A Bride Until Midnight / Something Unexpected: A Bride Until Midnight

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Abby said apologetically. “But Jake’s here.”

Summer’s hands went to either side of her face. Jake. Of course. That was what she’d forgotten.

To Summer, Kyle said, “Who the hell is Jake?”

It was Abby who answered. “He’s Summer’s date.” Her voice rose on the last word, turning the statement into a question.

Summer and Jake Nichols had been in the middle of dinner two nights ago when he’d had to make an emergency house call to help a mother goat deliver twins. He’d promised to make it up to Summer. Tonight. Summer wasn’t sure what Abby was doing here, but it probably had to do with helping them choose the wedding cake.

“Shall I tell him something came—er, that you stepped out?”

“Yes,” Kyle said.

“No,” Summer said at the same time. She pulled a face at her friend and took a deep breath. Walking to the counter on rubbery legs, she said, “I won’t lie. Tell him—What should we tell him? Tell him I’m running a little late. Can you keep him entertained for a few minutes?”

“Are you sure?” Abby asked.

The friends shared a look.

Trying on a shaky smile, Summer said, “I’m sure, Abby. Just give me a few minutes, okay?”

Abby spun on her heel and swished out the way she’d entered.

“What are you doing, Summer?” Kyle asked.

She went to the hook beside the refrigerator and opened her purse. After fishing out a brush and small mirror, she fixed her hair and applied lipstick and blush. Steadier now, she finally looked at Kyle again.

He’d turned around and now faced her. His shirt was untucked—she’d untucked it. His collar was askew, again her doing. His green eyes were stormy and narrowed, but there was little she could do about that.

She ran a hand down her dress, adjusted the waist and straightened the neckline. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I’m going to dinner.”

“The hell you are.”

The edge in Kyle’s voice held Summer momentarily still. He walked toward her like a stealth bomber, determination and displeasure in every step. He didn’t stop until he was close enough for her to see that he meant business.

“I have to go, Kyle.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She could tell he was trying to hold on to his temper—trying but not entirely succeeding. He was a force to be reckoned with, and she understood why he was upset. She was wildly attracted to him. There was no sense trying to deny it. Her heart rate still hadn’t settled back into its normal rhythm, her breathing was shallow and her legs were shaky. He’d touched her body and she’d felt his need. If Abby hadn’t interrupted, they would probably be in her bedroom right now. But Abby had interrupted, and Summer did have to go tonight.

“Jake knows I’m here. I’m not going to stand him up.”

He took her hand, then promptly released it. “So what we started he’ll—”

Summer’s chin came up a notch. A few responses came to mind, none of them nice. In the end, she met his gaze and quietly said, “Nobody else could finish what you started.”

She glanced at the table beside him, and, after another calming breath, she said, “I’ll ask Abby to tell Madeline we’re recommending the chocolate-vanilla swirl.”

Leaving the cake to dry out, and Kyle to cool off, she lifted her chin and went to greet her date.

Every bar Kyle had ever set foot in had basic similarities and a peculiarity or two that made each one unique in its own right. The three he visited in Orchard Hill were no exception. He’d knocked back a shot with his beer in the first, played a few games of pool in the second, and ordered a bar burger to go with a cold draft in the third. It wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his Friday night, not by a long shot.

He’d gone up to his room after Summer left for her date. He had three voice mails from Grant Oberlin, each one more heated than the last, a text message from Riley, two missed calls from his mother and nothing from the source he needed to talk to. He’d tried to read, but Summer’s touches in the room were everywhere, and he’d wound up pacing.

Summer insisted she wouldn’t lie. That was a good trait. But he was still mad. The answer was simple. He didn’t like the thought of Summer having dinner with Jake whoever-the-hell-he-was. He liked what that dinner might lead to even less, because no matter what she insinuated she wouldn’t do with anyone else, Jake whoever-the-hell-he-was was a man. Summer was a beautiful, vibrant woman, and this guy would have to be a fool not to try. Kyle had no claim on her. He had no right to feel like putting his fist in the middle of some stranger’s face, either, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

He’d dropped in on Riley and Madeline. Even in Kyle’s foul mood, he could see that he’d interrupted them in the middle of making up. After that he’d driven around Orchard Hill, getting a feel for the lay of the land. There were several more bars on the strip across the river near the college. Those catered to students, and the last thing Kyle wanted to deal with tonight was a college girl.

A barroom brawl would have been a good diversion. The second bar he’d visited was a seedy dive where fights broke out with little provocation, but Kyle hadn’t stayed. Sometime before he’d turned thirty, he’d learned that the pain of a split lip, a black eye and a broken hand lasted longer than the satisfaction of feeling invincible that preceded it. Though he might make an exception if he encountered Jake Whoever-the-hell-he-was.

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