They stood in the slackening rain, gazes locked, brown to blue. He couldn’t look away. Her wet hair stuck in strands to her face and a drop of water dangled on the tip of her nose. She licked her lips. He wanted to taste those lips, too, but not yet.
Pull it together, mate.
To break the silence Al said, “You’re a brilliant dancer.”
“What can I say? I’m a delight.”
Lou spread her arms wide. Al, thinking she planned to kiss him, wrapped his arms around her. Her lips formed a surprised O, arms still spread, as he leaned in for a kiss. In the confusion, he missed her mouth, making contact with her right nostril instead. In hopes of salvaging his romantic attempt, she wrapped her arms around him, too, and tilted her head upward.
“Elizabeth?” a male voice said.
Al jumped away from Lou as her energized body deflated. She turned toward the intruder.
“Devlin.”
Al’s mouth opened in shock. “This is Devlin?” He studied the well-dressed, dry man in front of him. Al hated him. He wasn’t just attractive but great looking. From all the time spent with John, he could see that every item Devlin wore was the best available. This man could clearly give Lou anything she wanted.
Devlin leaned in and kissed Lou on her cheek, but his eyes never left Al’s face. As he pulled away, Devlin met Lou’s unreadable eyes, then scanned her clinging clothes and dripping hair.
“I need to talk to you.”
He reached for her arm, but she pulled it out of reach.
“Why are you here?”
“I’m entertaining clients.” He pointed to the VIP area next to the stage. “I saw you dancing in the rain.”
Al noticed he didn’t mention her dance partner.
The joie de vivre overflowing from Lou just moments ago dried up and drifted away. Her lips remained sealed tight. Al wished she would say something so he could tell how she felt. He’d love an excuse to tell this prat to shove off.
“There are things you don’t know. About that morning.”
Lou stayed silent, but her eyes looked watery.
“I didn’t sleep with her. I didn’t even tell her to come over.”
Al rolled his eyes. He was really doing this right now.
“Lou, I can take you home.” Al took her hand. Devlin glared at him.
“You can leave. This doesn’t concern you.”
Al took a step forward and Lou pulled him back, squeezed his hand, and let it go.
“It’s okay, Al.” She turned to Devlin. “Go on.”
Devlin looked at Al.
“He stays,” Lou said.
Devlin shrugged his shoulders.
“Megan had been working with me. The night before my birthday, I told her I needed a memo first thing in the morning. She took it literally and arrived shortly before you did. I answered the door in my boxers, assuming you were surprising me. I went to the bathroom to get dressed and she found your lingerie. By the time you arrived, I had realized her intention and was collecting her clothes for her.”
Lou showed no sign of responding. Devlin took a step closer to her.
“I didn’t cheat. I would never risk our plan like that.”
Lou took a deep breath and blinked a few times.
“Thank you for telling me.” She looked at Al. “I’m ready to leave.”
She turned and walked away, neither fast nor slow, weaving through the crowd. Al followed her.
As they left the grounds, he asked, “You okay?”
Lou nodded.
“That was unexpected and answered a few questions,” she said.
“You believed him?” Al wanted to gather her back in his arms, worried that if he didn’t keep her close, she would slip back to Devlin. His worry made him breathless.
Lou shrugged. “It’s something to think about, anyway.”
• • • • •
The sweat followed the path of least resistance down Lou’s spine, past the waistband of her shorts, and onward—or perhaps downward was more accurate. It didn’t help that she kept recalling the feel of Al’s arms around her as they’d danced at Irish Fest a week ago, or the solid wall of his body when he spun her. With those types of thoughts, she was steamy inside and out. If only it were New Year’s Day and she could do the Polar Bear Plunge in Lake Michigan. That might cool her off.
She was too pale to be out in this sun. Lou usually did the roasting, not the other way around. But how can you say no when your best customers offer up their vegetable garden if you’ll help weed? So that’s where Lou and Sue were on a ninety-degree day in late August. Otto and Gertrude supplied cold lemonade and fresh radish sandwiches, thinly sliced radishes with butter and salt on white bread—delicious. Sue and Lou supplied the labor.
She yanked each weed with fervor, imagining it as a hair on Devlin’s perfectly coiffed head. How dare he ruin her night with Al and muddle everything with the truth. And it was that. Devlin never lied. Why should he when he could negotiate his way out of any dilemma? So everything that had happened since the coconut cake coincidence could have been avoided if she’d stayed for two more minutes that morning. She and Devlin would still be affianced. She wouldn’t have gone on tilt at the restaurant. A. W. Wodyski never would have written that searing review, and she wouldn’t be faced with having to give up on her dream.
But she and Al wouldn’t be friends.
And there was the rub. Even with all the heartache, Lou wouldn’t change the past few months.
Lou stood up, a handful of weeds in one hand, the other using an already-damp bandanna to smear perspiration around her face. Sweat that had pooled on her flat back while she was bent over sluiced down, putting her already damp underwear into the realm of drenched.
She rounded her shoulders a few times, stretching the tightening muscles. A vision of Al rubbing her lower back flashed and a new warmth flickered. This had to stop! She couldn’t keep having flash fantasies about Al. Lou shook her head and returned to the weeding.
The Meyers’ garden wasn’t large, but weeds threatened to drown the tomatoes, eggplants, and peppers—a summer ratatouille plate formed in her mind. It appeared they hadn’t done much weeding at all this summer. She wanted to pull them all so Otto and Gertrude wouldn’t try to clear the garden themselves. Lou glanced at the elderly couple.
Otto hovered over Gertrude, adjusting a large umbrella he had attached to her chair, making sure she stayed in the shade. He puffed a little with even that effort. Gertrude smiled at her husband’s attentions but still looked a little too pale. They both did. Sue had encouraged Gertrude and Otto to go inside while she and Lou finished, but they refused to leave, insisting they would keep her and Lou fed and watered.
“So Lou, Sue tells us that Devlin interrupted a kiss with a certain English gentleman.”
Still folded at the waist, Lou raised her eyebrow at Sue, who didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. Lou straightened so she could look at Gertrude.
“I’m not sure the term ‘kiss’ is entirely accurate.”
“He used his lips? Yes?”
“Yes, but he missed and got my nose. And thanks to Devlin’s interruption, we didn’t get the chance to work on his aim.”
“Aahhh, and you believe Devlin’s story?” Gertrude pointed her finger at Lou.
“Does it matter?” Lou shrugged.
“Perhaps, perhaps not. Do you feel like Ginger Rogers? Is he your Fred Astaire?”
Lou nodded.
“Then Devlin’s story does not matter.” Gertrude paused. “Sue says your young man is handsome.”
Lou looked at Sue again, blushed, and tried to cover it by dabbing her face with her limp bandanna.