Whirlwind (8 page)

Mitch’s eyes followed mine. “My brother was polite, I hope. He can be an—”

“He was a perfect gentleman, don’t worry.”
I’m the one acting like a lunatic.
“Hey, I just wanted to tell you how happy I am for you and Ann. You two are so right for each other,” I said.

His eyes lit up. “Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

As he smiled, I couldn’t help but pick out each little detail in his face that matched Jason’s. The dimple in the center of his chin, the shape of his jaw…

I mentally slapped myself—gawking at the groom wasn’t on anyone’s wedding etiquette list.

“I’ll find you later, okay?” I said and squeezed his huge hand.

“You bet!” he promised.

Ann didn’t hesitate when she held her arms open for me. I gave her a loose hug, surprised when she tightened the embrace.

“The ceremony was lovely,” I said in her ear, meaning it.

She actually smiled at me, not through me, for a change. “Thank you, Melissa. I know how close you and Mitch are. Your being here makes everything perfect—for both of us.”

Wow, maybe Beth was right. Maybe I should cut Ann a little slack
. “There’s no way I’d miss this. You two deserve nothing but happiness. Congratulations.”

Ann
teared
up and reached for Mitch’s arm. They cuddled for a moment, and I blew them a kiss before heading to the tables, happy for them and proud of myself. I’d left everyone smiling—except Tricia.
Mission
accomplished.

I chose a seat at an unoccupied table far from the dance floor and sat down with a deep sigh. My feet begged to be free, but if I took off my shoes I wouldn’t be able to get them back on. At least I’d brought sneakers and jeans for the trip home.

The scent of flowers distracted me from my aching dogs. Every table around me had a unique bouquet in the center, each featuring a different type of flower. I spied orchids, hydrangeas, peonies, and even tiny daisies, all ranging in shade from a faint amethyst to a deep violet. Only my favorite was missing, but I doubted carnations were expensive enough for the occasion.

Slowly the chairs around me filled, and I was pleasantly surprised when Beth collapsed into the seat next to mine. She nodded toward the bridal table, and after a moment’s hesitation I looked. Todd was alone on the platform, scratching his chin as he tried to discern which seat was his. He pulled out one chair, only to be directed to the next one over by a red-headed bridesmaid.

A couple of college-age guys meandered over and introduced themselves as Ann’s friends from USC. When they asked if we liked Trojans, Beth choked on her water and I rolled my eyes. I was about to comment on the success of USC’s football program when an older couple pointed to the empty seats at our table. Beth waved them over, welcoming the two, who turned out to be Ann’s cousin and his wife.

I’d expected dinner conversation to revolve around the bride, since everyone else had connections to her, but it soon shifted to Mitch. Beth and I were interrogated about everything from his favorite color to how he picked up a hobby like steer wrestling. By the time the main course was served, I decided I’d rather do the asking than the answering.

“Mitch has spent every weekend down here for months. Why haven’t you guys asked
him
anything?” I pointed the question at Trojan Number One, sitting next to me.

He picked at his filet mignon. “Mitch isn’t the easiest person to get to know.”

“What?” I gawked at him. “Once you get him started, you can’t shut him up. He’s one of the most outgoing guys I know.”

Beth nodded in agreement.

Ann’s cousin, Dean, I think, pursed his lips, hiding a smirk. “Sometimes it’s starting the conversation that’s the problem. Mitch’s size makes him somewhat…unapproachable.” The glint in his eye and the pink on both Trojans’ cheeks explained a lot.

“You guys are afraid of Mitch,” I guessed, grinning.

“Uh, yeah. The guy’s two hundred pounds of ‘don’t mess with me,’” Trojan Number Two chimed in.

“Two-ten,” I corrected.

“And more than a little protective around Ann,” Trojan Number One said, then leaned toward me. “Doesn’t he intimidate you?”

Beth laughed out loud. “Melissa? Not on your life. If anything, Mitch is afraid of
her
.”

I knew exactly what was coming next and squirmed. “Beth, I don’t think—”

“Mel KO’d Mitch the first day they met,” she crowed.

The chatter and clinking of silverware around us got sucked into the silent void of our table for a long second. I stabbed a spear of broccoli, wishing I had some place to hide.

“No way. You couldn’t even reach his jaw, let alone knock him out,” Trojan Number One said, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Oh, she didn’t punch him,” Beth said. “She kneed his you-know-what’s into next week. He went down faster than a—”

“It was a misunderstanding,” I interrupted. “I was young, Mitch was tipsy, and things got a little out of hand.”

The other woman at the table gasped. “Mitchell didn’t do anything
inappropriate
, did he?”

Beth’s mouth opened, but I elbowed her. “No, of course not.”

“He just couldn’t take no for an answer,” Beth interjected, and I dropped my fork. Mitch would be so happy to know I’d painted him as a sex offender at his wedding. Talk about a gift that keeps on giving.

“It wasn’t like that, and you know it,” I said to her, then turned to the gaping faces around me. “Do you really think I’d be sitting here if anything remotely offensive happened?”

“What did happen, exactly, Melissa?” Dean asked quietly.

I glared at Beth. She got us into this awkward mess—she’d better find a way out. “Well?”

“Um, well, I don’t really know exactly what he said to you in the bar,” Beth said slowly. “I just know he followed you out to the parking lot. You
did
look scared.”

At the time, I’d been terrified, but not because of Mitch. Okay, not
just
because of Mitch. “Only because I didn’t know him or any of the other guys that followed
you
outside.”

“Oh. I never thought about it that way. Sorry, Mel.” Beth’s expression darkened when she finally realized no one was smiling back at her. “It really wasn’t bad,” she said. “It’s actually pretty funny.”

She explained how I’d met Mitch and the team at the local watering hole after my first rodeo, and how he’d taken a shine to me. She didn’t go into detail about Mitch’s past reputation for chasing skirts, but I remembered exactly when he’d caught me in his sights.

I’d been surprised he’d seen me at all, considering he’d spent most of the night grinding all over a double-D airhead he’d met at the bar. I’d decided I had more than enough background for my article and was calling it a night when he ditched Barbie and found me.

“How about a
dansssss
before you go,
Melisssssa
?” he said, swinging his hips suggestively.

“First, I don’t dance. Second, I think your top-heavy friend is going to tip over without you,” I said. When Mitch turned to check on D-Debbie D-D Cup, I flung myself out the door. I was almost to my car when he caught my arm and spun me around.

“Come on, Melissa.
Juss
one
sssong
.” He peered at me and snickered. “
Ya
know, you’re
purty
when you’re
pissssed
.”

“Get your hands off me,” I snarled, twisting out of his grasp.

He staggered back a little. “Come on, it’ll be
fu
…fun.
Didja
haf
a
goo
time with me today?”

That’s when Beth and a few of Mitch’s buddies appeared.

“I did. Don’t spoil it by being a jackass.”

“Aw, Mel, don’t be like that.
Juss
one dink
ana
dance. It’ll be
fuuuun
,” he repeated to the drunken delight of his posse.

“Are you okay, Melissa?” Chase said, pushing his way between two of his teammates.

Sober and serious, his presence was a welcome sight.

“She’s
fiiiiine
, aren’t you?” Mitch said. “We’re
juss
talkin
’ here.”

Mitch’s hand came up to my shoulder, but I backed away again. One of the other guys shouted, “Go for it, Mitch,” earning him a punch in the shoulder from Chase.

“Shut up, dickhead,” Mitch growled and took a step closer. “Kay,
juss
the dink then,” he mumbled. “
Dansssing
doesn’t
sssound
good anyways.” The alcohol on his breath wafted toward me, burning my nose.

A strong, sure voice echoed in my head. My father’s voice.
Distract and escape, Melissa
.
Protect yourself.

“Leave her alone, Mitch. She just wants to go home,” Beth yelled, shooing the guys back inside with Chase’s help.

“What if I
asssed
niiiice
?” Mitch hissed.

“Don’t make me hurt you,” I warned, hoping he’d removed
all
of his protective gear before he’d left the arena.

The guys stopped at the door with a low
ooooo
.

“
You
hurt
me?
” Mitch laughed and looked over his shoulder at his friends.

That’s when my knee met his crotch with the force of a major league line drive, sending the champion bulldogger to the ground in a whimpering heap.

“You have to understand that he really did only want to dance—nothing else,” I said quickly, ending Beth’s story before she got to the part when I pulled my pepper spray on Chase by accident.

“Sounds like he deserved it,” Dean’s wife murmured.

I shook my head. “It was a very long time ago, and it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Mitch is a great guy. Even Ann agrees I overreacted.”

That Ann knew about Mitch’s antics pulled the woman up short. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to see she’d been planning to go straight to the bride with this little tale.

“You
were
the first one to apologize,” Beth added, finally understanding the disapproval on both Dean’s and his wife’s faces.

“
You
apologized?” the woman asked, her question more like an accusation.

“Like I said, my reaction was a little over the top. I sent him a get-well card and a little gift.”

I’d woken up the next morning panic-stricken. What if Mitch called my editor and had me fired? I was supposed to write about assault and battery, not commit them. I’d been convinced I’d ended my career on my very first assignment. Thankfully, Mitch tracked me down and offered his own apology a day later.

“Tell them what you gave him,” Beth demanded. Her lips puckered, waiting for me to finish the story. When I didn’t answer fast enough, she bounced in her seat. “Mel sent him a bag of frozen peas!”

Like a spell being broken, relieved laughter rippled around the table.

“I’ve heard they’re better than an ice pack,” I added with a shrug.

Seizing the opportunity to change the subject, I drove the conversation with short, interview-style questions while we finished the meal. The Trojans boasted they’d been accepted into the graduate biology program and made some crack about looking for participants for their upcoming pheromone experiment.

Ann’s cousin and his wife were conversant in a much wider range of topics. When the subject of jobs came up, Dean passed me his card.

I politely took it, not sure why he, an internet consultant, would be giving it to me.

“I have several clients in the online news business,” he said. “When you head into the job market, I can put you in touch with some good people.”

“Wow, I don’t know what to say.” I’d just met the man and he was ready to recommend me for a job?