by Cindi Myers
Casey stuck her tongue out at her husband, and the tender look that passed between them made Angela’s heart turn over. Jealousy, as green and hard as emeralds, lanced through her. This was what she wanted—the kind of love that went as deep as bedrock, making every darkness lighter and every happiness greater.
“You okay?” Bryan touched her arm.
“What?” She blinked at him. “Sure. I’m fine.”
“You spaced out there for a minute.”
“I have a lot on my mind, I guess. I’d better get back to my float. This looks great.”
“See you after the parade,” he said.
“After?”
“Our coffee date.”
She hadn’t really forgotten, just momentarily put it from her mind. “Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you at Trish’s place, okay?”
“Great.” His smile was so bright, she was still a little blinded as she made her way back to the theater float.
The parade entrants were ordered to line up. Angela’s group ended up right behind the Long Winter’s Nap bunch. As the floats made the turn onto Elk Avenue, Casey jumped out from under the covers to reveal a lacy, ruffled peignoir set in bright red. Red-feather–trimmed high-heeled mules peeked from beneath the billows of scarlet silk as Max, an exaggerated leer on his face, began to pursue her around the bed.
The little charade was greeted with loud laughter from the crowd. “It’s the Red Lady,” a spectator shouted.
Angela applauded with the rest at this play on the familiar name for the iconic peak that loomed over town. The Red Lady was a mountain, but also a character that had come to represent the community. Incorporating her into their skit for the hotel was a stroke of genius on Casey’s part.
Down the street the floats rolled, to the strains of the high school marching band, recorded music from boom boxes strapped to floats and a serenade by the polka band. Angela and Tanya tossed candy from their float, while Austin and Alex urged everyone to attend the final performance of I Hate Hamlet that evening at the Mallardi Cabaret.
Angela spotted a number of familiar faces among the tourists who lined the parade route: Hagan was there with Maddie; Tanya’s parents and her brother, Ian, had staked out a prime spot in front of the post office. Couples and families watched and waved, enjoying the parade and being together.
“Is this almost over?” Tanya asked out of the side of her mouth as they neared the end of the street.
“We have to turn around and go back the way we came,” Angela said. “Why? Aren’t you having fun?”
“I feel ridiculous, up here on display,” Tanya said. “Waving and grinning like an idiot.”
“But you’re on display every night at the theater,” Angela said.
“But I’m playing a role there. This is me making a fool of myself in front of all my neighbors and friends.”
“You’re not making a fool of yourself.”
“Guess I’m not as brave as you are.”
The float lurched, and Angela had to grab hold of a side railing to keep from falling. As they turned around and prepared to head back up the street, she thought about Tanya’s assessment of her. Frankly, she did usually think of herself as brave, or at least not easily intimidated. She was a strong woman who went after what she wanted, whether it was opening her own business or landing a part in a play.
So why was she behaving so differently with Bryan? Why was she letting fear get the best of her?
The floats made their second pass, where they were greeted by the crowd almost as enthusiastically as they had been the first time. The king and queen waved regally from the backseat of a red convertible, followed by a float featuring the Has Beens—past kings and queens in their homemade robes and crowns.
“Are you coming to the theater?” Tanya asked as she and Angela climbed off their float.
“Later,” Angela said. “Right now I have to meet someone.” She hurried away before Tanya could question her further.
She made it to Trish’s coffee shop before Trish or Bryan had arrived. Trish’s helper, Kristen, was behind the counter. “Can I use your ladies’ room?” Angela asked.
“Sure.” Kristen nodded toward the curtain that led to the back room.
In the restroom, Angela changed out of her costume into jeans and a shirt. She fluffed her hair, slicked on bright pink lipstick and studied her reflection. Not great, but at least she didn’t look like an old lady anymore.
She stuffed the costume in a bag and returned to the front of the store in time to greet Trish, Zephyr and Bryan. “The float was a big hit,” she said. “I bet you win first prize.” The local newspaper awarded blue ribbons to floats in various categories, including those presented by businesses.
“Have you talked to Mr. Phelps yet?” Trish asked Bryan. “Did he think it was too risqué?”
“Who cares if he did?” Bryan asked. “It was a great float. I heard a lot of people talking about it.” He sat at the table with Angela. “What can I get you?”
“A chocolate chai,” she said.
“As long as you’re buying, I’ll have a large mocha.” Zephyr sat in the chair on Angela’s other side.
Bryan gave his friend a pointed look. “Don’t you have somewhere else you need to be?” he asked.
“Nope.” Zephyr leaned back. “Though I was thinking about checking the snow over on the North Face tomorrow. Our last chance before the lifts shut down. You free?”
“We’ll talk about it later.” Bryan looked at Angela. “I’m kind of busy right now.”
Trish came out from around the counter and took hold of Zephyr’s arm. “Come on,” she said. “Haven’t you heard three’s a crowd?”
“Sure I’ve heard it. What does it have to do with…” His eyes widened and he looked from Angela to Bryan and back to Angela. “Oh, I get it,” he said. “This is a date. Sorry to intrude, bro.” Grinning, he backed away, watching them until Trish pulled him out of sight behind the curtain that separated the front of the store from the back rooms.
Angela shifted nervously in her chair. So much for keeping things low-key. “Don’t mind him,” Bryan said. “Zeph always has to play the clown.”
“It’s okay.” She forced her shoulders to relax and accepted her cup of tea from Kristen. “He is funny. And he and Trish make a cute couple.”
“An odd couple, you mean.” He sipped his coffee. “But I think they really care about each other.”
“I think they do, too. And that’s what matters, right?”
“Right.”
They both fell silent, only the tick of a wall clock and the hum of the refrigerator disturbing the peace. Angela wondered if Bryan was thinking of them as another odd couple. Or did he have something else on his mind?
“When are you leaving for Broomfield?” he asked.
“Monday. As soon as I can get away.”
“Are you looking forward to the trip?”
“Yes, and no.” She peered into her cup, as if the right words to explain her ambivalence were written there. “I always look forward to seeing my mom, and I anticipate all the wonderful times we’ll have, shopping and going to the movies and doing the whole mother-daughter bonding thing. And then I get to her house, and reality is never as rosy as my daydreams.”
“I know what you mean,” he said. “I go home for Thanksgiving every year. It’s the traditional big family gathering, and it’s a lot of fun. But about noon on the third day, I’m ready to puncture my own eardrums if I have to listen to Aunt Matilda tell her bunion operation story one more time, or endure another of my dad’s What’s-Wrong-With-Young-People-Today lectures. My mother treats me like I’m ten years old, and my sister and I squabble over the same things we did as kids.” He smiled. “I guess there’s some comfort in knowing things never change, but by Sunday morning, I’m really ready to come back to Crested Butte. This place feels more like home now than the house I grew up in.”
She nodded. “And people here really are like a family,” she said. “A somet
imes strange, non-traditional family.”
“Complete with eccentric relatives, like Zephyr.”
“And interesting people you’d like to get to know better.” Their eyes met and this time she didn’t shy away from the warmth she saw there, but added her own heat. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.
“About us?” he asked.
She nodded. “Would you like to come to dinner at my place?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes. When?”
“Tomorrow night? The play closes tonight, so I’ll have the evening free.”
“I’d like that.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’d like that a lot.”
She took a long sip of tea, hoping to wash down the sudden knot in her chest. It was only dinner. Nothing more. But she and Bryan both knew it was a lot more. Here was her chance to start something with a great guy. Or at least to find out what he really wanted from her.
THAT EVENING, before the final performance of I Hate Hamlet, Angela was a nervous wreck, as jittery as if she’d been living on espresso and chocolate. But it wasn’t worry about the play that distracted her; all she could think of was Bryan and their impending dinner date. Tanya finally pulled her aside during rehearsals. “What is wrong with you?” she asked. “You’re in another world today.”
“Bryan kissed me last week.” She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but she couldn’t hold them back. She had to confide in someone. Maybe talking with Tanya would help her sort out her feelings, which alternately soared and sank, as if she were strapped in the car of a crazy carnival ride.
“And?” Tanya asked.
“And what? He kissed me. Twice, actually.”
“You’ll have to do better than that. I want details. Where did he kiss you?”
“On the mouth. What—do you think I’d get so flustered over a buss on the cheek?”
Tanya shook her head. “Where were you when he kissed you? With a bunch of other people?” She lowered her voice. “Or were you in a dark, secluded corner?”
“The first time was at Austin’s party, but we were alone.” The moment had passed so quickly; only later had she realized how on edge she’d been all evening, anticipating it.
“And the second time?” Tanya prompted.
“The second time was in my car.” Heat flooded her cheeks at the memory of their passionate grappling in the awkward confines of the front seat.
“And?” Tanya asked.
Angela twisted her hands together and shook her head.
“What are you doing, auditioning for Lady Macbeth?” Tanya nudged her. “If you don’t want to tell me anything, just say so, but don’t tease me.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Angela said. “He kissed me and he told me he wants to see me again, but I don’t know what it means.”
“It means he wants to see you again. Don’t be such a ninny. It’s not like you.”
She took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m being silly. I don’t have anything to worry about.” She forced a smile that she hoped conveyed more confidence than she felt. “He’s coming to dinner at my place tomorrow night.”
“That’s wonderful!” Tanya squeezed her arm. “Good for you.”
Angela let the smile slip. “Please give me some advice,” she said. “I’m not sure I know how to do this.”
“Of course you do. You’ve dated before.”
“It’s been awhile.” Longer than she wanted to admit.
“Only because you turn everybody down,” Tanya said. “I know for a fact Jerry Rydell asked you out the first week I was here.”
“Jerry asks everyone out. If a woman with no teeth and crossed eyes moved to town, Jerry would be on her doorstep asking for a date within a week.”
“But he’s not the only one who’s asked you. I’ve seen the way men look at you. Don’t tell me you don’t notice.”
“I know how they look at me. They’re wondering if I’d crush them if we went to bed together.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“This whole situation is ridiculous.”
“No, it’s not.” Tanya shoved her again. “A good-looking, gainfully employed, sober man who doesn’t have a criminal record, an ex-wife or kids, is crazy about you. What else are you holding out for?”
“Isn’t there such a thing as too good to be true?” Angela asked, wincing at the pleading note in her voice.
“Not this time. Just…go for it. Stop being a ninny.”
Angela drew herself up straighter. “I’m not being a ninny.”
“Yes, you are. Now, tell me what you’re going to feed him.”
“I have this really good shrimp in peanut sauce recipe,” she said. “I was thinking about that, with pasta and a salad.”
“And for dessert?”
“I was thinking a chocolate torte. You can’t go wrong with that, right?”
“No, I meant the dessert after the dessert. Are you going to sleep with him?”
“Tanya!”
“You have to think about these things, be prepared. You don’t want to let the heat of the moment overtake you. If the answer is no, you have to think of the right way to tell him that. If the answer is yes, you have to shave your legs, put clean sheets on the bed and make sure you have protection.”
Angela put a hand over her eyes. “If I walk into the City Market and buy a box of condoms, the whole town will know by nightfall.”
“So, drive to Gunnison. Just don’t take any chances on being caught unprepared.”
Angela took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m being silly. I’m going to focus on enjoying a wonderful evening and not worry about the future.”
“Great. In the meantime, we have a play to perform. Can you pull it together enough to try the scene again?”
“Yes. And thanks for talking me off the ledge.”
“What’s a director and a best friend for? But don’t call me Sunday night. You’re on your own then. I know you’ve got good instincts, so use them.”
Chapter Nine
As Bryan dressed for his dinner with Angela, he tried to tell himself this was a date like hundreds of others he’d had. Dinner with a woman who interested him.
But everything with Angela felt different. More…significant. Angela represented new territory—a woman he wanted who he wasn’t sure wanted him. He’d be lying if he said his ego hadn’t been a little bruised by her reluctance to respond to his advances. But more than his vanity was on the line here. He wanted Angela to see him as the man he was trying to be—mature, responsible, with big plans for the future.
Plans he was sure could include her—if she’d let him be a part of her life.
He knocked on her door promptly at seven o’clock and struggled not to fidget while he waited for her to answer. He had raised his fist to knock again when the door swung open. He had the impression of a fall of shining dark hair, deep blue silk in soft folds around her, and the subtle scent of roses and cinnamon. Then their eyes met and he forgot everything else in the warm welcome he found there.
“Come in,” she said, and held the door open wider.
“You look great,” he said, as he followed her through the front room into a large open space filled with an antique oak table and chairs.
“Thank you.” She smiled over her shoulder at him. “You look very nice yourself, but then, you always do.”
“You only think that because you haven’t known me very long,” he said. “You should see me after a softball game. You won’t want to come near me then.”
“Hmmm.” She walked to a sideboard and picked up a bottle of wine. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Let me open that,” he said, taking the bottle and corkscrew from her.
“All right.” She stepped back and watched as he twisted the opener into the cork.
He could feel her gaze on him as he struggled to free the cork, her silence unnerving. “How did the performance go last night?” he asked.
“It went
well, I think. One of our better-attended performances.”
“That’s great.” He yanked the cork free and poured wine into two glasses. “I wish I could have seen the play again,” he said, handing her a glass. “I was so busy watching you the first time, I didn’t pay much attention to the story.”
He felt absurdly gratified by the pink blush that rose to her cheeks. “Shame on you,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “You’d better not let Tanya hear that.”
“I won’t be the one to tell her.” He winked, and her cheeks flushed hotter still. This was a side to the serious Ms. Krizova he hadn’t seen before—a softer, more vulnerable side that bolstered his own confidence.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“I’m hungry for a lot of things,” he said, his gaze locked to hers. He reasoned he might as well go for broke tonight. She might end up kicking him out, but one way or another, before the evening ended he’d know how she really felt about him.
She turned away. “I hope you’re not allergic to shrimp or peanuts,” she said, starting toward the kitchen.
Even if he had been, he probably would have risked breaking out in hives before he said anything. “I love shrimp and peanuts,” he said. He followed her into the cramped space where an old-fashioned gas stove and newer side-by-side refrigerator were crowded alongside a small butcher-block-topped counter. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing, really. It’s a tight fit in here.” She opened the refrigerator and stepped back as he moved forward. They collided, her soft backside against his thighs.
He acted on pure instinct, his arms going around her, the heat of her skin seeping through the cool silk. He leaned forward, inhaling deeply. “I like your perfume,” he said. “Very sexy.”
She whirled around so quickly she almost hit him in the nose. “Why don’t you go wait in the dining room?” she said. “I’ll bring the food right out.”
He smiled. If nothing else, her uncharacteristic nervousness showed he had some effect on her. He retreated to the dining room and moments later she appeared with two salad plates.
They sat across from each other. She kept her gaze firmly on her plate; he watched her. Her hair was a rich caramel color. He remembered how soft it had been when he’d twined his fingers in it as they kissed.