by Laura Burton
I grew quiet, pondering my options. “I’m going to have to go to the mainland and buy something, I think. I couldn’t think of anything in my closet that fits that criteria.”
“I’m sure I have something you can borrow. Didn’t make that trip. Come over this afternoon and I’ll fix you up.”
I looked at her doubtfully. “Bee. I can fit both of your skinny little runner booty cheeks in one of mine. I didn’t think that’s going to work.”
She pursed her lips. “You have an utterly misguided view of yourself. You might be a whole size larger than me, and I have dressed from all sizes.” A bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, and she stood, gathering up her trash and drink. “See you this afternoon?”
Rising to walk her to the door, I gave in with a shrug and a smile. “Why not?”
Chapter Two—ELLIE
“Madden, I’m telling you, that darn cat was aiming for me.” I hissed the words at Madden as he pulled my chair out to seat me. “It didn’t just slink out from Miss Mary’s forsythia and happen to be there. It lay in wait for me to walk by, and then jumped—”
“Lay in wait?”
“Yes! You have to admit that is not a good sign.”
His reply, right next to my ear as he bent to push me to the table, ruffled my hair and sent a shiver down my spine. “I only have to admit that you look especially amazing tonight. Where did that dress come from?”
I ran my palms over the navy-blue sequined sheath. “Bee loaned it to me.”
“And you’re not wearing your glasses.” He studied my face as though he’d never seen it without my glasses, those black-framed, thick-lensed things I despised.
“I figured contacts were a better look. Even if they are annoying as all get-out.” He lifted his chin in acknowledgement, knowing how much I hated the feel of the things in my eyes, and I turned to look around.
Outside the open window, lights from the pier and shoreline glinted off the inky depths of the Atlantic. Inside, I sat at a linen-covered table in one of the Outer Banks’ finest restaurants, elbow to elbow with a sexy man and the elite of east coast society.
I couldn’t think of many women who wouldn’t give their right arm to be me at that moment.
If I were truthful, though, I’d much rather be cooped up in my classroom, surrounded by this year’s batch of smart-alecky eighth graders who thought they ruled the school. Or grading their perfectly awful essays. Anything but this.
I couldn’t feel more out of place than if someone had dressed me in a clown suit and dropped me off at prom. I wouldn’t be here, zipped into this uncomfortable, albeit pretty, dress and trying to think of acceptable topics for polite conversation, if not for the sense of obligation and sisterhood I had for Bee.
There was a little tug on my chignon, and a hand settled on my shoulder. Twisting in my seat, I saw Bee and rose.
“The dress looks amazing on you,” she whispered, leaning in to hug me.
I pulled at the skirt of the simple but elegant dress. “Thank you for loaning it to me. It’s a little snug.”
“It’s supposed to be. Compliments those luscious curves. You should be showing them off.” Bee extended my arms to either side and studied me. “With your blonde hair and what’s left of your summer tan, it’s perfect.”
“Everyone here just looks so sophisticated,” I said, glancing over the crowd.
While the people around me chatted with one another, looking at ease in their fancy dress, I felt like a child playing dress-up in my borrowed dress that was a hair too small on my rear end.
One woman in particular caught my attention. Just feet away, she was sipping from a flute of champagne and standing next to Madden. As I watched from the corner of my eye, she eyed him over the rim of her glass and placed a hand on his forearm. Madden’s lips curved and he dipped his head closer to her.
My stomach tightened. Madden had always been such a man whore. I’d have thought, though, that he would forego a hook-up when he was out with me.
Bee was still talking. As I returned my attention to her, she looked past me and squeezed my hand. “I need to go. Rafe has his please save me expression on.” With a husky chuckle, she stepped around me to make her way to Rafe, who looked faintly hunted.
Bee’s fiancé, Rafferty Leighton, was a legit one-percenter. I tried to be cool around him, but I never thought I’d find myself in the company of someone who could use his money as toilet paper and never run low. So, I tended to behave very un-rico-suave around him fairly often. The rehearsal dinner was full of his stepmother and late father’s cronies—the kinds of people who looked down on my family because they were working class.
My family were the type of blue-collar workers they paid others to deal with; my mom a nurse in Charlotte hospital and my dad a garage-owner. We didn’t rub elbows with the caste of people present tonight.
I took a sip of my water. Dad would have gotten a kick out of coming to something like this. He’d make a point of saying outrageous things just to get a rise. He lived for the raised eyebrows and pursed mouths of people who thought themselves better than others.
Bee’s Rafe wasn’t like that, though. With everything I’d learned about him over the past several months, I’d discovered him to be a decent guy.
I’d kept company with him on several occasions, and each time he’d been curious about my life here on Ocracoke and friendly without being patronizing. He was also openly, unashamedly crazy about Bee.
I watched them, standing in their own private bubble across the restaurant. They were grinning at each other as though sharing some inside joke, Rafe reaching out a hand to smooth a piece of Bee’s hair behind her ear. Her hair looked fine, not a strand out of place. I had the thought he was just looking for an excuse to touch her.
A sigh escaped me. I’ll have what she’s having, please.
Regardless of how decent he was, though, I was worried about the wedding—or at least my role in it. That stupid black cat had darted out in front of me earlier today, and since nothing major had immediately happened that I could attribute to it, I was convinced the incident portended something unpleasant for Bee and Rafe’s event.
I couldn’t help it. I’d always been freakishly superstitious, courtesy of my freakishly superstitious family. My Irish grandma was born steeped in the beliefs of the auld country, as she called it, and she gifted me lore of leprechaun and fairy and luck good and ill from the moment I entered the world squalling. Her first act had been to tie a red satin ribbon around my ankle, a ward against fae mischief. I still had the silky scrap of fabric coiled in my jewelry case, a reminder of the feisty old woman I used to visit here on the island during the summers.
I never did manage to shake my habit of seeing signs of luck in the most innocent of occurrences. Forehead creased, I considered the potential for their day to go horribly wrong.
“Relax,” Madden murmured, his lips again close enough to my ear to ruffle the blonde hairs escaping my chignon.
I cleared my throat at the nerves it produced and put a couple of inches between us. “Am I that obvious?”
He leaned back in his seat and regarded me with pale green eyes. “You look about as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, is all.”
Could be because you keep sniffing me, I thought. “I’m trying, Madden. I don’t know why I’m so anxious.”
“I get it. That cat you told me about earlier has you all out of sorts. But there’s nothing to worry about, kid.” He placed his big hand on the back of my neck and squeezed.
Why on earth was Madden so touchy feely tonight? “I guess the cat could mean good luck. I’m never a hundred percent sure.”
“What do you mean? I thought it was standard that a black cat meant bad luck?”
“It’s the American belief that black cats are bad luck. The Irish think they foretell good fortune. You know I’m Irish-American—”
“Third generation, proud of it,” he interrupted with a low laugh.
“—right—so I never know which one I should go with it. I guess technically, maybe the two opposing beliefs could nullify each other, and a black cat can just be a simple black cat? Ugh. I’m giving myself a headache.” I flopped back in my seat.
Madden tipped his head back and laughed, long and loud. “You are adorable, kid.”
I ignored his statement. He was always saying stuff like that and it meant exactly nothing. He was my best friend, even more so than Bee, seeing as how I’d known him so long. Hence his presence as my fake date for the night’s rehearsal dinner and the wedding tomorrow. He’d sucked it up and been my fake date to more events than I could remember over the past several years. I didn’t even know why, other than he was more patient with me than I deserved. He certainly wasn’t getting anything out of being my wingman. I’d be a raving agoraphobic if he wasn’t around to channel his calm, reassuring sensibilities to me when something like the cat happened. Or if I saw a raven, heaven forbid. That only happened once, but I was a hot mess for days.
But Madden…I wasn’t sure why he sacrificed his time for me, over and over. Maybe he secretly enjoyed getting dressed up and shaving and spending hours socializing with strangers. Said no man, ever.
Madden turned back to the woman beside him as she tapped a scarlet nail against his arm. I lifted my water glass for another sip and scanned over the table, taking note of the silver, the crystal, the china plates gleaming in the establishment’s muted lighting. Marring the perfection of the scene was a sprinkling of salt next to its crystal shaker. Setting my water glass down, I traced my fingertip through it, wondering when it happened and to whom. Probably one of the wait staff.
Spilled salt was bad luck all around, though. Someone should have taken care of that. Glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention, I brushed the salt off the table into my palm.
“Ellie, what are you—”
Without answering, I flung the handful of salt over my shoulder, and then ran my fingers through my hair as if that had been my intention all along. I drummed my fingers on the surface of the table and ignored the shocked gasp of the woman a few chairs down, even as a bubble of laughter rose in my throat. Absolutely nothing to see here, folks. Just a girl, sitting beside a guy, tossing some salt over her shoulder.
Unfortunately, a muffled male exclamation rose from behind me in tandem with the action. I swung a look at Madden, whose shoulders shook silently as he busied himself covering his mouth with his napkin.
“There’s someone behind me, isn’t there?” I whispered.
He nodded. “Sure is, kid.”
I twisted in my chair until I saw one of the most handsome men to ever grace Ocracoke. The very handsome man I must have thrown salt on twenty seconds ago, judging from the baleful glint in his eyes.
He was tall, with the kind of polished, golden good looks that reminded me of the Ken doll I played with as a kid. He even had the blue-sky eyes. Bet he’s another one-percenter.
“I-I’m so sorry—” I stuttered out. “There was s-salt…it’s bad luck, you know. So I had to—" I mimed throwing the salt over my shoulder, feeling my face heat as I did so.
“Don’t worry about it,” the man said with a tip of his head that made me feel as if he had done me a courtesy. He smiled, all even white teeth. “I enjoy beautiful women throwing things at me.”
Behind me, I heard Madden snort and tried to ignore it. The man smiling down at me was divine. Greek god-like. He brooked no interruption, not even from Madden. My face flamed hotter at his flirtatious words and my eyes traveled up... up... taking in the full length of his tall, lean form in its fitted tuxedo.
“That’s ... er... kind of you.” I slapped a mental palm to my forehead. Smooth, Ellie. You are so smooth.
His lips twitched. “I’m Gavin Fitzhughes.”
“Hello, Mr. Gavin,” I mumbled. Why was he still standing here? Why was he talking to me? Looking at me with those intent eyes? I squirmed away from the poke of a large finger in my ribs.
“Allow me to introduce you. Ellery, meet Gavin Fitzhughes. Gavin, Ellery James.” Madden spoke from behind me and I cringed at my own awkwardness. Duh. “And I’m — ”
“Madden Cahill,” Gavin interrupted. “I know who you are. We went to school together, actually. I followed your career.” The two men clasped hands for one of those brief, take-your-measure handshakes that men liked to indulge in, Madden eying Gavin narrowly. I rolled my eyes. It never failed that any man that was even the smallest bit interesting started genuflecting when Madden made his appearance. Sometimes I could have sworn he did it on purpose, except why would he bother? A former quarterback for the Carolina Panthers, Madden was still a bit of a celebrity even several years after his retirement. Zoning out the ensuing discussion of plays and people and events I didn’t care anything about, I turned back to the table and began tearing a roll into chunks.
“Ah, I remember you, now.” Madden’s comment a few minutes later caught my attention.
“Yeah, what’s it been? Ten years or so?”
“Something like that.”
Gavin fell silent, but that was all Madden said. Rubbing the side of his nose, Gavin continued after a moment. “Well, anyway, I noticed this stunning creature from across a crowded room, and was headed her way when I was so rudely assaulted with flying salt... I thought I’d see if she was with anyone. I guess that’s you, Cahill?”
With a jolt, I realized Greek God Gavin was referring to me. Stunning. My inner romantic swooned and fluttered her eyelashes. My outer awkward-self munched on a piece of bread and pretended not to eavesdrop. Then Madden’s elbow was in my ribs.
“Ouch! What is it with you and my ribs?” I rubbed my side and glared before shifting my gaze to Gavin. “I’m sorry, I missed that?”
Gavin’s expression was amused. “Cahill said you guys were just friends. I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime?”
“Oh.” I wondered if it would be rude to ask what his birthday was. The seventh or third of any month would be good, but the thirteenth... I shuddered. Disaster. Both Madden and Gavin were staring. “Uh, sure, yes. I’d love to.”
“Excellent. I’m going to leave my number... send me a text so I can give you a call?”
I nodded, accepting the card he handed me. “Thanks. I’ll see you later, I guess?”
With an enigmatic smile, Gavin gave me a small salute and strolled away.
I huffed out the breath I was holding and turned back to the table. “Welp, good news is, I’m not sure I can be any more awkward.”
Madden snagged the card from my fingers. “I’ll hold on to this for you.”
He knew me far too well; that card would be toast before the first course. “So?”
“So what?” We reseated ourselves and Madden started to butter his roll.
“So, is he a good guy? Okay to go out with? Did I hear correctly that you knew each other?”
He snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far, but yes, there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s successful, treats women fine. From everything I remember, he’s a decent guy. You’ll be fine with him.”
“Ha. The decent ones are always running for the hills after ten minutes with the crazy chick.”
“Stop that.” Madden’s expression grew stern. “You’re not a crazy chick and I’m tired of you saying crap like that about yourself. Repeat after me: you’re a catch.”
“You’re a catch,” I repeated.
Madden rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant, smart-aleck. Try again.”
“I’m a catch.”
“You’re a keeper.”
I pursed my lips. “I’m a keeper.”
“You’re a—”
I held up a hand. “Enough. I get it. I am da bomb and dude should bow down and lick my toes.”
“I reserve the sole right to toe-lick.”
“Whatevs.” I drank yet another a sip of my water—at this rate, I’d be running to the toilet in no time—and watched as Ma
dden scanned the room. “Thanks for coming with me, Madden.” My words were quiet, but he heard and slipped a hand under the table to squeeze my thigh.
“Anytime, kid.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You’re the best big non-brother a crazy chick could have, you know that?”
Chapter Three—MADDEN
You’re the best big non-brother a crazy chick could have.
I swallowed and turned my attention to the person sitting on the other side of me, plastering a strained smile on my face while I said something in response to her flirtatious comment. I couldn’t have told you what I replied, but it apparently made sense, judging from the hand she laid on my arm.
I looked down at it in consternation. The woman, Janna something, was plucking that last nerve. I’d gone out with her once, long ago, but she couldn’t seem to take the hint that I was not interested. I was here with another woman and she couldn’t be bothered to keep her hands to herself.
Ellie, on the other hand…that girl was killing me. Slaying me with every awkward action and artless word. I hadn’t had a brotherly thought toward Ellie James since the moment she made an appearance at my North Carolina college years ago.
Before Ellie moved to Ocracoke as an adult, we’d been next door neighbors and had gone through grade school together. She was my little buddy, the kid who tagged along after me with stars behind those coke bottle lenses. While in theory I knew she would move on to college like I had, I hadn’t given much thought to what she would end up doing, where she would end up going. I never banked on seeing her on my turf.
I’d spotted her sitting by herself in the dell, studying if the books spread out around her were any indication. She was new to campus, a freshman while I was in my junior year and kind of a big deal due to my status on the football team.
“Ellie?” I’d stopped in front of her, watching for a second before I spoke.
She’d grown up since I’d last seen her, around three years earlier. She’d been a skinny little sophomore, and I was a senior on my way out the door of our high school, so I remember not having as much time for hanging out as we’d done in the past.