The Stand-In (12 page)

“I’m glad.”

“I saw you and Jason on the news the other night.”

“Oh, yes. The cerebral palsy gala.” She smiled at Winn. “These things are tedious but one must do one’s part.”

“You seemed happy enough,” he commented.

Winn’s head spun. This was the woman Patrick was reputed to have seduced out from under her husband. She might have expected him to rage or throw a fit, or even to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to the nearest bed. However, his flat tone gave no hint of quashed ardor. His blank expression showed no emotion other than disappointment.

“How are things with you and Jason?” he asked quietly.

Winn looked away in a show of discretion.

She heard Gloria’s swallow. “They’ve been better.” Her voice cracked. “But he’s determined to put on a good show.”

Patrick put a hand on her shoulder and Winn tensed. “If you’d only…”

“I know. It’s my own fault.” She nibbled her lip. “Patrick, I never…”

“Don’t mention it. It’s done.” He exhaled. “How are those knee-highs coming, Winn?”

Cringe
. He had to mention the knee-highs in front of Gloria Dietrich, a woman who looked like she had Dolce and Gabbana on speed dial. “Great,” she said in an overly cheery voice. “Only I think I will pick up those fishnets, too. Maybe a couple.” She grabbed at the first packages she saw and escaped to the cash counter.

As she paid, she angled her head in such a way she could discreetly see if Patrick and Gloria would share a parting hug or kiss. They didn’t. She merely turned around and left the shop, frowning. And Patrick gnawed on his thumb and stared at the wall, his unfocused gaze trained on a framed print of a pair of sexy legs.

Winn completed her transaction, picked up her bag, and walked over to him. She put a hand on his arm. “I know this little Greek place around the corner on Adelaide, if you want to grab lunch.” She grinned. “The elderly owner gives me extra
tzatziki
. I think he might be in love with me.”

His tight mouth relaxed and spread into a wide smile. “Of course, he’s in love with you. Sure. Let’s do lunch.” He opened the door and held it for her.

“So,” she ventured, shortly after they left the hosiery shop. “Gloria seems…”

“Winn, don’t.” He stuck the tip of his thumb in his mouth and gnawed the end, as if on a mission to draw blood. “I really don’t want to talk about her right now.”

“Understood. Only I know you counseled me on getting things off my chest and I thought it might be good for you to do the same…”

“Please.” He stopped walking and stared at her. “Not right now. Okay?”

She had no chance to voice a response. His cell phone rang, and he quickly fished it out of his pocket and answered the call.

After his greeting, he didn’t say a word, although he listened intently, his eyes glassed over. He made a couple of short humming noises, as if to reassure the caller he was still there.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he finally mumbled into the phone.

Winn’s chest tightened.

“Fine. Okay, just fine. Are we done?” He paused. “Yeah, whatever.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really. That was my liaison at Big Brother.”

“You have a little brother?” Why did the idea make her want to smile?

“I used to.” He shook his head. “But because of my indiscretions, the association has decided I’d be best off volunteering elsewhere.”

“Oh, Patrick. I’m sorry.”

“So am I. But you know what? It’s their loss.” He turned and resumed walking, his fists clenched.

Her heart hurt as she caught up to him. And somehow she knew, as much as he put on a brave face, he felt the loss deep in his core.

Chapter 6

Ahoy there, matey!

Ye scallywags be invited to witness the merriment on the 24th of July

As Joshua “Bluebeard” Porter walks the plank

To join his wench Sunshine “Gunpowder” Reyes

The bell will toll at two o’clock

Join us as we pillage and plunder the Coral Reef Seafood Restaurant

Attendance is mandatory.

Do not miss it, or ye shall swab the deck.

* * * *

Winn was just putting the last touches on her costume when Patrick buzzed her from the foyer phone. The Porter-Reyes nuptials were a casual affair, being a pirate wedding, and there was no limousine to transport her. Patrick had kindly asked if she needed a lift and she’d accepted, only because it would give her an opportunity to see him in costume before anyone else did.

He hadn’t allowed her to see him at Wally’s. As soon as he’d tried on the ensemble, he’d emerged from the dressing room, in his street clothes and pale of face. He’d plunked his credit card on the counter, and muttered, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Now, her eagerness to see him surprised her. They’d chatted the past couple of days, mostly to confirm pick up times and so he could ask her a few more questions for the article. However, he’d refused to let her see him until the wedding date. Just like a superstitious bride.

She had to admit part of her eagerness stemmed from learning of his severed relationship with the Big Brother organization. Although she’d hinted at the topic at their lunch that day, he’d skirted around the issue, refusing to discuss it. She supposed she had no right asking, but something in his guarded gaze had made her want to shelter him.

A disturbing thought, to say the least.

She answered the call and buzzed him up. “Come on up. I’m just gathering my things.”

Giving her lipstick a quick dab with a tissue to remove any excess, her heart began pounding as she heard his determined footsteps in the hallway. In fact, she couldn’t help but notice how her heart vaulted into that frenetic pattern each time she met up with him.

Silly. Just prewedding jitters. Although it seemed odd she’d be having them, rather than the bride.

He knocked on the door and she sucked in a breath. Deciding to keep things light and friendly and fun, she posed with her hand on her hip and opened the door.

Pirate Patrick stood on the other side. When he saw her, his mouth fell open. “Fuck me. I mean, you look awesome, Winn.”

God help her, she just about purred at his reaction. Well, she had worked hard to create the perfect pirate bridesmaid. She’d curled her hair so it hung in ringlets about her face. Her white blouse framed a décolleté that was amplified by a push-up bra. Gold bangles hung from her wrists and hoops from her earlobes. Her gypsy-style skirt looked like a dozen swatches of fabric that had been sewn together, accentuating her hips. But the pièces de résistance were her thigh-high black boots, the ones that gave her an extra five inches of height. “Will I do as a scurvy wench?”

He put his hand out, as if to caress her hip, and then pulled it back. “There be nothing scurvy about ye, sweet maid.”

“See? You did get into character.” He certainly looked the part. In fact, Patrick had gone above and beyond the call of duty, adding a few details to his costume. She looked him up and down. “I don’t recall you trying this outfit on at Wally’s.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wally’s. Did you see what he wanted me to wear? Rags.” He stood up straight. “No, ma’am. I found another costume shop and better duds. What do you think?”

What did she think? She took in each small detail. He wore his own pair of kickass boots, ones worthy of Captain Morgan. Tight breeches. A white shirt that laced up in front, the kind she could imagine unlacing at a torturous pace. He’d added a blue jacket with shiny gold buttons and had even purchased a wig that made him look as if he had his hair clubbed back. He’d let his stubble grow longer, giving him the rakish appeal of a romance cover model. Oh, and his sword. So long and proud…

“I think,” she squeaked out, “you’ll do.”

“Very well, wench,” he said, eyeing her substantial bosom. He held out his arm. “Let’s do this before I change my mind.”

Winn swallowed as she grabbed her bag and took his arm. Unfortunately, no amount of saliva could assuage her sudden thirst.

* * * *

Patrick took a back seat at the Coral Reef Seafood Restaurant during the actual ceremony, mostly so he could watch Winn and her sexy pirate persona undisturbed. Josh and Sunshine had decided to forego a church wedding, according to Winn. The couple had met years ago at a movie screening for
Pirates of the Caribbean
, and had always dreamed of buccaneer-themed nuptials. Because the Coral Reef looked like the set of a pirate movie, they’d rented it for the ceremony and the reception.

Right before the vows, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Not wanting to disturb the proceedings, he slipped into the restaurant foyer and answered the call.

Jake greeted him. “How’s the story coming along?”

“Um, good. I’m just in the middle of a wedding, though.”

His old friend ignored the hint. “Any dirt yet?”

Dirt. Kind of like a professional bridesmaid who hated weddings and suffered from panic attacks because she was left at the altar by Shithead Mike? That kind of dirt? “I’m still digging.”

“Okay. Listen, I’d like to meet with you and go over what you have. Can you come see me tomorrow?”

“You wanna help me cross my t’s and dot my i’s too, Jake? I have done this before.”

“Don’t get pissy with me, friend. You’ve written a lot of political articles. I just want to make sure your tone is right for our readers.”

“The tone will be fine. I promise not to use too many big words.”

“Come see me anyway. Have fun, Paddy.”
Click
.

And just like that, Patrick was reminded why he was there. In truth, he’d sort of enjoyed forgetting. Funny how he forgot so much when he was around Winn, like past betrayals and injuries. Funny how he was reminded of other things, like how he was a horny man and she was a gorgeous woman.

Frowning, he turned off his phone and headed back into the restaurant.

Only to see Winn bent over at the waist, green-faced, and breathing hard.

He dashed toward the front and moved to her side. “Winn?”

She looked up from under her lashes and made a face.

The bride, Sunshine, clad in white boots and a white hat, spoke up. “Is she okay? We started our vows and she keeled over.”

The vows, the speeches. The lies. It gives me hives. It makes me sick
.

Another panic attack. He ran a hand over her spine. “Oh, Winn.”

The groom, dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow, said, “Maybe you should take her in the back room and give her a minute to recuperate. And so we can finish our vows. Savvy?”

“Aye, aye,” said Patrick. “I mean, right.”

Before Winn could open her mouth to argue, he picked her up and carried her through the kitchen, into one of the supply rooms. He set her down, searched quickly for a chair and a glass of water, and joined her. He made her sit and made her drink. With her knees knocked together, holding the glass of water, she suddenly looked small and young. It made him want to protect her, make her feel better.

She stared at her lap and whispered, “I’m going to lose my job. The first good job I’ve had in years, and I’m going to lose it.”

“You won’t lose your job. They didn’t seem upset, just worried. No one would blame you for feeling unwell.”

“My sister does. She blames me for never telling Mike how I felt.”

The impact of her statement hit him. “Wait a minute. You never confronted Shithead Mike?”

She shook her head.

“Jesus, Winn, it’s a miracle you’re only having panic attacks. It’s a wonder you’re not bleeding internally for keeping that crap bottled up. Why haven’t you spoken with him?”

“I guess I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he destroyed me.”

Patrick blinked and his heart sank into his pirate boots. Why did hearing those words hurt so much? “Okay, listen to me, Busby. You have not been destroyed. You had a…minor setback. If you ask me, you dodged a bullet anyway. Don’t waste your time pining over a man who is callous enough to leave a woman at the altar. He’s a fucking prick.”

His words must have come out rather strong because she looked at him in surprise.

“What? It’s true. A. Fucking. Prick.”

She offered him a small smile. “I’m not pining for Mike. I know he’s an asshole. Honestly, I think I’m pining for the part of myself I lost that day. My sense of hope and optimism and romance. I’d always believed in happy endings. Now I’m not so sure they exist outside of Broadway musicals.” Her eyes widened as she gazed at him, clearly needing someone to give her some of that hope back. “Do you believe in ‘happily ever after’?”

Did he?

He did in high school when he’d lost his virginity to Keira, his buddy’s older sister. Clad in striped knee socks and braces, she’d made him feel anything was possible. He did when he began working as a hotshot reporter, when he learned people would forgive your other shortcomings if you were charming enough. And he’d even believed in ‘happily ever after’ when he’d thought he could help Gloria Dietrich patch up her marriage to her callous husband.

But after she dropped him in it, he’d stopped worrying about happy endings. It seemed life didn’t guarantee them anyway. And besides, being a guy, a happy ending usually meant he was getting laid. Shallow, but true. How could he possibly give Winn the reassurance she required?

“I don’t know, Winn. Maybe it’s more realistic to believe in ‘happy right now.’”

She stared at him for what seemed like a long time, her eyes creased with obvious disappointment. “You’re right.” Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths and then grinned at him. “I need to get back to the wedding. Thanks.”

No. He didn’t like how their conversation was ending. It made his stomach churn and now he felt green. “Winn, wait.”

Too late. She’d escaped the supply room. He sat, feeling chained to his seat, as he watched her wiggle out of the room.

He waited there for a few minutes, staring at bulk bottles of pepper and dehydrated minced onion. All of a sudden, he had no desire to witness the vows.