Читать книгу One Night With The Cowboy - Brenda Harlen - Страница 12

Chapter One

Seven years later

“We’re going to Las Vegas!”

The words stole the air from Brie’s lungs, like the first big drop of the Cyclone at Coney Island. But unlike the thrill of plunging eighty-five feet at sixty miles an hour, there was no exhilarating rise that followed—only an uncomfortable queasy feeling.

Judging by Lily’s excited squeals, she had an altogether different reaction to the announcement.

“Okay.” Grace clapped her hands together and grinned. “Stop squealing and start packing—we fly out at eight forty-five tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Brie echoed, when she’d managed to find her voice. “But—”

“Don’t you dare say you can’t go,” Grace interjected. “We talked about this months ago, and we all agreed that we would take a long weekend to celebrate my twenty-fifth birthday.”

“Of course I’m going to celebrate with you,” she assured her friend. “I just thought you’d want something a little more...or maybe a little less. And Vegas in August is going to be sticky and gross.”

“Worse than New York?” Lily asked dubiously.

“Trust me,” Brie said.

“I realize you’ve probably been there a thousand times,” Grace said. “But I never have and that’s where I want to go. Plus, the plane tickets and hotel are already paid for by my parents as their birthday present to me.”

Although Brie had grown up less than 450 miles from Las Vegas, she’d only ever made one trip to Sin City. One unforgettable trip more than seven years earlier, and though the heartache had begun to fade, she knew she could never forget the man—or their reasons for making that trip.

“Now I’m off to the obligatory birthday dinner with the family at Per Se,” Grace continued, already heading toward the stairs. “Make sure you pack your party clothes—I want to celebrate my quarter-century milestone in a big way.”

Lily pushed off the sofa. “I knew there was a reason I bought that sexy red dress at Bergdorf’s last weekend.”

“I thought you bought it because you couldn’t resist a sale,” Brie noted dryly.

Her friend grinned. “That, too.”

Lily disappeared into her bedroom to begin packing, and Brie decided to do the same, albeit with less enthusiasm. Because going to Nevada naturally made her think about Haven, where she’d grown up and where most of her family still lived, and thinking about Haven brought back memories of Caleb, the first—and only—boy she’d ever loved. And even after seven years, those memories made her heart yearn.

When she left Haven, she didn’t think she’d ever go back. And for the first four years, she hadn’t. Then her grandmother died, and she’d needed to grieve with her family. Two years after that, she’d returned for a much happier occasion: the wedding of her brother Spencer to Kenzie Atkins, Brie’s best friend throughout high school. The next spring, she’d gone back for the birth of her sister Regan’s twin baby girls—and again for Piper and Poppy’s baptism.

Each successive trip had been a little easier than the one before. Of course it helped that she didn’t need to worry about running into Caleb, because her parents had built a big house closer to town a few years earlier and he rarely ventured far from the Circle G.

She pulled her suitcase out from under her bed now and set it on top of the mattress—and vaguely wondered if she could fake being sick to avoid the trip. She immediately felt guilty for even contemplating such a ruse, but the way her stomach tied itself into knots at the prospect of returning to Las Vegas, she might not have to fake anything.

But she would do this for Grace. She would do anything for either of the two women who’d been her best friends since her first week in New York, when they’d met as freshmen residents of Hartley Hall.

There was a light tap on the partially open door, then Lily poked her head into her room. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Brie invited.

Her friend looked at the still empty suitcase, then at her. “You absolutely hate the idea of going to Las Vegas, don’t you?”

Brie opened a drawer and began rifling through the contents. “There are a lot of other places I would have preferred to visit, but I can understand why Grace wants to go. Everyone should experience Sin City at least once.”

“I’m not particularly close to my family—as you know,” Lily admitted. “But even I go home at least three times a year.”

“My parents come to New York periodically.”

“They come here,” her friend agreed. “How often do you go there?”

In the past year, more than she’d wanted to, but Brie knew that response would only raise more questions. “I don’t enjoy traveling as much as they do,” she suggested as an explanation instead.

“Says the woman who visited ten countries in Europe on her summer vacation last year,” Lily noted.

“That was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Her friend lowered herself onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard with one leg tucked up beneath the other. “Las Vegas is 432 miles from Haven,” she pointed out.

A detail of which Brie was well aware, but not one that she’d expect an East Coast native to know.

Her surprise must have shown on her face, because Lily shrugged and explained, “I looked it up.”

Brie continued packing.

“Are you ever going to tell us what happened to make you leave Nevada and never want to return?” her friend asked gently.

“What can I say? I love New York.”

“I know that’s true, but I also know it’s not the whole truth.”

Brie sighed. “Maybe I should have told you—and Grace—a long time ago, but I was feeling too raw and vulnerable at first. And then, as time passed, I realized that my heartbreak wasn’t nearly as big a deal as it seemed.”

“It must have been a bigger deal than you’re pretending now,” Lily said. “Or the thought of going to Nevada wouldn’t have you strangling that dress the way you are.”

She immediately unclenched her hands and shook out the garment, then folded it neatly into her suitcase. “It wasn’t a big deal,” she insisted. “I simply fell in love with the wrong guy.”

“Why was he wrong?” her friend wondered.

“Our families were the Montagues and Capulets of Haven,” she explained. “And while the whole star-crossed lovers thing seemed incredibly romantic at the time, it didn’t end well.

“No big surprise there, of course, but I chose to walk away with a broken heart rather than put a dagger through it.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

“It was seven years ago,” she reminded Lily.

“Which doesn’t actually answer the question,” her friend noted.

“I’m not still in love with him,” she said, because she needed to believe it was true.

After more than seven years, she didn’t want to admit—even to herself—that Caleb Gilmore still owned the biggest piece of her heart.

* * *

Caleb Gilmore had been back to Las Vegas a handful of times since his impulsive trip with Brielle Channing seven years earlier. But each subsequent journey inevitably brought back memories of the first time.

And of Brie.

Of course, it was rare for a single day to pass without him thinking about her, because in Haven, there were reminders every way he turned. Driving past the high school, he couldn’t help but think about the first time they’d danced together. Riding up to Eagle Rock to herd a lost calf, he was reminded of their first kiss. And returning to Las Vegas brought back memories of the promises they’d made to each other so long ago. Promises that had obviously meant more to him than to her, since she’d broken every one of them within a few weeks of their return to Haven.

This time, he’d made the trip at the request of his childhood friend Joe Bishop, to serve as best man at Joe’s wedding. They’d arrived late the night before and checked into The Destiny—a newer luxury hotel on the strip that Joe had chosen because he was certain he was about to meet his destiny.

“Do you have the ring?” the groom-to-be asked, for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Caleb nodded. “I’ve got it,” he confirmed, as he’d done each time before.

“It was my grandmother’s,” his friend said. “She wore it every day for almost sixty years.”

And now he was ready to put that ring on the finger of a woman he’d known for less than six hours.

“You know this is crazy, right?” Caleb felt compelled to ask his friend.

“I know you think so,” Joe acknowledged. “But me and Delia have been chatting and gaming online for almost seven months, and I knew I loved her even before I saw her. Now that we’ve finally met, I have no doubt that she’s the woman I’m destined to be with for the rest of my life.”

“The rest of your life is a long time,” he warned.

“I hope so,” his friend said sincerely. “But if you’re not comfortable standing up for me, I can—”

“No,” Caleb interjected. “I want to do this. Because even if I do think this is more than a little impulsive, it’s obvious that Delia is just as smitten with you as you are with her.”

“Then why are you scowling?” Joe asked him.

He shook his head. “If I tell you, you’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Tell me anyway,” his friend said.

Caleb slipped his arms into his jacket, then buttoned the front, tugged on the cuffs. “I caught a glimpse of a woman in the hotel lobby downstairs,” he finally admitted. “And I thought—for a minute—that it was Brie.”

“Brielle Channing?”

He nodded.

Joe considered the admission for a moment before responding. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. I’m crazy for falling in love with a woman I met online seven months ago, but it’s okay that you’re still in love with the woman who walked away from you more than seven years ago?”

“I’m not still in love with her,” Caleb denied.

“Then forget about her,” Joe advised. “Because what happens in Vegas—”

“Stays in Vegas,” he finished, the marketing slogan being truer than even his buddy realized.

The groom-to-be grinned. “That’s right, my friend. And after the ceremony, I will be escorting my bride to the honeymoon suite, which means that this room is all yours.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Caleb said. Although the idea of spending the night with a random stranger held absolutely no appeal, admitting as much to his friend would only result in more questions about Brie—and he definitely didn’t want to go there.

“Good.” Joe adjusted his tie in the mirror. “Do you have—”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “I have the ring.”

“Okay.”

Caleb glanced at his watch and decided they had some time before they needed to head down to the chapel. The thick carpet of the luxury room muffled his footsteps as he crossed to the bar to retrieve two bottles of beer from the fridge.

“Do you have any idea what they charge for those?” the anxious groom asked, his preoccupation with his grandmother’s ring momentarily forgotten.

“No,” he admitted, as he uncapped both bottles and handed one to Joe. “But undoubtedly less than the champagne, and I thought you’d prefer to toast your marriage this way.”

“Can’t argue with that,” his buddy decided.

“To you and Delia,” Caleb said, lifting his bottle in the air. “May you have a long and happy life together.”

“And to my best friend,” Joe said, raising his drink. “I hope that someday you find your perfect match and feel as lucky as I do right now. In the meantime—” he grinned again “—I hope you at least get lucky.”

They tapped their bottles together and drank, then Joe went to escort his bride while Caleb headed to the chapel.

On his way, he passed one of the hotel’s three pools and lingered for a minute to admire the crystal clear water sparkling in the afternoon sun—and the numerous shapely female bodies in and around it.

He felt an unwelcome tug in the vicinity of his chest when he saw her there: the same woman he’d caught a glimpse of earlier. The woman he’d believed—for the space of one endless, aching heartbeat—was Brielle.

Of course, it wasn’t her. There were more than fifty hotels on the strip, and the odds that she might be vacationing in Las Vegas and staying at this particular hotel on the same weekend that he was here were...incalculable.

Whoever the woman was, she wasn’t Brie, and he had to stop imagining otherwise.

* * *

Brie stepped out of the water and reached for one of the thick, fluffy towels provided by the hotel.

Then her gaze lifted to his face, noted the light brown hair that showed hints of gold in the sun, the tanned skin and square jaw, the hazel eyes framed by thick lashes—eyes that seemed to be staring right into hers even through the dark lenses of the sunglasses perched on her nose.

Her breath caught in her throat and her heart actually skipped a beat before it resumed its rhythm, albeit a little harder and faster than before.

“It is you,” he said, in a low voice that was achingly familiar.

She ignored the racing of her heart and reminded herself that she wasn’t a teenager anymore. She was a twenty-five-year-old woman who could handle an unexpected encounter with a former lover without falling to pieces.

Buoyed by this quick internal pep talk, she managed to respond casually, easily. “Hello, Caleb.”

Though she couldn’t take her eyes off him, she was aware that both of her friends were avidly watching the interaction. She felt the weight of their stares—and their unspoken questions.

“I wasn’t sure it was really you at first.” He settled on the edge of her lounger, so that he could look her in the eye—despite the fact that hers were still shaded.

She was grateful for the protection, because Caleb had always been able to see too much of what she was feeling. And his sudden and unexpected appearance here had brought to the surface too many feelings that she’d thought were long forgotten—or at least deeply buried.

“I saw you waiting for the elevator earlier,” he continued, “but by the time I crossed the lobby, the doors had closed, and I decided that it couldn’t have been you, anyway.”

She didn’t know what to say to that—or if she was even capable of forming a coherent sentence. So many thoughts and questions were swirling through her mind, so many emotions battling for dominance inside her heart.

Her friends came to her rescue now, with Lily shoving her hand toward him. “I’m Lily—one of Brielle’s roommates in New York.”

Deeply ingrained manners forced him to shift his attention and accept the proffered hand. And Grace’s, too, when she followed the initial introduction with her own.

By then, Brie had recovered sufficiently from the shock of the unexpected encounter that she was able to string enough words together to say, “Caleb and I grew up together in Haven.”

“So the two of you are...old friends?” Grace guessed.

Caleb looked at Brie again, waiting for her to answer.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Old friends.”

He gave the slightest shake of his head then, as if he was disappointed by her response.

“We’re a little more than that,” he said, and though he was answering Grace’s question, his eyes never left Brie’s face.

“How much more?” Lily asked curiously.

He settled a hand on Brie’s knee, the casual gesture of a man accustomed to touching a woman.

Her breath caught in her throat as the contact caused her blood to heat and race through her veins, the effect of his touch exactly the same as it had been so many years before.

The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he registered her body’s instinctive response to the contact before she drew her leg away. Then he shifted his attention to her friends and finally responded to Lily’s question.

“Actually, Brielle is my wife.”