by Jody Wallace
On the walls, their host had hung pale fabric, draped in folds like a Grecian tent from—not hell but somewhere other than Bridal Heaven magazine, that was for sure. Some of the hangings were curtains, and some were sheets. Except for the places he’d used tarps, silver side out. Across the mantel, she recognized the shower curtain from the upstairs bathroom.
Heck, in the wide doorway between dining room and den, grinned broadly, rocked back on his heels, and stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his too-small slacks. He’d obviously worked his butt off, though where he’d found the time, Caroline had no idea. In addition to wedding prep, he was heading up the restoration of a historic carriage house in downtown Tallwood.
She’d realized before the phone call, when his mangled bow had gone awry, that he had a lot of pride in what he’d accomplished tonight. As he should. They’d all wondered—very quietly, and very much behind his back—how he’d convinced the head chef at the Astaria to whip up something as mundane as chicken salad sandwiches and fries.
He probably knew a guy who knew a guy.
Oh, Heck.
A lump like a champagne cork formed in Caro’s throat at the sight of how pleased he was. Standing in one place, but swaggering at the same time. His black hair had sprung out of the mashed-down mushroom he’d styled it in earlier, and he’d worn his hated dress shoes instead of boots. He’d worn cologne. He’d tolerated her sulk about the kiss, tolerated handsy Lisa, tolerated all the silliness, and he was not what she’d call a ladies’ man.
He was clearly reading everyone’s stricken silence as delight.
Why did he have to be so…Heck? Why wouldn’t he even kiss her as a joke?
Why did she have to love him so much when he didn’t love her back?
And how was she going to tell everyone the wedding was off when they’d all worked so hard? Especially Heck.
In the past year, Dan had become jealous and emotional, which had initially spurred him to propose. His babbling about little birdies who claimed she was in love with Heck, and his apologies and tears at the end of the garbled conversation, hadn’t improved matters. He’d asked her to move in with him instead of getting married to see if they could work through their issues, and Caroline had refused.
Dan was too bitter, and she loved Heck too much. She’d convinced herself to turn over a new leaf, and this was what she got.
Well, at least she wasn’t being jilted at the altar itself.
Despite her shock at this turn of events, her overwhelming emotion was relief tempered by sadness. Marrying Dan hasn’t been her dream, but it had seemed wiser than praying that Heck would someday return her affections.
Now the choice had been made for her. Caroline Ann Oakenfield would grow old and childless and forever hanker after her best friend. She’d give everyone another hour of good times and drop the bomb. Let Heck revel in his moment. Let everyone have fun.
Let her tear into the damned champagne.
Jhi, who’d been inspecting Caroline as well as the decor, was the first to speak. No matter that she’d promised to be nice to Heck, this would be too much for Jhi to resist.
“Oh, my. You’ve outdone yourself, Herman.”
“I love it,” Caroline said loudly. “It’s perfect.” Perfect for the wedding that wasn’t to be.
Heck’s grin widened. “It was nothing. Tag gave me some ideas, but the rest is my own concoction.”
“Is this a tarp?” Frances fingered one of the silver draperies.
“I recycled it.” He grabbed a Zippo off the table and started lighting candles. “I mean, upcycled. It’s good for the environment. Right, Caro?”
“Right.” She hooked two thumbs up. “Save the earth. Yay!”
“Yay!” Sally clapped her hands. “That’s very green, Heck. Green is hip. It’s the new pink.”
Yes, it was sensible to postpone the drama. One more hour wouldn’t make a difference in the grand scheme of things. She couldn’t place any cancellation phone calls until morning anyway and didn’t want to listen to everyone rage about Dan—most of her friends—and rage at her because they’d told her so—Heck and Jhi. Her humiliating confession could wait. It could just damn well wait.
“I smell something delicious,” she declared. It wasn’t a lie. The house smelled like cake. Also candles and tarp, but mostly cake.
“Where’s the strippers?” someone asked.
Heck checked his watch and waved toward the other side of the house. “In the oven.”
Everyone goggled at him, and he laughed. “What you smell is something that was in the oven. That I put there myself.”
“Baked stripper,” Jhi snarked. “Is that like baked Alaska?”
“You ladies sit yourselves down.” Heck started pulling chairs out and patting the backs. “There’s a reason I wouldn’t let you have dessert at the Astaria. Oh, and there’s more champagne iced down in a cooler in the kitchen.”
As far as Caroline knew, Heck couldn’t cook. Seriously could not cook. And now she knew he couldn’t decorate, but what he could do was make her heart flutter whenever she looked at him.
And when he took her hand and led her to the table, when he smiled down at her and said, in his soft, rumbly voice, “Nothing is too good for you, Caroline,” her knees gave out and she sank into her chair.
“I love y— I love this.” God, why had she almost said that? Her emotions had overwhelmed her brain. She slipped out of her shrug and hung it on the back of her chair.
Heck’s attention zeroed in on the neckline of her purple dress. She was pushed up and out in the way he’d complained about in the bridal salon.
His lips formed words. No sound came out. Was he thinking sexy guy thoughts…or annoyed big brother thoughts? For a man who’d refused to kiss her, he did seem easily hypnotized by her bosom.
Before anyone could comment on his fixation and embarrass them both, she held up the stemware next to her plate. “Is this my name on here?”
“Everyone has one. It’s a party favor.” He leaned close, his sleeve grazing her shoulder, and pointed at the white lettering in his distinctive, slanted script. “Leftover all-weather from when we repainted the porch. Smart, huh? I tied the bows, too. Look, seed beads on the ribbon. Tiny little mothers, aren’t they?”
“It’s wonderful.” Her head swam when she smelled his faint cologne. If she told him Dan had screwed her over, she wouldn’t put it past him to haul ass to Atlanta to give Dan the what for.
With his fists.
When she did break the news, she couldn’t let on that she felt anything besides acceptance. She had to hide her gloom at the prospect of her loveless, sexless future, because it would come off like melodrama, and she wanted this to be over.
This wasn’t a tragedy. It was simply a return to the status fucking quo.
As Caroline contemplated her acting skills, Shonda filled everyone’s personalized flute. They toasted the bride—ha, ha—the limo driver, and Sally, and then Jhi raised her eyebrow at Caroline.
“Any last-minute updates?” she asked. “Schedule changes?”
Schedule changes was an understatement.
“Let’s toast Heck,” Caro suggested instead.
“Sure,” Jhi agreed. “To the best bachelorette party a Heckley brother has ever thrown.”
Heck chuckled. “Hold that thought.” He disappeared through the door and came back with a tray of oversize cupcakes.
As if he were one of the supercilious waiters at the Astaria, Heck went around the table, placing a cake in front of each partygoer. “For you, madam. Enjoy.”
Hers was decorated in white swirls. A tiny doll nestled in the center, top half visible. The icing mounded around the doll’s legs like a bridal gown.
Frances had a miniature book on her icing hill. Shonda, a computer programmer, had a thumb drive. Sally’s was pink, her favorite color. Jhi had a devil. And so on. The decoration choices displayed the premeditation and care she’d always known Heck was capable of.
The plain cupcake he placed at his own spot wasn’t iced, which didn’t surprise her. He hated icing. After checking his watch again, he set the empty tray on the sideboard and scrunched himself into the chair between her and Frances.
“This is cute,” Jhi remarked with obvious surprise.
Shonda elbowed her. “And appropriate, you evil wench.”
Everyone was so pleased, it helped Caroline to push her confession out of her head. So did the sensation of Heck’s shoulder bumping hers.
“To cupcakes!” Sally said, thrusting hers into the air.
“Cupcakes!” everyone echoed. And dug in.
The cake—or, rather, the mass of icing on top of each cake—was…
Indescribable.
Reactions around the table varied.
Shonda coughed, “Oh, my Lord.” Lisa spat out the dessert and started wiping her tongue with a napkin. Sally gulped champagne. Frances wrapped her bite politely in a tissue and ate a mint from her purse. Jhi poked at the icing with the devil’s pitchfork, as if looking for the culprit of the bad taste.
“What’s wrong?” Heck finished a bite of his cake. “It tastes pretty good. Caro loves chocolate cake, and this mix has pudding in it. Pudding and cake together, how can that be bad?”
The blob of icing in her mouth was so sweet it pained her molars. She forced herself to swallow. “I don’t think it’s the cake.” She assumed there was cake underneath the goo, somewhere. “Did you make the icing?”
“Maybe.” He glanced at the ladies guzzling champagne. “And maybe I got it on sale at the Piggly Wiggly.”
Should she pretend to love it? Or should she be honest, as they were about everything except her feelings? And things related to her feelings? And tomorrow?
“Heck.” She patted his hand. “You should probably keep your secret recipe a secret.”
He frowned at her cupcake. “Come on. It’s icing. Sugar and butter and cream cheese and shit. It can’t be that heinous.”
“It’s probably the shit that did it,” Jhi mock-whispered to Shonda.
Amid the giggles that spread across the table like spilled milk, Caro forked up a glob of white and faced Heck. “Open up.”
He swiveled in his chair, and his leg bumped hers. When he opened his mouth, he also put his hand on her bare knee. Under the table.
She froze, but realized everyone was watching them and gave him the bite. When she pulled the fork from between his lips, his thumb tickled her leg, sending shivers through her.
“What do you think?” she asked, her voice pitched a little high.
“Hmm.” His eyebrows flickered, too quickly for anyone not staring at his face to notice. His throat worked. Catching her gaze, he licked the corner of his mouth. “Guess I shouldn’t have put so much shit in there.”
“He-eck!” From all around the table, napkins, ribbons, and bows pelted Heck and Caroline. When the icing started flying, Heck shielded her from the abuse. She ducked behind his arm, laughing. When he scooted closer, one of his legs slid between hers, until his knee breached the hem of her rumpled skirt.
His leg was between her thighs.
The touch shouldn’t have been firecracker-hot, but it was. Caroline’s privates gave a sudden throb. Heck quit smiling and looked at her as if he could read her mind.
Should she widen her legs? Back away? Oh, God, did he realize how he affected her?
Icing and napkins soared up and down the table, accompanied by laughter and curses. He licked the corner of his mouth again. “Caroline?”
“Yeah?” If he scooted a few more inches, his knee would press her there, and she’d know he wanted her. At long last, he wanted her. But as far as he knew, she was getting married. This whole wedding had been about moving on with her life, which wasn’t to say she hadn’t cared about Dan, but he wasn’t Heck, and…
He stretched his leg under her chair, cutting off the connection. “Sorry about the cake.”
Caroline fumbled blindly for her champagne. Her imagination was going to give her a heart attack, if she didn’t die of embarrassment first. She’d tried to kiss him in the limo, and now she’d practically ground her crotch on him like a dog in heat.
“I’m sure the cake is fine.” Her glass was empty. Crap. “Icing is tricky.”
“Not that tricky,” Lisa said. Well, she was the pastry chef. She swiped at her hair, which had new, sugary highlights. “But it’s true. The cake’s safe to eat.”
“Are you going to try the cake?” Heck asked Caroline. “I made it for you.”
“Later.” Right now she needed to get drunk, a singularly poor choice when her brains were muddled, but still. Where was the booze?
He scraped the icing off her cake, peeled down the wrapper, and held it up. He waggled it from side to side the way she had the ice cream cone in his truck. “Everyone loves cupcakes. Mmmm. You want to be left out?”
They weren’t alcoholic enough. “I—”
As soon as she opened her mouth, he smashed the cake against her lips. Chocolate crumbs scattered everywhere.
The rest of the table—not that they’d been quiet—screeched with laughter. More icing and cake flew through the air.
“Why you…” She grabbed a white fistful and smacked his face, making sure to poke icing in his mouth. Any minute she expected someone to yell, “Food fight!”
Something soft and gooey hit her in the side of the head. Her giant bow hat drooped over one eye. She lashed at Heck with her icing-covered hand, but he caught her wrist and held her away from his lapel. “Not the jacket, Caro. I have to wear this tomorrow.”
Except he didn’t. Should she tell him?
Not yet. They weren’t in private, and when she did spill the beans, she might ought to tie him up first and duct-tape his mouth.
“That’s your only tux? You’ll never get it clean in time.” Sally leaped up, waving her hands madly. “Quit throwing cake, everybody, he’s got on his wedding clothes. Men, I swear.”
A piece of cake hit Sally in the nose, but the ladies had run out of projectiles. Most trooped out the door to wash in one of the several sinks in Heck’s house.
After a moment, Caroline realized that she and Heck were the only ones left in the dining room. He still held her wrist, as if he expected her to ruin his tuxedo at any minute.
She tilted her head so the bow flopped out of her face. Of course he’d pranked her. He was hopeless. He’d always be the same old Heck, treating her like a sister. Beloved, but family. “I’m not helping you clean this up.”
“I didn’t ask you to.” His gaze lowered. “That’s some dress.”
“It has—what did you call it—strappy things.” She touched one of the bands that hugged her shoulders. “Do you like it better than the wedding gown?”
“It’s not bad.” He didn’t frown, and he didn’t smile. “It’s not good, either.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“It’s sexy. Maybe too sexy.” He cleared his throat. “You’re wasting cake, you know.”
All she’d heard was “sexy” but she was pretty sure he’d continued talking. “What?”
“Did you taste the cake?”
She licked her lips, catching a few crumbs on her tongue. “Nummy.”
With his free hand, he reached for her neck. No, her chest. He plucked a morsel trapped between her breasts, and she tried not to think anything of it.
When he looked up again, he raised his eyebrows. “Should be safe. No icing on this piece.”
She let him feed her. As the chocolate melted over her tongue, he brushed specks off her cheek.
“It’s tasty,” she told him. Thought about asking for more. Hey, it wasn’t like she was engaged, but Heck thought she was. God, she needed to tell him.
“This has been a great evening,” she began. First she’d emphasize how impressed she was before telling him his assistance had all been for nothing. “You may have a career in party planning.”
He was going to be super-pissed
at Dan and it wouldn’t matter if she tried to claim responsibility for the breakup. He was like her brother, after all.
“It’s not over.” He shifted his grip on her wrist, joining their palms. The icing was sticky between their fingers. She couldn’t remember a single time they’d held hands. “Are you happy, Caroline?”
She ignored her conscience, urging her to confess. “Right now?”
His blue eyes stared at her gravely. “About tomorrow. You’re on edge.”
Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.
Except…
He could have kissed her in the limo. A no-fault kiss, written off as bachelorette party high jinks. She’d sent him quiet, hopeful signals for umpteen years, but she’d never forced the issue since he didn’t feel the same way.
He didn’t. He couldn’t. Or he’d have kissed her. He’d have asked her to marry him instead of Dan. He’d have done something. But brothers don’t think that way about their sisters outside of horror novels and HBO original series.
So no. She wasn’t happy. She’d hoped that after tomorrow, the pining phase of her life would be officially, legally over. It wasn’t, and she wasn’t sure it was healthy for her to return to the way things had been.
What was she going to do?
“It’s been a crazy few weeks,” she said in a cheery voice, hoping she didn’t sound fake. “Things will settle down soon.”
“I get the impression you have mixed feelings.” He rubbed the icing on his jaw across the shoulder of his tux. “Not just because I don’t like Dan. My feelings don’t matter.”
If only he knew how much his feelings did matter. “Everyone getting married has reservations.”
“Like what? The stuff you said in the truck about sex?”
She was not going there. “What did you worry about when you were getting married?”
“That was different. I was a dumb kid, and you’re a smart, grown-up woman. Come on, Caro. Level with me.”
She wasn’t that smart. The sounds of the other women in the house, clattering and laughing, drifted into the dining room. Someone could interrupt at any moment. “You and I don’t talk about stuff like this.”