Risky Moves. Carrie Alexander
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He was a comet, burning through the sky. She was only Julia Knox, her feet stuck on the ground. If she reached for him, she might be badly burned. Did she dare try?
I have to. This is my last chance.
“I’ll be there,” she said. “After I go home and change.”
Allie scanned the pumpkin-colored dress. It was too frou-frou for Julia’s taste, but out of solidarity with her fellow Quimby shopkeepers, Cathy had insisted on patronizing the lone local bridal shop—where tasteful choices were woefully limited. The dresses at Bridal Bonanza got a lot worse than frou-frou.
“Always a bridesmaid, huh?” Allie said with a bit of an edge, because she hadn’t been asked to be one. Although outwardly happy in her marriage, her interference in Zack’s love life had once gone too far. Fortunately for her, Zack and Cathy were forgiving sorts.
Julia smiled too sweetly. “Maybe we can all move on now that Zack’s off the market for good.”
Allie shrugged, quickly changing subjects. “There’s always Adam, I guess. Even if he’s not much of a marriage prospect. No steady job, no house, no savings account…”
I already have those things, Julia thought. Turns out they’re not enough.
“…and now there are his weak legs and all. He’s sure not the kind of guy you can count on.”
Julia disagreed. She knew firsthand that though Adam wasn’t as perfect as his brother—he made mistakes, and she’d been one of them—he also had enough pride, courage and loyalty for ten men. In many ways, however, even though they were the same age and had grown up in the same small town and attended the same school, he was still an enigma to her. He was so disciplined, yet utterly reckless, seemingly fearless. She’d always found him fascinating, the kind of man who would challenge her to be more than expected.
And she needed such a challenge. She needed it now.
Julia forced herself to focus on the conversation instead of her secret desires. “You know Adam better than me,” she told Allie with a shrug, even though that wasn’t completely true. Allie, who’d lived next door to the Brody brothers, had been buddies—only buddies—with both of them. She and Adam had egged each other on in their pranks and misadventures, with Zack the guardian who was always there to get them out of trouble.
“Sure, but I never woulda dated him.” Allie was watching the men, who apparently thought they were slipping out of the restaurant unnoticed. Fred Spangler tiptoed past the bar, as if a two-hundred-pound car salesman with a mop of curly blond hair could sneak anywhere. His wife shook her head fondly. “I like a beefier man.” She chuckled. “And I got me a steer.”
“I didn’t date him, either,” Julia said, her eyes on Adam. He moved easily between the tables, avoiding hails of recognition by keeping his gaze focused on the exit.
Eyes on the exit. That was Adam Brody to a T.
“Nope.” Allie had switched her attention to the newlyweds. “It was always you and Zack, two peas in a pod.”
Adam looked over his shoulder at the last moment, straight at Julia. A telling warmth bloomed in her cheeks. She’d been wanting him for too many years to be able to switch her feelings off fast enough to completely hide them from his notice. Not even years of practice made perfect.
She swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. “Maybe we were too perfect together,” she heard herself saying, as if from a distance. All her energy was focused on Adam, who broke their moment of mutual awareness as quickly as he’d started it. He slipped beyond her sight, the heavy carved doors of the former bank building closing solidly behind him.
“How’s that?” Allie asked.
Julia waved a vague hand, waiting for her hammering pulse to fade. “Um, you know. There was no lasting heat.” Not a problem as far as Adam was concerned, even with very little encouragement.
Zack had been her first love, a puppy love, the summer she was sixteen. Adam hadn’t caught her attention in that way then—he was still a scrawny boy, always off poking around in the woods and climbing anything vertical, including the post office flagpole. Zack had been slightly older, a handsome icon of maturity and popularity, working as the lifeguard at the Mirror Lake beach. Everyone had said they belonged together. Soon Julia and Zack believed it, too. And since they were the kind of people who did what was expected of them, they’d lasted longer than they ought to have.
“No heat?” Allie repeated. “C’mon. I remember how you two always looked so right together. High-school sweethearts. Every girl in town envied you.”
“That was years ago. We broke up, remember?”
Allie reached for a beribboned party-favor bag and tore apart the netting with her fingernails. Pastel mints and candied almonds spilled across the tablecloth. She began popping them in her mouth one by one until her lips were puckered. “And it’s just coincidence that you haven’t been serious with anyone since?”
“I’ve dated,” Julia said. “Plenty.” At least by Quimby standards.
“Yeah, stodgy guys with briefcases and beepers.”
“Suits me fine. I have my own briefcase and beeper.” Julia nibbled an almond. After working for one of the nationwide real-estate franchises for a few years, she’d come back to Quimby to open her own agency. It was doing very well, by Quimby standards.
“Which is why you need the opposite, of course!” Cathy Timmerman—Cathy Brody, Julia remembered—swooped on them with the numerous layers of her swagged ivory skirts bunched in her hands. She kicked out a chair with the toe of a dyed-to-match ivory pump and collapsed with a loud exhale. “Gad. Weddings really take it out of you.”
“But the honeymoon puts it back in,” Julia said, giving Cathy’s hand a squeeze. Quite a reach over their voluminous, rustling gowns.
“No, that’s the groom’s job,” Allie said mischievously.
Cathy groaned. “Please, no more bawdy honeymoon jokes. I’ve had enough of those from Zack’s uncle Brady. Brady Brody, if you can believe it. That’s him in the magenta velvet tux. He thinks it’s funny to sneak into every picture our photographer takes.”
“I remember Uncle Brady,” Julia said. “He used to pinch my derriere at family functions. Consider yourself forewarned, Cath.”
“Too late. He got in a good one right there in the receiving line. But with all these layers of tulle and genuine polyester silk, what was the point?”
They laughed.
“Zack didn’t tell me about his relatives,” Cathy continued. “Turns out there are heaps of them.” She tried to frown, but nothing could take away the happiness that wreathed her face as clearly as the floral headpiece framed her sable hair. Despite the over-the-top Bridal Bonanza finery, Julia had never seen a bride who glowed more than Cathy. There was no doubt that Zack had chosen right this time around.
“We booked hotel rooms all over the county, and it still seems as though most of them are bunking in at either Zack’s house or mine. We haven’t managed a moment to ourselves