming Rafe (12 page)

“Yes, ma’am,” Darcy said, though she had cared for Julie and Carter many times. She was probably afraid of Mrs. Perkins, something Abby could relate to.

Still Abby nattered on. “Five children is a lot. I could stay until the other girls get here and drive myself to Louisville.”

Please say yes! After last night, I don’t need to be in the same vehicle with Rafe Beauford for three hours.

“Pshaw!” Mrs. Perkins said. “We’ve got this. You’ll miss the party tonight if you wait.”

She might have argued further if Rafe had not stepped up beside her. “I put your luggage in the truck. There was a suitcase, makeup bag, and a garment bag. Was that all?”

“Did you get the white hanging bag with my bridesmaid dress?”

“No. Noel said she was taking all the bridesmaids’ dresses with her to her mother’s house since y’all will be doing your primping there. She also said you and Christian were staying there and that’s where I’m to take you before I go to the hotel.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you know how to get there?”

“I’ve never been, but I have the address.”

“That’ll do. I can put it in the GPS. Jackson’s talking about caravanning, but I refuse to participate in that.” He looked over his shoulder where the others were still milling around in the circle drive packing their cars. “In fact, we’re in front, so we can go ahead and leave.”

“Sure.” Why prolong the inevitable? “Mrs. Perkins, we’re going now. I’ll check in, and don’t hesitate to call if anything at all comes up.”

“I have you on speed dial.” Mrs. Perkins held up her iPhone. “Phillip. Bella. Alice. Time for goodbye kisses for Mommy and Daddy. Then we’re going to have a fun surprise.”

Bella and Alice immediately dropped to their bottoms, removed a shoe, and stuck a foot in the air.

Abby had to give Mrs. Perkins credit. If she thought there was anything odd about Rafe kissing the bottoms of his girls’ feet, she didn’t betray it.

When Rafe took Abby’s arm and put a hand on her waist to help her into his truck, the lightning struck even harder than before—probably because she knew now what it felt like to move against him and how it could end.

What had she been thinking? That was the point. She hadn’t been. She’d been feeling.

And she was feeling now. Was it an accident that his hand ended up on her hip as she settled into her seat? Did he even know what he was doing?

“Let’s get you fixed up right and tight. I drive fast, you know.” No, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t surprised. “But don’t worry. I’m a good driver.”

And with that, he leaned across her and buckled her seatbelt. He smelled like Irish Spring soap and felt like a bonfire—that is if bonfires were hotter than other fires. And they had to be, because they were festive, happy fires. Lord, love a duck. What a thought. Why was she thinking such stupid, irrational things?

Because he was letting his hand trail lightly over her midsection as he stood back.

Finally, he closed her door and crossed in front of his truck on the way to the driver’s side. But he stopped, smiled, and gave her a little wave through the windshield. And just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, he flashed those eyes at her.

It was going to be a long drive.

And she’d do well to remember he had every intention on getting on the back of a bull in a few weeks—just like Gregory had gone into that cave, though she’d begged him not to. And she could never go there again.

If Rafe had been disgruntled at watching Emile Giroux, crazy goalie extraordinaire, fawn all over Abby before, he was absolutely enraged now. It seemed that since the two of them were paired up for the actual wedding ceremony, Giroux thought he owned her. Rafe couldn’t help but think how good it would feel to run amok through Noel’s mother’s house, busting up this rehearsal party and breaking knickknacks.

There were too many candlesticks, candy bowls, and little china people anyway. This was the kind of house that made Rafe feel like he couldn’t move or breathe; a good rampage might do it some good. Probably wouldn’t do Noel much good though. She had warned them that her mother worshiped this house and would have nothing in it that wasn’t “period”—whatever that meant. Nickolai had recently spent a fortune getting the plumbing fixed and the roof replaced, but had refused to buy some old Victorian bathtub that Noel’s mother had wanted.

It had probably been that same persnickety woman who had assigned the bridesmaids and groomsmen pairings for the wedding. And Rafe did not thank her for it. It had been all about height. If Rafe had been a few inches shorter or Abby had been a few inches taller, they would have been put together. But Abby wasn’t quite as tall as Christian, and Crazy Hockey Man wasn’t quite as tall as Rafe, so there it was. And though Rafe and Christian had stood opposite each other and she had processed out of the church on his arm, you didn’t see the two of them acting like they were linked for life. He didn’t even know where she was.

But damn it all to hell, he knew where Abby was; Giroux was feeding her something he’d plucked off his plate. It wasn’t right. It hadn’t been right before, but now it was abso-fricking-lutely unacceptable. Things had changed. Now he knew how she tasted and smelled, and the sound she made when she came. Even if he couldn’t be with her, she had no business letting Crazy Hockey Man put mushrooms in her mouth. Ah, there he went again, sliding a stuffed tomato not much bigger than a grape toward her, and she was opening her mouth like a baby bird. And they were laughing. Probably speaking French. Giroux let his hockey-playing fingers linger near her lips. Swear to the moon in the sky, if she licked his finger, Rafe was going to burn this place to the ground.

“Canapé, sir?” A girl stuck a silver tray toward him.

“No thank you, but you’re very kind to offer.” He was always polite to servers, no matter how mad he was. Many times he’d been the guy behind that tray at Around the Bend parties, and he hadn’t liked it one bit, especially when people acted like the tray was floating around on air by itself.

“You’re welcome.” The girl looked startled at having been noticed. She started to move across the room toward where Giroux was feeding Abby yet another bite of some kind of froufrou party food.

“Excuse me.” He looked at the name sewn on her vest. “Trina? Do you see that couple over in the corner? Don’t give them any food. Okay?”

She pursed her lips. “Why not?”

“Well, you see. He’s a buddy of mine, and he doesn’t like to look weak, so he won’t tell people about his food allergies. Stupid, huh? But the allergies are fairly new and he can’t get used to the idea. But I’ve told him it’s not worth dying over.”

The girl widened her eyes. “Dying?”

“Yeah.” Rafe nodded. “I was at a restaurant with him last week and we had to call an ambulance. It looks like he’d learn.”

“What’s he allergic to?” Trina asked.

“All kinds of things. Seafood. Nuts. Lemons. Eggs. Cream cheese.” As the list grew, so did the alarm on the girl’s face. “The worst one is plain old black pepper.”

“Pepper! There’s pepper in everything. I’ve never even heard of that. ”

“I know. Me neither until now. He really should only eat at home.”

The girl studied Abby and Emile for a bit. “He doesn’t seem to be eating anything. He’s only feeding his wife.”

Wife!
“That’s not his wife.”

“No? Well, he’s only feeding the woman he’s with.”

Rafe didn’t like the sound of that much better, but he carried on. “But, see. Here’s the thing. He’ll forget and take a bite. And like I said, the allergies are new. I don’t think he’d sue a caterer …”

“Sue! This is my brother’s business!”

Rafe shrugged. “Probably wouldn’t have a leg to stand on since he didn’t tell, but who needs that kind of trouble? Right?”

Trina nodded. “I appreciate your telling me, but I’m not sure what to do.”

“Just don’t offer him anything. And pass the word. Believe me, he’ll be relieved. See how he’s feeding that woman everything on his plate? He knows he can’t have anything. If only he wasn’t the kind to get distracted.”

Trina nodded. “That ought to be easy enough.”

She purposefully walked away. Good. Mission accomplished. At least if Giroux didn’t have any food, Rafe wouldn’t have to watch him feed Abby.

Of course, if Giroux was determined to feed her, he could order a pizza. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it; he’d made eight million dollars last year. Rafe had looked it up on his phone in the church vestibule to keep from watching Abby walk down the aisle on Giroux’s arm.

“Gabe! You don’t have anything to eat.” Fabulous. Noel’s mother was descending on him. “We can’t have a hungry best man.”

He considered pretending to be Gabe for a second, but he’d never been any good at it.

“Sorry, ma’am. It’s Rafe. Just a groomsman, and the substitute one, at that. And I can assure you that wherever my brother is, he’s eating.”

“Oh.” Yeah. He knew that look. Nothing like wanting Gabe and getting Rafe.

“You certainly do favor.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He noted with some satisfaction that Giroux kept trying to flag down servers, who pretended not to see him. “We’re twins. Always have been.”

“Certainly.” She looked at him expectantly. He knew that look, too. She was ready to move on, but felt she should give him a few more seconds of her valuable time, and she wanted him to provide the conversation.

He nodded to the big cabinet across the room. “I like all your little china people and dogs.”

She brightened up at that. “Thank you! My late husband’s family built this house in 1897. His great-grandmother began collecting the Staffordshire when she was a bride. Over the years, the family has added to the collection. I do what I can, though it’s getting harder and harder to get them. See the shepherd on the third shelf? The one with the black and white dog and three lambs?”

Saints deliver me. Please. As soon as possible. Send me to hell if necessary.

The saints failed him, so he had to answer. “Yes. Very nice, what with the shepherd’s crook and hat and all.”

Rafe wished he had a shepherd’s crook. He’d use it to hook Crazy Hockey Man and shove him out the door like a bad vaudeville act. He was touching Abby’s arm, and she was letting him.

“That’s one of my most prized processions.”

Rafe nodded. “I can see where it would be.”

She beamed at him. She liked him better now, didn’t mind so much that he was Rafe. “You still don’t have any food.”

“I’m all set here.”

“It’s traditional for the groom’s family to give a sit down rehearsal dinner, but, of course, our Nickolai is an orphan, so we’re doing what we can here. There’s a meat carving station and some cold salads in the dining room and tables scattered about, so you don’t have to make do with the canapés being passed. Noel insisted this was enough, that it would be too hard to do a formal dinner with the reception being held here tomorrow. But I’m not sure …”

Damn it all to hell and French Canada. Abby was headed out of the room and Giroux was right behind her.

“It’s a great party!” Rafe said. “And I know from parties. My aunt was in the party business, and my sister-in-law has taken it up. I believe I’ll go find that meat carving station.” He was already walking backwards.

• • •

Emile took Abby’s arm and guided her toward the buffet in the dining room. “Maybe we’ll have better luck at getting food here than from the waiters.”

Abby wasn’t really hungry, but what Emile said was true. At first, the wait staff had been very attentive, but then it was almost as if Emile and Abby had become invisible. Emory would fire an Around The Bend employee on the spot for that.

Emile let his hand slip from her arm to the small of her back. There was no lightning. Well, no matter. She wasn’t interested in him anyway, though it was nice to have someone to hang out with. She’d seen Rafe in deep conversation with one of the waitresses earlier. He’d probably been arranging to meet her later. She didn’t blame him. The girl was stunning, with dark hair, pretty eyes, and breasts big enough to give a bra a workout—probably give his cowboy’s callused hands a workout, too.

Lucky girl. Lucky breasts. Lucky brown eyes that would probably get to see Rafe naked.

Oh, what did she care? They had agreed there couldn’t be a repeat of what had happened between them. She’d said it first, in fact, and had meant every word of it. Still, it would have been nice if he’d argued a little.

“… no time for a wedding trip,” Emile was saying.

“Pardon me?” Abby said.

“I was saying that it is a puzzle why Nickolai would get married the only weekend between training camp and the start of the season. There’s no time for a wedding trip.”

“Nickolai and Noel said they’d be traveling so much during the season that they’d rather have a few days in their new house in Beauford. They didn’t want to wait until after the season to get married, and they couldn’t do it earlier because Noel’s mother was having some work done on this house to get it ready for the wedding.”

“Makes some sort of sense, I guess. Still, only Nickolai would do such a thing.”

“Not only Nickolai,” Abby said. “Noel is getting married, too.”

Emile laughed, though it wasn’t that funny.

Two men wandered up. “What so funny, Giroux?”

Emile put an arm around Abby. “Abby is funny—though she is a Bruins fan.”

“No!” one of them said in mock horror.

The other cocked his head to the side, took a sip of his drink, and gave her a cool look.

“Allow me to introduce my teammates—Bryant Taylor and Jarret MacPherson. Bryant is from Minnesota and Jarret is from Montreal.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Abby said.

“Explains what?” Jarret asked. He still didn’t smile.

“Why you looked at me like I’m the enemy. I am.”

Jarret flashed the barest suggestion of a grin and raised his glass. “Once a Canadian …”

“Always a loser.” Abby raised her own wine glass.

“I am going to do my best to make a Sound fan of her.” Emile ran a finger down her cheek.

She was about to reply when the air was sucked out of the universe.