Almost a Bride

by Jo Watson

  “Please don’t make me beg,” Chris whispered. His hands left my shoulder and traveled down my arms. His fingertips grazed them gently as they went, and my skin screamed.

  “The way I see it”—Chris’s hands continued all the way down until they found mine—“we have a few days together, let’s just make the most of them.”

  “Make the most of them,” I repeated. Those words made me feel so sad.

  ‘“What do you say, our first date?”

  “And possibly our last,” I mumbled.

  “Let’s not think about that right now, let’s just enjoy ourselves tonight.”

  My heart and head were screaming very different things. One wanted to say yes, but the other wasn’t so sure this was a great idea. But in the end one voice came out on top. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”

  Moments later I was upstairs, rummaging through my suitcase looking for something vaguely date-ish. It hadn’t occurred to me to bring anything other than simple beach attire, and since my previous shopping spree had proven so unsuccessful and yielded no results, I currently found myself seriously fashionably challenged. There was only one slightly promising item, a simple white sleeveless shift dress that had a bit of lace detailing around the neckline. I slipped it on and noticed it was slightly tighter in a few places. Damn, why the hell didn’t I love kale and quinoa more?

  I fastened my hair into a loose, messy bun. Some wavy, rebellious tendrils fell down into my face and I tucked them behind my ears. I coated my lashes with some mascara, splashed a little highlighter onto my cheeks, and smeared on a good dollop of translucent pink lip gloss. This was as good as it got under the circumstances, I’m afraid. Shit, suddenly I was feeling nervous. It was crazy how a little four-letter word changed absolutely everything about this evening…

  D-a-t-e.

  I gave myself one last mirror check and was ready to go. I walked out onto the deck and took a deep breath. The evening smelled sweet and tropical, and the night was perfect. Warm, with the slightest hint of a breeze to take the edge off the heat. All in all, it was the perfect weather for a romantic date. I started walking downstairs and saw Chris standing at the bottom with his back to me. My sandal made a noise on the stair and he swung around.

  “Wow.” His mouth fell open and his eyes widened. I couldn’t help the fluttery feeling that filled my stomach.

  “You look incredible.” Chris took a step closer and I could see that he’d also gotten dressed up for the occasion. He’d actually “styled” his hair; that is to say it looked like he’d dragged a brush through it. He was also wearing a nonstained shirt and a pair of smartish-looking jeans. Halfway down the stairs I could smell him. The warm, rich, welcoming scent of musky sandalwood.

  “Thanks. You look pretty handsome yourself.” I tried to give him a vaguely normal-looking smile, not a doe-eyed, eyelash-batting one.

  “The white dress really complements your sunburn.”

  “Oh thanks.” I felt a little deflated. “Give me a compliment and then take it away, why don’t you.”

  It was obvious Chris could see what I was feeling, because he quickly added, “Annie Anne, surely by now you’ve noticed that I deflect with humor. It’s my defense mechanism. You know…if something feels too real, I make a joke. If something feels too awkward…I make a joke.”

  “Is this awkward? We don’t have to make this a date, you know.” My heart sank at the thought that he might take me up on it and back out.

  A coy look played on his face. “Well, I always feel awkward in the presence of a really hot chick.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You must be surrounded by hot Hollywood starlets all the time! I bet they all fawn over you, hoping you’ll write them a starring role in your next movie, or—”

  He shrugged. “That still doesn’t mean you’re not one hot chick.” He flashed me the kind of smile that might make me trip over something.

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, Annie, Annie, Annie, what am I going to do with you?” He shook his head and looked at me, and suddenly I was on a roller coaster going through a million stomach-churning loops.

  He stepped forward. “Shall we?” He had a dangerous glint in his eye and I couldn’t help but notice how his gaze flicked up and down my body as I got closer and took his arm. I felt naked under his intense gaze, and I liked it. What would it feel like to really be naked with him?

  I laced my arm through his. “Lead the way.”

  “Oh, I will.” He winked at me playfully and a chill ran up my spine.

  We walked arm in arm without saying another word. Our legs moved together in unison, we swayed as one, and it felt like our bodies were totally in tune with each other. I couldn’t help but wonder in what other ways our bodies would be in tune.

  “Where’re we going?” I asked as we walked past the restaurant that we’d eaten in the other night.

  “You didn’t think I’d take you to that old place on our first date, did you?”

  “So where then?”

  “No idea. I asked the hotel to recommend the best first date place and call a taxi for us.”

  We walked through the lobby and out to where the car was parked. The idea of getting out of the resort was very appealing. As big as it was, there was something very claustrophobic about being there with Trevv and Tess. Especially since they’d rudely moved in next door.

  The car started moving, and I sat back and watched as the scenery around us changed. We drove inland, away from the coast toward the green fields of the sugar cane plantations. Soon we climbed higher and higher up a narrow winding road. Finally, we drove through huge wrought iron gates and up a long driveway. I gasped when I saw what was in front of us.

  “It’s amazing.” I was in awe of the huge mansion sprawled at the end of the drive.

  A long driveway took us all the way up to the front of the house, a massive plantation home that must have been nearly two hundred years old. An imposing fountain stood in the middle of the driveway, and when I opened the door and stepped out, tiny droplets of water flicked up and landed on my skin. Inside, everything was formal and romantic, oh so romantic. Candlelight, flowers, soft music in the background—the hotel was right; this was a perfect first date place. We were ushered to a table by the window and sat. A live jazz band was playing, which only added to the overall romance of the place. And when you looked out the window, you could see all the way down to the coast, which was now far in the distance.

  “Wine?” Chris asked, opening the menu.

  “Actually”—I pointed at the colorful, tropical thing that wafted past me on the waiter’s tray—“I’ll have one of those.”

  “Are you trying to get drunk, Annie Anne?”

  “Maybe.” I smiled playfully.

  “Because you know…” He leaned across the table and our eyes met. His voice had changed; it was like liquid sex. What was he doing? “The other night when you got a little tipsy, I was a total gentleman, but now that we’re dating, I might not be.”

  How was it possible to feel the sound waves of his voice travel along my spine?

  “I thought you hadn’t been on a date in a while.”

  “I haven’t.” He was still holding my gaze and wielding that sexy voice that had the power to turn me into a puddle. “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just, you seem rather good at it. Well practiced.”

  Chris shook his head. “I’m just good at this with you, Annie Anne.”

  How had he delivered that line so perfectly? How was it that I felt drunk on his words? I wasn’t sure I even needed that cocktail now; Chris had intoxicated me. I wasn’t hungry anymore, either. My stomach was too full of nerves.

  “I don’t have sex on the first date, anyway,” I whispered so no passersby would hear. It was true, too; I didn’t. It was more of a fourth, fifth date kind of thing.

  “I didn’t think you did.”

  “Well as long as we get that straight. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m the kind of girl you can
take advantage of, even though we’ve already been kissing up a storm.”

  “I would never take advantage of you, Annie. In fact…” The sexy tone in his voice was gone now and he sounded serious.

  “What?”

  “I have to ask you something. I’ve been wanting to ask you this for a while, and before this goes any further, I need to know something.”

  “Oh God, what? This sounds serious.”

  “Trevv? What did you ever see in him? I just cannot imagine the two of you together, no matter how hard I try.”

  “Oh, that.” I hung my head and then took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot actually.”

  “And? Please tell me you’ve arrived at a reason that makes some kind of sense. Because how could someone like you, someone smart, funny, down-to-earth, adorable, be with a total fucking douche bag like him?”

  “I wasn’t that down-to-earth before. My recent poverty has changed that somewhat, I think.”

  “I can’t really imagine that,” Chris said.

  “It’s true. I think I used to be a bit shallow before. Looks, status, what was cool…those things were important to me. I think Trevv fit into that.”

  “Well, I’m nothing like him, and if that is what you like—”

  “No! No, I don’t like that anymore. In fact, I think I like something completely different now. A lot.” I managed to raise my eyes up to meet his, even though I felt so naked and vulnerable by the blatant confession of feelings I’d just made. Chris smiled.

  “I’m glad, Annie. My tastes seem to have changed rather drastically, too.”

  The waiter walked up to our table and disturbed our perfect moment. “Two glasses of champagne for you.” He placed the flutes on the table.

  “We didn’t order this.” Chris started giving the glass back.

  “It’s from that gentleman sitting over there.”

  Gentleman? He didn’t warrant the name. It was Trevv, sitting about seven tables over from us. Tess waved at us and then Trevv gave us an upbeat thumbs-up.

  “It’s the Krug Clos du Mesnil Blanc de Blancs,” the waiter said in a tone that sounded like he was trying to elicit awe.

  “What the hell is the Krug de Clog de Blank de Blank whatever?” Chris asked.

  The waiter blinked at Chris. “Sir, it’s the most expensive champagne we have on the menu here.”

  “Really?” Chris looked wildly unimpressed. “Is everything with this guy always a competition?” he asked me.

  “I guess so.” It was true. Trevv was always trying to prove he was better than everyone else, even when we were dating. It hadn’t really gotten to me back then; in fact, I’d thought there was something sexy in his self-assured confidence. Now all I saw was arrogance.

  “What are the cheapest, nastiest drinks you have on the menu?” Chris asked the waiter.

  The man did a slight double take. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me.”

  “We don’t have”—he cleared his throat as if he was trying to dislodge something that was stopping him from saying the words—“cheap, nasty things on the menu. But we do have a cocktail and shooter menu on the back of the wine page.”

  “Chris, just leave it. Can’t we just ignore them tonight?”

  “No, we can’t, Annie. I am so sick and tired of this guy trying to make you feel bad about yourself. He’s always trying to prove how much better he is than you and how much better his life is than yours. I’ve had enough of him putting you down like this. Someone needs to fight back for you. And that someone is going to be me.”

  I smiled and blushed and went gooey all at once. No one had ever stood up for me like this; in fact, since I’d met Chris, that’s all he’d done. Jumping in to rescue me when I needed him. Playing Boyden—albeit badly at times—and for no other reason than just to be nice to me.

  A filthy four-letter word started beating around in my brain. The filthiest, and most dangerous of all…

  L-o-v-e…I was falling. Hard. I just hoped there was something at the bottom to cushion the blow.

  I watched as Chris flipped through the menu. His eyes moved from left to right as he scanned the various options. Then they stopped. They widened and a smile broke out across his face. He slowly lowered the menu.

  “Please, with our compliments of course, would you send them two ‘slippery nipples’?”

  Loud, giddy laugher fell from my lips. “No! You’re not.” I clapped my hands over my mouth in a mixture of shock and sheer delight.

  “Watch me.” Chris slapped the menu down triumphantly and turned to Tress. He shot them a friendly smile, a wave, and then two thumbs-up. We turned back to each other and waited. I wanted to squeal with excitement, and it was obvious that Chris felt the same way. I felt like a naughty schoolchild that had just done something bad and was waiting for the consequences.

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny!” Trevv’s voice cut through the chatter and clink of knives and forks. A few patrons looked up curiously.

  “Just having a bit of a ripper with you, mate,” Chris said in his broadest Australian accent. He shot them an even bigger smile. “All in good spirits, right?”

  Suddenly I burst out laughing. It was the kind of laughter that came with rolling tears and shaking shoulders. Chris joined in, and soon we were both choking on our hysteria. The patrons that had looked up before were now staring, and we were definitely destroying the romantic ambiance that this place obviously worked so hard to preserve.

  Our waiter came sliding up to us again, and I half expected him to ask us to keep quiet, only he didn’t. He placed two red drinks in front of us.

  “From the other table.” The man’s voice was low and whispery, and he leaned toward a still-laughing Chris. And then, in a split second, everything changed. I didn’t hear what the waiter said to Chris, but suddenly he wasn’t laughing.

  “That’s it. Someone needs to teach this asshole his place,” he roared. And then in one swift movement he was out of his chair and striding across the room toward Trevv.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I watched in horror as Trevv jumped out of his chair like a jack-in-the-box.

  “Oh yeah? Want to try me, mate?” Trevv sneered the word and then threw his napkin down on the table, knocking the two shooters onto the floor.

  The sounds of shattering glass filled the room. Followed by the sounds of gasps, of knives and forks being put down, and chatter. I jumped out of my seat and started making my way through the tables toward the eye of the storm.

  Trevv stepped forward and dramatically shot a hand out and pointed a finger at Chris. He looked ridiculous, like some Spanish matador trying to pull a Michael Jackson dance move.

  And Chris looked equally ridiculous. He’d stopped in front of the table and thrown his hands onto his hips. it was all very “Vogue / Strike a pose.”

  “Well, maybe I will do something about it. Okay!” Chris boomed, holding his fashionably fierce pose and stamping a foot down.

  “Oh yeah?” Trevv boomed.

  “Yeah,” Chris echoed loudly.

  Trevv made a loud, sarcastic tutting noise and rolled his eyes dramatically. “I don’t think so.” He cocked his head to the side with a fast snap.

  They looked absolutely absurd, and if I had been an impartial bystander, I might have laughed. The one was jutting a hip out like he was on a catwalk, and the other was swaying his head back and forth like Beyoncé, and I still had no idea what was going on. I could see that Tess was just as confused as I was.

  “Trevvy baby, what’s happening?” she cooed and pouted with concern. You know those massive industrial staplers? Her pursed duck lips were almost begging me to drive one through them. Snap!

  Trevv threw out a protective arm, and in some pseudo warrior voice, as if he’d just walked off the battlefields of Winterfell after chopping some heads and arms off, said, “Get back, baby. This doesn’t concern you. This is between him and me.”

  What was between them? What the fuck
was going on?

  “Chris, what’s going on?” I asked, coming up behind him. He almost knocked me off my feet when his arm also came flying out.

  “You too, Annie…baby. This has nothing to do with you ladies.”

  “Us ladies?” Why was he talking like he was trapped in an old Western right now?

  And then, as if that wasn’t ridiculous enough already, an uptight, short man in a tuxedo stepped between them.

  “Zis is enough, jentelmen.” His French accent was so thick it was hard to understand. And then more were added to the fray, as a mad-looking chef with a big white hat holding a duck leg in his hand barreled out of the kitchen.

  “Que se passe-t-il?” he shouted, shaking the piece of poultry.

  “I’m hendling it,” the short man in the tuxedo shouted back. “Jes make ze duck à l’orange.”

  “I cannit cook with zis noise. How em I zupose to cook like zis,” the man cried out, waving the meat about.

  All eyes were definitely on us now. The jazz band had stopped playing, everyone had stopped eating, and Trevv and Chris were squaring off as if all hell was about to break loose.

  “Chris, just please tell me what’s happening?” I begged.

  “What’s happening is that Trevv is going to be apologizing to you, right here, right now. For every awful thing he ever did.”

  Trevv burst out laughing at the mere suggestion. The laugh was more of an evil, rasping cackle, as if the gates to hell had just been cracked open and Satan himself had just stepped out. “I don’t apologize for anything. Ever. Apologizing is for the weak.”

  “Well, you’re going to be apologizing today.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes fucking really,” Chris spat.

  More gasps rose up and the Man in the Tuxedo started shouting. “Stop. Stop.” He was so short that he was now jumping up and down trying to make aggressive eye contact with Trevv and Chris—as if that was somehow intimidating.

  “If you do not stop, I vill call for security.”

  More heinous laughter rose up from Trevv. “That shouldn’t be a problem for Annie, she’s used to getting arrested.”