Unraveled (18 page)

Again, Kelly was cut short by the even lovelier vision that appeared around the corner. This time, Megan wore a gauzy white veil that started at a delicate bead-enrusted crown and fell gracefully to her waist. Simple and elegant. It added a sweetness to the sophisticated and stylish gown’s lines.

“Ohhhh, Megan,” Kelly whispered. “It’s gorgeous, and so are you.”

“Now, I
am
gonna cry,” Jennifer said wetly, digging in her purse. “I need tissues.”

“Take a box, silly,” Megan said, laughing as she handed Jennifer a tissue box. “I already teared up hearing my mom on the phone. I’d e-mailed her a photo I took on my smartphone at the bridal shop. Well, the lady took it, but, you know.”

Kelly took her briefcase and dropped it on the sofa. “
Details!
Where did you find this gorgeous gown and how come you’re wearing it? It fits perfectly. Was there a seamstress there or something?”

Megan shook her head. “It just happened to be my size. I’d been to two shops in the morning, then after lunch—”

“You ate lunch after a huevos rancheros breakfast?” Jennifer said, between wiping her nose.

“Of course,” Megan said with a grin. “Anyway, after lunch I drove over to this shop in Lakewood on Sheridan Avenue. It was the third on my list. And—I walked in, and there it was! Right on the mannequin in the shop.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope. I took one look and fell in love with it. Exactly like Jennifer said might happen.” Megan dropped into a deep curtsy, despite the dress. “I bow to your wisdom, oh, Great One. Doctor of Love or whatever.”

“How can you bend so low in that dress?” Kelly asked in admiration.

Megan rose effortlessly from her curtsy. “Shorter legs, but super strong.” She winked.

“Better not do it again,” Jennifer advised. “You don’t want a bead or something to pop off.”

“Quiet!” Kelly barked at her friend. “Maybe she hasn’t noticed the beads. You don’t want her to take it back.”

“I saw the beads,” Megan said, gently removing the veil. Jennifer rushed over to take it from her. She placed it gently across the sofa arm. “I figured you guys would rub it in, considering all the fuss I made before. Let’s just say, these beads were . . . more subtle than the others.”

Kelly walked up to her friend and gently ran her finger over the beads, then fingered the smooth satin. “It truly is gorgeous, Megan. I’m so glad you walked into that shop when you did.”

“So am I. The saleslady said the gown had only been put out that week. She didn’t want to sell it to me at first, but I begged and pleaded with her to let me take it home. I mean, it fits me perfectly.” Megan spun in a little circle.

“Like a glove,” Jennifer agreed.

“Looks like the begging worked,” Kelly said, kicking off her heels and slipping off her suit jacket.

“Well, it was a combination of begging and my going over to the bank and getting a cashier’s check for the full amount of the dress plus veil. I raced to the bank and returned to the shop in less than an hour.” Megan’s smile turned sly. “Nothing speaks like hard cold cash. Or cash equivalents.”

Kelly had to laugh. “Ah, yes. As an accountant, that’s music to my ears. And obviously, to the saleslady as well.”

Jennifer glanced at her watch. “Uhhh, folks, I hate to interrupt this fantastic fashion show and celebration. But it’s after six. If we want to have time to stop for a quick dinner, we need to get moving. Kelly said eight o’clock we had to be in the gym.”

“Thanks, Jen, I lost track of time,” Megan said, heading toward the bedroom. “I don’t want to miss dinner. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Kelly teased, following her friend.

“Can we stop at a place that has burgers and salads, pretty please?” Megan asked as Jennifer assisted her with the back zipper. “After all, we’re playing volleyball. Lots of jumping and running around.”

“I’ll be in the bleachers with my laptop typing in notes on today’s meeting,” Jennifer said, slowly unzipping the gown. “Besides, all that jumping and running will work up quite a sweat, so I want to be downwind from all of you.”

Thirteen

Steve
jumped up and grabbed the basketball as it swished through the net. Pushing off, he charged down the court, moving the ball in front of him as he drove for the other basket, his opponents right behind him. Reaching the basket first, Steve pivoted and sent up the shot. Hands snatched for the ball but missed. Airborne for a split second, the basketball brushed the rim and fell through the net.

Yessss!
Steve pumped his fist in the air.
Sweet,
he thought as he wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. He needed that. Oh, yeah. Nothing like a pickup game of basketball to blow off steam and stress.

“Time!” his teammate Vic called, arm in the air. “They’re signaling from across the gym, guys. Gotta go and play some volleyball.”

“Good game, guys. Great shot, Steve,” one of the other players called as he and another dribbled the basketball back down the court.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbled, wiping his forehead against his tee shirt sleeve. Sweat dripped into his eyes. It stung, but it felt good. It felt right.
Damn,
he’d missed playing ball with the guys. He used to play pickup games back in Fort Connor regularly, but ever since he’d been in Denver, his schedule had turned upside down. Hell, his whole life had turned upside down. All he did was work—until this past week.

“Monday night? Same time?” another player asked as he grabbed some towels from a bench against the gym wall.

“Sounds good,” Vic said, catching a couple of towels the guy tossed to him. Handing one to Steve, Vic clapped him on the back. “Man, you were on fire tonight, Steve. Am I glad you came on board this week. We’ve been mowing down the competition ever since, buddy.” Tall and thin, with a hint of beard edging his chin and cheeks, Vic had a quick smile. He kind of reminded Steve of a less-crazy Marty. But then, Marty wouldn’t be Marty is he wasn’t half crazed.

Steve wiped the towel across his face as they walked off the court. Another pickup game was starting, and they needed to get out of the way. “Yeah, I should have joined you guys sooner. Man, I needed that, especially today.”

Vic wiped his arms and draped the towel around his neck. “Yeah, those meetings are gonna kill us all. At least the mayor was funny, otherwise I would have fallen asleep.”

“We’re not going to have enough energy left to build anything. They’re sucking us dry every week.” Steve wiped his arms then draped the towel over his shoulder.

Glancing around the large gymnasium located in north Denver, Steve observed another basketball game going on at the far end of the high-ceilinged gym. In between the two basketball courts, two volleyball courts were set up. He noticed men and women clustered around the courts, warming up. Volleyballs flew over the nets in high arcing loopy serves, rocket drives, and low, net-brushing last-gasp wobbles. One woman practiced serving the white ball. Across the net from her, another player passed the ball with her outstretched forearms, draining the serve’s power and speed with her skin, then sent it arcing high to teammates.

At least those two knew what they were doing, Steve decided. Unlike the other people he saw racing around the court, hitting at but mostly missing the balls as they sailed across the net. Rockets and wounded birds. Some were shot down, others slammed to the court, untouched by human hands.

Steve watched the good, the bad, and the totally clueless race around the courts, laughing, running into one another, falling on the floor, flailing at balls, and generally having a wild and crazy time. All except the real athletes on the court. They were just trying to stay out of the crazies’ way.

Gorilla ball,
Steve observed to himself with a crooked smile. Injuries waiting to happen. It was inevitable. Some bozo would lunge at a ball, miss, of course, but succeed in taking out a teammate. Gorilla would be oblivious to the damage he’d inflicted; meanwhile his teammate would be lying on the floor, grasping his or her injured limb and screaming in pain. Blown-out knees, broken wrists, arms, dislocated shoulders—you name it, it would happen in one of these pickup games.

“Hey, Vic, come on over and warm up,” a guy from one of the volleyball courts yelled across the gym, waving at Vic.

“I’m already warmed up,” Vic called back with a laugh.

“Are you gonna play with those guys?” Steve jerked his thumb toward the volleyball wannabes. “Man, you’re crazy. Most of them don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Yeah, they do look pretty bad. But, I’m quick.” He laughed, then looked at Steve. “You play volleyball? We could use you, man.”

“A little, but I haven’t played in a while. Besides, I don’t want to get—”

Steve broke off his sentence as he stared across the gym toward the volleyball courts. Someone else appeared on the courts now. Someone he recognized.
Kelly
. Dressed in her everyday running outfit of tee shirt and shorts. She was passing the ball to another girl who . . . was that Megan?
What the hell?

“Holy crap,” Steve said softly, staring at Megan pass the volleyball to Kelly. Kelly jumped up and spiked it. Damn! What was
she
doing here?

“Steve? Hey, Steve?” Vic waved his hand in front of Steve’s face. “Who are you looking at? What’d you see?”

“What . . .” Steve said, noticing Vic staring into his face.

“You kinda disappeared there for a second. You were looking at someone. It must have been a girl.”

Steve’s gaze was pulled back to Kelly, like a magnet toward metal. “See that tall brunette over there at the right-hand court? She’s passing to the shorter girl?”

Vic followed Steve’s pointing finger. “Oh, yeah. You know her, or you wanta know her?” He grinned.

“She was my girlfriend back in Fort Connor.”

Vic’s smile disappeared. “
Was?
What happened?”

Steve watched Kelly race over to catch a high looping pass from someone else. “I screwed up. Big time. Acted like a jackass. Let’s just leave it at that.”

“Hey, man, we all screw up. Go over and apologize. Make up.” Vic watched Kelly for a minute. “Hell, I would if I were you.”

Steve’s mouth twisted. “I wish it was that simple. I walked out on her.”

Vic jerked his head around. “
What?
Why’d you do that?”

Steve pointed to Kelly, who jumped after a ball, tried to spike it and missed, then bent over laughing. “Look at her. Do you think I would have walked out if I’d been in my right mind?”

Vic did as he was directed, watched Kelly racing around the court, hitting the ball. “Yeah. You had to be crazy to walk out on
her
.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What happened, dude?”

Steve kept watching Kelly. He couldn’t turn away, even though his gut was churning. “I was losing my business in Fort Connor and . . . and everything was going down the toilet . . . and I snapped. I dunno. Went a little crazy, I guess. She said something I didn’t like, and I got stupid. Walked out on her. Didn’t return her calls. Nothing.”

Vic stared at Steve for a minute. “Yeah, I’d say that was primo jackass. How long’s it been?”

“Six months.”

Vic flinched. “Ouch! Why’d you wait so long?”

Steve shrugged. “It only took a few days for me to realize that I’d acted like a jerk. But by then all my friends and family were slamming me, so I . . . I just stayed down here in Denver and focused on my job. I didn’t know how to fix it. After that, I heard she was mad as hell. So, I didn’t even try.”

Watching Kelly snag a few balls and begin to serve, Steve noticed Dave Germaine approach her. Kelly stopped serving and talked to a smiling Germaine.

“Uh-oh. That prick Germaine is moving in on your woman. We can’t have that. He’s an arrogant bastard in the best of times. C’mon.” Vic clapped Steve on the back and began to push him toward the volleyball court.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” Steve protested, drawing back. “I’m not gonna play—”

“Yeah, you are,” Vic insisted, grabbing Steve by the arm and yanking him forward. “Hey, Jim, I found another player for the team,” he yelled toward his friend on the opposite side of the court Kelly and Megan were playing.

“Great, bring him along,” Jim yelled, beckoning them over.

“Hey, wait a minute. . . .” Steve protested.

“We don’t have a minute to lose, Steve.” Vic said. “You want Germaine with your woman or not?”

Steve watched Germaine grin at Kelly. “Hell, no.”

“Okay, then. Experienced player, here,” Vic called out and shoved Steve in Kelly’s direction. Dave Germaine had already started passing balls to another player.

Steve watched as Kelly turned around and saw him walking toward her. Kelly’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open in obvious surprise. Steve stared at her for a second, then the mule that had been kicking him in the gut these last few months suddenly switched aim. That old mule kicked him upside the head this time. Steve swore he saw stars for a split second, and then . . . something clicked into place. He blinked.

Kelly
watched Steve stare at her.
What the . . . hell?
Why was
he
here? She walked up closer. Close enough to smell the sweat. Steve’s sweat. Something tugged at her inside. Old memories. Making love after a late morning weekend workout, sweaty and . . . and . . .
stop it
!

“What are
you
doing here?” she blurted.

Instead of going mute or hesitating, Steve shot back. “The same thing you’re doing here. Playing ball.”

Steve was smiling at her now, that old, familiar, easygoing smile of his.

Damn!
What was he doing here? Looking all relaxed like he used to after he’d come back from a game, all sweaty and sexy at the same time.
What the . . . hell?

Dave walked up and waved his arms, calling out. “Okay, everybody line up. Women, divide up on each side. Gotta spread you around because all of us guys need a lot of help.”

Laughing comments bounced around the court like volleyballs. Dave put his hand on Kelly’s shoulder. “Kelly, why don’t you play middle blocker? You’re tall and can block some shots.”