Chapter 4

 

She moved and checked her reflection in the mirror from a different angle. Yep, the dress had been worth every penny, or perhaps every euro. She loved to shop. Anyone who took one peek in her closet would know it. Normally, though, she set out a budget and stuck to it when she indulged in one of her favorite activities. Except for the bridesmaid’s dress she’d worn to her sister’s wedding, she couldn’t remember ever paying more than two hundred dollars for a single dress. Until she saw this one.

She’d gone out with a fellow professor who’d wanted to show her some of the best boutiques in Paris. Ella saw the full-length gown the moment they walked in. Unable to pass it up, she made her first mistake and asked if they had it in her size without bothering to check the price. Then she made her second and carried the gown into the dressing room. Once she’d slipped it on and looked in the mirror, she had to have it. At the time, she’d rationalized her purchase by reminding herself it might be a long time until she made it back to Paris. After all, this was the first time she’d returned to France in five years and, even then, she’d only made it into Paris a handful of times.

More than once since then, she’d questioned her decision. While gorgeous, the gown wasn’t a practical outfit she could wear to class or out with friends. Right now, however, the mirror said she’d made the right choice. The gown looked as if it’d been custom-made just for her.

“You’re going to have fun today,” she said to the mirror. She’d pretend Striker wasn’t even in the same room. If he tried to talk to her again she’d be polite, but she didn’t think he would. Claire was wrong. He was over her. Today he’d show up at the wedding with a date. Why he’d asked her to lunch yesterday, she didn’t know, but it wasn’t because he still cared. And she didn’t feel anything for him, either, so she wouldn’t seek him out. Instead, she’d use her time getting to know Dakota, Mack’s friend from work. The one Jessie had told her all about. Yep, she had a plan, and no matter what she’d stick with it.

Flowers and guests filled St. Mark’s, the oldest church in North Salem, when Ella walked in. Immediately, Sean O’Brien, one of Mack’s groomsmen, greeted her and led her down the aisle to the pew where her parents sat. Moments later Claire and her family joined them. While Claire and Mom chatted away, Ella glanced around. For the most part she recognized everyone. The few exceptions she assumed were people Mack worked with.

Which one’s Dakota, she wondered, checking out the men she didn’t know. If Jessie hoped to set them up, he’d come alone. That narrowed down the list of potentials. Maybe he was the tall, athletic-looking blond guy with the beard. He appeared to be alone, and he sat on Mack’s side of the church. Or was he the guy who could pass as a younger Dwayne Johnson? She let her eyes roam over the pews until she spotted Cat seated with Tony and her parents. Spotting her as well, Cat smiled and waved. Ella didn’t hesitate to do the same.

Despite the situation with Striker, she’d discovered Thursday night that nothing had changed between them. Now she felt stupid for avoiding Cat back in the spring. In true Cat fashion, though, she’d never mentioned it. In fact, when she visited along with Jessie and Kelsey, she hadn’t even mentioned her brother.

From the other side of the church, the music changed and Ella heard the doors out to the foyer close. Soon Father Perkins appeared, followed by Mack and Striker, his best man. Although she trained her eyes on Mack, she kept sneaking looks at Striker. While not Hollywood handsome, his rugged good looks and sexy smile always got him plenty of female attention. Back in middle school and high school, she’d had a wicked big crush on him. Whenever she slept over Cat’s house and he walked into the room, her heart beat double time and her tongue tied itself in a giant bow. A few years older, he’d never noticed her or any of his sister’s other friends. Instead, he’d spent his time with either girls his own age or ones a few years older. In high school, he’d been one of the few guys she knew who regularly dated college girls.

Gradually, her crush subsided but it had never completely disappeared. The previous fall, when he’d stopped and offered to change her flat tire, she accepted not because she needed it but because she enjoyed looking at him. When he’d asked her out, she’d been unable to refuse even though deep down she recognized it was a bad idea. Striker wasn’t her type. She liked men who took relationships seriously. Not ones who considered dating and sex a game. After a few weeks together, she’d thought maybe he’d changed or perhaps she’d misjudged him. He’d been the perfect boyfriend. Everyone in her family liked him. Her niece, Kerry, loved him and often called and asked them to visit. Then April rolled around and he pulled the rug out from under her.

Again, the music changed. The door behind her leading into the foyer opened. Grace, Mack’s daughter, and his niece, Brianna, started down the aisle. Both wore matching pale lavender gowns and carried bouquets. Erin, Mack’s sister, walked behind the two little girls, her dress a much darker shade of purple. Charlie Sherbrooke, Jessie’s maid of honor, came down the aisle last. Once Charlie reached the altar, Joyce, the pianist, began playing the traditional wedding march. Slowly, Jessie and her dad walked past the rows of guests. She’d never seen her friend look happier. Happiness and love literally floated around Jessie, and Ella smiled. She glanced toward Mack. Someday she wanted a guy to look at her the exact same way. Joy and love were written all over his face. It might have taken some time for Jessie and Mack to get together, but no doubt they belonged together.

Unable to stop herself, Ella glanced past Mack to Striker. He’d never know. Like everyone else, he’d be looking at Jessie.

Her eyes collided with his. His lips tipped upward in a tentative smile, and he gave a slight nod.

Sugar. Not the exact word she wanted but, given the location, it’d have to do. He’d caught her.

***

“Where did you get the dress?” Kelsey asked Ella as they sat at their table in the reception room at Turin, an Italian restaurant in Salem. Jessie had put them at the same table, along with Dakota Smith, Mrs. Mitchell, and Charlie and Jake Sherbrooke, but so far, they were the only two to have arrived.

“It’s gorgeous. If I had somewhere to wear it, I’d asked to borrow it,” Kelsey continued before Ella answered her. About the same size, they’d shared clothes in the past.

“A little boutique in Paris. It kind of called my name the second I walked inside.”

“I can see why. What else did you pick up in France?”

“And why do you assume I bought anything else?” Ella asked, trying to sound put out.

Kelsey laughed. “Please. You can’t go two weeks without shopping for something. You bought more than just that gown.”

Well, her friend did speak the truth. “Not too much. Mostly gifts for Kerry. I would’ve picked out a few things for the new baby, too, if someone had bothered to tell me Claire was pregnant.” Her niece had loved all the gifts she’d brought back for her, her favorite being a cherry-red dress decorated with sequins.

“Don’t look at me. I assumed you knew.”

“I know. I still can’t believe neither my sister or mom told me.” Ella dismissed the thought. Talking about it wouldn’t change it. “Jessie looked so happy today. Mack, too. He couldn’t take his eyes off her when she came down the aisle. Do you know where they’re doing pictures?”

“On the town common.” Kelsey leaned a little closer. “You’ve never met Dakota Smith, right?”

“Not yet. But Jessie told me about him.”

“Well, he just walked in. He’s talking to Mrs. Mitchell.”

Curious, Ella looked toward the door where the young Dwayne Johnson lookalike spoke to the widow. Together they walked toward the table. “He looks like—”

“The Rock,” Kelsey said, using the actor’s stage name. “I know. And Jessie intentionally put you and him at the same table. Just a little heads-up, lately she’s been playing matchmaker. She managed to set me up with another of Mack’s coworkers back in June. Super nice guy, but I don’t have time for a relationship.”

Shortly after Mrs. Mitchell and Dakota joined them, Charlie and her husband did as well. She’d grown up with Charlie and played soccer with her throughout high school. Of all the women she knew, Charlie was the last she’d ever expected to get married and have children. She’d always come across as a career-focused individual. Now, though, Charlie was married to perhaps the most gorgeous man in the room, who also happened to be the son of the President of the United States, and they had a five-month-old son.

“And where is your adorable baby?” Mrs. Mitchell asked, taking control of the conversation at the table. “I was hoping to see him again.”

“Garrett’s with Jake’s aunt for the night. We’ll pick him up in the morning,” Charlie answered. “Jessie told us to bring him, but I didn’t want him interrupting the ceremony. He’s teething and very cranky. I’m worried about my brother’s wedding. Sean and Mia insist that he come. Jake’s cousin is getting married next weekend, too, and he wants Garrett there.”

While Mrs. Mitchell filled Charlie in on methods to help ease discomfort during teething, Jake, Dakota, and Kelsey discussed cars. Kelsey’s dad had been a car fanatic and he’d passed his passion on to both his children. Thus, Kelsey could hold her own when it came to anything with four wheels and an engine. Left as the odd man out, Ella ran through all she needed to do before the semester started right after Labor Day. At least for most of her French courses, she could use the same syllabus she’d given students the previous fall. But she’d changed the textbook for her French 202 class, so she’d need to modify that one. She’d also picked up a few Spanish courses this semester, too. She hadn’t taught Spanish in three years. She’d need something entirely new for those courses. With the semester starting soon, she didn’t have much time. Perhaps it was a good thing she was single. Without a man in her life, she had more time to dedicate to teaching at the university and at the dance studio.

Unease snaked through her body, causing goose bumps to form on her arms. Trying not to be obvious, she glanced around the room. Her eyes stopped when they fell on the table where Cat sat with her husband, parents, and of course Striker. Although he leaned close and spoke to his sister, his gaze remained on her.

Not many guests had come alone, and she’d expected him to arrive today with some eye candy on his arm. But he’d come alone.

Doesn’t mean anything, she reminded herself. Perhaps his most current girlfriend had plans, forcing him to come without a date. Or maybe he was between girlfriends. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter to her. What he did and who he did it with was no longer her concern.

She pulled her gaze away. She wouldn’t waste any more time on him tonight. Nope, she’d have fun celebrating Mack and Jessie’s wedding with everyone else.

“What kinds of cars did you see a lot of in Paris?” Kelsey asked, drawing Ella into the conversation.

“When were you in France?” Dakota asked before she answered. “I worked with the Parisian police last year on a big case. Great city.”

“I spent the summer there,” Ella said, glad to have a distraction. “What did you like best about Paris?”

Dakota smiled, causing him to resemble the well-known actor even more. “The food.”

“It is pretty awesome.”

“I loved the architecture, too. For a long time, I considered becoming an architect.”

They discussed their favorite places in and around Paris until a slow ballad came on.

“Would you like to dance?”

Before she realized her intention, she glanced across the room. Cat and Tony were standing, most likely to dance. Mr. and Mrs. Striker were having a conversation with each other. Striker still looked in her direction. She turned back and nodded. “I’d love to.”

 

Somehow Striker managed to give the best man speech he’d written and get through dinner without crossing the dance floor and pulling Ella out of the room. She always looked good, but tonight she was a total knockout. He’d spotted most of the single men and even a few married ones checking her out. As the ex, he’d had no other choice but to sit and watch. Actually, right now he was forced to sit and watch as she danced with Mack’s coworker, Dakota Smith, surrounded by other couples.

Soon he’d get his plan into action. He hoped it worked. Ella could flat-out refuse, turn around, and walk away, leaving him standing there on the dance floor like the complete fool he was. A much-deserved outcome, but not one he’d settle for today.

“You could at least look like you’re having fun. This is your best friend’s wedding,” Cat said, sitting down next to him again once the song she and Tony danced to ended.

The words “go to hell” came to mind, but he kept them in. If he pissed off Cat she might tell him he was on his own, and he needed both her and Tony’s help.

“Go dance with Grace. She loves you, and you’ll give her grandfather a break. That was his second time out there with her.”

So far Mack’s daughter had dragged both her uncle and her grandfather onto the dance floor with her. She’d even managed to get Mr. Quinn, Jessie’s father, out there for a dance, as well as Jake Sherbrooke. At a different time, he would’ve taken his sister’s suggestion. He adored Grace much like he would a niece. Tonight, though, he wasn’t up for her constant chatter.

“Maybe later.”

A popular hit blared from the speakers, and many of the older guests retreated to their seats as dancers moved on the floor. Under the table, he tapped his foot to the beat and watched Ella move and sway in time to the music. Countless times they’d gone to dance clubs in Boston or Salem, and he loved watching her dance. She heard the music in her soul, and it showed in the way she moved.

“Mia pulled Sean onto the dance floor for the last song,” Cat said.

He’d missed it, but he wouldn’t tell his sister that. “Yeah, I noticed. Sean hates dancing. Bet he’s thinking of ways to avoid it at his wedding.”

Tony pulled out the chair next to his wife and sat. “Talking about Sean? Yeah, he’s dreading the dancing at the reception. Neither Mia nor his mom are going let him out of it.” Pausing, he reached for his wine glass and took a sip. “Brock’s gonna play the song I requested next. You ready?”

He’d waited long enough. “Good to go.” He ignored the clamp tightening around his stomach.

“I’ll go ask Papa to dance. He can never say no to me.”

Didn’t Striker know it. Growing up, his sister had had their grandfather wrapped around not only her little finger but her entire hand. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t get the man to do simply by asking.

Cat stood up. Before she walked away, she leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Good luck.”

He needed more than luck. He needed a miracle. “Thanks.”

“If you cause a scene out there, Jessie’ll kill you. Mack, too,” Tony said.

He’d said the same thing when Striker and Cat approached him with their plan, which included Tony asking Ella to dance. If she wondered why he wasn’t dancing with his wife, he’d point out that Cat was busy dancing with her grandfather. While Tony and Ella danced, Striker would ask to cut in and his brother-in-law wouldn’t object.

“Ella’s not the scene-causing type.” The worst she would do was walk away. No one would consider that ruining the wedding.

“Wasn’t referring to her.”

What did Tony think he’d do, throw Ella over his shoulder and march out with her? He’d love to, but wouldn’t. “Don’t worry. Jessie won’t have any reason to kill me.”

The song’s final chorus blared from the speakers, and Tony took that as his cue.

Striker watched his brother-in-law cross the dance floor. Once Tony stopped at Ella’s table he looked away, his eyes falling on Grace and Mack instead. While he watched, she led her dad onto the dance floor and Jessie stayed behind, talking with Mack’s younger sister.

He swung his eyes away from his best friend in time to see Tony and Ella take to the dance floor together. Not far away, Cat and their grandfather moved to the music as well. So far, so good. Although Cat had insisted Ella would accept Tony’s offer to dance, he’d been less confident. It looked like his sister had been right, something he wouldn’t mention to her. If he did, he’d never hear the end of it.

His mouth bone-dry, Striker took one last gulp of water and headed for the dance floor, too.

“Glad to be home?” Striker heard Tony ask Ella when he stopped behind the couple.

“I love it in France, but yeah. It’s nice to be back,” Ella answered, still unaware he stood behind her. “I missed everyone.”

Clearing his throat, he got ready to speak. “Mind if I cut in, Tony?”

Ella stopped moving, and Tony looked at him. Striker held his breath while he waited for Tony’s agreed upon answer.

Out with it.

“No. Go ahead. I’ll go see if Mia wants to get away from O’Brien and dance.”

Tony stepped away, and Striker took his place before Ella could object or walk away. Cat had insisted Ella would dance with him rather than risk attracting the attention of other guests. In case she was wrong, he moved fast and put his arms around her. Every instinct told him to pull her close. That after so many months apart she was back where she belonged. Instead, he focused on her face and kept an acceptable amount of space between them.

“Maybe I was enjoying my dance with Tony. Did you even stop to consider that?” she said, her voice cold and unfriendly.

Striker wondered if she’d walk away even if it meant other people would notice. Her eyes said she was angry enough. Instead, she put her hands on his shoulders and moved with the music again.

“Striker, you should’ve asked someone else. There are plenty of women here.”

Not how he hoped their conversation would start, but it beat her telling him to go to hell. Unable to help himself, he stepped closer.

“You’re the only one here I want to dance with.” He moved again, his body wanting nothing more than to touch her. His hand drifted off her waist and settled on her bare shoulder. The feel of her skin against his sent memories crashing down on him, once again reminding him what an ass he’d been in the spring. “You’re mad. I get it. But I only want to talk, Ella.”

Up until then she’d kept her gaze averted, looking at everything but him. Finally, she met his eyes. Her annoyance reflected back at him. “Striker, we don’t have anything to talk about. Let’s finish this dance and get on with our lives. Okay?”

Not possible. He couldn’t get on with his life without trying to fix what he’d screwed up. “Ten minutes. Give me that.”

Ella’s facial expression remained the same. Her eyes, though, told him she planned on saying no. Yesterday, he’d asked Tony to request a long song so he’d have as much time as possible to convince Ella to sit and talk to him. Maybe he should’ve asked Tony to request more than one instead.

“Please.” He wouldn’t go caveman and toss her over his shoulder, but he’d beg if necessary. “What’s ten minutes? No one will miss us. Then you can come back. If you want, after we talk I’ll leave and you can enjoy the night without me around.” Mack would never notice if he left early.

“Fine. C’mon.” A person headed for jury duty sounded more enthusiastic than Ella, but he’d gotten what he wanted. “The benches near the gazebo should be empty.”

She stepped back, turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him standing there alone. A couple dancing nearby glanced toward him, and then said something to each other. Striker didn’t care what anyone thought. She’d given him ten minutes. He’d consider it a successful field goal attempt for the moment. Too bad he needed a touchdown.

Couples picked Turin for their wedding receptions not only because of their food and beautiful reception room but also because of the grounds around the restaurant. A short walk from the front entrance, the owners had laid out a picturesque garden. A large white gazebo sat in the center. A small man-made pond with a bridge over it was nestled in among the various annuals and perennials. Several benches completed the area that many couples used for their wedding photos.

Catching up with Ella, he walked alongside her and wisely kept his trap shut and hands in his pockets. Once outside, he let her pick a bench. Personally, he’d like one of the more private benches on the other side of the gazebo. Ella went for the closest one instead and sat down. First, she crossed her arms. Then she dropped them and clasped her hands in her lap instead.

“Okay. We’re here. I’m listening. So talk.”

Striker loosened the knot of his tie, the thing suddenly choking him. “I’m sorry, Ella.” He got the sentence out despite his tongue’s reluctance to cooperate. “I screwed up. I shouldn’t have left you. Realized it months ago.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed. When she kept silent, he continued. “Can you —”

“Funny. You kept busy dating. I heard you started right after I left. With so many women around, I’m surprised you noticed I was even gone.”

Striker nodded. He wouldn’t lie. “Dated some after you left. Haven’t been with anyone in months. Last date I went on was in early June.”

“Whatever,” she said with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter, Striker. I went out and slept with guys this summer, too.”

His chest burned at her statement. He’d stupidly convinced himself she’d remained alone since leaving. If she’d had sex with ten different guys while in Europe, it was his own damn fault.

“I’ve thought of you every day.” Even when he’d gone out with other women, she’d been there in his head. He’d compared each date to her, and each one had fallen short. “I fucked up in April. Can you give me another chance?”

Ella shook her head, and cold fingers closed around his neck.

“It won’t happen again, Ella.”

“Nothing’s changed. I’m still me. Obviously, you found something you didn’t like about me back then,” she said, her voice monotone. “There’s no point in getting back together when it’ll end the same way. I listened… now, can we go back inside?”

“You weren’t the problem.” He’d kept his hands on his lap since sitting down. But with his ten minutes rushing by, he took her hand. “Let me—”

“Then what was the problem?” Sarcasm dripped from every word, but he caught the pain as well as the hint of curiosity, too. All three were better than the emotionless voice from a moment ago. “You couldn’t manage going a few months without sex while I was away?”

He deserved her reaction even if he didn’t like it. “I’m a first-class dumbass. Ask Catrina. She’ll confirm for you.”

Ella’s lips twitched, but before a smile broke out she pressed them together and slipped her hand free from his. “I already know you’re a dumbass. Tell me something new, Striker. Like the truth. Can you do that? If not, let’s go back inside.”

The truth. Yeah, she deserved it. “I got scared. You know I never did serious before. Then you came along.” Unable to maintain eye contact, he glanced away and cleared his throat. “I started seeing white fences, minivans, and kids running around. Things I never considered. Responsibilities I didn’t want.” Admitting the truth made him feel more like a jerk than he already did. Something he’d figured impossible.

“And you’re not scared anymore?” She made quotation marks with her fingers when she said the word ‘scared.’

“No.” He reached for both her hands this time. “I love you. Give me a second chance and I’ll prove it to you.”

 

Months ago, the three words would’ve sent her to the moon. Even now, they caused her heart to skip a beat or two. Believing them, though? A different matter entirely. “Some people are better off as friends. We might be two of ’em.”

Not that they’d really been friends before… more like acquaintances. But as long as they both remained in town they’d bump into each other, so a friendship of some sort would make her life easier.

“Let’s go back inside.” She waited for him to release her hands. Instead, he slid closer to her on the bench. Her body picked up on the proximity and urged her to lean into him just one more time while she could.

“Not us, Ella. We belong together. You know it, too.”

“Don’t tell me what I know.” She glared at him. “Back in March, I would’ve agreed. Not anymore. Who says you won’t get freaked out again and then au revoir. You’re gone again.” She recognized it as childish and petty, but she wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt her. “And maybe I don’t care about you anymore. Did you ever consider that?”

“You wouldn’t still be sitting here if you didn’t care.”

“Maybe I’m being nice.” Merde, of course he knew she cared.

The jerk shook his head but didn’t call her out. Instead, he touched her cheek. “Please, Ella. Give me a month to prove I love you. When the month’s up, you can walk away if you want.” He rubbed her cheek; the calluses on his palm were rough, and the rest of her body remembered how it felt when he’d touched her.

“What’s a month?” He leaned close enough for her to see the brown flecks in his light hazel eyes.

Long enough to break my heart.

“You won’t regret it. Promise.”

The sincerity and tenderness in Striker’s voice had her mouth answering before her brain made a decision. “Okay. One month. But that’s it.” Please don’t let me regret this.