The Gambler

by Denise Grover Swank

  Libby shook her head in disbelief. “You seriously still want to eat here?”

  “Of course. I didn’t do all of this just to get back in the car.”

  “Noah.”

  “Get moving.” He opened the door to the hall, then grabbed her elbow and guided her out the door. He released his hold as they walked to the hostess stand.

  Still wide-eyed, the hostess grabbed two menus. “You’re still here. I thought this was one of those TV shows. Especially with all those women running out of the bathroom.”

  “Nope, just us,” Noah said. “And we’re starving, but remember, we’d appreciate something romantic.”

  “Follow me.”

  They walked through the Western-themed restaurant, drawing the attention of every guest and wait staff in the joint. Noah waved to one family and then pointed at Libby, lifting his eyebrows in a can you believe this look.

  Libby smacked his arm. “Stop that!”

  “What? I told you that you’d be the talk of the restaurant. It’s like being in a parade.”

  “Then maybe you should go see the Cotton Bowl Parade with Mitch.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. The mention of her fiancé’s name—ex-fiancé’s name—reminded her of her selfishness as well as her public humiliation.

  The hostess stopped and motioned to a corner booth. The seat back was dark stained beadboard and a lantern with a candle sat in the middle of the round table. She turned to Noah and grimaced. “This is the most romantic table I have.”

  His grin spread from ear to ear. “It’s perfect.” He motioned for Libby to slide in and she glared up at him, waiting for him to change his mind. But his grin widened even more. Rolling her eyes, she surrendered, and he scooted around the opposite side.

  The hostess placed their menus on the table. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “He’ll have a beer,” Libby said with saccharine sweetness, remembering his earlier comment in the bathroom.

  The hostess shook her head. “Sorry. We don’t serve alcohol.”

  Noah shuddered. “Thank God. I’ll have a water.”

  Libby couldn’t resist a small grin. “Water too, please.”

  The young woman looked eager to get away. “Your waitress will be right with you.”

  “You frightened that poor girl,” Libby said, trying to ignore all the people staring at them.

  “Why? Because I cringed when you ordered a beer?”

  “No! Me. This dress. You coming on so strong.”

  “Please,” he scowled good-naturedly. “Why would someone be afraid of a wedding dress? I wrestled it and lived to tell the tale. Now you . . . you’re on the cranky side tonight. She’s probably frightened of you.”

  “I’m entitled to be cranky! I ran out on my own wedding!” The words came out louder than she’d intended, catching the attention of the people at the tables nearby—not that they hadn’t been openly staring in the first place. “How did we end up in Junction City? How far are we from Kansas City?”

  “About two hours.”

  “Two hours?”

  “Like I said, we’re here because you told me to keep going.”

  “Yeah,” she waved her hands around in circles. “I meant drive around. Not take a road trip.”

  He shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I made a judgment call.”

  She pursed her lips and stared at the menu without really reading it, berating herself for her mistake. How could she have done this to Mitch without stopping to consider his feelings?

  “Lib.”

  His soft tone caught her attention, and when she looked at him, she was surprised by the seriousness in his eyes. She was used to teasing and humor from Noah, not this resolute side of him.

  “What happened?”

  Did she really want to admit what an idiot she’d been? Wasn’t the fact that she was sitting here in Junction City, Kansas, on her wedding night proof enough?

  She opened her mouth, unsure of what exactly to tell him, but their waitress appeared and saved her from speaking. “Welcome to the Golden Cowboy Café. I hear you two are celebrating your wedding.”

  “That’s right.” Noah’s wide smile returned. “We decided to make the wedding dinner an experience to remember.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “So you came to the Golden Cowboy Café?” Her tone suggested she was calling bullshit.

  Noah laid on the charm thick. “I hear your fried pickles are to die for. How about we start with those. Then I’ll take your eight-ounce sirloin, medium, with a baked potato, and the lovely bride will take the same.”

  Libby started to protest that she could order her own food. But they had eaten enough meals together for him to know what she liked. Besides, hadn’t she made enough stupid choices lately to last a lifetime? Might as well let Noah decide on her meal.

  The waitress walked away and Noah’s grin fell, his concern returning. “Libby, what happened?”

  “I made a stupid decision, okay? Does that make you happy? You tried to stop me and I blew you off. Do you want to gloat now?”

  “No. God, no.”

  A tear slid down her cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb. She wasn’t prepared for the shot of electricity that zipped through her. Of course, it wasn’t the first time her body had reacted to his touch, but in her emotional state, she was worried she lacked the strength to restrain herself.

  “Libby, you’re my best friend. I’d rather be dead wrong than see you hurt like this.” He left his hand in place, spreading his fingers to cup her cheek. “Now tell me what happened.”

  Should she tell him about the curse? It was obviously a figment of her imagination. No sense looking like an even bigger idiot, but his touch was making it difficult for her to concentrate. “Megan, Blair, and I made a pact to get married by the time we were thirty.” She gave him a sheepish grin. “My birthday is next week.”

  His eyes widened in surprise and his hand dropped. She felt a strange sense of loss without it.

  “Really?” he asked, shaking his head. “Blair doesn’t seem like the type of woman to care about that sort of thing.”

  “She’s not. We were all nine when we made the pact.”

  “And they seriously went through with it? That’s why they got married?”

  She shook her head and released a sigh. “No. They forgot about it. It was purely coincidence that they planned their weddings when they did.”

  “So they got married according to the pact”—his voice trailed off as his eyes met hers and held them— “and you felt compelled to do the same.”

  She glanced down at the table. “Something like that.”

  “Oh, Lib.”

  “It was stupid, I know. Idiotic. Moronic. I’m the—”

  “Stop. It’s so you. I love it . . . even if you picked the wrong guy.”

  She narrowed her eyes, waiting for the but. “You’re kidding.”

  “Libby, I’ve never met anyone with more gusto for life. I love your quirky ideas and beliefs, and I love that you believe in palm reading and pacts made by nine-year-old girls. It’s who you are.”

  “But Mitch got caught up in this disaster. I literally ran away from the altar.”

  “Come on. It’s Mitch. How broken up can he be? I’m sure he’ll be far more upset if the Razorbacks don’t make the Cotton Bowl.”

  She shook her head. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better, but what I did was wrong.”

  “Okay, it was wrong. You screwed up, but you’re owning it. If you’re worried about Mitch, why don’t you give him a call to apologize?”

  “I don’t have my phone.”

  “I’d give you mine, but it’s dead. And in my hurry to pack, I forgot my charger.”

  She shook her head, remembering that he was supposed to be thousands of miles away. “Why aren’t you in Seattle? You told Josh you weren’t coming.”

  He gave her a sad smile. “Just like you, I realized I’d screwed up. I raced to make my fli
ght . . . only to discover it was delayed. That’s why I was late.”

  She tilted her head. “What about Donna?”

  “What about her?”

  “I thought you had a thing with her.”

  He shrugged again. “I canceled it.”

  “If you were planning to come to the wedding, where’s your tux? You told me you were going to pick it up in Seattle because you changed your flight.”

  “It’s in a garment bag in the trunk of the rental car. You didn’t expect me to wear it on the plane, did you?”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “You do realize you’re talking to a woman who’s wearing a wedding dress in the Golden Cowboy Café?”

  He laughed and she couldn’t help but laugh with him. Still, while she could live with the embarrassment, she couldn’t live with the guilt of hurting Mitch. Her laughter faded and she grew serious. “I still need to talk to him.”

  Noah was quiet for a moment. “Do you know his number? Or is it just stored on your phone?”

  “I know it.”

  He slid out of the booth and walked over to the nearby table. The family of five sat watching them with great interest as Noah approached him. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

  The wife stared up at him wide-eyed and the husband murmured, “Okay.”

  “Libby here,” he pointed his thumb toward her. “She needs to make a phone call. And she got so freaking excited”—he stopped and looked down at the three kids at the table—“oh, damn. I just said freaking in front of your kids. Oh shit. I just said damn.”

  Libby started to chuckle and the wife waved her hand, her gaze shifting back and forth between Noah and Libby. “They’ve heard worse. Go on.”

  “Well, she got so excited at the idea of eating at the Golden Cowboy Café that she literally ran off and left her phone in Kansas City. Could she borrow yours? If you let her go outside and make a call, I’ll stay here as her deposit.”

  “You can borrow mine if you’ll sit with us as a deposit,” shouted a woman who was sitting at a nearby table with three female friends. The other women giggled.

  “Sure, on one condition,” the wife said, speaking up to get his attention.

  “Okay . . .”

  “I want a picture with the bride.”

  Noah glanced back at Libby, his eyebrows raised in an exaggerated gesture.

  She hesitated, her stomach protesting the call she was about to make. “Sure.”

  Noah studied her for a moment before turning back to the family. “Tell you what, let’s let the bride make her call first, then she’ll be available for a photo after.”

  The wife handed him her phone, which Noah brought over to Libby. After helping her to her feet, he stooped to whisper in her ear. “If you don’t feel up to taking the photo after you talk to Mitch, I’ll get you out of it.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  A strange look crossed his face. “Haven’t you heard? Not following through and making up excuses are all that I’m good for. Now go make your call.” When she started to protest his declaration, he gave a slight push to the small of her back. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

  Libby walked out of the restaurant, drawing another round of curious stares from the diners. But she ignored them and stepped out the door, immediately shivering in the November cold in her sleeveless wedding dress. Sucking in a deep breath, she typed in Mitch’s number and waited, feeling like she was going to throw up. He answered on the third ring. “Hello?” She could tell he was confused by the unfamiliar number.

  “Mitch, it’s me.”

  “Libby?” He sounded worried. And relieved.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where are you? Are you okay? When no one heard from you, we all worried you got kidnapped after you hopped into that stranger’s car.”

  She shook her head, feeling like the world’s biggest bitch. “How can you be so nice to me after I ran out on you like that?”

  “Libby. I still care about you. You running out doesn’t change that.”

  “I’m sorry.” She choked on the words.

  “Was it the Razorback call? Or the play from the Cotton Bowl?”

  “Oh, Mitch . . .”

  “It’s okay, Libs. Really.” There was a pause on the line, and then he added, “I was having doubts this week, but I didn’t want to be that asshole who broke up with his fiancée before the wedding.”

  “You were?”

  “Yeah . . .” He sounded embarrassed. “Remember me telling you about my old college girlfriend?”

  “Sheila?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Well, she called me up this week . . . and I . . . I’m sorry.”

  So he’d cheated on her. She could hear it in his voice, yet she didn’t care. It would have been hypocritical to care given that she’d only arranged to marry him in the hopes that another man would come along and destroy their wedding. “Mitch, believe it or not, I really do want you to be happy.”

  “So this worked out for both of us?” he asked, sounding like he didn’t quite believe it.

  “Yeah.” She laughed, wiping a tear from her cheek. Karma was a real bitch, but this was what she deserved for treating him like crap. It sounded like Mitch had found his match, and Libby was still alone. “I suppose it did.”

  “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Libby. I knew all along I wasn’t it. I should have ended things months ago, but you were like the perfect woman, you know? Gorgeous and laid back, and you didn’t even care that I was gone so much. I couldn’t understand why we just didn’t feel right, but I figured it would all work out in the end.”

  She sighed. “Me too.”

  “Take care of yourself. And if you haven’t already, call Megan and Blair. They’re flipping their shit.”

  She cringed. “Thanks.”

  She hung up and called Megan, figuring she would probably be the easier to deal with of her two friends.

  “Hello?” Megan answered tentatively.

  “Megan, it’s me.”

  “Oh, my God! Are you okay? Blair’s raising holy hell because the police won’t put out an Amber Alert for you.”

  “Amber Alerts are for children.”

  “Everyone’s told her that . . . not that she cares. She was certain you were kidnapped. Where are you?”

  A sharp wind hit her, making her shiver with cold. “Junction City, Kansas.”

  “What? How did you get there?”

  “Noah just drove—”

  “Noah? How could you be with Noah? He’s in Seattle.”

  “No, he changed his mind and flew to Kansas City, but his plane was delayed, which is why he was late. He was driving the car I got into.”

  There was a long moment of silence, then Megan said, “So you planned this?” There was a sharp edge to her voice now.

  “What? No!”

  Megan was silent for another beat. “Why did you run away, Libby?” she finally asked.

  What should she say? “I was scared. It was all too much.” Both true.

  “You never intended to marry Mitch, did you?”

  Oh, God. She’d figured it out. Libby’s face burned with embarrassment. “How can you say that?”

  “Because you believed in the curse more than any of us. And after what happened to Blair and me, of course you’d think the same thing would happen to you.”

  How could she respond? Megan was right, but that didn’t mean she wanted to own up to it.

  “I’d ask you how far you were willing to let it go, but I guess we all got front row seats to that answer.”

  The condemnation in her words stabbed Libby in the heart. In all the time she’d known Megan, she’d never sounded so judgmental.

  “Why shouldn’t I believe in the curse?” Libby asked, wrapping an arm across her chest in an effort to block out the cold. “It worked out exactly like the fortune teller told us it would for you and Blair. She said the curse covered all three of us. It should have worked!”

  “The c
urse isn’t real, Libby!” Megan lowered her voice. “You’ve pulled some crazy things before, but this . . . Think about what you did to Mitch. You left that poor man at the altar, when you had no intention of marrying him at all.”

  “I’ve already talked to Mitch. His old girlfriend called him this week. Turns out he didn’t want to marry me either, but he felt bad about breaking up with me right before the wedding.”

  “Libby, that doesn’t make it right.”

  Anger roared in Libby’s head. “You know what, you’re one hundred percent correct. It doesn’t make it right. Not even close. I feel like a bitch and I already apologized to Mitch. But let me ask you this, Megan Vandemeer McMillan: Who stood by you when you paraded a fake fiancé around claiming he was Jay? And who helped you realize that he was the love of your life? Me. That’s right, me!” She stamped her foot for effect, sending pain shooting up from her heel to her shin. “I stood by you because you’re my friend. I’m sorry if you think it’s too much for me to ask you to do the same!”

  “Oh, God, Libby,” Megan said, sounding horrified. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.”

  “Too little, too late.” Then she hung up and sucked in a deep breath of cold Kansas air. Megan’s words had stung, but there was no denying they were true. She’d been irresponsible and self-centered, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. She felt a sudden need to see Noah. He’d make her feel better. He always did. Turned out he really was her best friend.

  Chapter Five

  Noah anxiously glanced at the door for what had to be the hundredth time, wondering if he should go outside. Calling Mitch had to be difficult for her. What if she needed support? After five minutes passed this way, he decided to go after her, if only to give her his jacket, but the door opened and she walked into the restaurant with a strange look on her face.

  She stopped at the table of the woman who’d lent them the phone, plastering what he recognized as a fake smile on her face. “Do you want to take that photo now?

  The woman hopped out of her chair and raced around to stand next to Libby, pausing only to hand the proffered phone to her husband. “Get close up, Bill. No full body shot. I don’t want my fat rolls showing.” She turned to Libby. “I’m posting this on social media. No one will believe this, so I need proof.”