Читать книгу The Risk-Taker - Kira Sinclair - Страница 8

HOPE WAS ALWAYS AMAZED at the Cupid committee’s ability to completely transform the basement of St. Luke’s. For as long as she could remember the cocktail party that kicked off the weeklong festivities had been held at the church. Tonight everyone who had paid to be paired—and a few who hadn’t—would be matched with an eligible man or woman for Valentine’s week. They’d participate in events and go out on dates. The hope being that after the week some of the couples might find they were perfect together. Hope had other plans for the man she’d nominated and the week she’d purchased.

Apparently the theme this year was red and gold. Someone had tacked large panels of dark red crushed velvet along the walls, camouflaging the peeling beige paint beneath. Swags of gauzy gold material hid the boring acoustic-tiled ceiling and caught the light from the hundreds of candles burning on the tables, bouncing it back onto the crush of people milling below.

Normally St. Luke’s was big enough to comfortably hold the entire town, but with the addition of tourists even the huge basement was stretched to capacity. Although no one—young, old, single, taken—would miss Matching Night. Too much gossip.

One of their reporters was moving through the crowd, ready to report all the drama. Tonight she was more likely to be the story than the one recounting it. Not that she intended to tell anyone her role in what was about to go down.

Not if she expected it all to work … Butterflies fluttered uncomfortably inside her belly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been nervous. Maybe college. Yeah, probably over some major exam.

And, really, this wasn’t much different. When she thought about it, her reaction was normal. An assignment. A test. That’s all this was. It had nothing to do with Gage or the fact that she’d pulled a sizable chunk out of her rainy day fund to ensure she had an entire week of his undivided attention.

Pressing a hand to her tummy to calm the butterflies, she stood on tiptoe and tried to find her friends.

She spotted Jenna, the town’s only caterer and one of her best friends, by the large—and temporary—bar, and waved. When Jenna noticed her she mouthed “everything okay?” Jenna gave a single nod that was at odds with the frown lines creasing the middle of her forehead. But before Hope could move that way one of the tux-clad waitstaff was pulling her away.

Hope debated whether to go after her, but decided Jenna was probably just stressed and interrupting would only add to that.

“Over here,” Lexi called out, waving from a table halfway across the room. Hope pushed through the crowd, slipping into the last empty seat.

Around the table their friends greeted her—Macey, Willow, Jade, Lanie, Regan and Tatum. Normally, Jenna would have been part of their group, but she was obviously busy tonight.

They were an eclectic bunch. She’d known Willow, Lanie and Jade from kindergarten, and despite a few hormone-fueled moments during their teenage years, they’d always been close. Tatum had joined their group when she moved here to buy Petals. Willow, always worried about making everyone feel welcome, had adopted her. She shouldn’t have worried. Tatum could be abrasive, but you always knew where you stood with her and everyone rather liked her. Macey, a bit older than the rest of them, was Willow’s business partner.

Despite the difference in their ages, Hope and Lexi had always been friends, growing up on the same street. Although, Hope had been even closer to Gage. At least until he left. After Lexi opened Sugar & Spice right behind the newspaper offices their friendship had quickly rekindled. At first Hope had worried Lexi would hold a grudge for how her friendship with Gage had ended, but she’d never even mentioned it. Hope was glad because she really liked Lexi.

“What have I missed?” Hope asked, eyeing the line at the bar and calculating whether she had time to grab a martini before the festivities started.

“Not much,” Tatum groused. “No catfights yet, but I pray that ends pretty quickly.”

Lexi just rolled her eyes. “You know you don’t have to be here.”

“And miss all the excitement?” Tatum exclaimed, her eyes round with mock innocence as she gulped down her whiskey and seven.

Tatum had grown up in Detroit and didn’t always get the idiosyncrasies that came with living in a small southern town—like antiquated traditions that went back generations. But she always attended, even if she needed some liquid courage to get through the experience.

“You know, one of these years I’m going to pay to put your name in just so I can see you squirm,” Lexi threatened, a gleam in her eye.

Willow leaned across the table. “This year. Please, do it this year. I need the entertainment.”

“Don’t worry.” Tatum rattled the naked ice in her empty glass and eyed the bar line. “I brought my checkbook just in case I needed a get-out-of-jail payment. I’m not interested in any of the men in this town and I have no intention of being forced into a torturous week with one of them.”

“Oh, come on, they aren’t that bad. There must be someone you’re interested in.” Jade plucked the glass out of Tatum’s hand and plopped her mostly untouched amaretto sour in its place. Tatum took a sip, grimaced, eyed the bar line again and drank some more.

“You forget. I deliver flowers to the wives when they feel guilty and the mistresses when they don’t.”

Hope just shook her head. Weren’t florists supposed to be romantics? To have perpetual smiles and sunny dispositions? That definitely did not describe Tatum.

“What about Gage?” Macey’s soft voice piped up. Lexi frowned.

“What about him?” Tatum asked.

“Well, he’s a war hero. Just home, so you’ve never met him and definitely haven’t delivered any flowers to wife, mistress or girlfriend. What’s wrong with him?”

Tatum’s gaze shifted to Lexi for a moment. Pain and guilt filled her eyes before flitting away. What the heck was that about? “Nothing. I’m sure he’s great, but I don’t do soldiers.”

“Who do you do?” Regan asked.

Willow shocked them all by adding, “You know if it’s girls we’d be fine with that.”

Tatum sputtered, choking out, “No,” as she tried to inhale her drink.

“Just checking.” Willow shrugged.

Gage slipped up behind his sister, wrapping her in the kind of hug that left Lexi bent over. “Save me,” he pleaded.

The butterflies took flight again inside Hope’s belly.

“Can’t. Breathe,” Lexi wheezed out, swatting at his arms clamped around her body.

His shoulder muscles flexed against the straining seams of his jacket. He was wearing his dress uniform, although Hope almost wished he hadn’t. It was … too much. He looked too good in it.

Something white flashed, drawing her eyes down to his hands and the bandages wrapped around his thumbs. Paired with the uniform they were both reminders of what he’d been through.

That he’d almost died.

A familiar temper that she thought she’d dealt with years ago punched through her. Logically, she realized she shouldn’t be upset with him for serving his country. And, really, she didn’t want to be. He’d made an honorable career choice.

One that had almost killed him.

Hope rolled her shoulders, and fought the urge to reach out and touch him—to make sure that he was real and there, instead of stuck in some dark hole in the middle of a hostile country.

To her, enlisting had been tantamount to Gage signing his own death warrant. She knew him too well. He was constantly pushing boundaries, testing himself and everyone around him. And it wasn’t as if he’d been destined for a desk job. Oh, no, it had been the front lines or nothing for him. From the moment he’d signed up his intention had been to get that Ranger Tab. And he’d done it.

But the thought of losing someone else she cared about … Hope just couldn’t do it.

Not that it had mattered any when the phone call about his capture had come into the newsroom. She hadn’t talked to him in twelve years and it had still felt as if her world was suddenly spinning out of control. She couldn’t concentrate on anything and didn’t sleep more than a couple hours at a time until he’d been rescued.

So he was home and safe with only a few scars to show for the adventure. That status quo wouldn’t keep, and Hope knew it.

The butterflies swarmed up her throat, choking her. She swallowed them back down. And jerked her gaze straight up to Gage’s. He watched her, frowning.

Throwing her a dark glance, he grabbed a chair from another table and spun it close. “Gage,” Lexi yelped when he picked her up, chair and all, to make room. Her embarrassed gaze darted around. “What are you doing?”

With a negligent shrug, he set her down again and insinuated himself between Hope and Lexi. “Hiding.”

“Well, you suck at it,” Hope said. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

Willow gasped at her unintended pun. Hope cringed inwardly and fought the urge to look at the appendage she’d inadvertently brought into the conversation. Her nose wrinkled. Gage’s eyes narrowed.