One Bride Too Many: One Bride Too Many / One Groom To Go

“You seemed to be doing well enough.” She bit her tongue, angry at herself for letting him know she’d noticed.

He shrugged. In shirtsleeves, his shoulders were broad and muscular. Her fingers itched to touch them.

“I’d like to meet someone our age.”

“I’m a whole year younger than you are!”

“Point taken. But do you have any nice friends?”

“All my friends are nice—at least most of the time.” She was thinking of Lucinda. “But I’m not good at setting up blind dates. It’s the best way I know to lose friends.”

She suspected he was too much man for most of the single women she knew. But oddly enough he didn’t intimidate her anymore. She knew he’d never be interested in her—she was just his pal—but at least he didn’t make her stammer, stutter and shake anymore.

“How about this.” He took a coin from his pocket. “Heads, you introduce me to some of your friends. Tails, I give you a tour of the baby plant and a sneak preview of some new products that will be available soon.”

She was tempted, but didn’t entirely trust him.

“I’m not much on games of chance,” she said.

“What is your game?”

“Tennis, but I wouldn’t stand a chance against an athlete like you. I do play pool occasionally.”

She didn’t mention that she’d grown up practicing on her dad’s table in the basement, or that she played in a weekly league in the winter.

“Pool it is. Same stakes. Do you like one game, sudden death or two out of three?”

“Two out of three.” Her second game was usually better than her first. She needed warm-up time.

“I’ll follow you. Where do you want to play?”

“You forget I did the Cinderella bit—ball gown to rags. Maybe a rain check?”

Which would give her time to wiggle out of the bet, she thought, realizing how little she wanted to fix him up with someone else.

“If you’re afraid you can’t beat me…”

“No way!”

“I’ll follow you home. You can change, and we’ll go to the closest bar with a table.”

“It’s late, Cole.”

“Not even eleven.”

“I’ve had a long day.”

“No disadvantage. I was on the work site at six a.m.”

“Do you always get your own way?”

His grin was all the answer she needed.

She gave in, but darned if she’d let him win!

2

THERE WAS NOTHING Cole liked less than waiting for a woman to get dressed—except, of course, looking for a wife he didn’t want.

He told Tess he’d wait in the truck while she changed her torn dress, but he was too restless to sit. He got out of the driver’s seat and started pacing in a broad circuit in the parking area as soon as she went inside her ground-floor apartment.

She lived in one of a hundred or so small units in the brick complex, all with individual entrances either on the ground level or off a second-floor balcony that ran the length of each building with stairs at both ends. He approved. He liked a floor plan that allowed tenants their own private entrances and didn’t waste space on a lobby.

The apartments were thirty or forty years old, built when buildings were still laid out in rectangular patterns with straight service roads. Today builders, including Zack and him, favored curving roads and cul-de-sacs for an illusion of spaciousness and privacy, but the place was well maintained and still looked good. Much of the vast sprawl in Wayne County was a conglomerate of enclaves linked by expressways and major roads. He knew it like the back of his hand, but never tired of the architectural diversity.

He’d rate Tess’s place as ho-hum, a haven for singles and young couples with a smattering of seniors who’d given up their homes in favor of easy maintenance and social-security living. At least she didn’t live with her parents.

Stopping to look at his watch, Cole thought about the evening so far.

The wedding reception had been about what he’d expected—a bunch of casual acquaintances and a few strangers pretending they lived the high life all the time. At least no one had challenged his presence.

He even got propositioned. Mrs. Donaldson wanted to give him a tour of the clubhouse, promising she knew some hidden niches where no one ever went. She’d conveniently forgotten he’d played soccer with her son in middle school. He politely declined!

As for the younger women, he’d had a hard time separating college girls from jailbait. Except for seeing Tess again, the evening had been a bust, but it forced him to be realistic. He wasn’t going to find the girl of his grandfather’s dreams at a party or a bar, which pretty much eliminated his usual stomping grounds.

Maybe Tess would open some doors for him, not that he deserved her help after the rough time he gave her in high school. But they were both adults now, right? Fortunately, she didn’t seem to hold a grudge. She was the kind of woman who could be a good friend without all the game-playing that went with relationships. And she was the only person he knew who could help him meet some nice girls.

First he had to beat her at pool. He’d be sporting, though, and not win by too much. He couldn’t expect her to help solve his problem if he humiliated her.

“Bailey, where are you?” she called, managing to startle him, because he’d expected to wait the typical half hour most females required for a simple change.

“Here.”

He walked toward her from a row of cars parked south of his truck.

“Are you ready for a…” He nearly said lesson, then saw what she was carrying—a case that could only contain one thing. “You have your own pool stick?”

“I play in a league in the winter. If you want to call off the bet…”

“No way.”

He had a hard time seeing Tess as a pool hustler, but she’d suckered him into a challenge he really needed to win. At least it would be more fun—and easier on his conscience—if she could give him a good game.

“Get in.” He opened the door of his truck for her.

“I thought I’d drive my car, and you can follow. That way you won’t have to bring me home.”

“Get in. I don’t mind bringing you back.”