by Carol Ross
“Ah.” He nodded. “That makes so much more sense.”
They started walking and Iris said, “Do you have any idea how much I love that woman? Ally is the only bride I’ve ever met who does not care about her own wedding beyond who the groom is.”
“I know. Better than the opposite, though, right?”
“What do you mean, like one of those bridezillas you see on TV who obsesses about everything?”
He laughed, but it was a weak one for Flynn. Iris looked up to find him staring straight ahead, a rare frown in place. After a beat, he seemed to realize she was watching. He smiled down at her, dimples lethally attractive as usual, but the normal spark in his eyes had dimmed.
Refocusing on their path, he said, “Yeah, or like obsessing about the wrong thing.”
Iris wondered if he was talking about his own failed marriage. He never talked about it and she couldn’t bring herself to ask.
They continued in silence until Flynn stopped walking. Iris realized they were standing outside a charming little boutique that specialized in formal wear—cocktail, bridesmaid, prom and party dresses.
Gaze focused intently on her now, he asked, “What about you? What kind of wedding do you want?”
“Me? Ha. No kind.”
“Oh, come on,” Flynn urged. “Don’t tell me you didn’t dream about your wedding when you were a little girl.”
“Not really. The only thing I ever dreamed about was getting out of Alaska and going away to school.” And that I looked like Ashley Eller so that you’d notice more than my math homework.
“You managed that in a big way, huh, Dr. James? But what about now? What kind of wedding would you want now that you’re all grown up?”
Iris stared at him, relieved that the unmistakable twinkle was back in his luminous brown eyes, even if they were trained on her in that way that made her brain fog over. She did not want to have this conversation, and especially not with him. She was pretty sure their opinions wouldn’t match up on this subject.
Stepping toward the shop door, she pushed it open. “If you don’t plan on ever getting married, it’s kind of pointless to think about the wedding.” She tilted her head and gave him a wink. “Don’t you think?” And with that, she sauntered inside the shop without bothering to wait for an answer.
* * *
IRIS DIDN’T WANT to get married? Flynn paused, allowing her words to bounce around inside his brain for a few seconds where they landed hard. Following her into the shop, he found her holding up a powder blue dress.
“What do you think of this?” she asked.
“Too plain. And the empire waist won’t do anything for your figure. You need to show it off, not play it down. Do you really not want to get married?”
“Huh.” Iris frowned, studying the garment. “You’re right. And no, I really don’t want to get married.”
“Sure, I’m right. You heard Ally, I know about dresses. Why not? How can you not want to get married?”
“I have my reasons. What about this one?” She offered up a blush-pink dress with a snug tank-style top and a tulle skirt.
“It’s a wedding not a ballet recital. What reasons?”
Her laughter rang out and Flynn took a second to enjoy the sound because making Iris laugh was one of his very favorite things.
“A ballet recital, that’s funny.”
Arguing with her was a close second. Also interesting was this marriage conversation. How had this not come up before?
“Well, I would not want to convey that impression in any manner whatsoever.” Grimacing, she slipped the dress back on the rack. “Someone might expect me to pirouette or something. What a disaster that would be...”
Holding up another, she asked, “This?”
Short, black and lacey, Flynn had half a mind to say yes just so he could see her in it. But he needed to score points here, and not by ogling her in unsuitable dresses.
“Um. Black doesn’t really work outside in the afternoon, not for this wedding, anyway.”
Her clear look of approval made all the research he’d done worthwhile.
He shrugged like it was no big deal. And because she clearly didn’t want to talk about her own wedding, Flynn went to work picking out dresses for her to wear at someone else’s.
“This is pretty,” Iris said a few minutes later, showing him a moss green satin print.
“It is. It complements your skin tone and brings out the million shades of green in your eyes. And it would go great with Ally’s dress. Let’s try that on.”
Iris met his gaze, her eyes soft and warm. “You are good at this.”
“I’ve done my homework.” Stepping close to her, he watched the pulse jump in her throat. Satisfaction rushed through him and settled in and around his heart. Moments like this, when he was positive she was attracted to him, were what kept him hoping.
She swallowed nervously. “You know what you are? You’re—”
Best teasing smile in place, he attempted to fill in the blank. “Brilliant, handsome, funny...the man of your dreams?”
And that was the moment he knew he’d lost her. This is how it went. He advanced. She retreated. He just couldn’t figure out why.
Eyes clouded over, she forced out a weak chuckle. “Ha. I was going to say metrosexual. I think that’s what they’re calling it these days, heterosexual men who are interested in fashion and art and culture.”
“I’m confident enough in my masculinity to take that as a compliment. But I think I prefer the slightly more dated, yet sophisticated term, Renaissance man.”
She laughed, a burst of pure joy this time. “It is a compliment, I promise. You’re a good friend, Flynn. To Ally, and to me. I don’t know what I would have done these past couple months without you. It’s cool how we seemed to have picked up where we’d left off after so many years. Actually...” She cocked her head like she was pondering her next statement. “If I’m being honest, I like you even more now than I did in high school.”
“Same,” he answered in a low tone, his gaze capturing hers as a slow smile spread across his lips.
In fact, it was the unqualified understatement of his lifetime. Back then, he’d been naive and interested in girls for all the wrong reasons. He’d dated the ones who liked him for who they thought he was, a jock—quarterback of the football team, point guard on the basketball team, baseball shortstop, a solid member of the “in” crowd.
It had been important to him to fit in, to be liked. In other words, the opposite of Iris. He wished he could have been as strong and confident back then as she seemed to be. Maybe they would be together right now, and he wouldn’t have made so many stupid mistakes to get to this point. The worst of which he was still paying for as even now the latest unanswered text from Sonya seemed to prod him from the depths of his pocket.
“Good,” she said, breaking eye contact.
He agreed. “Why don’t you want to get married?”
She sighed. “I don’t see the point.”
“You don’t see the point in getting married?”
“Nope.”
“Do you believe in love?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then why not marriage?”
She began shuffling through another rack of dresses that clearly wouldn’t fit her. “I believe in marriage. I just don’t choose to partake in it myself. It’s not for everyone. Not everything that’s conventionally societal is meant for every individual within that society.”
Flynn was watching her carefully, saw the flash of pain in her eyes. What was that about? Maybe he didn’t want to get married, either. Except, that wasn’t true. Even with a bad marriage in his past, he wanted to have a good one. Desperately. Like his grandparents had.
Gesturing at the pile of dresses he’d collected and draped over one arm, she asked, “Are those for
me?”
He handed the dresses over and decided to let the marriage thing go. It was probably similar to her professed dislike of all things Alaska, a trait he believed had grown into more of a habit than a genuine feeling.
“Not that I couldn’t wear the heck out of this little red number if I wanted to.”
“I don’t doubt it, Renaissance man.”
“Now,” he said, holding up the dresses, he’d collected. “There’s a satin halter-style in this stack that is extremely promising. In fact, I’d be willing to bet it’s the one.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE FIRST THING Iris saw when she woke up the next morning was the bronze-colored bridesmaid dress shimmering on the back of her bedroom door, where she’d hung it after returning home from the shopping trip to Anchorage the night before.
Which made her think about Flynn.
She didn’t want to think about Flynn. Not about the fact that he’d been spot-on about the dress—how well it would go with Ally’s simple, understated wedding gown, or about how perfect it would be in the woodsy, intimate setting by the Faraway Inn, where the bride and groom would say their vows. And definitely not about how perfectly it would fit her. How had he known that?
She’d had one of those rare but coveted trying-on-clothes moments, where she’d known it was perfect before she’d even gotten it zipped up, much less looked in the mirror. Most of all, she didn’t want to think about his reaction when she stepped out of the dressing room. Except, that she kind of did want to think about it. Why did she torture herself like this? Her face went as hot at the memory as it had in the moment.
His eyes had gone wide before quickly narrowing in on her and then slowly traveling up and down. And up again, where his gaze locked onto hers.
“Turn around,” he’d urged.
She did. And she would swear she felt his eyes burning into the skin of her bare back and shoulders. He’d walked right up to her, close enough that she could feel that heat, close enough to hear his deep whisper... “Perfect.” Then his hands were brushing against her bare skin, innocently adjusting the strap where it tied at the back of her neck.
The contact had sent a jolt of electricity through her, zapping the air right out of her lungs. She started, every nerve end tingling as she’d turned to face him, her heart a frantic bird trying to escape its ribbed cage.
Her gaze tangled with his and she struggled to make words.
“Iris,” he’d whispered a little roughly like he’d temporarily lost his voice, too, and for a second she had thoughts...
Then he’d spoken the magic words. Magic, mood-spoiling words. “You are so gorgeous.”
The ones she’d needed to hear. Because they were exactly the same words he’d uttered to Ashley Eller his senior year, when Iris overheard him ask her to the homecoming dance. Iris had been waiting for him in the chemistry lab when he and Ashley had stopped and stood outside the door. He’d prefaced his invitation to the cheerleader, who deserved the compliment by the way, even if that beauty was only skin-deep, with that very praise. “Ashley, you are so gorgeous.” Like a switch being thrown, Iris experienced a stark realization in that moment—Flynn Ramsey was way out of her league. Like some sort of heartbreaking mini-epiphany, the words reminded her whom she was dealing with and they’d fortified her against falling any further.
Just like they had that day, hearing the words again jarred her back to her senses. They’d given her the strength to step away only seconds before she did something really stupid. Like launch herself into his arms.
With an airy “How sweet. This is definitely the one. Thank you, Flynn,” she’d smiled and somehow managed a casual stroll back into the dressing room.
Where she’d proceeded to fall apart.
Trembling from head to toe, she’d leaned against the wall, trying to still the frenzied drumming of her heart. She’d stayed there until the saleswoman had tapped on the door and asked if she needed some assistance. Yes, she’d wanted to say, I need Flynn Ramsey not to look at me like I’m beautiful and special and then say words to me that I know he tosses out to women like birdseed. Iris refused to be one of the massive and hungry flock scrabbling around for his attention.
“No, thanks,” she’d bravely lied. “Zipper was a little sticky. But I got it. Getting dressed now.”
“Your boyfriend says you’ve made a decision. Can I take it up front for you?”
Boyfriend. She’d flinched as that old, too-familiar longing sliced into her.
“Oh, sure, thank you.” She’d quickly stepped out of the dress and handed it out to her.
At the register, she’d found Flynn buying the dress. Which pushed her already frayed nerves past their limit.
“What are you doing?” she had snapped, tone edgy, palms still sweaty.
“Buying your bridesmaid dress.”
“Flynn! No, you’re not. Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t... I can buy my own dress.”
Teasing half grin in place, and absolutely no indication that he’d just melted outside the dressing room while she’d been puddling inside, he’d reached out to grip her elbow lightly. “Iris, calm down. Tag gave me an envelope of cash and told me he’d leave me stranded on the runway without my pants and shoes if I didn’t find a way to pay for it.”
“Oh.” That totally sounded like her brother. “All right, then. I’ll take it up with him.”
The rest of the day should have been weird and awkward. But it wasn’t, at least not for Flynn, who reverted to his usual friendly, jokey self. After they shopped for accessories and picked up his tux, he’d chatted like normal during dinner and laughed through the movie as if the moment had never happened. Iris, on the other hand, had been a bundle of tattered, tender emotions. On the flight home, she’d opted to shut off her in-flight communications and pretend to nap.
And that was just the thing, she reminded herself—it probably hadn’t happened that way for him. Even if he’d felt something, it wasn’t the same. Funny, flirty, charming, fun-loving—that was Flynn. He had a way about him. Everyone loved him. It was one of the many things that made him both an excellent doctor and a likable guy. Even his stubbornness and that confidence that bordered on egotism were easy to overlook in light of his better qualities.
Most of the time.
Bottom line, she both loved and hated the way she felt when she was with him. She knew it wasn’t his fault that he brought back her youthful insecurities. But the fact was that he did.
She blamed this town.
All the childhood teasing and taunts, and the ensuing anguish of her teenaged years, had scarred her a little too deeply. Even though all of that had changed when she went away to college. There, her disinterest in sports and the outdoors hadn’t seemed like a big deal. Her intellect had boosted her confidence and helped her stand out.
College had been good for her. She’d moved forward, thought she’d moved beyond it. But being back home for this extended visit, seeing the people she grew up with, spending time with her family, with Flynn, was a constant struggle against regressing.
Bottom line—she couldn’t go back. She wouldn’t. So much for that maturing and mellowing-of-feelings baloney she’d been feeding herself.
What she needed was to get out of here. She needed Flynn, and all her assorted and awkward teenaged Rankins memories, out of sight and out of mind.
So why did the thought of that give her chest cramps, too?
Outside the open window, she heard car tires crunching along the gravel drive. The sounds of car doors closing, raised voices and laughter had her up and moving. A needed and welcome rush of anticipation followed because her sister Hazel’s laughter was unmistakable. Fumbling in her haste, she pulled on a sweatshirt, slid her feet into a pair of slippers and hurried toward the source.
Hazel came through the door while she descended the stairs. Iris paused halfw
ay down. Triplet senses alerted, Hazel’s head came up as she dropped her backpack. “Trippa!”
“Trippa!” Iris said at the same time, using the nickname they’d called each other since childhood. Seth was Trip and she and Hazel were the Trippas.
They hugged at the bottom of the stairs, where Hazel said, “Your sweatshirt is on backward.”
“I was in a hurry to get to you.” Iris chuckled, an unexpected rash of emotions clogging her chest and making it burn.
“That makes it perfectly acceptable. I can’t believe we’re actually standing here on the same continent and I have my arms around you.”
“Finally.” Tears clouded Iris’s eyes and she blinked them away. “I can’t believe it, either.”
They emailed and Skyped as often as possible when Hazel was traveling, which the last few years had been most of the time. Lately she’d been trekking to more and more remote areas and the opportunities to communicate had been infrequent. The past three months she’d been exploring everywhere from Mongolia to the Himalayas, including Tibet, Nepal and India.
Iris pulled away to study her sister, the one that she felt the closest to, and suddenly wished they were closer. “Welcome home. You look fantastic.”
And she did. Green-brown eyes sparkling, skin glowing, Hazel always looked refreshed and revitalized after a trip.
“Thank you. You, too.” Voice pitched with fake enthusiasm, she added, “I think Alaska agrees with you.”
“Very funny,” Iris said drily, but chuckled because Hazel had a knack for making the ridiculous funny. “I’ve been dying for you and Seth to get home so we could hang out for a while before I have to leave.”
“Does that mean you’ve accepted a job offer then?”
“Not yet. But soon.”
“Although...” Hazel paused to study her with the curiosity they shared, a trait that made Hazel an avid adventurer and Iris a successful academic. “You do have kind of a glow about you. What’s up?”