by Misty Simon
“Oh, sugarplum, there’s no need to get upset. I merely wanted to check one more song selection with you.”
“Can’t it wait until later tonight? We’re trying to get this done and get to dinner. Why are you even here?” Martha crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her tiny foot on the ground.
“I am part of the wedding party, after all, and I did come into town especially for you.” He patted the top of his head. Was he making sure the thing was still there? Because from the sweat dripping down from under the shaggy yellow carpet, I would have thought he had to know the damn thing sat on his dome.
Yes, I continued to work on my whole swearing issue, but since I had officially rid my closet of all the brown I used to wear to make myself feel better, I thought one vice wasn’t anything to worry about.
“Horace, you came in from the next town over. I don’t truly consider that a great distance, and I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the rest of this for later. I’m hungry, and you know how I get when that happens. Do you want that experience again?”
His panic was almost palpable. I made a mental note to tell my dad to keep Martha fed at all times. She was a tiny thing, normally friendly, and the head of the gossip chain here in Martha’s Point. I’d never seen her get truly out of hand, but I suppose everyone had his or her hot buttons. Food was apparently hers. We had at least one thing in common, it seemed.
“All right,” he stuttered, backing up slowly. “I’ll let you get back to it. One thing, though—I was thinking the Chicken Dance as one of my final numbers. I even made up some lyrics to cover the nah-nah-nah parts. I wanted to make sure you were on board.” He’d made it to the door and was nearly out in the hall.
Even I could see the fire lighting in Martha’s eyes. “Absolutely no Chicken Dance! Gad, Horace, that’s right up there with the Macarena.” His face drooped, and I guess another song selection went down the tube.
I could almost see his little brain working as he made a hasty exit, calling over his shoulder, “Okay, see you tomorrow. Have a good rehearsal.”
“Ass,” Martha muttered under her breath so only I could hear. “I keep hoping he’ll back out of singing. I’d even let someone turn on an oldies station for the reception and dance to that, at this point, but he’s my cousin.” She took a deep breath. “Can you believe that crap?”
“I can’t believe it,” I said. “What on earth was he thinking? The Chicken Dance? I think the last time I did that I was roller skating at the rink, with my ponytail over one ear and three pairs of color-coordinated socks on my feet.”
She laughed, as I’d meant her to. Life had been stressful lately, and I was trying to take as much off her shoulders as possible. She continued running the diner, Mad Martha’s Milk and Munchies, through all of this, too, and I knew it was taking a toll on her personal time with my dad. I wasn’t the only one suffering, though I determined not to think about whether my father and Martha had time to get it on, unlike Ben and me. Ew! There were some things I was not willing to share or have shared.
Not surprisingly, once Horace left, we whipped through the rest of the rehearsal and hightailed it to the diner. Martha and Dad had set up a small private party later on in the evening, but for now all of us crowded into the diner.
Over she-crab soup, I met the spouses of the men who were standing up for my dad and, may I say, freaky. Now I understood why the Bouquet and I were Martha’s only attendants. I think the entire ozone inside the diner died a quick death and the local pharmacy must have been completely out of Aqua Net. No joking, I thought I saw a dead fly in one lady’s updo. I doubted she’d know about it until she poured paint stripper over her head to shampoo out the helmet.
Mad Martha’s had been closed to the public for the evening in celebration of this unho— I mean, the holy joining of Martha and Dad. The only thing concerning me was whether I’d get to sit next to Ben or not, and whether we could pull off some hanky-panky.
Over the first few weeks after Dad left to go back home, pretty sure I was safe from my last little foray into sleuthing, I had finally had a chance to get the divine Ben Fallon into my actual bed for the very first time. I had been so tired of floors, clandestine meetings, and necking in his car, it had been a welcome relief for my back. But now, with everyone home, I would gladly go for the very uncomfortable little closet in my back room with the feather boas and spare mannequin legs if it would get me some time with Ben. I missed the way he smelled and the way he—
And there it was, the whisper in my ear that sent shivers up and down my entire spine, radiating out to more interesting parts. The man could do wonders with the simplest words. I’d be happy to sit and let him murmur his list of chores in my ear all night. Especially if I were on there as something to do. Hee-hee.
I did get my wish for once, when Ben sat next to me. Unfortunately, Martha’s cousin was seated to my left, and she was a chatterbox, to put it lightly.
“So, Eileen, how long have you known our blushing bride?” the older lady with the bird’s-nest hair in pale pink asked.
“It’s Ivy,” I said in a softer voice than normal. I refused to go back to the days of having no backbone, but I didn’t want to be a hard-assed bitch, either. I also didn’t want her calling me Eileen for the next three or so days while we did this dinner and the wedding. With my luck I’d bump into her every time I turned around. Heaven knows it would be “Eileen” this and “Eileen” that the whole time, which would set my teeth on edge. “And I’ve known Martha for about three or four months.” I put a big smile on, thinking if I had to see this woman constantly during the wedding, hopefully I wouldn’t have to see her much after that.
If this year was any indication, Martha wasn’t big on having the extended family around. The holidays had been quiet, with little family. I hadn’t seen any of Martha’s relatives at Thanksgiving this year; Christmas I’d had by myself with Ben as my best present. My dad had still been in Southern California cleaning out and selling the house we’d lived in for my whole life. Then he moved practically down the street from me. I was not going to think about that. At least it wasn’t next door. Phew!
Ben chose that moment to whisper in my ear, “You look good enough to lick from top to bottom. I’d like to make you my main course instead of this turkey.”
At least he hadn’t said I looked like a turkey, which used to be one of my fears when we first started messing around. I made a low sound in the back of my throat, humming my approval of the way he was doing wonderful things to south of my border. Then I gave a little growl and my sister, Maggie, eyed me across the table. She was sitting next to her perfect husband, Robert, who was talking to the woman to his right. Hey, it wasn’t my fault if she wasn’t getting any action while I was practically on the verge of a tongue bath.
I squeezed Ben’s leg under the table. At least that was what I had been aiming for, but I believe from his squeak I may have hit a little more to the right. Oops. Although that was a much better handful than what I had anticipated.
I giggled, and he gave me the Eye of Forbiddance, though it looked more like the Wink of Acceptance. Woo-hoo! I went in for another quick grope and came up sopping wet.
Sopping wet? you ask. Well, that had a little something to do with the waitress pouring an entire pitcher of sweetened tea on my head.
****
“I can’t believe she did that.” I stared at myself in the mirror in the women’s bathroom, looking at my sopping brown hair and the way my carefully applied mascara (yay, me, finally mastered that freaking wand thing) streaked down my face.
“I can’t either,” Bella said. I’d waved all my sisters, Martha, and the old lady sitting next to me back to their seats. All I needed right now was my best friend in the world. Plus, Bella was a hairdresser and a master maker-upper. I couldn’t go wrong with her by my side.
“Did she trip or something? You were sitting down a little ways from me, did you see her trip?”
Bella blinked at me slowly.
“No, sweetie, she didn’t trip. There wasn’t anything out there to trip on. You know how Martha is about keeping things spotless.”
“Well, crap. Do you think she did it on purpose? Do I even know her?” This was taking not liking the new girl in town a little too far. I mean, yeah, I still got a dead fish or two on my car every month or so, but this was directed at me physically. Fish stank, but they didn’t mess up the hair I’d spent a lot of time getting exactly right.
“Her name is Shelley. She was a grade or two in front of me, but this is the first time I’ve seen her working at the diner. Maybe Martha only brought her in for tonight.”
“But that doesn’t explain why she dumped the fricking tea on me. I mean, what the hell?”
“I thought you were working on the whole swearing thing?” Bella checked her own mascara in the mirror, and of course it was absolutely perfect.
“Right now I don’t give a damn about the swearing thing. I had an opportunity to maybe get cozy with Ben tonight, and now I have to go to a fancy restaurant with icky hair and wet clothes, and it’s cold outside. Dad and Martha have this whole thing so tightly planned, down to the very last minute, I can’t even run home for a change of clothes.”
“I’m sorry, hon. If I could, I’d loan you something else to wear, but you have all my old clothes already.”
It was true. I now owned everything she’d bought on a vengeful shopping spree with her ex-husband’s credit card when she’d gained weight.
“Damn.”
“I wonder what’s up with Shelley.” Bella freshened her lipstick, which looked like it had been chewed off. Had she done that herself, or had her new squeeze, Officer Jared, done it for her? I really envied her freedom to do whatever she wanted whenever the mood struck her.
“It’s like an epidemic today,” I said. “Some woman at the dress shop sewed up most of my dress wrong and I could barely fit into it. When Sarah, the owner, finally got hold of me, she gave it a couple of tugs and, voila, it fit like a dream. I don’t get it.”
“I wouldn’t worry. Let’s get you taken care of as best we can and get back out there. I left Jared with a very strained expression on his face, and I don’t want it to go away before I’m good and ready.”
Bella, the eternal sexpot. I wished I could call myself the kettle.
Instead, we went back out to the table with my hair pulled into a messy but chic ponytail. Thank goodness Bella had a pair of earrings in her purse that hung almost to my shoulder. They made the stubby ponytail look a little less fourth grade and more fancy college co-ed. I hadn’t done anything with the degree I had received other than be an admin assistant, but I could look the part, I guessed.
When we arrived back at the table, Ben rose from his chair and helped me into mine. He could be a gentleman when he wanted to be. Not that he was a complete jerk at other times, but he did have his moments of over-the-top arrogance.
“Had to go compose yourself after being next to me for such a long time?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at me.
Apparently, we were having one of those moments now. I hoped he was kidding, but sometimes I couldn’t tell. I pretended as if he weren’t so cocksure and elbowed him in the ribs. My strength was a little more than I had anticipated: his breath left him in a whoosh.
Nice going, Ivy. Jeez. Maim the poor man who was the only one who ever gave me a reason to sing during sex.
“Sorry,” I said quietly.
He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the Serving Girl from Hell appeared between us with a sympathetic smile and a towel. What the hell did she think I was going to use a towel for now? I could have used it when she dumped the tea on me and just stood there smiling instead of helping. At this point I had already cleaned up without it.
I expected Ben to shoo her away, since he appeared to be recovering nicely from the accidental flying elbow. He surprised me by turning a lethal smile on her.
“Thanks so much, Shell, I appreciate it.” He took the towel from her hand, and I could have sworn he lingered with his fingers on hers for a split second longer than necessary. What would he use a towel for anyway? I barely restrained myself from elbowing him again, this time lower.
Chapter Five
The atmosphere was subdued at the upscale restaurant where Dad and Martha had taken us for dessert—a marked contrast from the hustle and bustle in the diner. We’d left her relatives back in the parking lot without a second glance. This was much more my speed and very nice. Nice for Martha, too, if her brighter smile was any indication.
This time I got to sit next to Dad, aka Stan the Tanned. Ben had come along and was on the other side of me. Martha sat across from me and kept shooting my dad sappy looks. It was wonderful to see them both so happy; I hoped it lasted through the wedding and the relatives.
My thoughts were interrupted by one of my very favorite people beyond Ben. “Ivy! My beautiful blossom, you honor me with your culinary presence. Finally, I may make real food for a real woman.”
I blushed; I know I did. Ben had introduced me to Jerry Boucheron on our first date, and now we had this thing going where he loved to feed me and I loved to be fed. He made the most divine fettuccine alfredo, and I could be talked into nearly anything for the creamy cheese and pasta dish. I probably wouldn’t agree to let Mr. Hanks showcase one of his infamous Speedos for me, but it might be a close thing.
“What have you got for me tonight?” I asked Jerry, my divine cream puff, who towered over me at six plus feet.
He kissed his fingers and blew the kiss to me. “For you, I have cheesecake.” He wiggled his eyebrows and I nearly fainted.
Cheesecake! It was second on the list of favorites, right after Tastykakes. He was killing me, and I only hoped I’d still fit in my dress. “Bring it on, baby.”
He blew me another kiss and stalked away, his big frame seeming lighter than air. Love, love, loved him.
And speaking of loves, it didn’t look like Ben was too happy with our exchange. “What?” I swiped at my face hoping I didn’t still have any liquid dotting my cheeks. I could feel my hair stiffening from all the sugar in the pitcherful of sweet tea that had ended up on my head.
“Nothing.” Ben crossed his arms over the button-down shirt he’d put on for the upscale restaurant.
“It’s not nothing. Tell me.” Yay me! I had made quite a bit of progress with my attitude, thank you very much, and nary a spot of brown to be seen in my hot pink sweater with my jet-black cords. Not unless you took into account how the tea had dried on my hot pink sweater. I’d blotted most of it out earlier so it wasn’t too bad, but still. “What’s up?”
“I think you are flirting an awful lot with Jerry.” He tightened his arms over his chest. Would the bottom lip pop out in a pout at any moment? Then again, that wasn’t very nice of me, since I had just had a little spurt of jealousy back at the diner when the waitress was overly friendly with Ben.
“Sweetie,” I said in my most patient voice. I think I laid it on a little thick, though, because he looked at me like I was patronizing him. Oh, fabulous word.
“Don’t patronize me.” Ben tucked his arms around his stomach.
I loved the way this man’s mind worked. I tucked my hand under his and stroked his stomach. “It’s cheesecake, Ben. If you brought me cheesecake, I’d be more in love with you than I already am. And please tell me you are not seriously jealous over Jerry. You love that he loves me and always brings us extra food when we’re here.”
His stomach muscles bunched under my hand, and he smiled. I was about to be forgiven. “No, you’re right, I just haven’t had a chance to be with you lately, and I feel like we’re having the same conversations as we did when your dad was first here. I need you alone, Ivy. I need you alone badly. Can you still make time tonight?” His mesmerizing moss green eyes connected with mine, making me quake with unsatisfied lust.
“Oh, yeah, I got time.”
“Your place?” He unclenched his hand and used it to move my
hand from his stomach to lower. I stopped that right away. I was not going to fondle his dangly bits under the table with my whole family looking on.
“Actually, we’ll have to go to your place. My family is camping out in most of mine.” My mind whirled with visions of his duct-taped couch and garage sale décor. At this point, I really didn’t care if we ended up on the floor.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a horn dog, or so sexually atrophied that I can’t think of anything else. But let me tell you, Ben is extremely good at what he does. I had become addicted to him, and honestly I would be happy enough to merely sit and talk with him for hours and get a few kisses in. But I also wasn’t passing up any other bennies along the way, if you know what I mean.
“I can’t wait much longer. Do you still have that red thing?”
I laughed, calling attention to myself, then shut up quickly. “I would have to run back to the shoppe. It would take too much time.”
Ah, yes, the shoppe. More than one clandestine meeting of body parts had happened in the lovely store I had inherited from Great-Aunt Gertie—and I do mean great in so many ways. But even that wasn’t readily available to us. With all this family in town, I wasn’t taking a chance on being interrupted.
Have you ever noticed how, when you can’t have something, no matter what it is, be it peanut butter or sex, you crave it? Literally crave it to the point you can’t think of anything else? I hoped I wasn’t that bad yet, but it felt like a close thing. Especially since I had only had a one-night stand with a dweeby guy before I landed Ben. I had been having regular relations—for lack of a better word—for weeks, and then been set adrift in the desert again. Argh!
My dad stood up at that moment, clinking his glass with the handle of his knife. His comb-over was neatly in place and his tan still as deep as ever. I didn’t know what he was going to do when he and Martha lived here year round. No way he was going to get that kind of sun here. Not with all the cloudy days we enjoyed. Plus, the sun wasn’t the same strength as it was out in California.