“I’m going to dance with my wife.” Zach finished his second water and joined his bride, but not before he reached into his wallet and slapped a crisp bill on the bar in front of Luke. “A hundred says you can’t get one woman to dance with you.”
Luke just stared at it.
“He’s going to regret that,” Nick said with a shake of his head.
“Yep. If he remembers.” Luke slid the bill into his pocket with every intention of keeping it for his brother. Or maybe he’d slide it into the cash box on the gift table.
Nick’s wife Mia curled a finger at Nick in a come hither gesture, as she made her way to the bar. She took the beer from his hand, downed a swallow and handed it back. “Who’s got the babies?”
“One of Nora’s coworkers there,” Nick said, pointing with the bottle. “The others are with Mrs. McKinney and… whoever that is sitting beside her.”
“It’s not every day we have a hundred hands ready and willing to hold babies.” Mia took the beer again and finished it, then set the empty bottle on the bar. She took her husband’s hand. “Let’s make it count.”
Luke watched them go back to the dance floor. He’d always liked Mia, all the way back to when she and Nick had first started dating in college. She’d come into the picture soon after their parents had been killed in a car accident and had brought a bit of soft, but fiery, female to the house. She’d also seemed to get Luke in a way no one else had.
He was glad to see them back together and it was fun to watch such a tiny little thing keep his brother in line. One by one the bar flies thinned out, leaving Luke alone. He nursed his beer, thinking he’d like to switch to straight whiskey which led him to think he’d like to be drinking that straight whiskey alone. But he wouldn’t. He was afraid to start a slide down that slippery slope. He’d known more than one good man who’d left the military only to find new demons.
Don’t think about it. Not now. Not at his little brother’s wedding. If he thought too hard, let the feelings or the knowledge of just how numb he felt, he might go for that whiskey.
He’d held it together all day. Family, food, smiling for the camera in constricting clothes. Kids running, wiggling, adults of all sizes talking over the music, laughing. Things that shouldn’t seem foreign to him but they did. Which made him feel even more like a fish out of water.
He nearly smiled, picturing a fish flopping on land, gulping and gasping for air. Described him pretty well. And made him wonder again, what the hell am I doing here?
Luke watched Matt McKinney dancing with one of his little girls. Impossible to keep them straight—the man had something crazy, like seven kids. This one looked to be around six or so and had a wild head of brown curls. She’d served as a flower girl in the wedding. Luke couldn’t help but smile when he saw she’d lost not just her crown of flowers but her shoes too. Matt held the little girl’s hand, guiding her in a spin around his finger.
The man looked exactly right doing it. Enjoying himself, completely at ease. But Matt had also been in the military, so was he a sign that normal was within reach for men like them, or was he a glaring example that Luke wasn’t made like that?
He’d been around the McKinney’s a handful of times. The man brought his girl out to ride at Hannah’s barn pretty regularly and his sister had mentioned Matt no less than ten times since Luke had been back.
You know, Stephen’s brother Matt was in the military.
You know, Matt McKinney left the Navy after almost as many years as you.
And the kicker—
Stephen’s brother Matt seems really happy. Followed by the silent, pleading questions he imagined. Are you happy? Can I help you be happy? What can I do?
More than anything, he hated knowing Hannah worried about him.
Matt didn’t stare at him as his family tended to do, but still, there was friendly concern. Luke didn’t want concern. Didn’t want people trying to get inside his head. Wondering if what he’d seen in war made him stand apart. Even now, Hannah watched him from the dance floor, motioned for him to come join them.
He raised his beer as an excuse and forced a smile. It was what he’d seen, and done. But that wasn’t the only reason. His sister rolled her eyes and to his great relief turned her attention back to her husband. The two of them danced in a group with Nick and Mia, then shuffled their way over to include Zach and Nora. As a whole, their moves were pathetic, but they did it together, moving and laughing.
All these years he’d had his team, but while he’d been gone his family had been making their own connections. Making their own unit.
It looked like everyone in this room belonged to someone. He was the odd man out. He drank, looking around, proving his theory. His gaze landed on the blonde again. Raucous laughter erupted from her table, the two couples sitting opposite her looked to be having a great time but she seemed apart somehow. Like him, on the outside. And why the hell was she sitting alone? Her date ditch her?
Her hair was so pale it was almost white and hung midway down her back, straight as a waterfall. Her body was angled enough that he could see one arm resting on the table, perfectly still. The other women were in constant motion, raising drinks, spooning in desserts, talking animatedly with their hands. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman sit with other women and be so still. Still waters run deep, he thought, and searched his mind for the rest of the poem.
He tried to watch the dance floor, but his eyes kept coming back to the woman at the table in… he didn’t know what you’d call the color. Pink champagne was the closest thing he could think of. The type he’d seen the bridesmaids toasting in delicate glasses. Whatever it was, it was quiet like her. Soothing in all this noise and movement. He also noticed the back of said dress draped and dipped nearly to her waist leaving a good bit of her back bare.
“Luke!” His brother Zach called his name from the dance floor, enthusiastically waving him over. “Come on man!”
Luke read his lips more than heard him over the music and the crowds’ Sweet Caroline chorus. Luke gave him a chin jerk to show he’d heard him, and again raised his bottle in a kind of salute and an excuse.
He was good where he was, or good enough, holding up the bar, watching the revelry, and would have preferred to stay there all night. Until he saw Hannah and Zach with their heads together, then Hannah’s worried expression aimed his way. The same one he’d been getting since his return.
Worried glances, hushed voices, and the watching. Always watching him like he was a ticking bomb and they were afraid he would blow at any second. It made his skin crawl. He didn’t need their worry, didn’t need to be coddled and tip-toed around. No one looked at him in the Rangers. No one worried about Captain Walker, First Class. Here, it seemed everyone had time to sit and look and ask.
The tables were mostly empty now, leaving only men who flat out refused to dance, people holding babies, and a few small clumps huddled in deep conversation. As his gaze roamed the room, he caught sight of the blonde again—just in time to see her stumble at the far end of the cookie table. Too much champagne would do that and she wasn’t the only one who’d overindulged tonight. Not that he was judging.
He continued watching her, noting again how still she stood now that she’d regained her balance. He hoped to God she wasn’t about to pass out face first into a platter of ladyfingers.
Feeling a sense of purpose, he set his near empty bottle on the bar and headed off to avert potential disaster.
As Luke got closer, he saw she had a small plate in her hand. An empty plate. He’d admit there were an overwhelming amount of choices, but he’d never seen a person deliberate quite so…deliberately.
“Can’t decide?” he asked as he came up beside her.
She lifted her chin slightly, and he was hit with blue eyes. Seriously blue. But those blue eyes didn’t come close to meeting his.
Oh, yeah. She’s toast.
2
Luke watched her intently, noted that even in her heels
he was a head taller than her. He also noted it wasn’t just her eyes. The lady had a face and she still hadn’t answered him. Finally, she lifted the empty plate she held in one hand and held up the end of a white cane in the other.
“Hard to make a choice when I can’t see them,” she said with a soft smile and a shrug.
Can’t see them? She didn’t seem that drunk, now that he was up close. But there was something… Her eyes looking in the direction of his face but not quite meeting his eyes.
“I’m blind,” she added casually. Like she was just throwing it out there to see where and how it landed.
“Oh,” he said, remaining absolutely still. For a beat, he stared at sky blue eyes that looked perfectly normal before snapping out of it. “So, if I put some cookies on there for myself you won’t notice?”
“Nope.”
She smiled and it was so devastating it nearly knocked him back a step.
“Someone walked me over, then there was a kid emergency and…” She shrugged again. “I’m not quite sure what to do now.”
“I can help with that. Are you familiar with the cookie table phenomenon?”
“No. Well, I’ve heard talk tonight, but I can’t really picture it. I’m beginning to think I should just skip it. If you could help me get back to my table—”
“No.” No way was he walking her back to leave her sitting alone. “I mean, you really shouldn’t skip it. And going on my personal experience from my sister’s wedding last year, the best way to attack this is to survey the choices first, get a game plan. You don’t want to fill up your plate then find something better at the end.”
“Good point.”
“Do you want to… Or should I…”
“It works best if I take your arm.” She slipped the loop at the top of her cane over her wrist and held out her hand. “If that’s okay.”
“Yeah. Sure.” She raised her right hand, touched the sleeve of his shirt at his elbow then found his bicep. Her small hand held him not tightly, but firmly enough that she wouldn’t lose him.
“This good?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“So, evidently,” he said, starting down the row. “This cookie thing is big in Ohio and Pennsylvania. And for some reason, it’s big in the McKinney clan. Since my sister married a McKinney, we’re reaping the benefits once again.”
“Oh. Your sister’s Hannah?”
“Yep.”
“Which makes you brother of the groom?”
“Right again. And even though neither my brother Zach, nor his new wife Nora, is a McKinney, when the McKinney’s hear wedding, they make cookies. And women, being competitive as they are, when one bakes, they all bake.”
“You seem to know a lot about it,” she said, smiling.
He smiled back then remembered she couldn’t see it. “My sister talks a lot. Okay. There’s about five, maybe six tables lined up end to end.”
“What do they look like?”
“Um… Let’s see… Well…”
Her body brushed a platter laying too close to the edge and she jerked back. “Crap!”
“No problem.” Luke reached across her to catch it just before it tipped. “As you can see, or tell, the tables are full to overflowing. That’s one thing. There are plates and platters covering the tables, and even more set up on things to make them high.”
“A very manly description,” she said, teasing him.
“Okay, some are on stands about yay high.” He took her hands, raising one to give her an idea of the size. “And there are random little candles in between some of them.”
“Yikes. Glad I didn’t risk my life for a cookie.”
“No, shit. Would have sucked if you’d gone for a cookie and grabbed fire. You, know,” he said, pausing to look at her. “When I first came over here, I thought you were two sheets to the wind.”
“You what? You thought I was drunk?” She laughed. “So you came to save me from myself or save the cookies?”
“Both.”
“Hmm.” She slid her eyes in his direction. “I guess that’s fair.”
“Okay. We’re to the end. Now that we’ve gotten an idea of our choices, we go back to the beginning and load up.”
“All right, but I don’t really have an idea of my choices.”
“Good point. I’ll do a better job on the second pass. You hold the plate and I’ll fill it.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Okay. First up are some long, skinny log rolls. Hard. Maybe filled with some kind of nutty mixture.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay. We’ll do two of those. We can always come back. Next are some white balls. Looks like they’ve been rolled in powdered sugar.”
“Yum.”
“I agree. Four of those.”
“I like how you describe things.”
“Really? How’s that?”
“Well, not like a food critic, but like…”
“Like a man who eats?” he suggested and got another smile out of her.
“Exactly.”
“Here we have some white things. Round, crispy, maybe some jelly in the center? I think we need more information.” He took a bite. “Yep, jelly. Strawberry. Want to try it?”
She pressed her lips together to hold back a laugh. “I’ll wait.”
“Good thinking. Let’s take three.”
They continued like that, with him describing, sometimes tasting, while she held onto him with one hand and held the plate he filled with her other. She said no to a few, and yes to most.
“No shit,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Ava was staring blankly at the table and he immediately regretted his nothing. Everything, anything, he saw was something. Something she couldn’t.
He grabbed a bag. “Here,” he said, and put her hand around it. She took it, turning it, feeling the thin, onion like paper. She ran a finger along the sides and bottom then the delicate scalloped edge at the top.
“They’re white,” Luke explained. “And right in the center there’s a fancy Z and N in gold. Zach and Nora.”
She smiled and held it out to him. “Cute.”
“Yeah. Cute,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the bags. “Okay, I bet you’ll go for these. Chocolate, and going by the shape of them I’m guessing maybe chocolate covered Oreos.”
“You’re right. I do say yes.”
He was reaching for the chocolate covered circles when she tripped, let out a gasp and gripped his arm almost upending the plate.
“Whoa.” He gently righted her, catching their plate and barely squeezing it onto the edge of the table between platters. He looked down to see what had tripped her up just in time to see two little feet in white shoes and short white ruffle socks make a swift retreat under the floor length table cloth.
“Ahh. Looks like we have a cookie bandit.” He let go of her arm and knelt then raised the table cloth a few inches. Three pint sized bodies sat, their laps full of cookies, powdered sugar and chocolate rimming their mouths. He chuckled, thinking that’s exactly the kind of thing he and his brothers would have done. Luke couldn’t remember their names, but he did recognize two of them as the McKinney twins, along with another blond headed boy who looked to be around five.
Ava knelt beside him, reached her hand out to touch a small white buckle shoe. “What is it? Are there mice under the table? With shoes on?” The kids giggled. “Smells like mice and…” She sniffed. “Did the mice get into the powdered sugar?”
“Don’t tell,” a little boy said.
“Hmm. Maybe you need to practice your escape and evade tactics,” Luke told him.
“I know how. We play with our dad and I told Caroline not to stick her feet out. Who’s that?”
The boy pointed at the woman kneeling beside him and Luke turned his head. God, she was beautiful. Even if he had known her name, he wasn’t sure he could have answered.
“Ava. I’m Ava.”
“L
uke. Walker.”
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“We did our job anyway,” the kid said, interrupting their slightly awkward and belated introduction. “Mom said after we could have cookies.”
“Did she say to have them under the table?”
“She didn’t say not to.”
The girl drew her feet farther under the table and shoved a small cookie into her already full mouth. Maybe sensing their cookie raid was soon coming to an end.
“Well, number one in evading is don’t get seen which means you have to keep your feet all the way under the table. And when you leave, crawl to the ends so you don’t trip anyone and make them drop their plate. No sense wasting cookies, right? You do that and I won’t tell. Deal?”
“Deal. But why would they be wasted?”
Luke laughed. Good question and one he’d leave to the parents, he thought, and straightened, bringing Ava with him.
“Sweet kids,” Ava said. “Or maybe I should say, smart kids. Did you ever hide under tables eating cookies?”
“I might have. You?”
“Not tables, no. But I did keep a lock on my closet to hide the Cocoa Pebbles from my pig of a brother.”
“Smart kid.”
With Ava beside him, they continued their gathering then took the bounty back to her table.
“I’m guessing you were in the wedding party?”
“Yep. Got the tux, the choking tie, the whole deal.”
“You don’t like weddings?” she asked, as they got back to her table.
“Nothing against it,” he said pulling her chair out. “But I could do without a thousand pictures.”
“You don’t have to stay with me,” she said, taking her seat. “I can manage the eating.”
He respected that, and she genuinely didn’t seem to mind being left alone. Even so, he was in no hurry to leave. “I’m sure you can,” he said and took the seat beside her. “But you’ve got my cookies. Or maybe you came with someone,” he added, again wondering why she would be here alone.
One side of her mouth curved up. “If I did, would you fight him for the cookies?”
God, her eyes were blue. A clear, pure, summer sky blue. Add to that, she had the kind of face that made a man want to straighten his tie if he still had one on. He might surrender the cookies but it would be damn hard to surrender her.
Waiting On the Rain Page 2