Cara Colter by A Bride Worth Waiting For

Author:A Bride Worth Waiting For [For, A Bride Worth Waiting]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Tory glared at the bottle of wine he had brought. It was easy to focus all her resentment on that bottle of fancy cabernet. It was a very proper choice. Moderately expensive. Tasteful. Boring.

She glanced across the table at him. He was so proper now. Looking relaxed and suave in a suit that was a perfect match for the wine. Expensive. Tasteful. Boring.

He glanced away from Agnes Mitchell for a moment, caught her looking, and smiled.

Maybe not so proper. In that smile lurked the boy who had jumped that bike off the edge of a cliff with one arm already in a cast.

And who had never needed to get his boldness from a bottle.

Spellbound, he had told her of the way she had watched him, and it was true. When he had done those wild, reckless things he had done, she had been spellbound.

Of course she’d also been so frightened her breath had nearly abandoned her body, but another part of her had soared with him. Was entranced by his daring. Maybe had loved that about him best of all. The way he laughed into the teeth of life. Approached it with boldness and daring and fearlessness.

“Tory, dear, you’re frowning,” her mother, sitting on her right, said to her in an undertone.

She made her lips smile even though it made her face feel as if it was molded out of Plasticine.

And now here he was, with his boring old wine, in his boring old suit, being boring.

Except that he wasn’t being the least boring.

They were all as spellbound as she had been.

Now the cliffs he leapt from were legal ones, and yet the daring and boldness were still there, taking on a different form now, being applied to a different world, still making him shine and stand apart from the rest of them.

The suit was navy blue, with a faint gray pinstripe in it On anybody else it really would have been unremarkable. On him it was sexy, and terribly so.

There was no such thing as a sexy suit, she grumbled to herself. It occurred to her it was what was in the suit that made it seem so—his broad shoulders perfectly fitted under the expensive fabric, the brilliant white of the shirt making his skin look tanned and healthy, and his eyes even darker than they really were. The tie was already slightly loosened around the strong column of his throat.

She squinted at the tie. It looked conservative at first. A closer inspection showed the pattern in it to be motorcycles.

He was relating the story of his first encounter with a judge, and Agnes Mitchell was laughing until the tears rolled down her cheeks. Not even Tory could begrudge her that. It had been so long since they had laughed, any of them, like this.

So long, actually since they had been together as a group, Mitchells and Bradburys. Not since that awful day when they had all stood together in the rain, and each had taken a turn with the spade, putting Mark, their beloved, in the cold, hard ground.

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