“Thank you. I will.” Kate teared up again, and she took the woman’s hands in both of hers. “Thank you so much.”
Joe said his thanks, too, but hopped out as soon as he could and raced the driver to the trunk. The less pink the Good Samaritan saw, the better. He didn’t want to her to be reminded of a wedding and start putting two and two together. He watched Kate come out of the town car, watched her bend over and wave, then stand there as the town car pulled away.
“Well played,” Joe said. “Where did you learn to cry like that?”
“Drama club, Garfield High,” Kate said morosely, then twirled around, arms wide. “God, what have I done, Joe? I just lied to that poor woman to get to the front of the line! What has happened to me? I don’t lie to get my way! But look, the first sign of adversity and I am lying and crying and becoming someone I don’t even recognize!”
“It’s called survival,” Joe said.
“I never felt so greasy in all my life,” she said, running her palms down her thighs. “I’m a horrible person.”
“Take it easy, Kate,” Joe said and unthinkingly smoothed her hair back from her brow. “Ask yourself this: Would you rather lie to a complete stranger? Or call Lisa and tell her you can’t make her wedding?”
Big green eyes blinked up at him and something shiny flashed in them. Kate grabbed her shoulder bag. “Come on, we have a train to catch.” She swung her bag over her shoulder, hoisted the garment bag onto her back, and stalked toward the entrance.
You had to admire a woman like that, Joe thought. And he did. More than he would have ever expected upon first seeing her. Definitely way more than he wanted to.
It should not have come as a surprise that squeezing onto the overcrowded train was a bit like squeezing into the proverbial sardine can. Joe and Kate scarcely made it on time, and as it took longer than normal to maneuver the pink raft through the cars, they could not find seats together. Joe sat two rows back from Kate. All he could see of her was the edge of the pink garment bag that she held on her lap. The bottom of it stuck out into the aisle, and he winced every time someone walked by and stepped on it.
Joe dozed on and off as the train trundled along, rocking gently side to side. Somewhere in the night he was rudely awakened by the harsh whisper of his name. When he opened his eyes, he saw only pink plastic, and then felt the pressure of a knobby knee on his thigh.
“Ouch!” he said as Kate half crawled, half fell over him into the seat next to him. He had no idea what had happened to the young woman sitting beside him. He had not seen her or felt her move over him to leave.
Kate landed with a thud.
“What time is it?” Joe asked with a yawn.
“Two,” Kate said, and dragged the garment bag across their bodies, stuffing it into the space between her and the window. Apparently, she’d given up on trying to keep the dress wrinkle free. She dug in her shoulder bag and handed him a prewrapped sandwich.
“What’s this?”
“Supper,” she said. “I got them from the dining car before they closed. I hope you like tuna.”
Joe did like tuna—from his kitchen. He was entirely suspicious of a prewrapped tuna sandwich from an Amtrak dining car. But then again, he was starving, and desperate times called for desperate measures.
Kate reached in her bag again and produced two cans of iced tea—another cause for gag reflex—and the pièce de résistance, a carefully wrapped chocolate-chip cookie that was the size of a small dinner plate. “Last one,” she said proudly, and placed it on her lap, then unwrapped her tuna sandwich.
They both took a bite, chewing carefully. “May I ask you something?” she asked before taking another bite of a sandwich that looked just as soggy as his.
“Sure,” Joe said.
“Do you believe in fate?”
Joe almost choked on the tuna. Generally, when a woman asked him if he believed in fate, it was the lead-in to a conversation about feelings. Joe did not like to talk about feelings. Most of the time he didn’t even like to acknowledge he had them. Feelings, especially where women were concerned, were never clear-cut for him. They were messy and sticky, and he never seemed to say or feel the right thing.
He looked at Kate, who was making nice work of a disgusting tuna sandwich. She didn’t really strike him as the kind of woman who wanted to discuss feelings, either. “Why do you ask? Do you?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, and glanced at the window. There was nothing but black out there—they were passing through desert. “Most of the time, I’d say no. But today has been kind of weird. It almost feels like this was supposed to happen.”
“What was supposed to happen?” he asked carefully.
“Me having such a difficult time getting to Seattle,” she said, and Joe felt a rush of relief. “I mean, Lisa is teetering on the edge, and I am the only one who can get through to her. So I have to wonder, all these obstacles…” She looked at Joe and shrugged. “If, for some stupid reason, Lisa canceled the wedding, it’s possible it’s fate, right?”
Joe didn’t know Lisa, but having listened in on two conversations, he figured it was more likely that Lisa was just a nut. “I think it would be more of a coincidence.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” Kate said with a wry smile. “I may sound like a loon, but I’m not really. I’ve just been sitting on a train for the last few hours with nothing to do but think.”
“I wasn’t thinking you were crazy, Kate. I was just looking at you.” He liked looking at her. She had some really expressive eyes, and he liked the way her nose was slightly upturned. And her mouth—hell, her mouth.
Joe made himself look at his sandwich. He wanted to kiss her. Just… kiss her.
“So, do you?” she asked.
“Pardon?” he asked with a small cough.
“Believe in fate.”
“Ah…” He risked a look at her again. “Depends,” he said noncommittally.
“Right,” she said, nodding as if they’d just exchanged some meaningful ideas. “For me, too.”
But Joe was thinking only about sex at the moment, imagining that mouth and those eyes beneath him. He looked away to give himself a good and silent talking-to. Thinking about sex wasn’t going to help anything. It wasn’t going to get them to Seattle, and it would only complicate this fragile, weird alliance they’d formed.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about it at two in the morning on a train crossing the desert.
“I’m so tired,” Kate said, and put down what was left of her sandwich. She leaned back and closed her eyes. “You can have the cookie,” she said through a yawn.
Joe smiled. He gazed at her, wondering how he could have missed just how pretty she was when she knocked into him this morning in New York with the pink raft. Was that really just this morning? He felt as if he’d known her a lot longer than that.
He silently admired her features, right up to the moment her head slid down on his shoulder and she began to snore.
Chapter 6
Lisa took the news about Kate’s delay with a lot of whining, wailing, and “How am I going to do this without you?”
Kate talked her neurotic cousin off the ledge. She made her understand that she was only missing a dinner, not a major event. It was one meal. Not a huge loss—besides the dress, it was not even a small loss. Lisa said she understood. She even seemed to agree with Kate.
But not fifteen minutes after Kate had hung up, her mother called.
“When are you going to be here?” her mother demanded with a slightly accusatory tone.