Reese's Wild Wager

by Barbara Mccauley

  “Table four would like a glass of Merlot,” Nell said as she breezed by with an order. “A diet soda at six and more bread at seven.”

  Sydney snapped her attention back to her work, poured the wine and soda, filled a new breadbasket, then carefully composed herself. After all, she thought with a grin, a full-grown woman skipping around an elegant restaurant serving food and drink would hardly be considered dignified, now, would it?

  “Get the wheelbarrow now and wheel me out.” Cara sat back in her chair with a satisfied groan, but still had her eyes on the last bite of chocolate éclair on her husband’s dessert plate.

  “Good thing you’ve got those expanding pants,” Ian said playfully. “I wouldn’t want our son to get too crowded in there.”

  Cara placed a hand on her stomach and smiled. “Look who’s talking. You ate an apple tart and an éclair.”

  “I couldn’t very well hurt Sydney’s feelings when she brought me an éclair on the house, could I?” And to make sure he didn’t, he finished the last bite, then sighed with delight.

  “We’d all be as big as houses if we ate like this every day.” Melanie pushed her own plate away. “I couldn’t force another bite.”

  “Maybe that’s because you don’t have another bite left,” Gabe teased, then pulled a sleepy Kevin onto his lap and smoothed his rumpled sandy-blond hair.

  “Sydney says she’s open for lunch on Thursdays and Fridays,” Abby said, still working on her own éclair. “Why don’t we come here after our dress fittings on Thursday?”

  The ladies all agreed, then Cara looked at Reese. “By the way, one of the males sitting at this table hasn’t gone in for their tux fitting yet.”

  Callan, Ian and Gabe all looked at Reese. Good grief, he thought, sinking in his chair, it was bad enough he’d put this noose called a tie around his neck tonight. Just the thought of wearing that monkey suit made his neck itch.

  “Monday,” he promised reluctantly, though he’d already planned on spending his day off with Sydney. Somewhere quiet and extremely private.

  When the conversation between the ladies shifted to talk about the wedding, seats were rearranged, separating ladies from men. While Gabe and Ian argued over the last Eagles-Cowboys game, Reese only half-listened as he scanned the café, hoping for a glimpse of Sydney. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of her serving wine to Mary Lou and Rhonda, who had come into the café with Emmett and Dean Farley, brothers who owned twenty acres of farmland just outside of town. Reese didn’t like the idea of Sydney waiting on the women after what they’d said about her. But Sydney was smiling and talking to them as if nothing had ever happened, so she must have let it go. Or was at least pretending that she had.

  His gut still twisted every time he remembered how she’d cried that night. He’d rather walk barefoot over broken glass than see her cry like that again.

  He didn’t know what she was doing to him, but he didn’t like it one little bit.

  When he wasn’t with her, he spent hours thinking about her. When he was with her, all he could think about—other than making love to her—was when he would see her again.

  He’d never done that with a woman before. Never wondered what she was doing when he wasn’t with her, or if she was thinking about him. If she was listening to the same song on the radio, maybe looking at the phone thinking she should call.

  She was driving him absolutely crazy.

  Maybe he should back off, he thought. Let things cool a little between them. Get his head on straight so he could think more clearly about them, about their relationship. Just the thought of that word and what it might mean had him slipping a finger under the knot of his tie and loosening it.

  Still, he watched her move about the restaurant, this new Sydney, who was softer, sweeter, more approachable. This was her night to shine and she was, literally. Her face glowed with pleasure, her eyes sparkled; it was all he could do not to drag her upstairs right now and make love to her. He glanced at his watch, figured he’d have to wait a couple of hours before he could manage to entice her away. And when he did, he was going to slowly strip that pretty silk suit off her, take his time as he opened every pearl button on her jacket, slide his hands inside—

  Realizing where his thoughts had gone and where he was, he caught himself, blinked, then turned back to the table.

  Gabe, Ian, Callan all stared at him, grinning like idiots. “What?” He wiped at his mouth.

  “Either he’s got a bad case of indigestion or he’s in love.” Callan draped his arms over the back of his chair.

  “They’re pretty much the same,” Gabe said knowingly. “But the way he’s looking at Sydney, I’d put five bucks down that says it’s love.”

  Reese shook his head and grinned right back at them. “Don’t count me in your little club of hearts and flowers, boys. This Sinclair is made of tougher stuff than that.”

  “He’s hooked.” Ian slapped a five-dollar bill on the table.

  “Big time.” Callan did the same.

  After the amazing meal that Reese had just eaten, he was too relaxed and satisfied to argue with anyone. Besides, it required patience when dealing with fools. “We’re two adults enjoying each other’s company, that’s all,” he said easily.

  “Well, we know Sydney is one of the adults,” Callan said. “So who’s the other?”

  “Didn’t you guys know?” Lucian slipped into the chair where Kevin had been sitting. “Reese told me that he and Sydney have an understanding.”

  Reese frowned at his brother, deciding he would definitely have to beat him up later. “I thought you had a date. She get scared off already by that ugly face of yours?”

  “She’s in the powder room.” Never one to let an opportunity pass to rile up a brother, Lucian leaned back in his chair and grinned. “You married guys all know the understanding. Whatever the woman says is the way it is, they insist you pick out rings and china together, only she decides what you’ll buy, that—”

  “What are you men talking about?” Frowning, Cara cut in. All the women were listening now.

  “Lucian was just giving us his opinions on marriage,” Reese said easily. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind repeating them for you.”

  The women all looked at Lucian, who was smart enough about the female gender to know it was time to get outta Dodge. “Oops, my date’s back. Gotta go.”

  Enjoying himself, Reese reached for the beer he’d been working on for the past hour, keeping an eye on the kitchen door that he’d seen Sydney go through a few minutes ago. The crowd had thinned out and he knew that she would be closing soon. He’d already decided he’d help her clean up and shut down so they could have their own private celebration of her opening night success.

  In fact, no reason not to get started now, he thought, anxious to get Sydney alone. He mumbled a goodbye to his family, then headed for the kitchen.

  “Reese Sinclair. There you are, you little devil.”

  Groaning silently, Reese found himself face-to-face with Mary Lou. Coming from the restroom, she wobbled toward him on four-inch heels, her eyes glazed over. Rhonda was with her, but she held back, obviously uncomfortable.

  He looked for a way out, but the women were between him and the kitchen. He glanced back over his shoulder at his family, hoping for some help from that corner, but they were all busy talking.

  Damn.

  “Mary Lou. Rhonda.” He didn’t smile, but good manners kept him from ignoring them completely. “Excuse me.”

  “Anytime you wanna play poker with me, honey,” Mary Lou said, slowly running one long red fingernail down the front of his tie, “just call. I won’t even care if you cheat to win.”

  Reese went very still, refrained from slapping her hand away. “You better get back to your table, Mary Lou. Emmett and Dean are waiting.”

  Rhonda tugged on her friend’s arm. “Let’s go, Mary Lou.”

  “Oh, come on, Reese,” Mary Lou said, slurring her words. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I
’m talking about. Marilyn told me she heard you tell Lucian that you and Sydney Taylor played poker because of your dog digging up her stupid flowers, and that you cheated to win just to knock her off that high horse of hers.”

  Reese glanced at the kitchen door, thankful that Sydney hadn’t come back out, then looked over his shoulder at Emmett and Dean, relieved when he saw them getting out of their chairs, looking embarrassed by Mary Lou’s rising voice. “You’re drunk,” he said tightly.

  “What a man won’t do to get a girl in bed.” Mary Lou laughed, and her voice rose even higher. “So, you into charity work these days, Reese? I’m sure Sydney was grateful for your philanthropic service, but—Hey!”

  Emmett grabbed hold of Mary Lou’s arm and practically dragged her toward the front door, while Dean and Rhonda hurried behind, gathering jackets.

  Reese drew in a slow breath to calm the anger pumping through him, then realized that the restaurant had gone quiet.

  The few customers who were still in the restaurant were staring, not at him, but past him. Oh, God, no.

  He saw her standing behind the countertop, where she’d been kneeling. A wine bottle still in her hand, she stared blankly at him, her face pale. She’d heard every damn word.

  “You cheated?” she whispered so softly he could barely hear her. “Just to teach me a lesson?”

  Panic slammed in his chest. “No, Syd, it wasn’t like that—”

  “You made me work for you, shell those stupid peanuts, then you actually let me believe that you—” She stopped, sucked in a breath, then smiled stiffly. “That’s a pretty good one, Sinclair. You must be some kind of hero around here, playing a joke like that on me, of all people. I gotta hand it to you, you are smooth.”

  “Dammit, Sydney, will you just let me—”

  “No, Reese.” Carefully, she set the wine bottle down. “I won’t let you.”

  She turned smooth as silk and walked back into the kitchen. He started to follow, but Nell blocked the doorway, her eyes narrowed and accusing. He considered picking her up and moving her, but realized if he touched the woman, he’d probably have assault added to his already long list of evil doings.

  He’d give her a little time to calm down. She’d understand once he explained what had really happened. That it hadn’t been the way Mary Lou said.

  At least, not exactly.

  Knowing that every female in the room would probably like to stick their butter knife in his back—including his own sister—he opted for retreat.

  On an oath, he grabbed his jacket, stalked out of the restaurant and didn’t look back.

  Eleven

  “Ten pounds of shrimp…twenty pounds of white fish…ten filets…”

  Pen in hand, Sydney sat at the counter and entered the items Nell recited onto her shopping list, pausing here and there to make adjustments on quantities. She’d be opening at eleven-thirty today, and she’d offered discounts, plus free desserts to all the employees of local businesses to come in at lunchtime.

  Her dream had come true.

  She’d been in business exactly six days, not counting Monday when she’d closed, and the café, so far at least, was a success. Her customers loved the food and atmosphere, not to mention the reasonable prices, and she was already booked for the weekend prime dinner hours.

  She should be dancing on this countertop Lucian put in, swinging from the chandelier, swigging champagne and laughing.

  She wanted to cry.

  She wouldn’t, of course. Not even for Reese would she let herself crumble into a pathetic little pile and bawl like a baby. She wanted to, but she refused to let the pain take control. Refused to let a broken heart turn her into some weepy, maudlin female. She would despise herself, and Reese, too, if she fell apart. In spite of what he’d done, the fool he’d made out of her, she couldn’t hate him. It would only be another lie to deny that she loved him, that she always would.

  She hadn’t answered any of the messages he’d left every day on the answering machine in her apartment, and when he’d called the café, she’d been polite, then told him she was busy and she’d call him back, but didn’t.

  Over time the pain would ease, she’d been there enough times to know that. She might take longer to heal this time, but she would. She had to.

  At least she had the café to keep her busy, occupy her mind and hands so she wouldn’t think about him every minute of every day…every night…

  “—six thousand pounds of pickled porcupine, five thousand pounds mongoose medallions, ten tubs of turtles—”

  “What?” Sydney glanced up. “Turtles?”

  Nell folded her arms and leaned across the counter. “Sydney, why don’t you call him?”

  “Call who?” She glanced back at her list and studied it as if it were a difficult algebraic problem.

  Nell pulled the list from Sydney’s stiff hand. “He’s called and sent flowers every day, Syd.”

  Sydney glanced at the huge vase of red roses that had just arrived. She allowed herself a moment to appreciate their beauty, then shook her head. “These are going back, just like the others,” she said firmly.

  A man had finally sent her flowers and she was sending them back. Funny how life worked out that way. Hilarious.

  Nell shrugged. “Maybe you should just listen to what he has to say.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  Reese.

  Her heart jumped at the sound of his voice. Slow breaths, she told herself. Slow, calming breaths.

  Shoulders squared, she glanced over her shoulder at him.

  He stood at the open door, watching her, his expression dark and somber. It pleased her that he looked a little ragged around the edges, but she supposed a guilty conscience did that to a person.

  She’d known that she’d have to face him sooner or later. They lived and worked on the same street, in a town that wasn’t all that big. “Good morning, Reese.” She offered a stiff smile. “What can I do for you?”

  Reese slid a look at Nell, who sighed, then shook her head as she headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll go place this order, Syd. You still want those turtles?”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  Reese frowned at the strange request, but he obviously had other things on his mind than Nell and turtles. He moved toward her, his jaw clenched tight. “You haven’t called me.”

  “I apologize.” Needing distance between her and Reese as much as needing something to do with her hands, she slid off the stool she’d been sitting on, moved behind the countertop and reached for the container of coffee she’d ground fresh a little while ago. “I’ve been busy here.”

  “We need to talk about this, Syd.”

  “All right.” She scooped the grounds into the basket, but lost count. She’d be damned if she’d recount in front of Reese. “I have about five minutes before I have to set up for lunch today.”

  “Dammit, Sydney.” He raked a hand through his dark hair. “You owe me more than five minutes.”

  She arched one brow, looked coolly at him as she flipped on the coffee machine. “We don’t owe each other a thing, Reese. We had fun for a few days, that’s all.”

  Like a caged cat, he began to pace. “Look, I know you’re upset because of what Mary Lou said the other night. I’m sorry about that. If you’ll just let me explain, we can—”

  “Did you—” she cut him off “—or did you not cheat when we played poker, with the intention of, and I quote, ‘knocking me off my high horse’?”

  “Well, sort of, but—”

  “I suppose there were side bets going on how long I’d tough it out working at the tavern.” She reached for a towel, wiped at the counter. “Then, of course, there’d certainly be bets on how long it would take you to get me into bed. You must have made a pretty penny there.”

  He moved on her so fast she didn’t even see him coming. One second she was wiping up some spilled grounds on the counter, the next second he had his hands on her arms and was holding her up
against his body.

  “Don’t say that.” His face was tight with anger. “Don’t ever say that. What happened between us wasn’t planned, and it sure as hell was mutual.”

  His anger surprised her, but she refused to let him intimidate her, or get through her defenses ever again. “You’re right, of course. Just because people like Mary Lou believe it’s true, well, what difference does it make what they think? So what if they have a few laughs at my expense? I can live with that.” She had lived with it for years. She’d survive.

  Somehow, she’d survive.

  A muscle jumped in his temple, but he slowly loosened his hold on her. “Other than I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. Tell me what to say, Syd.”

  Knowing he would never say the words she wanted to hear, she simply sighed. “A few flowers and ‘I’m sorry’s’ won’t make it okay, Reese,” she said softly, then drew in a breath to steady herself. “But I would like to put all this behind us and still be friends.”

  “Friends?” Startled, he dropped his hands away from her. “You want to be friends?”

  “If that’s all right with you.”

  A glint of something dark and primal shone in his eyes, then it was gone, as if a shade had been drawn. “Sure,” he said tightly. “Friends.”

  “Good.” She managed to force a smile, even though her heart was shattering slowly into tiny, jagged little pieces. She turned away from him and wiped at the counter again. “If you’ll excuse me now, I’ve got a hundred things to do. You know how it is in this business.”

  “Yeah. I know how it is.”

  He turned, started for the door.

  “Reese?”

  He stopped, glanced over his shoulder.

  “Did…did your family all know about what happened, I mean, before?”

  “Just Lucian, only because he guessed.”

  She closed her eyes with relief. She didn’t know how she would have managed, how she’d ever face them again, if they’d all known and had been laughing at her.