A Bride by Summer

by Sandra Steffen

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

  Reed was tempted to smile.

  “The fact is,” Marsh said, “Joey could just as easily be yours as mine. I can’t think of anyone, barring myself, who would be better for the job. Either way, we’ll both do the right thing because that’s who we are.”

  Reed felt a deep stirring of affection for his brother. They were so different, yet profoundly the same.

  “But, Reed? If Cookie, or whatever her name is, is his mother, Ruby O’Toole might just be your Achilles’ heel, and by association, mine.”

  “I’m not some rutting teenager, Marsh. I can handle this. Contrary to what Joey’s very existence might indicate, I’m not a prisoner to my hormones.”

  “Reed? This involves more than hormones. I saw it with my own two eyes. She lights you up. We both know there’s a lot at stake here.”

  Reed took a careful breath. Marsh wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. Monday morning they had another appointment with their great-uncle, Judge Ivan-the-Terrible Sullivan. It wouldn’t take much for that contrary old buzzard to decide Joey would be better off in foster care than with a couple of single brothers who didn’t even know which of them was his father. The employment agency was sending two more nannies for them to interview on Monday afternoon. They desperately needed help with Joey’s care, but so far no one they’d interviewed had come close to being good enough. Until a nanny could be found their time was divided between Joey’s care and work. The trees were loaded with apples. They needed to be sprayed and the heaviest branches braced. After last year’s devastating spring frost, they needed a good yield, a prosperous year.

  “There’s a lot riding on our shoulders,” Marsh insisted.

  “You mean on our actions,” Reed said.

  “And on our reactions. Ruby O’Toole is a stunner, Reed.”

  Mile-long legs, sparkling green eyes and a generous smile flashed unbidden into Reed’s mind. “She’s uncommonly kind.”

  “I believe you. It’s part of the package that lights you up. I’m speaking from experience when I say that kind of electricity isn’t easy to resist.”

  “There’s nothing improper between us. I’m resisting just fine.”

  Marsh raised his bottle. Instead of drinking, he said, “What we resist persists.”

  Reed nearly groaned. Their baby sister had gone all Zen last year. Not Marsh, too.

  “It’s like floodwater,” Marsh explained. “It always finds the point of entry it seeks.”

  “Ruby has her own reasons for keeping things light, Marsh.”

  “And yet, the zing.”

  Of the three Sullivan brothers, Marsh was the gruffest and the quietest. At times like this, he was also very, very wise. “What do you suggest?”

  “Honestly? I’m hoping you’ll remember it’s your turn to go for takeout.”

  The last thing Reed expected to do was laugh, but it rumbled out of him, rusty and real. He and Marsh were two single men who weren’t afraid of the washer and dryer, vacuum cleaners, disinfectants and mops. Madeline had liked to cook when she was growing up. When Noah was home between sky events, he’d picked up the slack and fired up the grill. When it was just Marsh and Reed, they invariably ordered out.

  “You’re saying you’re hungry?” Reed asked.

  “Is this a day that ends in y?”

  Feeling lighter somehow, Reed stood up. “A loaded pizza from Murphy’s okay with you?”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  He recapped his bottle of water and carried it with him to the steps. At the bottom, he said, “Marsh?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Even if Sam locates Cookie first, even if the results of that paternity test name me as Joey’s father, I hope you find Julia. She has to be out there somewhere.”

  Reed left his brother sitting in the dark with his bottle of purified water, and headed for his Mustang. He had the pizza ordered before he reached the end of the driveway. And he thought about Marsh’s maxim.

  What we resist persists.

  Not only was his older brother wise. In this instance, he was probably right. By the time Reed passed the city limits sign, he knew what he had to do about Ruby O’Toole and this zing.

  Chapter Six

  Kissing was in the air tonight.

  Ruby glanced delicately at the couple stealing kisses at a nearby table. She needn’t have been discreet. They were going at it pretty heavy and wouldn’t have noticed if cymbals clanged and lightning struck.

  Not that lightning would. It was a beautiful night, the stars faint above the soft glow of outdoor lights, the air mild even now.

  She’d chosen this table here in the courtyard at Murphy’s because of its clear view of Bell’s. Situated on a diagonal across the street, her place was dark tonight, the curbside parking wide-open. That wouldn’t be the case for long.

  Her two companions were no strangers to Murphy’s. In fact, they hadn’t been strangers anyplace they’d gone tonight.

  “Abby,” Chelsea Reynolds said. “I’ll give you ten dollars if you go inside and kiss that biker with the red bandanna on his head before he plays ‘Shut Up and Kiss Me’ one more time. You would be doing humanity a favor if you put him out of all our misery.”

  Abby Fitzpatrick pushed her short wispy hair behind her ears and said, “If you want the misery to stop, kiss him yourself. He’s a little scary for my taste.”

  “You have taste?” Chelsea asked.

  Abby stuck out her tongue at Chelsea, and Ruby thought there was never a dull moment with these two. Longtime friends, they’d arrived at Ruby’s hours ago. Petite and blonde, Abby wore tight jeans and amazing heels, the effects of which were wasted since most of the guys she’d encountered hadn’t been able to peel their eyes off her chest. Abby was a reporter and office manager at the local newspaper. As lively as a sailor on weekend leave, she believed in having fun.

  With her dark hair and violet eyes, Chelsea was lean and lithe, and had forgone jeans entirely for a short black skirt and silk tank. She’d received a lot of looks, too, but her admirers were cautious about it. It was as if the men in Orchard Hill knew any open ogling would bring them pain of one sort or another.

  It had been Abby’s idea to check out the competition tonight. Located on the third block of Division Street, Drake’s had mouthwatering bar burgers, but their service was slow and the majority of their clientele was in the over-fifty category. Like Murphy’s, the Whiskey Barrel had found a unique niche. It was on one of the side streets off Division, and was the only place in town with karaoke on Friday nights. Ruby had lost count of how many songs people had sung about kissing. What could she say? Kissing was in the air tonight. Even Chelsea had sung along to “Seven Little Girls Sitting in the Back Seat.” Although Murphy’s had a full-service bar inside, it was more of a beer-and-pizza place. It was also the most crowded and might just be her biggest competitor. But Ruby was a firm believer in an abundant universe, and wasn’t worried about the competition.

  From her peripheral vision, she saw a guy wearing cargo shorts and a polo shirt approaching the table. “Hey, Abby,” he said, “are you going to introduce me to this tall gorgeous splash of water you brought with you?”

  “Why would I do that, Warren?” Abby asked. “She hasn’t done anything to me.”

  Evidently accustomed to Abby’s wry humor, he focused on Ruby and cranked up the wattage in his smile. “I haven’t gone by Warren since middle school. I’m Ren Colby. Can I buy you a drink?”

  It wasn’t a bad smile. He wasn’t bad-looking, all things considered. Dark hair, decent shoulders, definitely not tall, though. “Thanks, but I’m the designated driver tonight.” She jangled the crushed ice in her Diet Coke. “Why don’t you stop by Bell’s grand reopening in three weeks? If you bring your friends I’ll buy you a drink.�
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  “I’ll do that.” He sauntered away, taller suddenly.

  Abby shook her head in amazement. “My, you are good. Chelsea’s right. You are worthy of us. Do you see that guy by the brick wall underneath the speakers?”

  “The one with the ponytail or the pirate tattoo?” Ruby asked.

  “Ponytail. He wore black-rimmed glasses long before they came back in vogue. I got stuck in an elevator with him once. Long story. He kisses like a cocker spaniel.”

  “Too much tongue?”

  “Would you two mind?” Chelsea grumbled, dropping her pizza crust onto her plate. “I’m trying to eat here.”

  “Jeez, Chelsea,” Abby admonished. “You’re a grouch tonight. We really need to find you a man. How about that guy by the door?”

  “You can have him,” Chelsea said. “You can have them all. Or have you already?”

  “Very funny.” Abby turned to Ruby. “Don’t listen to her. I might kiss and tell, but I don’t let just anybody past first base.” She stuck out her chest a little. “Gotta protect the girls here, you know? For the record, I haven’t kissed every guy here. I haven’t kissed Reed.”

  “Who?” Ruby asked, perhaps just a teensy bit too quickly.

  “Reed Sullivan,” Abby replied. “He’s over by the pizza window. He just got here.”

  Ruby couldn’t help looking over her shoulder. The take-out window was separated from the “drinking” section by thick rope draped between heavy posts. Reed stood on the other side of the divider looking much as he had when she’d driven away earlier, tall and lean and lost in thought. The old-fashioned gaslights turned his hair the color of beach sand and bleached the blue of his shirt nearly white.

  Abby sighed. “My sister says no one French-kisses like Reed. The choirboys really are the ones you have to watch. I’m going to the restroom. Anybody care to come along?”

  A new song blasted from the speakers and Chelsea made some sort of reply. Ruby had stopped listening. She felt the bump of bass from a passing car, but the courtyard and the world beyond had fallen strangely silent. Her heart beating like a drumroll, she watched Abby and Chelsea stroll leisurely toward the door, which was perhaps ten feet from the window where Reed was now paying for his pizza. Abby must have called to him, because he glanced over his shoulder at them. Their backs were to the street now, and evidently they didn’t notice the scooter that was jumping the curb, the single headlight barreling right toward them.

  Ruby held her breath, and the next thing she knew, Reed was vaulting over the ropes and hurtling through the air toward the pair directly in the scooter’s path. A split second later, Abby and Chelsea were airborne, too.

  Ruby reached them moments after they landed on the ground, an iron post crashing down beside them. It fell short, missing them all by mere inches. The scooter and the driver were on the ground, too, exactly where Abby and Chelsea had been standing seconds ago.

  “Are you hurt?” Ruby asked the heap of people.

  Like hands on a clock, they’d landed pointing in slightly different directions. Abby was faceup on top, legs spread-eagled, her right hand caught under Chelsea, who was facedown sandwiched between the other two. Reed was on the bottom.

  “Are you guys okay?” somebody else called.

  Ren Colby had come up beside Ruby. In fact, she noticed that a small crowd had gathered.

  Miraculously, all three of her friends were unhurt. Abby’s bosom was heaving and Chelsea’s skirt was hiked up to her hips, presenting the onlookers with a memorable view. The two of them managed to scoot off Reed and onto the ground. Sitting up, they straightened their clothes, shook out their fingers and rotated their shoulders. Apparently finding everything in working order, they took the hands the men gathering around them extended and stood up.

  Reed found his feet on his own. The last one up, he brushed the dirt off his palms and then from the seat of his pants. Ruby swore Abby looked as if she wanted to help.

  “You saved my life,” the petite blonde said breathlessly. “There must be some way I can repay you.”

  “Worst-case scenario,” Reed said levelly, “you would have been run over by a scooter, not a bus, Abby. You okay?”

  Something bloomed inside Ruby. Glancing at Chelsea and Abby, she doubted she was the only one who appreciated his modesty almost as much as his bravery.

  The owner of the bar himself cut through the little crowd that had gathered. It was unclear to Ruby if Murphy was his first name or last. In his early sixties, he was a robust man with a square face, a thick mustache and a deep booming voice. “What the hell happened?”

  While Ren Colby and a few others filled him in, the boy responsible said, “The throttle stuck. I just got this scooter and I couldn’t— I tried, but I guess I musta panicked. I didn’t mean for— My dad’s gonna kill me.”

  It was Reed who went to him. Ruby watched as he helped him stand the scooter up and ran his hand over the dented fender and broken spokes on the front wheel. With his bobbling Adam’s apple and shaggy hair, the boy reminded her of one of the younger Jonas Brothers. She couldn’t hear what Reed said, but it must have been the right thing because the teenager got his phone out of his pocket and made a call.

  “Everyone here okay?” Murphy asked.

  Reed scooped the crushed pizza box off the ground where they’d all landed and opened the lid. “The biggest casualty is my pizza.”

  “We’ll get you another,” Murphy exclaimed, slapping Reed on the back hard enough to cause him to wince. “On the house.” He turned to Abby and Chelsea next. “You two gonna sue me?”

  “For a bad pizza?” Abby quipped. “Like it’s the first time that’s happened.”

  “How’re your mom and dad, Abigail?” Murphy said. “How about yours, Chelsea? Reed, you need anything besides another pizza?”

  With that, the crowd began to sift back to their tables inside and out. And Ruby thought she was going to like being a part of this town.

  Abby and Chelsea continued to the restrooms as they’d initially intended. Ruby stayed outside and took everything in. She noticed that Ren Colby was trying his luck with someone who’d just arrived, and the biker in the red bandanna was leaving with a hardy-looking gal wearing combat boots and a leather vest similar to his. The couple making out earlier hadn’t even come up for air.

  Ruby wasn’t certain why she looked at Reed last. Maybe she’d felt him staring back at her. It occurred to her that she’d been wrong.

  Lightning could strike tonight.

  * * *

  Reed felt a burning inside.

  His shoulder was going to be sore as the devil tomorrow, but it wasn’t that. Stepping over the rope lying on the ground, he walked directly to Ruby.

  His first instinct was to move in close so she would feel the heat emanating from him and he would feel the sultriness swirling around her. He fought it, though. Resisted.

  “Do you have a minute?” he asked.

  He didn’t catch her answer, but she led the way to a table where a leather bag hung from the back of a chair. A Prince song was playing, and a car idled at the light on the corner, its window down, the radio so loud Reed felt the bass anyplace his skin was exposed to the air. People were talking at the tables he passed. He barely heard, his eyes practically glued to Ruby. It had less to do with the fact that the fit of her jeans should be outlawed and everything to do with the fact that he was glad it wasn’t.

  They’d barely gotten settled in their chairs before Abby and Chelsea joined them. Close friends of his sister’s, they asked about Joey and Marsh and Noah and Lacey, and relayed their daily interactions with Madeline via every social media network known to modern man. They talked and joked and laughed the way they had a hundred times before, seemingly oblivious to the tension coiling tighter inside Reed with every passing minute.

 
Finally they talked about leaving. Something about some story Abby was covering and a wedding Chelsea was working tomorrow. Instead of going with them, Ruby told them she’d call them in the morning. As they walked across the street and disappeared into the alley beside Bell’s, the tension in Reed began to uncoil.

  Ruby darted him a look after they’d gone. “You really are one of the good guys, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t know if she was referring to his leap over that rope earlier or something else. And he didn’t ask. It was beside the point.

  Her skin was creamy, her cheeks touched with pink, her lips shiny. The old-fashioned gaslights in the courtyard threw shadows through her eyelashes every time she blinked and deepened the green of her top and the chestnut color of her hair, but it was her eyes—those green, green eyes—he focused on. “I hadn’t planned to get into this tonight.”

  “Into what?” she asked plaintively.

  He propped both elbows on the table and said, “A little while ago Marsh reminded me of everything riding on my actions, and my reactions. More precisely, on my reaction to being within twenty yards of you.”

  Cupping her chin thoughtfully in one hand, she said, “What is riding on your actions or your reactions? Are you talking about Joey?”

  That she’d homed in on the heart of the issue gave him pause. The scratchy song waffling from the speakers ended. Without it, the night was quieter, almost still. He lowered his voice accordingly. “We have another appointment with the judge first thing Monday morning. He’s usually fair, but he’s an ornery old cuss and has the power to force us to put Joey in foster care. I can’t let that happen.”

  “Reed?” she interrupted.

  “Yes?”

  “You want Joey to be yours, don’t you?”

  “I don’t see the relevance in—”

  But she interrupted him. “Why?”

  “What do you mean why?” he asked.

  He’d been told the sharpness in his voice could be off-putting. It didn’t deter her in the least.

  “A lot of guys would be secretly hoping to be let off the hook. Most guys I know would be terrified to find themselves the single parent of a baby.”