The Bride Wore Crimson Page 11

  Except for the name, the outside screamed lumberjack and biker gang hangout. Inside, the baseball caps that used to hang from the ceiling had been replaced by garters in a rainbow of colors, including one black garter.

  The drink menu featured several cocktails with bridal themes. The one named after this establishment contained four different liquors, including a 100-proof Vodka. I’d heard tell that, after downing one drink, a person could forget their own name. I’d never been tempted to try it. But then, when it comes to booze, I’m a lightweight. Two glasses of wine is pretty much my limit… per week.

  I ordered a Honeymoon Sweet, which was an Irish coffee, easy on the Irish, heavy on the cream. Seth had a Groomsman lager, a local brewery favorite that this bar had on tap. I stirred whipped cream with my straw, then took a sip. The bartender had ignored my “easy on the Irish,” and I wasn’t sorry. Not at that moment anyway. I might be later. I hadn’t realized how much I craved something bracing until it started working through my system, reducing my tension.

  “Five pennies for your thoughts, Blessing,” Seth said, and like every time before, it drew a smile from me.

  I met his warm gaze with one of my own. If only I could concentrate on the two of us and shut out the rest of the world, but no matter how much I wanted that, it seemed impossible. At the moment, my mind felt as if all its content had been put in a sack, floured, and fried. Shake ’N Bake brains. Nothing connected, nothing made sense. Just a jumble of questions without answers or resolutions.

  I licked cream from the edge of my mouth, Seth’s gaze following the movement of my tongue as his cocoa-colored eyes darkened to a rich, smoldering chocolate. I tried to ignore the wicked, delicious sensations tumbling through me, but I noticed a throaty edge to my voice. “I’m afraid if I let you offer up that penny, you’d end up like someone on that reality show where they bid for storage units.”

  He frowned. “Huh?”

  “You’d regret buying what’s revealed.”

  He laughed. “I can afford the nickel.”

  I sipped my drink. Why did it feel like telling him would be opening a Pandora’s box, since there wasn’t much, if anything, either of us could do about it? Not at the moment anyway. But he wouldn’t believe a lie. I sucked at lying. I gave in and said, “I didn’t want to worry Troy, but I’m really concerned about Meg. She’s on the edge of tipping over. I can’t let that happen. But I don’t know how to help her. She really believes that ring is cursed.”

  He looked at his beer for a long second, then at me with a serious gaze. “Is it?”

  I don’t know what I expected him to say, but certainly not that. “What?”

  “Is the ring cursed?”

  My brows seemed to lift into my hairline. “You believe in… curses?”

  “Why not? I don’t know that they don’t exist.”

  I sank back onto the bar stool. Who is this man? The knight in shining armor, I understand. But this? I didn’t know what to think. Then again, I reminded myself, Seth viewed the world through a different lens, catching on camera things that weren’t always seen by the naked eye. Perhaps this broadened his perspective on possibilities. This new discovery about him felt like finding a treasure where none was expected. At every turn, I liked this man more and more. “You’re a surprise a minute, Quinlan,” I said, then took another sip of my drink.

  “Is that a bad thing?” He looked worried. “Something you don’t want to be around?”

  I supposed for some women it might be, but I adored the idea of a man with an open mind, even if it was open to the weird or the unproven. Left to my own devices, I would trudge through life taking too much at face value, while skipping over all that might be. Meg, and now Seth, made me open my eyes to what my narrowed vision missed. My world would be a sadder, smaller place without their influences. “No, it’s quite wonderful, actually.” I touched his knee.

  He leaned toward me. “Careful, Blessing, I might have to collect on that rain check you owe me.”

  It’s about time, I thought, licking more cream from my mouth, noticing him noticing, and not regretting the heat that filled his gaze. “Fine by me.”

  “Damn. I wish I’d offered you a drink at my place instead of the Last Fling.”

  “What’ve you got to offer me there that I can’t get here?” I asked in a low, whispery voice. Seth didn’t speak, just gave me a suggestive look that sizzled my nerves and curled my toes.

  “Ooh… my favorite.”

  * * *

  Sonny greeted us at the door with his leash in his mouth. Seth laughed. “Are you happy to see me, buddy, or just wanting your walk?”

  “Both,” I said, squatting to give the yellow lab a hug and getting my face laved for that good deed.

  “Not tonight, pal,” Seth told the dog, letting him out into the fenced backyard. If Sonny was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “I really have to get the new doggy door installed. This one was fine when Sonny was a pup, but obviously he’s outgrown it.”

  Seth turned and nearly rammed into me. I’d been standing that close. Have I mentioned that patience isn’t my thing? It seemed as if I’d waited all my life for him to notice me, to acknowledge me, to be interested in me. I’d finally decided it was a pipe dream, a fantasy I’d never realize. And then the impossible happened. And now that it had, I was done with waiting.

  I didn’t even try to hide my feelings. But nothing prepared me for his reaction. He stopped as if seeing me for the first time, and the awe in his gaze humbled me. I wasn’t deserving of such adoration. And yet, I couldn’t look away. Without touching me, he had my every nerve tingling. My first tantric sex? I had no clue. I wasn’t sure what tantric sex involved, but I’d heard there was no touching. Just almost touching. My senses were wholly engaged, anticipation raging hot through me.

  Seth seemed equally unnerved. Excited. Good. I wanted this experience to be like no other for both of us.

  He said, “Er, I have a bottle of wine in the fridge. Some kind of white. Or beer?”

  “No thank you.”

  “I have some hard stuff…” He pointed toward a cupboard.

  “The only thing hard I want is you.”

  He smiled, his voice going gravelly. “And here I was thinking you were thirsty.”

  “I didn’t come here for a beverage. All I want to drink is you.”

  His gaze lighted from deep within. “Talk about someone who’s full of surprises, Blessing.”

  He pulled me to him and kissed me hard, as if he’d been waiting forever to do just that. His fierce possession of my mouth pulled a tiny yelp from me. I drew him closer, crazy to rush, all the while fearing it would be over too soon. I didn’t want it to ever be over. He pulled me tighter still. There was no mistaking how eager he was to collect that rain check.

  On a breathless note, I asked, “Are you happy to see me, Quinlan, or just wanting to go for a walk?”

  He gave an animal growl. “What do you think?”

  “A walk?” I teased.

  He laughed and scooped me off my feet. “The only walk you’re going on is to my bedroom.”

  Don’t ask me what his bedroom looked like. My usual attention to detail wasn’t interested in décor. All I saw was a huge bed, lots of pillows, and Seth. Panic and insecurity set in. What if he found me wanting? What if he had secret cameras hidden in this room? Would I be in a sex tape that went viral? God, Daryl Anne. Listen to yourself. You’re as delusional as you are anxious.

  And why wouldn’t I be? I wasn’t a seductress; I didn’t have carnal moves or techniques. The few sexual encounters I’d enjoyed over the years were more of a disappointing, slam-bam, thank-you-ma’am variety. I didn’t recall ever before feeling this emotionally invested, this passionate pull to have a man touch me. Everywhere. In ways I’d only imagined.

  But what if I sucked at sex? Hah. My stomach pinched. Even puns didn’t allay my nervousness. I reminded myself that guys often said, Bad sex is better than no sex. As a consolation, it di
dn’t reassure me. My worry, I realized, was easily read in my expression.

  Seth touched my cheek. “Ah, Blessing, why the frown? Have you changed your mind?”

  Changed my mind? Hell, no. Even if I was the worst partner he’d ever had, I was not missing out on sex with Seth. Nuh-uh. No way. I reached for his shirt and started tugging it loose from his jeans. He made a happy noise. And then, finally, he was touching me, his hands peeling away my clothes like a nervous, clumsy schoolboy, the eagerness on his face echoing the need speeding through me.

  As he reached to unhook my bra, he said, “I want to see every inch of you, Blessing, but if you’re uncomfortable with that, I’ll turn off the light.”

  God, he was the most thoughtful man. And I wanted to see all of him, too. “I’ve waited too long for this to do it in the dark.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I said, leaving it vague and losing my next thought in another of his mind-stealing kisses. And then we were both naked, and neither of us needed pennies to know what the other was thinking.

  * * *

  The next day, Meg took one look at my face and declared, “Oh my God, Daryl Anne Blessing, you’re positively glowing. And giddy. If I run into Seth, will he be wearing that same sappy grin?”

  My cheeks heated at how he’d looked when I left him an hour or so ago, still snuggled in his bed, a hint of a smile on his sleeping face, and I had to stifle a huge sigh. “Hush, Meg. Someone will hear you,” I said as we settled at a table in Pre-Wedding Jitters.

  “Are you kidding? I want details.”

  “No.” Impossibly, my face felt hotter.

  Meg chuckled at my scowl.

  “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Maybe not, but you wouldn’t be this rosy if all you did was kiss.”

  She had me there. But I wasn’t going to discuss the details of last night with anyone, except maybe Seth. It was ours to treasure.

  “Ah, just the two I was hoping would show up,” Lisa Marie greeted us. Meg had been getting this response from everyone we’d encountered today. The question from one and all: Why were the police at Zelda’s yesterday?

  “Is your mom still gone Elvis hunting?” Meg deflected. She wasn’t allowed to discuss what had gone on at Zelda’s with anyone. Although I intended to get her to make an exception in my case.

  Lisa Marie said, “The King Sisters group has taken off for another state. Not sure when Mom will return.”

  I caught a hint of sadness beneath the bright smile she was offering us. I’d probably feel the same if my mother chased after deceased icons.

  Lisa Marie didn’t ask about Zelda but instead said, “Daryl Anne, I heard a rumor that a certain fiancé-stealing bridezilla bought a wedding dress in Blessings late yesterday. Is it true?”

  I gulped and tried a deflection of my own. “We sell a lot of wedding gowns to brides who might qualify as bridezillas, but most probably aren’t fiancé-stealers. Could you be more specific?”

  “Skinny runt. Muddy brown hair. Named Willa.” The black ice in Lisa Marie’s gaze could freeze the steam floating off a cup of hot espresso.

  “Oh my God, Dillon is marrying that little bitch?” Meg said, her eyes bugged.

  “You’ve met her?” Lisa Marie curled her lip.

  Meg gave a shudder. “Unfortunately.”

  I squirmed in my seat, really, really regretting that I’d helped Willa find her special feeling dress, instead of something that made her look as ugly outside as she was inside. I was pretty sure my face reflected pure guilt. “Er… ah… we did have a customer named Willa, and she did buy a dress. I’m sorry. I didn’t know about her… and you… and Dillon.”

  Meg’s eyes held a silent accusation. Why didn’t you tell me?

  “I could kill her,” Lisa Marie murmured, the words sending a shock through me.

  Meg clamped a hand over Lisa Marie’s. “As someone who’s just been through something similar, let me tell you, hon, you’re better off. A guy who marries for money will spend every day of his life paying for it. Let me tell you, having met his future ball and chain, Dillon’s going to be one sorry sap.”

  “Thanks.” Lisa Marie gave Meg a quick hug. “I know you’re right. I know I shouldn’t let her get to me, but every time I hear of somewhere else she’s been in town, I want to do her bodily harm.”

  The drive-through bell sounded, sending Lisa Marie back behind the counter and leaving Meg and I staring at each other. Meg said, “When did you find out about Willa and Dillon?”

  I explained that Hannah had told me after we’d already helped Willa find a better dress, and how much I wished we had let her buy the one that made her look like a life-sized pom-pom. “I feel so bad for Lisa Marie.”

  “She’s better off. She might not know it now, but she will eventually.”

  “And what about you?” I asked Meg. “Is the wedding on or off?”

  “Off.”

  “Then you really don’t want to marry Troy.”

  Meg made a little unhappy laugh. “Ironically, I do want to marry him, but I can’t. Not without that ring.” I watched her poke a straw into the lid of her latte. Sadness wafted from my best friend and filled me with helplessness.

  I sighed. This situation was unacceptable. Curse be damned. I couldn’t allow Meg to have two failed weddings under her belt. That would make me a two-time loser as maid of honor, and I didn’t want that on my record. “What exactly is the curse on Granny O’Malley’s ruby ring anyway?”

  Meg planted her lips on the straw, avoiding eye contact for several seconds as she enjoyed the iced coffee drink. Finally, she lifted her gaze. “I’m not sure. I mean, I was fifteen, after all, when she told me about it.”

  “Yes, I know. And at fifteen, girls are very impressionable. A story like that would end up etched in your memory.”

  I waited while she closed her eyes, a frown furrowing her brow, her mouth scrunching as if she was some deep thinker considering the secrets of the universe. Frustration and impatience got the better of me. “What, Meg?”

  She leveled those big green eyes at me. “I don’t remember. Honest. I recall the day and even what Granny O’Malley was wearing.”

  Like that was a revelation. “Even I recall what she wore and I wasn’t there. Black from head to toe like the witch in Wizard of Oz and a wrist full of tingling, Gypsy bracelets, right?”

  “Yes,” Meg said sheepishly. “But honestly, I don’t know what she said. It’s like I can see her in my mind, holding the ring in her palm. Her lips are moving, but there’s no sound. No words.”

  “Geesh.” I sank back in my chair and considered the problem. “Someone in the family must know about the curse. It’s the kind of thing that’s passed from generation to generation.”

  “Troy doesn’t know what it is either.”

  That gave me pause. She hadn’t just dreamed up a curse, had she? Her subconscious trying to tell her not to marry Troy? I wasn’t sure I should suggest that, but then I remembered what Seth had asked me. “Is there really a curse on the ring?”

  Meg blanched. “You thinking I’m lying?”

  “No. I’m wondering if Granny O’Malley lied to you.”

  “Why would she?”

  “She was always saying weird things.” It wasn’t much of an answer, but I wouldn’t put it past the old woman to have embellished or made up a story to make the ring seem more interesting. How did we find the truth now? I wanted to bang my head on the table. Of course there couldn’t be a simple solution. If there were, it wouldn’t involve Meg.

  The coffee shop’s door opened and Jenny, our temp, bustled in trailed by the temp from Something Old, Something New, whom I’d never met, and Violet Pringle, whose mother owned the Flower Girl. Violet had been one of the bridesmaids for Meg’s earlier wedding.

  She came over to us, chatted for a second, then turned to Lisa Marie and said, “We’re having a sale on yellow roses today. I need a quadruple shot, caramel venti, iced.”

 
Lisa Marie set to work. “I love yellow roses. Save me a bouquet. I’ll come by during the afternoon lull.”

  As she moved off, leaving Meg and me alone again, I was still mulling over how to discover the truth about the cursed ring. Troy didn’t believe there was a curse, but despite not recalling what the curse was, Meg believed it with all her heart. There was only one thing I could think to do. Go over Troy’s head. “Meg, I think we should ask Troy’s mother about the curse. She has to know. After all, she chose not to accept that ring when she married Troy’s dad.”

  A gleam of hope appeared in Meg’s eyes, and the corners of her mouth tilted up ever so slightly. “That’s a great idea. If we go now, we should be able to catch Gwen before she leaves for work.”

  “Great.” I shoved back my chair, grabbed my to-go cup, and followed Meg out the door and into the promising morning. I should’ve gone straight home, showered, and changed in order to be ready when the bridal shop opened for business in an hour, but I was in maid-of-honor mode, where curses took priority over customers.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Curse?” Gwen O’Malley’s face contorted, and she burst out laughing. “Oh my, that’s hilarious. Where did you ever get such an idea, Meg?”

  “From Granny O,” Meg said. “She told me when I was fifteen.”

  We were in the O’Malleys’ spotless kitchen, a cozy room that made me picture long, lazy mornings over coffee and newspapers and conversations about nothing more important than which seeds to plant in the veggie garden out back. The sunny yellow walls and white cabinets and trim were as welcoming as a morning breeze on a warm day. I inhaled the lingering scents of fried eggs and bacon, and a hint of bleach, and wished we were here to chat about coffee and home gardens. But we weren’t.