Brenda Harlen – The Bachelor Takes a Bride (страница 3)
“They’re not for me.”
He returned his attention to her phone—feeling a little like the prince left at the ball with no clue to Cinderella’s identity except a single glass slipper. The phone wasn’t nearly as sexy as a shoe, but at least it was something.
The bell over the door rang and he glanced up to greet the new customer, but the words died in his throat when she walked in. Obviously it had taken less time than he’d anticipated for Jordyn to realize she’d left her phone—the phone that was currently in his hand.
In the bright light of the take-out area, he could see her clearly now: smooth, creamy skin; a delicate heart-shaped face; and short, dark hair dripping with rain. Her eyes were dark green and framed by thick, long lashes.
He’d thought the dress she wore was black, but he could see now that it was a deep shade of purple. But he’d been right about her curves—the sleeveless sheath style hugged her feminine shape in all the right places. The wedge heels on her feet made it difficult to accurately estimate her height, but he guessed that she was about five feet five inches tall.
Her fingernails were neatly trimmed and unpolished, her makeup subtle. Earrings dangled from her ears, colorful purple and silver beads on different lengths of chain jingled as she moved, suggesting a playful side that contrasted with the simple dress and no-fuss hairstyle.
She was simply and spectacularly beautiful, and in that moment, the possibility that had been teasing the back of his mind—and nudging at his heart—since that first quick glimpse through the rain became a certainty.
“Nonna’s going to love hearing that she was right.”
Neatly arched brows drew together. “I beg your pardon?”
He shook his head. “Sorry. My mind was wandering.”
“A wandering mind and sticky fingers,” she noted.
“Huh?”
She gestured to the phone in his hand. “That’s mine.”
“Oh. You left it on the counter.”
“Apparently.”
He held it out to her.
When she reached for it, her fingertips brushed against his—and he felt it again, an arrow of heat straight through his heart. She snatched her hand away quickly, making him suspect that she’d felt the same thing—or at least something.
“That’s it?” she said. “No explanation for reading my text messages? No apology?”
“You left the phone on the counter—I was only trying to figure out who it belonged it to.”
“Me,” she said again.
“And you are?”
“Hoping to get home before my pizza’s cold.” And with that, she turned away.
“Wings up,” Rafe said, setting the take-out container on the ledge.
“Wait,” Marco called out to her.
She paused at the door.
“You forgot your wings.”
“I didn’t order any wings.”
“There was a message on your phone—from Tristyn. A dozen medium.”
She scrolled through the text conversation on her phone, frowned. He offered her the foam container.
“I didn’t pay for those.”
“Consider them an apology for reading your message.”
“You wouldn’t have to apologize if you hadn’t read my message,” she pointed out.
“And you’d be going home without the wings,” he countered.
She took the container from him, making sure that there was no contact between them in the transfer. “Thank you.”
“Marco,” he told her. “Marco Palermo.”
“Thank you, Marco.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome...”
“Jordyn,” she finally said, confirming the identification his sister-in-law had made as she moved toward the door.
He reached the handle before she did, pushed it open for her. “Enjoy your pizza and wings, Jordyn.”
“We always do,” she assured him.
He stood at the door and watched as she made her way back to her vehicle.
“Jordyn came back for her phone,” he told Gemma, when he turned and saw her standing at the counter with a take-out bag in hand.
“I caught the end of your conversation,” she admitted. “Actually, most of your conversation.”
His heart was so filled with happiness it was overflowing, and he couldn’t hold back the smile that curved his lips. “She’s the one—I’ve finally found her.”
His sister-in-law sighed. “
“Maybe because I see how happy you and Tony are, and I want to know the same thing.”
“You will fall in love with the right woman at the right time, but if you keep throwing yourself headfirst over cliffs looking for it to happen, you’re only going to get hurt again.”
“There was a spark,” he insisted.
“It wasn’t a spark—it was a flame,” Gemma said. “You just crashed and burned, and you don’t even know it.”
He was disappointed by her response. He knew that she cared about him—she’d been part of his family for so many years he’d thought of her as a second sister even before she became his sister-in-law—so he didn’t understand why she was determined to burst his happiness bubble.
Or maybe he did. And maybe there was some foundation to her concern that he’d been trying too hard to find the right woman. Certainly, his recent relationship experience would substantiate her point.
But the alternative—to passively sit back and wait for his soul mate to land in his lap—was inconceivable to him. Sometimes destiny needed a helping hand, and he was more than willing to give it.
But first he had tiramisu to deliver.
The rain had lessened to a drizzle by the time Jordyn got home to the Northbrook town house that she shared with her sister. Tristyn met her at the door, offering a towel in exchange for the food boxes so that Jordyn could dry off.
“Maybe the weather was an omen,” Jordyn said, kicking off her shoes. “As soon as I saw the forecast, I should have canceled the date and stayed home.”
“Or at least taken a jacket or umbrella,” her sister teased.
“Neither would have made this evening any less of a disaster.”
“Was it really that bad?” Tristyn asked, setting the food on the table.
Jordyn draped the towel over the back of her chair and picked up the glass of wine her sister had poured for her. “I don’t think there are words to adequately describe it.”
“What did he do?”
“Well, he opened the conversation by asking if I’d ever thought about changing my name.”
Tristyn frowned as she lifted a slice of pizza from the box. “Why would you want to change your name?”
“Because it’s misleading. Apparently when Carrie offered to set him up with me, Cody initially refused because he thought I was a guy.” And, he promised her in a mock deep voice accompanied by a leering grin, he was strictly and exclusively heterosexual. She shuddered at the memory.
“I get that sometimes, too, but never on a date.”