Authors: Linda Grimes
They gave nothing away. Damn it, I had to figure out if this was Billy. It would be like him to delay letting me know for as long as possible, just to tease me.
“So,” I said, “it was awfully nice of Billy to fill in for you on the job.” There was a slight edge to my voice.
“You annoyed about that, Howdy?” he said.
Maybe.
“No, not a bit. Of course, it might have been nice if
he’d let me know,
” I said meaningfully. It’s possible I also stepped on his foot. Maybe I could tweak him into giving me a proper hint. There were too many ears around to ask him outright, but surely he could come up with some sort of subtle indicator.
He ignored my clumsiness. Probably didn’t realize it was intentional. “We didn’t know until the last minute that we couldn’t both come,” he said. “I’m sure he figured you’d understand.”
Not enough to go on. “Yeah, well, he figured wrong,” I said, and searched his face for a sign, getting zip. Not a wink, not a hair tug. Only a blandly understanding smile and nothing more.
Damn it. I should be able to tell.
Billy would tease me unmercifully if it turned out I couldn’t. He was probably seeing how long he could keep me guessing—that would be just like him.
“He could have
called,
” I said, and then decided to up the ante. “I’m beginning to wonder if it was such a good idea to dive into a relationship with him.” I stepped on his other foot. Could he not
see
what I was asking him?
I
know.
I wasn’t exhibiting a lot of finesse. But after the hard apple cider and all the wine with dinner, my tongue wasn’t exactly on its best behavior. My feet either.
At least I’d succeeded in wiping the bland off his face. He pulled me closer still. “I think you know where I stand on that,” he said.
Like
that
helped. I knew where Billy stood on the issue—he’d made it plain enough he wanted me. And I knew where Mark stood—he’d made no secret of the fact that he didn’t think Billy was right for me.
Ugh. I was just going to have to drag him someplace private, admit defeat, and ask him outright.
But then the music stopped. Mark let me go and we both joined in the applause. When I turned back to him, I was startled to see a familiar face behind him.
“Nils!” I said. How had I missed that flaxen head in the crowd?
Nils was an agent with the Swedish National Security Police I’d met on one of my jobs. He worked with Mark and Laura as a liaison on some of their overseas ops.
His crystal-blue eyes crinkled at the edges, and he lifted me into a bear hug. “Ciel! It is so good to see you again.” He put me down and shook Mark’s hand. “You too, Mark. But I don’t think I can pick you up so easily.”
Mark didn’t look quite as happy to see Nils as I was, but he kept a pleasant enough expression on his face. “And I thank you for that.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. Yeah, I know. How rude. But when I’m surprised, I blurt.
“Laura invited me. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit your country. Under better circumstances this time.”
His quirky half smile reminded me of when I’d last seen him. He’d been in full Viking regalia then, which had been an impressive sight to behold. The expensive suit he was currently wearing wasn’t hurting my opinion of his looks any either. He and Laura had become good friends when she’d worked an extended assignment in Sweden. I had to wonder if Thomas knew he was here, but before I could think of a tactful way to phrase that question, the music started again.
“May I?” Nils said, reaching for my hand.
Mark nodded once, looking as if he would have refused if he could. Billy hadn’t been thrilled with Nils over in Sweden—he’d thought my inexperienced head was being turned by the big Norseman—so that was one more check in the “Billy” column. As far as I could remember, Mark had had no problem with Nils.
Hmm. Maybe I could manage this without admitting defeat. Which would be good, because there’s nothing I hate more than admitting defeat, especially to Billy.
The band played an old Frank Sinatra tune as the big man led me into an enthusiastic, if inexpert, two-step. If I’d been trying to follow his sometimes unexpected moves in heels, I probably would have been on my ass, but Laura, bless her sweet Southern heart, had left the footwear selection entirely up to her attendants. Mom had lobbied heavily for heels (“Only three or four inches, honey, so you won’t get lost in the pictures.”), but I’d told her comfortable feet were more important than looking taller. Besides, I was wearing yellow—I
wanted
to get lost in the pictures. Thank God for understanding brides and kitten-heeled dress shoes.
Nils laughed, and apologized when he stepped on my foot. (Karma is a bitch.) I told him not to worry about it, that I had a spare. It really was good to see him again, and reassuring that friendship was all I felt toward the handsome Swede. Maybe my hormones weren’t as out of control as I thought.
Thomas cut in, sending Nils in search of another partner. Judging by the way Sinead and Siobhan were ignoring their lawyers and giving him the eye, it wouldn’t be difficult for him.
“Mark sent me to you,” Thomas said. “Told me it was time for the bride and groom to dance the customary dances with their attendants, or some such nonsense.”
I glanced at Mark, who was dancing with Laura, chatting pleasantly, keeping a respectful distance between them. When he caught me looking, he nodded his head once, with a highly satisfied look on his face. For what, separating me from Nils?
“Wouldn’t want to fly in the face of tradition, would we?” I said to Thomas. “Speaking of which, don’t forget Mom, or you’ll be paying for it the rest of your life.”
He smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Bri’s going to play something special for that one. Guaranteed to make her cry.”
“Good thing she wore her heavy-duty waterproof makeup,” I said. “By the way, I’m sorry I set you up for this. That was bad.”
He looked down at me. “Yeah, right. As you can see, it’s killing me.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, grinning up at him. I love it when my nefarious plots work out for the best.
“Don’t press your luck. And don’t do it again.”
I laughed. “Better make sure this one takes, then.”
Our song ended, and Thomas excused himself to find our mother. When Brian started singing Lucero’s “Mom”—sounding even better than the original—I knew Thomas was right. Sure enough, it didn’t take long for our mother to start the waterworks. Even Thomas’s eyes were glistening.
See, this was the problem with weddings. If you aren’t all that close to the couple, they bore you silly. And if you are, they squash your heart. Stupid song.
A strong pair of arms hugged me from behind, pressing a cocktail napkin into my hand. I dabbed my eyes with it.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, leaning into his embrace. The first man I’d ever loved, and the only one I could count on not to drive me crazy.
“You’re welcome, sweetie pie. I’m feeling a bit damp-eyed myself,” he said. “May I have the rest of this dance?”
We made it through with minimal tears, thanks mostly to the truly horrendous knock-knock jokes Dad kept whispering in my ear. He’d used the same tactic on me when I was little and had needed distraction from one of my endless crises. After the song, he gave me a squeeze and said, “I better get over to your mother before I have to mop her up off the floor.”
“And now an antidote to all that sentimental stuff…” Brian announced from the stage.
Thank God,
I thought, and took another goblet of cider offered by a passing server, both of us almost getting knocked over by Molly as she whizzed past. She didn’t slow down until she was onstage. The drummer vacated his seat for her. After a sign from Brian, she hit her drumsticks together three times. Brian let loose a crazy laugh, culminating in “
Wipeout!
” The band dove into a rousing rendition of the Surfaris’ classic instrumental, dominated by the ten-year-old on the drums.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, the whole crowd was up and moving. Molly was
good,
and, like any Doyle, she knew it. The look of utter concentration on her face as she beat the hell out of the drums was exhilarating to behold. She must have been practicing with Brian.
I hopped around throughout the whole thing. But at least I wasn’t the only one. Heck, even Auntie Mo got into the act once she was over her shock. When the tune was played out and Molly took her bow, it was Mo who added a piercingly appreciative whistle to the thunderous applause.
After the cake was cut and served (the one part of any wedding reception I looked forward to), things moved along at a brisk pace. We had to vacate the premises by eleven, thank goodness. A Halligan event could easily go on until dawn if not strictly reined in by the rules.
When it came time for the bouquet toss, Laura exhibited deadly aim. Even though I was standing as far on the outskirts of the group of giggling singles as I could get away with, the bundled bunch of fall flowers hit me right in the middle of my chest. I grabbed it reflexively, some part of me thinking it would be a shame if the pretty arrangement hit the floor. Mom and Auntie Mo clapped their hands and hurried over to me.
“Oh, honey, what fun!” Mom said.
“I wish Billy were going to be here for the garter toss,” Auntie Mo said, as if I couldn’t already read their collective mind.
I felt myself blushing, and looked at Mark, who was grinning broadly. Much more characteristic of Billy than the spook. And when Thomas tossed the garter, he was front and center, surreptitiously elbowing Nils out of the way to catch it himself, after which he made a crack about his training making it impossible for him not to jump in front of a bullet to protect his fellow man.
As maid of honor, it was my job to help Laura change into her travel clothes and pack up her wedding dress for her. She thanked me profusely for all I’d done to make her day so perfect, which made me feel kind of guilty about all the inner bitching and moaning I’d been doing.
While she was in the restroom, I checked my cell phone to see if Billy had ever left me a message. It was possible—just barely—that he’d spent this whole evening thinking I knew he was playing Mark and had just been giving him a hard time for the fun of it.
No such luck. I slipped my phone into my bra (the top of my dress was blousy enough that you couldn’t tell), figuring it didn’t hurt to keep it close. Sometimes texts got delayed.
Back upstairs, waiting for the bride and groom say their farewell to the crowd, I felt my boob buzz.
Aha!
I edged to the side of the room and dug my phone out. A text from Billy after all. Better late than never.
Hey, cuz,
it read,
are you ready for me to rip that yellow rag off you?
Trust Billy to understand my feelings. I automatically searched the room. Sure enough, Mark was slipping something into his pocket. Billy’s phone? He smiled when I caught his eye.
I walked deliberately over to him, passing through a group of elderly ladies laughing it up over the questionable dance moves of one of my great-uncles. Some of the ladies were distant relatives, some of them were friends of the family, and all of them were wearing way too much perfume. I sneezed, absently took a tissue one of the ladies handed me, and held to my path.
Mark’s eyes were hot on me by the time I got to him. “Gesundheit,” he said.
Bingo.
If I hadn’t already figured out it was Billy at the wedding, I would have known it for sure when I saw the Chevy in the parking lot of The Barns. I raised my eyebrows at Mark. Because he was, of course, still Mark. Billy wouldn’t drop the aura until completely free from prying eyes.
“My car is still on the job with Billy, so he let me borrow his.”
Ah. So, that was how it was going to be, was it? We weren’t through playing games.
I finally realized what Billy was doing. Or, rather, what he thought he was doing. He’d mentioned, back at the ranch, that he wished I’d gotten Mark out of my system before we’d embarked on our own relationship. He’d also once told me he was afraid my lack of experience with the opposite sex would make me wonder what I’d missed, and had offered me, on more than one occasion, a “safe” way to experiment. Putting two and two together, I was guessing this was supposed to be my safe opportunity to satisfy any lingering curiosity about Mark.
If I dared. I mean, it was wrong, wasn’t it? It was at the top of the adaptor No-No list to use another adaptor’s aura without permission. Of course, Billy
had
permission. Technically. Mark had to have asked him to fill in, right? You can’t specify every little thing you’re going to do ahead of time—that wouldn’t be practical. Given the circumstance, Mark had to know there would be social interaction involved. Not that we’d be telling Mark the extent of the interaction. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him, right? Or piss him off.
The question was, what the heck did I want to do? Was Billy right? Did I still melt around Mark only because a decade-long crush had been cut short just shy of its ultimate fulfillment? Would acting out my fantasy somehow exorcise it?
Gah.
I didn’t know. It felt wrong, but … well, was it really so very different than the role-playing games non-adaptors played to spice up their love lives? Adaptors just had access to more realistic “costumes.”
The thing was, my love life with Billy didn’t need any spicing up. When I was with him, he was the only one I wanted. He got me revved up like no one else could. But I couldn’t deny that Mark did still have an effect on me. If Billy was doing this,
he
must have thought it would help somehow, and he had a hell of a lot more experience with sexual matters than I did.
Whoa … wait a second. Was
this
the “surprise” he’d told me about? Hmm.
Maybe I should see how far
he
wanted to take it before I backed out entirely. Right before the first time we made love, he’d called me a chicken. Teasing me, like he always did. He wasn’t being mean. He’d suspected—rightly so, as it turned out—that goading my temper would make me forget my fears. He knew me that well. I didn’t want him clucking at me over this, though—I should be past silly sexual fears with him, shouldn’t I?