Bet Me

by Jennifer Crusie

  Di pointed at Min. “You’re my sister and you’re going to be my maid of honor and you’re going to look beautiful because that lavender is just your color and it’s all going to be perfect.” She had the same maniacal look in her eye that Nanette did, so Min shut up.

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now.” Nanette stood up, disgusted. “You were late, and we have a million things to do. The dinner’s in three hours, for heaven’s sake. You’ll have to try on the rehearsal dinner dress without us.”

  “Rehearsal dinner dress?” Min said. “Why—”

  “I found something for you that will be slimming.” Nanette shook her head at her eldest daughter, the disappointment. “Make sure the hem is in the right place. If it cuts you at the knees, your legs will look like fence posts.”

  “Thank you, Mother,” Min said, figuring this was a fight she didn’t care about. She just felt tired.

  Her mother stopped and met her eyes. “I know you think I’m awful. But I know how the world works. And it’s not kind to fat people, Min. It’s especially not kind to fat women. I want to see you happy and safe, married to a good man, and it’s not going to happen if you don’t lose that weight.”

  “She’s not fat,” Diana said from behind her. “She is NOT FAT.”

  “Not your loud voice,” Nanette said, and Diana glared at her.

  “Screw my loud voice, stop telling her she’s fat.” Diana stopped, looking as surprised as Nanette and Min that she’d said it. She went on, in a calmer voice. “Leave her alone.”

  Nanette shook her head and leaned forward to grip Min by the upper arms. “I just want you to be happy,” she said, and then stopped and squeezed Min’s arms again. “Have you been lifting weights the way I told you to? Because if your arms aren’t toned, those chiffon sleeves—”

  “We have to go now,” Diana said, pushing her mother toward the door. “We’ll be late as it is.” She turned back at the door and said, “You look great,” before she left, too.

  “Yeah,” Min said and turned back to look at herself in the mirror. The chiffon blouse wasn’t too bad, but her breasts were just obnoxious. “Oh, Lord,” she said, and tried to sit down but the skirt was too tight.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” the fitter said and scurried around behind her to unzip the skirt before it split.

  “I hate this,” Min said as she stepped out of the skirt.

  “The color is wonderful on you,” the fitter said, and Min looked back into the mirror and thought, She’s right. Diana has a perfect eye for that kind of thing. “You’re lucky you didn’t get the green one,” the fitter went on as she unlaced the corset and Min began to breathe again. “The colors are going to look lovely going down the aisle, green and blue and your blue-violet, but the little blonde who has to wear the green is so unhappy about it.”

  Wet, Min thought. Well, that’s what you get for dating the groom.

  “Now, I’ll bring you the dinner dress, and we’ll get you all fixed up.”

  “Yeah,” Min said. She took the blouse off and stood looking at herself in the mirror. Full breasts, full hips, full thighs . . . She tried to remember what Cal had said but her mother’s voice was louder.

  “Here we go,” the fitter said, coming back. “We’ll just slip this over your head . . .”

  Min looked at herself in the mirror as the dresser zipped her up. Her mother had chosen black, of course, a sheath dress with a vertical white insert down the front that made her look vaguely like a penguin. V-shaped inserts at the waist were supposed to give the illusion of a waistline but instead made her look like a penguin whose bow tie was riding low.

  “It’s very slimming,” the fitter said.

  “Right,” Min said, and picked up her mother’s apple. “Slimming.”

  From behind her Cal said, “God, that’s an ugly dress,” and she turned to see him leaning in the doorway, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.

  Min’s heart gave a leap. “Oh, good, it’s you.”

  “What were you thinking, Minnie?” Cal said, coming into the room, his eyes on hers. “Take that thing off. It’s an insult to your body.”

  “Only one of many today,” Min said. “My mother picked this out. She has excellent taste.”

  “I don’t think so.” Cal put everything on the low table by the couch. “I could pick out a better dress than that.”

  “You’re on,” Min said. “I’ll give you five minutes while I eat this apple, and then we’re hemming this thing so my legs don’t look like fence posts. Did you bring a corkscrew? I could use the wine, too.”

  Cal took the apple out of her hand. “Apples and wine? I don’t think so.” He tossed the apple in the small gold wastebasket beside the table and pulled a corkscrew out of his pocket. “Your legs are great. Take that dress off. There must be a better one someplace.”

  “Downstairs,” the fitter said eagerly, looking at Cal as if he were the best thing she’d ever seen.

  Min looked at Cal and remembered he was gorgeous.

  “Hi.” Cal smiled at the fitter. “I’m Cal.”

  “Hi,” she said back, smiling wider. “I’m Janet.”

  Oh, for crying out loud, Min thought.

  “Janet, you look like you have exceptional taste,” Cal said to her. “I know you didn’t pick that thing out.”

  “No, no,” Janet said, disavowing all knowledge.

  “I bet you could find her the perfect dress,” Cal said, looking right into her eyes, sincerity made flesh. “Maybe something bright red.”

  “Blue,” Janet said. “She looks wonderful in blue or violet.”

  “So she does. Go find a great blue dress and we’ll celebrate with a drink.”

  Janet hesitated. “Mrs. Dobbs was very clear . . .”

  “I’ll take care of Mrs. Dobbs,” Cal said. “You take care of the dress.”

  When Janet was gone, Cal screwed the corkscrew into the cork and yanked it, and the cork popped out without a fight. Then he poured her a glass. “Here. You’re tense.”

  “My mother was here,” Min said, taking the glass and wishing he was touching her. Except she was fat.

  “That explains why Janet looked like a deer caught in headlights.” Cal looked over his shoulder. “She’s not here and you haven’t kissed me in an hour, Minerva. Come here.”

  Min stepped down off the platform and went to him, loving the way his arms went around her, trying not to think about how fat she must feel under his hands, and then he kissed her hard, and she sighed against him, grateful to have him even if she didn’t know why he wanted her.

  The bet.

  Nope, never, that was not it, she believed in him.

  “What’s wrong?” he said.

  Min shook her head. “Rough fitting.”

  “Let me guess,” he said. “Your mother. Ignore her. Think about me.”

  She smiled in spite of herself, and he kissed her again, his mouth gentle on hers, and she felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

  “There you go,” he said, patting her back. “Now drink your wine. I’m going to get you drunk and then have my way with you under the table at the rehearsal dinner.”

  “Oh, if only,” Min said and sipped her wine.

  Half a glass of wine and several kisses later, Min was feeling much better, and Janet came back with a hanger full of something dark purple and slinky.

  “You’re kidding me,” Min said. “This is for me, remember?”

  “No, this one’s for me,” Cal said, looking at it on the hanger. “I’m taking you to this thing and I’m not going to look at a butt-ugly dress all night.”

  “Leave,” Min said. “I’m not undressing in front of you.” Yet. She thought of Nanette grabbing her arm and squeezing. Maybe never.

  “Well, a guy can hope,” Cal said, and took his wine out the door with him.

  When he was gone, Janet said, “That’s your boyfriend?”

  “Yes,” Min said, surprised to realize he was.
r />   “My God, he’s beautiful,” Janet said.

  “He’s nice, too,” Min said. “But about this dress—”

  “No, it’ll be good,” Janet said, shaking the dress out as she held it up. “Your boyfriend likes it. Does he know anything about women’s clothes?”

  “I think he’s removed a lot of them,” Min said, stripping off the penguin dress.

  “He could remove mine,” Janet said and then froze. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Not a problem,” Min said, handing her the penguin dress. “I’m used to it. How does this one go on?”

  “You pull it over your head,” Janet said, giving her the purple dress. “It’s a draped surplice top.”

  “I don’t know.” Min held the dress up.

  “Try it on,” Janet said. “He likes it.”

  “And he brought me wine,” Min said. “Where’s my glass?” She tossed back the rest of her glass and then, with a sigh, pulled the dress over her head and looked in the mirror.

  There were many things right with the dress. The surplice neck made her look thinner and the way it draped over her breasts was downright sexy as long as she didn’t slump. And the drape made her hips look voluptuous instead of buslike. But still, this was the kind of dress that thin women wore, this was—

  “The handkerchief hem is genius,” Janet said. “He’s right, you do have good legs. They’re just . . . curvy.”

  “Thank you,” Min said. “The rest of me is curvy, too.”

  “You look really sexy in this,” Janet said. “I’ll go get him so he can see.”

  “I’ll have some more wine,” Min said, but the dresser was already gone, Cal-hunting. Min poured a second glass and sipped it while she stared into the mirror. The dress was a vast improvement over the penguin dress. Plus her mother would be annoyed, which served her right. Even better, she wouldn’t be able to say anything because Min could tell her that Cal liked it. “So, okay,” Min said, toasting her reflection, and knocked back the entire glass. The warmth of the wine spread through her, melding nicely with the warmth from Cal’s kisses, and she sighed.

  She was bending over the table to get a third glass of wine when Cal came back.

  “I hear you look—” he began and stopped.

  “What?” Min said, looking up from the wine.

  “Uh,” he said and she followed his eyes to her cleavage, most of which was displayed because the surplice was gaping. “You look good,” Cal said with enough tension in his voice to make it an understatement.

  “It’s not a fat dress,” Min said, turning back to the mirror. “It doesn’t hide anything.”

  “Haven’t we talked about this?” Cal said, coming to stand behind her.

  “Yes, but my mother has talked since then,” Min said. “Also, there’s this mirror which tells me I don’t have much of a waistline.”

  “You have a waistline.” Cal put his hands on her hips. “It’s right here.” He slid his hands across her stomach and she shivered, watching him touch her in the mirror. With Cal’s hands on her, she looked different, good, and when he pulled her back against his chest, she relaxed into him and let her head fall back on his shoulder. “Very sexy dress,” he whispered into her ear, and then kissed her neck. She drew in her breath and he whispered, “Very sexy woman,” and moved his hand up to her neckline, drawing his finger down the edge of the silky fabric, making her shudder as the heat spread and she began to feel liquid everywhere.

  “I have to stop drinking wine when I’m with you,” she whispered to him in the mirror. “I start believing all this garbage you tell me.”

  He grinned at her, his reflection warming her as much as his body against her back.

  She bit her lip. “It feels so good to be alone with you. And I can’t because we have to go to this rehearsal dinner, we have to make this rehearsal dinner, and then tomorrow I’ve got to go to this wedding in a ridiculous dress and I’m feeling fat again.”

  “That’s because you’re not paying attention,” Cal said in her ear. “Look at yourself.”

  “I am,” she said, and he said, “Not the way I look at you.” His hand moved up her side and he whispered, “Look at the beautiful curve of you, how full you are,” and as his voice in her ear made her dizzy, his hand moved up around her breast.

  She turned her head and said, “Hey!” and brought her hand up to move his, and he stopped her breath with his mouth, kissing her hard, catching her hand to press her open palm against the warm heaviness of her breast, and she thought, That feels so good, and let the heat wash over her.

  “Look how beautiful you are,” he whispered in her ear as he laced his fingers in her other hand. “There’s not a man alive who could see you like this and not want to touch you.” He rolled her other hand so her palm was against her stomach and slid it up to her breast. “You’re a fantasy, Min. You’re my fantasy.”

  He pressed both her palms against her breasts and she felt the fullness there and shuddered under his hands and believed him. She turned in his arms and kissed him with everything she had, pressing herself against him with no other thought than to get close, loving how hard his body felt against hers, the way her body yielded to him, the heat of his hands on her as they slid down and pulled her to him. She arched her hips against him, bit his lip and licked his mouth, felt him shaking as she whispered, “I want you,” and heard his breath shudder as he kissed her on the neck and then softly bit the place he’d kissed.

  “Whoops,” Janet said from behind them, and Min pulled back, dizzy and breathless.

  “We’ll take the dress,” Cal said, without looking around, his voice husky.

  “This is a very dangerous dress,” Min said, trying to catch her breath.

  “That’s why we’re taking it,” Cal said, and kissed her again before he let her go.

  When they got to the bed and breakfast, Diana had left the back door unlocked as promised. “It’s a decent kitchen,” Cal said when they’d unloaded the car. “We can work here.”

  “It’s a great kitchen,” Min said with envy. She turned to Cal and said, “I think—” and he kissed her while she smiled against his mouth and moved closer to him. “What was that for?”

  “Because I can,” Cal said and pulled her closer. Her cell phone rang, and he leaned back. “What did Greg forget now?”

  Min clicked her phone on. “Hi.”

  “Where are you? We’re at the B and B. Mom’s fussing over my dress,” Diana said, all in frantic whisper. “She wants to know where you are.”

  “We’re downstairs getting ready to cook,” Min said, as Cal kissed her on the neck. She stifled a giggle and said, “Stall her.”

  “She’s going to be mad at you,” Di said.

  “And this is news,” Min said. “She’d have been mad when she saw my dress anyway. Cal picked it out. I look like a ho.” She felt Cal laugh against her hair.

  “Really?” Di said. “What color is it?”

  “Di—”

  “I’ll stall Mom,” Di said. “Thank you!”

  “You don’t look like a ho,” Cal said when Min clicked off her phone. “You look like an expensive call girl.” He slid his hand down to her rear end. “And I have money.”

  “Try to think of cooking as foreplay,” Min said, and Cal sighed and started to unpack the food.

  Fifteen minutes later, Min had the bottoms of four frying pans covered in hot olive oil, Cal had pounded sixteen chicken breasts flat as flounders and was washing mushrooms, and Diana had stuck her head in to say, “No butter. And thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  “Where am I, by the way?” Min said as she began to dredge the chicken breasts.

  “Cal’s car broke down and you’re somewhere on 275,” Di said.

  “My car did not break down,” Cal said, stopping in mid-mushroom. “I keep that car in—”

  “Thank you, that’ll work,” Min said, and Diana left. “I know, but can you park your male pride for the night?”

  “What’
s in it for me?” Cal said.

  “My eternal gratitude,” Min said and leaned over the table and kissed him on the mouth, loving the way his mouth fit hers.

  “How much gratitude?” Cal said, leaning to follow her as she pulled away.

  “More than I can express in a single night,” Min said. “Slice some of those, will you? We need some for the salad.” She held the first chicken piece over the hot oil and stopped.

  “Problem?” Cal said.

  “No,” Min said and put down the chicken. She rummaged in one of the bags and pulled out a pound of butter. “You know,” she said as she opened the box, “you really can’t cook without a little butter.”

  “Yep,” Cal said and grinned at her.

  Min dropped a healthy pat into each of the four pans and inhaled the sweet smell. Then she smiled and dropped the chicken breasts in.

  “They’ll never know anyway,” Cal said.

  “My mother can smell butter on me three days after I’ve eaten it,” Min said. “She’ll know. I just don’t care. Tear up the romaine next, will you? I’ve got to steam beans.”

  Half an hour later, Tony and Roger showed up in white shirts and black bow ties with Bonnie behind them.

  “What?” Min said, trying not to laugh at the ties.

  “Yeah, you snicker now, but you’re going to be impressed later,” Tony said, and did water goblets faster than she could have imagined, as Roger slung fourteen plates in a row and squirted raspberry sauce on them in a pattern and then plated salads that looked like they’d come from the Ritz.

  “I’m impressed,” Min said.

  “So am I,” Bonnie said from her stool at the end of the table where she was cutting scallions into strips, and Roger beamed at her as Tony carried the glasses out.

  When Tony came back, he said, “They’re all out in the parlor, being polite. Di looks bored. Well, she did until she saw me in this tie.”

  “Must be hell,” Min said over the steaming pan of beans. “I’d much rather be in here with you guys. From now on, I’m catering all my mother’s dinners.”

  “Not once she tastes the butter,” Cal said, and helped Tony lay out another fourteen plates for the entrée.

  Ten minutes later, the plates were ready for the chicken, the chicken looked like heaven simmering in its dark wine sauce, the green beans were tossed with the almonds and tied into bundles with the scallion strips, and Min was talking to herself.