First Love - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 04] Page 10

  Myrna made a face, and Marv sighed with exasperation. "Damn it, woman, do you have any idea how many girls would give their right arm to have a maid as efficient as her?"

  "She steals my underwear."

  This was news to Marv, and he slid his sunglasses down his nose so he could get a better look at his wife. "What have you been smoking?"

  Myrna's cheeks turned as red as his boxers. "It's just that sheI mean, I" She waved a hand. "Doesn't matter. I was just saying I miss Humphrey."

  "Then ship the mutt down here."

  Her eyes lit up, and she threw her arms around him. He returned the hug, holding on to her for a little longer than maybe he should, considering they were out in public, but right then, she felt like the girl he'd married so many long years ago.

  "Really?"

  He'd made the offer out of frustration, but now that he saw the excitement in her eyes, he nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Why the fuck not?"

  "Oh, Marv-baby," she said, throwing her arms around him and kissing him on the cheek. "You're just an old softie." She looked around. "We ought to get some breakfast."

  "Breakfast?" he repeated. "What about the dog?"

  She shook her head. "He'd be scared to death on a plane. But, honey bear, you offered. And you wouldn't have done that if you didn't love me." She took his hand. "Now, let's eat, okay?"

  "Food," he said, staring in the bakery window. "Ain't there a Denny's around here somewhere?"

  "Oh, baby. You're not gonna make me eat at a chain, are you? Not when we got so much local color."

  He looked her up and down. She wore a big floppy hat to protect her from the already brutal sun, a floral print sundress with spiky shoes that would surely end up costing her a broken ankle. She clutched a small purse with one of the town's tourist maps peeking out. He'd seen the maps stacked on the reception counter at the Inn. Apparently, his wife wanted to do some exploring.

  He sighed again. What the hell . "All right, already. Let's do this thing." He pulled open the door to the bakery, a little bell announcing their arrival.

  "Can I help you?" The question came from a perky teenager with her long hair pulled back into a net.

  "You got anything here that isn't made outta a pound of butter?"

  "Marv!" Myrna stared at him, looking all shocked, like he wasn't acting the way he always acted.

  The girl didn't seem shocked so much as impertinent. She just stared at him, her gaze aimed right at his waist.

  He put a protective hand over the paunch that rolled over his belt. "Wha? You think just because I got a few extra pounds on me I can't eat healthy? Babydoll, that's why I gotta eat healthy."

  "I oh no I mean, I" The startled girl turned away quickly to attend to a beeping coffeemaker, her relief at having an excuse practically radiating off her.

  Marv nudged Myrna. "Come on, babycakes. Let's go find us a fruit cup or something."

  Myrna crossed her arms across her chest and re-fused to move. Marv glared, in no mood to play Who's the Boss with his wife.

  She stamped a size seven foot. "Don't start with me, Marv. We're down here with half my wardrobe, I don't have my pillow or my dog."

  "But I just told you to ship the mutt here."

  She ignored that. "The only good thing is that I'm away from Marcella for a few days." She shivered. "That woman gives me the heebie-jeebies."

  "Damn it, Myrna." He pointed to the girl behind the counter. "You'd give your eyeteeth to have a maid, wouldn't you?"

  "I urn"

  "Marv, don't terrify the girl."

  "Fine. Damn it all. Just give me two of those." He pointed at something round and covered in pastry, like the little mini-wieners he liked to have at parties.

  "So what the hell is that, anyway?" he asked, as the girl popped his two into a bag, along with the cheese Danish Myrna had selected. It would go straight to her hips and send her into a ten-day depression, but Marv knew better than to say anything. If he mentioned the Danish, Myrna would take it like he was saying she'd gotten fat. Like he wanted some skinny-ass bimbo with nothing to grab on to.

  So he kept his mouth shut and kept the peace.

  "They're kolaches," the girl said, then waved toward the front of the store as someone else came in, the little bell tingling once again.

  "What the fu"

  "Kolaches," said a firm voice behind him. "A German sausage wrapped in pastry."

  Myrna gasped, and Marv turned, his sense of foreboding shifting into hyperdrive. "Judge," he said, when he saw who stood there. "I won't say 'Your Honor,' 'cause you sure the fuck ain't got any."

  Judge Herman Strauss stroked his beard, thinking that he should have gone straight to the courthouse and skipped his kolache this morning. His wife kept telling him the damn things would kill him. She probably hadn't meant that his death would come at the hand of Marv Spinelli, a pain-in-the-ass plaintiff who'd lumbered into his courtroom over fifteen years ago.

  He'd heard that Spinelli had rolled into town yesterday. The Fredericksburg grapevine was faster than the Internet, and it had been primed for over a monthever since Julia Spinelli had graced their town's streets.

  Poor thing, she'd been the subject of much speculation when she'd first arrived. Not too surprising, Strauss supposed, considering the waves Marv had sent through the town years before. The town's memory was long, and Julia had been watched warily.

  The young lady, though, had proved to be nothing like her father, and the judge had been pleased when she'd made friends with the local merchants. He'd been even more pleased when she'd gotten herself engaged to Roman Sonntag. That had caused the tongues to wag some more, of course. Such a fast engagement. But once again, Julia had won the town over.

  She was a good kid. Herman liked her, and his own daughter couldn't stop talking about how "fab" her wardrobe was.

  The judge looked at Marv, sweat stains from the Texas heat already starting to form under the arms of the Jersey native's polyester shirt. The judge fought the urge to shake his head. The apple might not fall far from the tree in most families, but in Julia Spinelli's case, the apple fell in a whole different field.

  "Judge. So, urn, nice to see you again." Mrs. Spinelli tottered forward on dangerous-looking shoes. The judge hadn't seen as much of her during the trial, and it took him a second longer to recall her name. Myrna.

  "You don't need to be polite to him, babydoll," Marv said. "Judge Strauss's the bastard what screwed us over. Him and Robert Sonntag and his bastard son, that is."

  "I only applied the law, Mr. Spinelli."

  "Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that if that's what it takes to sleep at night." Marv took a step closer, poked the judge in the chest. "But I know the truth." Poke. "And you do, too. Don't you, 'Your Honor'?"

  Poke, poke.

  This time, Judge Strauss grabbed Marv's finger. "I really suggest you don't do that again."

  "Don't do that? How about do this?" And as Myrna and the salesclerk squealed, Marv pulled his arm back, fisted his fingers and took aim.

  The monster exploded out of him, and he heard the resounding crack as his fist collided with the judge's nose.

  Marv stepped back, nodding with satisfaction. "Damn," he said. "I feel better already."

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Not yet in "fighting" shape for your wedding preparations? Fighting for florists getting you down? Not quite able to zip up the dress of your dreams?

  No problem.

  Sign up for Bridal Boot Camp! During the two-week stint, pounds and inches will fall off even while your stamina increases!

  Give your husband-to-be the best wedding present

  ever: a refreshed, reinvigorated, and raring to go you!

  from All About Brides , Summer 2005 Issue

  Julia woke up to the sensation of being petted. A soft, warm hand drifted up her bare side, following the curve of her hip, then caressing the side of her breast. Her nipples peaked; her thighs felt warm and languid. She stretched, arching her b
ack and silently inviting an even more intimate caress.

  As she'd hoped, Roman was more than happy to comply. And as the sun streamed in through the crack in the curtains, they made love in the early morning light. Soft and sweet, a nice contrast to their wild coupling the night before.

  With Roman, though, just his simple touch was perfect. Everything beyond that was like a gift.

  Spent, they lay spooned together, Roman curled up behind her, her rear nestled against his crotch.

  "Think we can stay this way all day?" she asked.

  "I ordered room service for eight," he murmured back. "We should probably at least toss a blanket over us. I'm not sure the waiter will be able to stand the thrill otherwise."

  "Cancel room service," she said. "Who needs food. We can survive on sex. I'm certain of it."

  He shifted, leaned up to nibble on her ear. "Yeah," he said. "I'm willing to try that."

  She squirmed, laughing, his touch tickling her and making her entire body hypersensitive.

  "Assuming we do decide to get out of this bed"

  "Not going to happen," she said.

  "what do you have planned for the day? Anything?"

  She rolled over, eyebrows raised. "Does that mean you don't want me with you today? Do you have secret wine meetings?"

  "No," he said. "Of course not."

  But he answered too quickly and too innocently. "Uh-huh," she said. "You can't play big-shot businessman with your fiancee on your arm." When he started to protest, she held up a hand. "Don't even bother. I know I'm right."

  "It's just business."

  Julia shook her head as she sat up, her demeanor stern. "It works both ways, Roman. I fell in love with you and let you into all aspects of my life. You know all about my freaky family, you know how completely insecure I am about making the Inn a success, and you even know all about the plumbing and vermin problems at work. More, you've helped me with all of that, and I love you for it." She stroked his cheek, emphasizing her point. "Don't sit there and deny me the right to help you, too. To be there for you."

  "I'm not denying you anything," he said. But he didn't meet her eyes, and she knew that she'd totally nailed him. She considered arguing, but what would be the point? Roman was a man of action. In his mind, he was the one who got things done. If someone else had to step in and help, then he'd failed. A pretty typical guy thing all in all, and even though it drove her nuts, at least she understood it. Over time, she intended to chip away at it.

  "I know you're not telling me something," she said. "But I'll drop it for now. This isn't the end of this conversation, though."

  "I love you because you're so smart. You know that, right?"

  She laughed. "And I love you because you know precisely how to suck up to me."

  "Believe me, babe. I'm happy to suck any part you want."

  She laughed again, then rolled over and propped herself up on her elbow so she could watch him. "Does it ever amaze you how quickly we fell in love?"

  "Every day."

  "Does it ever scare you?"

  "Never."

  She looked at his face and saw total honesty there. Immediately she felt guilty, because it did scare her. She'd never felt like this before.

  And to know that she'd fallen under a man's spell was terrifying.

  He laughed, then reached over to stroke her cheek. "Don't look so scared."

  "Oh, God." She felt her cheeks heat. "Now I'm mortified."

  His smile was gentle, not the least bit disturbed that she might be experiencing their engagement as a point of both terror and excitement. She felt the need to explain. "It's just that I've dated my whole life. And it's always been a planned sort of thing. I dated this guy because he could take me to the prom. That guy because he had a discount at Barneys. Another guy because he was an excellent dancer. But there wasn't anything contrived about falling in love with you. And that makes it so scary to me."

  "I think love is supposed to be a little scary. Sometimes it hits you in the gut and knocks the wind out of you. Sometimes it's a slow burn. We got hit. No," he corrected, "we got slammed. And now we've got each other to hold on to through the storm."

  "I love you," she said. What else could she say after that? He'd taken her fear and turned it into something warm and sweet and special. "I love you more than I'll ever be able to tell you."

  "I'm glad." He inched closer, then trailed his fingers along her back and over the curve of her rear. "Of course, even if you can't tell me, that doesn't mean you shouldn't try to show me. Constantly."

  Giggling, she squirmed. "You're incorrigible. You know that?" She reached back and pushed his hands away. "Watch those hands, buddy."

  "Shall I cancel my meetings so I can stay here and show you just what I can do with those hands?"

  She sat up, trying to affect an expression of aloof indifference even though the offer was so very, very tempting. "That's not necessary. I'll just find something to do to entertain myself."

  His mouth quirked. "Uh-huh. And what local fashion establishment is having a sale today?"

  "I wouldn't know. I'm only interested in one particular garment."

  He frowned, then leaned forward and felt her forehead. "You're not feverish"

  She smacked his hand away. "Wedding dresses," she said. "You might recall that I'll be wearing one in a few days."

  "I thought you'd already had all your fittings."

  She shook her head. She really hadn't planned to tell him, but she wanted the sympathy. More, she wanted to hear him say they'd sue the rotten bastardseven though they really wouldn't, of course. She just wanted to know it meant as much to him as it did to her.

  She crossed her fingers and spilled the news.

  " What ?" His question was spewed with such outrage that she felt an unreasonable trill of happiness. He'd be happy if she were dressed in burlap and, like most men, thought that if shown a dozen wedding dresses, then at least one of them had to suit.

  He might not understand, but he cared. And since this was her fiasco, it was now his as well.

  And what a lovely feeling that was!

  "Can we do anything about it?" she asked, hopefully.

  He shook his head, which was pretty much the reaction she'd expected. "I can call my lawyer, but even if there's some legal recourse, that kind of thing moves slowly. There's no way it could get resolved before the wedding."

  "That's what I expected."

  "And that's why you're going shopping today."

  "I have to find the perfect dress," she said, as matter-of-factly as if she'd just announced the time. "I won't get married without it."

  "You'll be beautiful in whatever you wear."

  With a laugh bubbling in her throat, she threw her arms around him and then kissed him. "I knew you were going to say that," she said. "And you're so wrong, I can't even begin to tell you."

  "But you love me."

  "Bunches," she said.

  "Well, then, that's what counts." He hooked his arm around her neck, and her body got that wonderful tingly feeling again as he tugged her closer. His lips brushed over hers, a soft promise of things to come, but they didn't get to the main event. The phone rang instead, startling Roman and making him pull away.

  "Leave it," she said, even though she knew it was a futile request.

  "Can't. I've got too much on the plate today to miss getting a message."

  She watched as his serious business face faded, replaced by the more relaxed expression that she was so familiar with. Family or a friend , she thought. And then, when his forehead creased and he shot a quick glance her way, she sat up straighter. Trouble. But what kind?

  She wanted to ask, but managed to hold off until he said goodbye and snapped his phone shut. And then she didn't even have to demand. Instead, he told her straight out:

  "That was my mom," he said. "I'm afraid you're going to have to postpone hunting for that dress. We need to get back. Your dad's just been arrested."

  Julia was a wreck
, an absolute wreck, during the entire ride back. She'd said hardly two words to Roman, and she was certain he was worried about her, but she couldn't quite work up the energy to talkto put up a false and happy face and make it all seem trivial. Like "Oh, gee, look what my pop's gone and done." Because it wasn't light and trivial. It was absolutely horrible.

  Not only was she the daughter of that classless putz from Jersey now she was the daughter of that classless criminal putz from Jersey.

  Roman was being perfectly nice, but Julia knew that deep down he had to be mortified. Would he want to call off the wedding? Postpone it?

  "Roman?"

  He reached over and took her hand. "Hey, sweetheart. Almost there."

  She nodded. They were passing Wildseed Farms right now. Only a few more minutes to the police station where they had her father locked up.

  "You doing okay?" he asked.

  "Sure. Yeah. I'm fine." She shot a sideways glance at him. "How are you?" Mortified to be seen with me ?

  "I don't like seeing you upset, but otherwise, I'm fine." He squeezed her hand again. "You need anythinganything at allyou just ask me."

  Absently, she nodded. He was saying all the right things, and she hoped he meant them. He loved her. Surely he wouldn't fall out of love with her just because he got a good look at where she came from.

  Would he?

  She didn't have long to worry about it, because he pulled up right in front of the station. Another plus to small-town lifeample parking.

  "Ready?" he asked as he killed the engine.

  "As I'll ever be." She pushed the door open and marched up the steps, her chin held high.

  She'd never been inside the station before, so Roman led her through the reception area. They were passed into the back by a dark-haired woman who apparently knew Roman, since she didn't even bother to ask for ID.

  They moved through a large room filled with a dozen desks, mostly empty, then turned down a corridor. At the end, she saw a cell with bars, just like in the movies. Her stomach twisted. Her dad was a lot of things, but he wasn't a criminal. He shouldn't be locked up like that. They shouldn't have

  She frowned, realizing as they got closer that, apparently, they hadn't.