Jacquie ’Alessandro - Holiday Inn Bed

The man grinned. “We’re cousins. Everyone thinks we’re brothers.” He extended his hand. “I’m Steve. Steve Howell. Roland and I may look alike, but under my Santa hat, I have a lot more hair than he does.”

After Steve had brought the beer and moved off toward the other end of the bar, Eric watched the game for a few minutes while another long silence stretched between him and Marc. Well, it was one way to avoid an argument-don’t talk. At least the guy was scowling at the TV instead of at him.

Just then he felt the weight of Marc’s stare. When he turned to look at him, Marc was-no big shocker-scowling.

“My sister doesn’t look happy,” Marc said.

Eric’s head turned so fast toward the table where Jess sat he practically heard his muscles snap. She was taking a sip of her wine and seemed fine.

“I don’t mean right this second,” Marc clarified. “I mean in general.”

Eric turned back toward him. “Based on your tone it’s obvious you think that’s my fault.”

“Who else’s would it be?”

“You want a mirror?”

Eric wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Marc’s scowl deepened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m not the one making her unhappy. You and your family and the nonstop arguing are what’s making her miserable.”

“I guess it’s missed your notice that you are what all the arguments are about.”

A humorless sound escaped Eric. “Uh, no. I haven’t missed that. You’ve all made that perfectly clear. Listen, I get the whole overprotective-brother thing. I’ve given more than a few guys the evil eye for sniffing around my sisters. But once Chloe and Lara found the men they wanted to marry, I was happy for them. They both chose good, decent guys. Believe it or not, I’m a good, decent guy.”

“Says you.”

“Yeah, says me. And says your sister. She’s extremely smart and savvy-hardly the sort of woman to marry a creep.”

“Smart women make stupid mistakes about men all the time.”

“Well, she’s not making one.”

Marc slowly swirled his tumbler of scotch, took a swig, then said, “Your franchise restaurant can’t compare to Hayden’s.”

Eric’s fingers tightened on his beer bottle, but he swallowed his irritation. “They’re both good places and Marble Falls is certainly big enough for more than one restaurant.”

“She shouldn’t have taken up with the competition.”

The hell with trying to use any more polite subtleties. “That was her choice. And mine. And frankly, it’s none of your business. If she and I can work through that-which we have-I fail to see why you and your family can’t.”

“What about your family? I haven’t noticed them turning cartwheels.”

“Maybe not, but any objections they may feel have nothing to do with Jess. My sisters like her. A lot. And they’re happy for me that we found each other.”

Marc’s only reply was a stony stare into his scotch.

Eric resisted the urge to drag his hands through his hair in frustration. “Look, maybe I’m not the guy you would have chosen for your sister, but here’s the brutal truth-it’s not your choice. It’s hers. And for all our sakes, especially Jess’s, it would be nice if we could reach some sort of détente here.”

Eric took a long pull on his beer and waited, but Marc still remained silent. Hopefully he was thinking the détente thing was a good idea, but based on his fierce scowl, that didn’t seem promising.

Unable to stand the awkward silence any longer, Eric said, “I get why your mother is here, but how did you get roped into coming along? Are you the muscle?”

“I’m the driver. She doesn’t like to drive in the snow.” He glanced toward the table then tossed back a swig of scotch. “Last place on earth I wanna be.”

“Last place on earth I want you to be.”

A noise that sounded like a reluctant laugh passed Marc’s lips. “How is it you can take off four days during one of the busiest weeks of the year? Business not good?”

Was that a hopeful sound in Marc’s voice? Probably. “Business is great,” Eric replied. “Definitely not the best time for me to be away, and it wasn’t easy to arrange the time off, but Jess comes first.”

The sound of Kelley’s slightly raised and very terse voice caught Eric’s attention. “It is absolutely essential that the band play a selection of current songs, Carol.”

Marc shot a frown toward the table. “Your sister’s a real ‘my way or the highway’ sort of woman.”

Eric cocked a single brow. “Guess you’d recognize that trait since you’re clearly a real ‘my way or the highway’ sort of guy.”

The minute the words slipped out Eric wondered if they’d undo whatever small progress they seemed to be making. But Marc nodded. “I guess I can be. Sometimes. At least with regards to my sister. And this wedding.”

Shocked-pleasantly so-that Marc would admit as much, Eric said, “Same with Kelley. She doesn’t like to waste time. She’s disgustingly efficient. Knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.”

“Does she always get it?”

“Almost always. She’s very successful at her job. You are, too. Which means you at least have that in common. So maybe you can quit giving her the death stare every time you see her.”

Marc studied him for several seconds with an unreadable expression, then said, “Jess told me Kelley raised you and your sisters from the time you were twelve.”

“That’s right.” He debated how much detail he should go into, but figured since this seemed a relatively safe topic, he might as well run with it. So he told Marc about his parents’ deaths, and how Kelley had quit college and been dumped by her fiancé. How she’d set aside her own life to raise three kids when she wasn’t much more than a kid herself.

He finished by saying, “She’s an incredible woman. I owe her a lot.”

Marc slowly nodded, clearly mulling over the tale. Finally he said, “Must have been hard.”

“It was. But we also had a lot of good times.”

“I didn’t know about her fiancé and all.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you’d take a few minutes to get to know us instead of writing us off as nothing more than ‘the competition’-and maybe smile once or twice while you’re at it-you’d figure out we’re not so bad.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Maybe,” Eric conceded. “But I never wrote you off as the competition.” He grinned. “I wrote you off as a scowling jerk.”

Marc’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure if I’m amused or pissed off.”

“Why not go with amused?”

“I’m not sure I like you.”

“Yeah, well the jury’s still out on you, too.”

“Still, this last half hour is the first time I haven’t been tempted to toss you into a Dumpster,” Marc said, his tone musing.

“Ditto. Just to let you know, you’d have a hell of a time doing so.”

Marc nodded. “Figured as much.” What might have passed for a flash of an actual grin flickered across his features. “That’s why I like to hang with the brother posse when you’re around.”

“At the risk of taking a backward step here, it would take more than the four of you to get rid of me. I’m not going anywhere.”

From the corner of his eye he saw Jess stand up. He glanced over, hoping the wedding talk had reached a friendly conclusion. One look at her pale face-dotted with twin flags of red on her cheeks, clenched hands and overbright eyes-disabused him of that notion. He was out of his chair in a flash and striding toward her.

“I can’t listen to this anymore,” he heard her say to her mother and Kelley as he approached, her voice low and unsteady. “I’m sick to death of this sniping, and neither of you listen to me anyway. What difference does it make that I’m the bride? Clearly none. So you two plan the wedding. I don’t care what color the napkins are. Invite six thousand people if that’s what you want. But I am not wearing that ridiculous dress.” She jabbed a shaky finger toward a glossy magazine photo depicting a woman wearing a huge poof of a white dress. “I’ll choose what I wear and if it turns out to be my flannel pajamas, then so be it.

“Bottom line is that I refuse to argue about any of this anymore. I’m done. And since I’m no longer involved in the wedding decisions, I’m going back to my cabin. And I suggest you all go home.”

“Jessica,” said Carol, her tone sharp. “You can’t just walk away like this.”

“I can and I am.” Her voice broke on the last two words, and Eric could tell she was seconds away from losing it. He reached out to touch her, but she stepped back, shaking her head and hugging her arms around herself. “I. Am. Done. As for the wedding-I’ll just show up at the church. Or, damn it, maybe I won’t.”

Without another word she turned on her heel and stalked from the lounge.

Jessica heard Eric call after her, but instead of stopping she quickened her pace, all her thoughts focused on one thing.

Escape.

She needed to put as much distance between herself and her mother and Kelley before she completely fell apart.

Snatching her parka from the coatrack, she dashed outside without pausing to don the garment. A gust of snow-laden, frigid wind pelted her and she gasped at the sudden change in temperature. At least six inches of fresh snow lined the path and the bitter-cold air seemed to snatch the oxygen from her lungs. Without breaking her stride, she struggled into her coat and mittens and tried to calm her rapid, shallow breathing-the first warning sign of the anxiety attack she felt gripping her in its talons. Just relax. Breathe deep.

Damn it, she hated feeling like this. Out of control, her heart thumping so hard and fast she could hear the staccato beats echoing in her ears. Her throat tightening, her fingers tingling from her too-fast shallow breaths, the tension constricting her muscles, the shivering that had nothing to do with the cold. She’d suffered such attacks after her father died, when the grief had relentlessly choked her, but she hadn’t experienced one in several years. Until her engagement. Sadly, since then, she’d been forcibly reminded several times of exactly how they felt. Just like this. Like walls closing in on her and a mounting sense of being overwhelmed.