by Anthology
Or was he?
The voice of Andy Williams crooned from inside as "It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" played through the speakers. What a load of crap. Last year I was nursing a broken heart, and this year it seemed my bad fortune was continuing.
I was well on my way to a pity party when I heard the crunch of footsteps approaching. Ah, yes! He did come! Relief flooded through me and I rose from my seat, throwing my hair back all sexy-like.
"Lauren! What are you doing out here? It’s freezing."
It wasn’t Tom. Not that Brett was the worst consolation prize.
"Hi, Brett," I said sheepishly, slumping back into the chair. "I’m waiting for my date," I replied, circling the rim of my glass. "Or rather, getting stood up by my date."
He pulled out a chair across from me and sat down. "Wow, I’m sorry. Was it Tom?"
Pursing my lips at the mention of his name, I nodded.
"He didn’t call or text? I mean, maybe something happened."
"I’ve been checking my phone for thirty minutes," I mumbled. "I don’t think he’s coming. " I sniffed. My emotions were a mixed cocktail of sadness, anger, and embarrassment.
"Hey, don’t cry," Brett whispered, scooting closer. He placed his hand over mine on the table, shooting heat waves through me. "You look so beautiful tonight."
My lips quivered and I met his gaze. "You think I’m beautiful?"
"Yes," he said, as if stating the obvious. "And we can’t let your pretty dress go to waste."
I melted into the seat, overcome by warmth.
"What are you saying, Brett?"
"I know I’m not rich and handsome or anything like Tom, but would you be my date, Lauren?"
My skin prickled as I stared at him in his dark, three-piece suit.
"Yeah. Yeah, I will."
Chapter Three
"Why don’t you have a date, anyway?" I asked, suddenly immune to the chill. "I thought you were popular with the ladies."
He guffawed and looked away. "It’s a myth."
"I doubt that."
"No, actually I don’t have a lot of time to date." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Oh?" It occurred to me that I didn’t know a whole lot about Brett, except that the tasting room was his side job.
"I work from home and don’t get out much." He shrugged. "Well, except for coming here. It’s a nice break for me. I really enjoy it."
His baby blue eyes met mine with a glow, and I got the distinct impression there was more behind his statement.
"What is your day job, anyway?"
"Computers," he said, chuckling. "I’ll admit, I’m a total geek."
"Nothing wrong with that these days."
We were quiet for a moment as the song inside changed to "Holly Jolly Christmas."
"Think you’ll stick around here, take over eventually?" he asked, studying me.
"Yeah, seems like a good plan. As long as I can keep writing."
"I’ve noticed you jotting things down in there. What are you writing?"
Embarrassed, I hunched my shoulders. "Romance," I mumbled.
He laughed. "Don’t be embarrassed. I bet you’re good. As long as you include nerdy heroes in your stories," he said, pointing his finger in the air.
"Nerdy heroes?" I asked, amused.
"Well, you know. Instead of the rock stars or firefighters or Navy SEALS, write something with a computer geek so we can be fairly represented." He placed his palm over his heart. "We can be romantic heroes, too."
"You’re too funny, Brett. I’ll keep that in mind."
I quietly observed him, trying to picture him as a dashing hero in a book. He was no Navy SEAL, but there was a certain appeal to him. Maybe it was his down-to-earth personality, which made him vastly different than the character in my current story. Of course, that one was fashioned after Tom, the no-show, who was inching his way down from the pedestal.
"Hey, why don’t you go inside and grab a glass of wine? I guess I kidnapped you before you had a chance to get one."
He raised his eyebrows at me. "I didn’t mind." Reaching for my glass, he said, "I’ll fill yours, too. Merlot?"
"Yep, you must know my tastes."
He smiled. "Maybe a little. You sure you don’t want to go in?"
Grimacing, I shook my head. "No, I’m not in the mood to face the crowds right now."
"I understand. Don’t worry about him, okay?" He touched my shoulder as he passed me, making my heart flutter.
After he headed inside, I stood up and walked a few steps, taking one last survey of the parking lot, unsure of what I wanted anymore.
The lot was completely still. My phone buzzed from inside my bag, and when I grabbed it, I saw a text message waiting. Quickly tapping the icon, I cringed when I saw Tom’s name.
Hey Lauren. I’m sorry for the late notice, but I can’t make it tonight. Something suddenly came up. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Have a great evening.
Glancing around to make sure nobody could hear me, I growled, "Stupid asshole."
Reading the message a few more times, I was tempted to launch the phone out into the parking lot, but then I realized it wasn’t the phone’s fault.
The door to the tasting room opened and closed, and I heard someone shuffling over. Assuming it was Brett, I held up my phone and whined, "You will not believe who texted me."
"Who?" came the voice of Craig, a frequent guest at our tasting room. He was constantly flirting with me, the overtures increasing the more he drank. I sighed.
"Craig. Sorry, I thought you were someone else."
"I can be whoever you want me to be, sweetheart."
I had yet to turn around and look at him, but I could feel his hot breath on my neck, and the pungent smell of his too-strong cologne coupled with the acidic flavor of wine permeated the air.
Right now I want you to be Brett.
"Did you see Brett inside?" I asked, turning on my heel to face the thirty-something-year-old man with a boyish face and balding hair.
"What do you want with Brett?" he slurred.
Alarmed by his stumbling state, I said, "He’s my date tonight."
"Why can’t I be your date, honey?" he said almost angrily, coming closer. Instinctively, I cowered back, scared of what he’d do.
I was just about to say, "Because my date has some manners," when out of nowhere, somebody yanked him away from me.
"I think you need to leave, Sir," said Brett. He stared Craig in the eye, and if looks could kill—well, you know. "I’m sure we can call a cab for you, unless you have a ride."
Craig wriggled free of Brett’s hold and backed up. "Hey, I don’t want any trouble. My buddy’s driving, so no need for a cab."
"Why don’t you go back to your buddy and leave her alone," Brett insisted.
Craig blinked his eyes and his mouth fell open, and in the next beat he tiptoed back inside the building.
My body flooded with warmth, in spite of the chilly air. I was all smiles as I regarded Brett, who motioned for me to sit down. Our wine glasses were already perched on the table in front of me.
As I stared at him, slack jawed, he slipped out of his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. The scent of his aftershave alerted parts of my body that’d been untouched for over a year.
Reveling in the protection of his jacket, I grinned at Brett as he sat down beside me, closer than before.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes full of concern.
"I am now." The grin didn’t leave my face. "Who says computer geeks can’t be heroes?"
"Didn’t I tell you?" he said, winking.
"One might think you staged that scene, just to prove your point," I kidded.
"Nah." He stared out into the distance. "I wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, or feel embarrassed."
That last one was directed at Tom, surely. Picking up my phone and opening the text, I slid it over to Brett. "He texted."
Brett picked up my phone and peere
d down at the screen. His brow furrowed and his lips moved slightly as he read Tom’s text. Then, he widened his eyes and gazed at me.
"What?" I sensed he had something big to say.
"Don’t laugh, but this sounds like a line from The Brady Bunch."
"The Brady Bunch?" I guffawed. He sure had a way of lightening the mood. "As in, the ancient sitcom from the ‘70s?"
"Yeah, remember the episode where Marcia breaks her nose?"
I pointed my finger in the air. "And the football player cancels their date."
"Because ‘something suddenly came up,’" he finished, using air quotes.
"But really he was trying to get out of it because he was embarrassed by her nose." I slunk down into my seat. "Which means, Tom lied. He didn’t really want to go to this party with me."
My body felt like a two hundred pound sack of cement. I hung my head low.
"Lauren, he’s a jerk," Brett offered. "Don’t let him get to you. He’s not worth it."
"I feel so stupid."
"Well, stop," he said. "And if I hear one more word about Tom, I’m going to start quoting more lines from old TV shows, just to annoy you."
I giggled, breaking out of my funk. "This could be interesting. Tom, Tom, Tom—"
He put his hand over my mouth. "No more!"
I shook with laughter as I carefully took his hand away. My fingers burned where I touched him. "How about Brett? Can we talk about him?"
"What do you want to know?"
"Hmm…clearly you like old sitcoms. What else do you like?"
"Well, old music."
"Define ‘old’. Like Big Band, ‘50s?"
"More like early ‘80s."
"Oh. Me, too. My parents still have their old record collection. I love listening to that stuff."
"Did you know we had an ‘80s rock star in here last week?"
"No. Who?" I took a sip of my wine.
"David Somers, the guitarist from Vinyl Fog, an English band. I’ve got loads of their songs on my ‘80s mix."
"Oh! He was the English dude in with his pretty wife. Come to think of it, he did look like a rock star."
I sat back and tapped the edge of my mouth, contemplating. A rock star romance would be fun to write.
"Hey, don’t forget your computer geek hero," Brett said, seemingly reading my mind.
Grabbing his hand and squeezing it, I gushed, "How could I?"
"Your mood certainly has changed."
"Yeah, because we’re not talking about that person anymore."
"He doesn’t deserve you." He stared at me. "You know that, right?"
A wave of arousal floated through me. Before I was tempted to hop on Brett’s lap and kiss him senseless, I stood up and pulled on his arm. "All this talk about music makes me want to go dance."
As if backing up my statement, "Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree" shouted through the speakers. He followed me, holding my hand, but I paused just before entering the room.
"Brett?" I said, facing him. "Only my family knows that the ‘other person’ was supposed to be my date. As far as everyone else, can we just pretend you were my date all along?"
He reached up and pinched my chin. "Sure, Lauren."
"I can’t believe he stood you up," Becca remarked, as we hovered near the appetizers on a break from dancing. "What an ass." She paused. "Truthfully, I’m not that surprised. I never trusted that guy. Sorry, Lauren.
She glanced past me. "Or…maybe I’m not sorry."
"Huh?" I asked, biting a carrot stick.
"Brett seems to be a nice distraction for you. I should’ve known he’d be right there to pick up the pieces." She gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth.
I swallowed hard. "What are you talking about?" I whispered.
"Never mind. Me and my big mouth."
"Now I have to know."
"Come on, Lauren. He’s into you. Surely you can pick up on that?"
"I’m getting that impression tonight."
"So why are you wasting your time with me, munching carrot sticks like a sad bunny?"
"Even sad bunnies get hungry," I snickered. "Besides, he had to take a phone call. Probably somebody having a computer crisis." I explained to Becca that Brett was a work-at-home computer geek.
"Did I hear my name mentioned?" Brett’s voice sounded from behind me. "You ladies talking about me again?"
I was beginning to adore the sound of his voice. It wasn’t sexy and rugged like Tom’s; more tender and warm—like I wanted to be wrapped up in it.
"Only good things, I promise," I told him, and then asked, "Everything okay?"
"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. Minor little crisis," he said, smiling. "All good now."
I held out my hand to him. "Let’s go dance, my geek hero."
The makeshift dance floor was covered with a great mix of people: couples of all ages, a group of young single women, and pairs of friends cautiously holding each other. Brett and I fell into the last category. When I pulled him onto the dance floor, I didn’t realize a slow song was coming on. I wondered if somebody had messed with the playlist, because "Heaven In Your Eyes," by Loverboy was now playing.
Brett brought me in closer, and I comfortably settled against his shoulder. "This is a classic ‘80s tune. You like this?"
Smoothing the back of my hair, he whispered, "Yes. Very much."
My heart thumped wildly in my chest. The way I fit into his arms so perfectly gave me a sense of peace. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to breathe in his masculine fragrance.
The sound of someone clearing his throat forced me to open my eyes and look up.
I sucked in my breath. "Joey, what are you doing?"
My sneaky big brother was standing there, holding a sprig of mistletoe above me and Brett.
Joey chuckled darkly. "You two look so cozy over here. I’m just trying to help out."
I pursed my lips and glared at him. "Thanks," I said stiffly.
Feeling my face heat up, I slowly backed out of our embrace and shyly glanced at Brett, who wore a hint of a smile. "Well?" he said.
Shrugging, I said, "Go for it."
Even though I only expected an innocent peck, my heart rate sped up at the thought of his lips on mine.
Ever so carefully, he released his hands from my waist and brought them to my face, cupping my now flaming cheeks. His gorgeous blue eyes stared down at me, making me want him so bad I shut my own eyes and bent my face up. My skin buzzed when his lips brushed against mine in a sweet kiss, but when he pressed harder my knees nearly buckled beneath me. I had to cling to him for support.
"All right, that’s enough. You can let go of my sister now," Joey grumbled.
But we didn’t listen. My fingers gravitated up from Brett’s shoulders to his soft light brown hair as our lips fused together.
Holy shit. I think my story just changed.
Chapter Four
Later that night I was heavy in thought, with my nose buried in my diary, when my mom knocked on the door.
"Lauren?"
"Yes?" I called, setting the leather bound book beside me on the bed. "Come in."
She let herself in and sat at the edge of my striped comforter. "I heard about Tom not showing. Are you okay?"
I hunched my shoulders, staring down at my fingers. "I was embarrassed at first. And hurt, of course."
"But—?"
Shrugging, I said, "I’m over it, I guess."
"Oh? Is Brett responsible for your quick recovery?"
My face warmed at the mention of Brett. "Maybe, did you…see?"
"Oh, honey I think the whole room saw that kiss. It may have caused an earthquake."
I laughed. "It was a nice kiss. He’s a sweetie," I said, not able to hide my smile.
"Yes, he is. I’m sure a lot a young women think that." She gave me a pointed stare. "Perhaps you should give it a rest with Tom. He’s a wonderful supporter of our wine club, but he’s not a one-woman man, if you know what I mean."
&nb
sp; "I guess so." Even though I felt a spark of hope with my newfound feelings for Brett, I still felt crushed by Tom’s rejection.
"Sexy doesn’t always mean rich and handsome. Sometimes sexy can come in the form of a nice, caring, and respectable man." She patted my hand. "Just keep that in mind."
Brett walked in to the tasting room the following afternoon carrying a single red rose. My eyes grew wide. I was a sucker for red roses, and this time of year, they were only available in flower shops. Which means, he’d made a special trip.
"What’s with the flower, Romeo?" I hinted.
"For you, also known as my date last night." He walked over to me, beaming, and handed me the perfect flower. "I bring flowers to all my dates."
I deflated. All his dates?
Cocking my head to the side, I groused, "I thought you didn’t have time to date?"
He raised his eyebrows. "I’m not a monk, for goodness sake."
Pouting, I put the velvety petals to my nose and breathed in the sweet scent. Not wanting to let on that I was jealous of these other dates, I slipped him a half-smile and said, "Thank you." I then turned my back on him and began wiping the counter, though it was already clean.
I was beginning to think I’d never find anyone who wanted me. Mark cheated on me, Tom stood me up, and wonderful Brett preferred playing the field. So if he brought all his dates flowers, did he also kiss them like he did me last night? Or did he go even further? That thought depressed me. Tom for sure slept around, and I was used to that idea. But Brett was different. He had potential.
For the next hour or so, when I wasn’t attending to a customer, I was absorbed in my thoughts. Brett must’ve picked up on this because he kept his distance. I wasn’t trying to be cold toward him, but I felt like I needed to guard my heart right now. It’d been through so much over the past twenty-four hours.
At one point, I put my fingers to my lips, recalling how good it felt to be kissed by Brett. No, not good—amazing. When he looked over at me, I faked a cough and drew my hand away. If I wasn’t mistaken, I saw a smile light up his face. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him. Then maybe I could get another kiss?