A Wedding One Christmas Read online

  The café was only a few steps away, and she didn’t dare check if he was still behind her. Instead, she stopped walking and dug around in her handbag for her lipstick. She held it up triumphantly when she found it, before making as if she were heading to the bathroom in the café.

  Her eyes widened as she entered and took in all the people there. People who were dressed smartly. Who were milling around as if waiting for something. Who were—

  Damn it, who were wedding guests.

  She didn’t peek out the door to check for the old man as she’d intended to before snagging a table for herself. She looked, but none seemed to be free, and she was starting to draw attention to herself by not moving from the doorway. The last thing she needed was attention, especially not from wedding guests.

  Wielding her lipstick in front of her as if some kind of shield, she moved farther into the café, her eyes sweeping over the room until it rested on a booth in the corner. There was only one man sitting there, papers strewn all over the table.

  Not a wedding guest then.

  Before she was fully aware of it, she was walking toward him.

  And then she was sliding into the booth opposite him.

  ‘Please,’ she said, her voice surprisingly hoarse. ‘Please pretend like I’m here with you.’

  The man looked up and Angie blinked. Then did it a couple more times in case her mind was playing tricks on her. Or perhaps the universe was.

  What were the chances she’d slide into a booth opposite a man who looked like he’d jumped straight out of her fantasies?

  Smooth brown skin stretched over the angular features of his face. The lines of his cheekbones merged effortlessly to create a defined jaw that was currently peppered with the exact right amount of facial hair. It highlighted the curve of some very fine lips, and somehow complemented his sharp nose.

  She swallowed. Forced her attention back to her current task. Which, when she saw the expression on his face, might not be as easy as she hoped.

  ‘How about a deal?’ There was urgency in her voice. ‘I pay for your meal, you pretend like I’m here with you?’

  ‘Should I take offence that you think I need you to pay for my meal?’

  He had one of those voices that demanded the listener’s skin turn into gooseflesh.

  She wasn’t even surprised.

  ‘No,’ she replied quickly, and her gaze rested on his left hand.

  No wedding ring.

  ‘Unless I’m taking up someone else’s place here?’ she asked demurely. ‘In which case, I’ll search for help elsewhere.’

  His mouth curved up at the side as he set down his pen. Her eyes followed, noting the shirt that was rolled up at the forearms moulded to a muscular body. If it weren’t for the papers, she might not have known he wasn’t with the wedding.

  ‘I’m alone,’ he said.

  ‘Oh.’ It made something flutter in her stomach. Unreasonably so. ‘Well, then, my plea stands.’ She sighed a little. ‘I’m desperate.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I didn’t notice the signs as I drove into this place. For the wedding?’ she prompted when he narrowed his eyes. ‘Unfortunately, I’m wearing a dress similar to the wedding party and people keep trying to drag me into the celebration. Or into photos. Someone asked me if I was planning a flash mob. A flash mob.’ She closed her eyes with a shake of her head. ‘It’s a nightmare.’

  Interest sparked in his eyes. ‘I thought all women loved weddings?’

  ‘Now isn’t that an ignorant thing to say?’ she drawled. ‘I thought more of you.’

  ‘Really?’ He placed those defined forearms on the table. ‘Why? You don’t know me.’

  ‘I guess I wanted to believe a man so focused on reading he didn’t realise there was a wedding happening around him was intelligent.’

  ‘You could be wrong.’

  ‘I could be,’ she agreed, peeking at what he was reading. ‘But since that’s an article on the gender pay gap in South Africa, I don’t think I am.’ She paused. ‘You’re reading an article on the gender pay gap in South Africa? Not really the sort of thing someone reads at a café in a small town, is it?’

  ‘What do people read at a café in a small town?’ he asked seriously.

  ‘I don’t know. Thrillers? Maybe research on how to get away with the perfect crime?’

  ‘Because they’re planning on going on a killing spree?’

  She pulled her face. ‘I realised it sounded suspicious as soon as I said it.’

  ‘It’s not exactly the kind of thing you should say to a stranger,’ he agreed.

  ‘In case it’s true?’

  ‘In case you’re the one with the killing plans.’

  A grin captured his mouth and suddenly it felt as if the air in her lungs wasn’t getting to where it needed to be. She couldn’t bring herself to look away though. She was too enthralled at how a man she’d already thought sexy could become sexier.

  No man should have that kind of power. No man should look like he did.

  There was a certainty to those thoughts that surprised her. That should have had her getting up, walking away. Far away from this man with his amazing face and his hot voice and his sexy smile. Far, far away from this man who didn’t inspire her usual reaction to strangers; who made her feel comfortable.

  Despite how those thoughts had her stomach rolling, she didn’t walk away. She greedily took in the overwhelming perfection in front of her. When she forced her eyes back up to his—and she saw a glint there—heat curled up her neck.

  ‘I’m not.’ She cleared her throat when a hoarse voice said the words. ‘A serial killer. Or a criminal of any kind.’

  ‘Good to know.’

  ‘And I know you probably didn’t come here for a stranger to interrupt what is probably pivotal “me” time.’

  His lips curved. ‘I didn’t, but it’s not unwelcome.’ He lifted a hand and ran it through the black strands of hair. The result was untidy; his hair and the pounding of her heart. ‘I could do with a break from work.’

  ‘This is work?’ she asked, trying to ignore the unfamiliar responses of her body. ‘You’re reading up on the gender pay gap for work?’

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised.’ He leaned back now, lazily throwing an arm on the top of the booth he sat in. ‘I’m preparing for a class I’m giving.’

  ‘You’re a teacher?’

  ‘Lecturer.’

  ‘In?’

  The grin returned. ‘Women’s studies.’

  ‘Really?’ Angie’s lips curved. ‘I take it your earlier comment about all women loving weddings is a part of your teaching approach then? Antagonising them so you can have a greater look into their psyche?’

  ‘Something like that,’ he answered, but his smile sobered. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. I just like seeing people’s responses to provocative statements. It’s a bad habit.’

  ‘How did I measure up?’

  ‘Pretty well, actually. Usually I’d get some sort of insult back.’

  ‘Someone calling you ignorant isn’t an insult?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, ha ha,’ she said. But smiled. And got one in return.

  It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds that they held each other’s gazes. It felt like minutes. Hours, even. Her heart beat a strange, unfamiliar rhythm in her chest and her thoughts danced to it.

  They told her the last thing she needed was a romance with a stranger she met in a café. A café that held memories she’d managed to ignore because of him. Until that moment.

  It still looked the same. The exposed brick walls, the brown cushioning of the booths, the wooden tables. The pictures on the walls were different now though. The abstract photos of shapes and colours had been replaced with photos of people diving into the river at the edge of the property; couples laughing in their wedd
ing attire as they stepped out of the chapel; and people sharing meals right here in the café.

  Automatically her gaze found the booth she and her family used to sit in every time they were there. There was nothing special about it. It looked like every other booth in there. Except that they’d insisted on sitting there every time. With her father’s steady charm—she wasn’t sure how that worked as a description for him, but it did—they somehow managed to get it every time.

  Suddenly the excuses she’d given for stopping at the café fell away. She didn’t need to give her body a break from driving. She didn’t need to give her mind a break from thinking. She wanted...to feel her father’s presence.

  She clenched her jaw and reminded herself of the quota. A part of her responded by entertaining the idea of romance with this strange man.

  But there wasn’t a romance, not really. Attraction, maybe, but certainly not romance. And the attraction would go nowhere. It could go nowhere. She was already fighting emotions off as if she were protecting a child who would save all humanity in a post-apocalyptic movie. She had too much to deal with to entertain a romance or an attraction. So she forced herself to see it as what it was; a reprieve from a wedding she didn’t want to be included in.

  Steadier now that she’d reminded herself of why she was there—now that she’d put the memories back where they belonged—she ignored the awareness that prickled up and down her skin and looked away. The café still held guests of the wedding. Some of them occasionally glanced her way with a frown.

  She turned back to the man. ‘Does needing a break from work mean you wouldn’t mind if I stayed here? Just until the guests are called back into the event venue?’

  ‘Sure.’ He paused. ‘I won’t ask you to pay for my meal either.’

  ‘Oh, no, I don’t mind.’

  ‘In return—’ he continued with a small smile ‘—I’d like to know what your name is.’

  ‘Easy enough.’ She offered a hand. ‘Angie.’

  ‘Ezra,’ he replied, taking it. That strange beat started in her chest again. As soon as it was appropriate to break contact, she did.

  ‘Should we get the waitress’s attention?’ Ezra asked, already looking for the woman. When he got her attention, he indicated that they needed her, and his eyes returned to Angie.

  They were a bronze colour, more gold than rustic, and incredibly distinctive. She didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed them before.

  Her gaze flitted back over the sharp lines of his jaw and the stubble that covered it. She saw the sweeping—now untidy—style of his dark hair, and the way the not-quite-blue, not-quite-purple shirt he wore sharply contrasted his dark features. And then there were those muscles visible under his shirt...

  Oh, yes. That was how she hadn’t noticed those gorgeous eyes before.

  Focus, Ange, she commanded herself. But it was so damn tempting to keep staring at the man in front of her. He was possibly the most beautiful man she’d seen, and she hadn’t shied away from noticing them in her lifetime.

  Although the last three years might have been an exception. Things had changed—she had changed—when she’d left Cape Town. Before then. So perhaps this was just a reaction to the fact that she hadn’t really noticed men in recent times.

  Oh, they’d been there. Some had even tried to flirt with her. She hadn’t had the emotional energy to do anything other than give them a look that conveyed her feelings about their offers. Which was somewhere in the region of ‘if you’re not someone I have to deal with, then no.’

  Of course, the same could have been said for any person who’d approached her in a nonpivotal way over the last three years.

  And yet...

  Her eyes moved back over him; her skin prickled again.

  And yet.

  Relief shot through her when the waitress arrived, and she ordered a large chai latte. It was an indulgence, but it always calmed her. She needed calm now, with the weight of returning to Cape Town on her shoulders.

  ‘What made you stop at a tiny café and lodge in Caledon where there just happened to be a wedding?’ he asked when the waitress left.

  ‘I’m on my way—’

  She nearly said ‘home’ before she realised Cape Town wasn’t her home anymore. It hadn’t been for years. And she couldn’t exactly dive into all the reasons she’d stopped in Caledon when she was only just beginning to discover how deep they went. She settled for the abridged version.

  ‘I’m on my way to visit my family. For Christmas. We used to stop here on our family trips, and—’ she lifted her hands ‘—nostalgia. You?’

  ‘More or less the same. Besides the part about stopping here for family trips.’

  ‘Where are you coming from?’

  ‘Grahamstown.’

  Surprise fluttered through her. ‘That’s quite the trip. You’re a lecturer there?’

  He hesitated. ‘I used to be. For the last two years.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now...’ he trailed off and she thought it was because he didn’t know what to tell her.

  Which was strange. She hadn’t pegged him for the hesitant kind.

  Because you know him so well after these last fifteen minutes?

  ‘Now you’re preparing lectures in a café in Caledon,’ she offered, ignoring the snarky thought. His eyes shone with gratitude. ‘Is that an upgrade or a downgrade?’

  ‘Neither, really,’ he said with a smile that kicked her heart into overtime. ‘I’ve worked in worse and better environments.’

  ‘The academic year has ended though, hasn’t it? Why are you still preparing lectures? And for where, if you aren’t working at the university in Grahamstown?’

  ‘The curse of being in academia,’ he replied, but the muscles around his mouth tightened. He wasn’t telling the truth, she realised. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her.

  ‘I knew I escaped for a reason.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘You used to be in academia?’

  ‘I used to be a tutor.’ It felt like a long time ago. Everything had changed since then. ‘I had every intention of studying toward a PhD until I did my Honours and realised I had no desire to study further. After I graduated, I taught at a small school in Cape Town for a little bit.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Would you know it if I told you?’

  ‘Maybe.’ He fell silent, as if considering his next words. ‘I told you I’m visiting my family in Cape Town. I grew up there.’

  ‘Small world.’

  Why did that fact send her stomach tumbling?

  ‘Where are you coming from?’

  ‘Knysna.’ Because she didn’t want to answer any more questions about that, she answered his previous one. ‘The school I taught at was in Kuils River. Free Haven.’

  His eyes rested on hers. It felt as if he saw too much.

  ‘Durbanville.’

  ‘So we’re both going back to the Northern Suburbs as well,’ she said. Again, she felt that strange frisson in her belly.

  But did it matter that they were headed in the same direction? She would never see him again after she left the café. As soon as she finished her drink, she’d do some stretches, give herself a pep talk, and leave to spend Christmas with her family.

  It would all be perfectly fine.

  ‘So you are leaving.’ Her sister’s voice was flat. ‘Why does this not surprise me?’

  ‘It’s for a job.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Sophia.’

  ‘It’s fine, Angie. Leave. I’ll be here for Mom and Zo. You just...leave.’

  Ah, yes, the reason ‘perfectly fine’ felt like a big ol’ pile of manure. The reason she felt as if the world was slowly burning around her. Why she suspected going home and facing her sisters and her mother would be like walking through the fire.
r />   ‘Can I get you anything else, miss?’ The waitress set down Angie’s latte.

  ‘Please,’ Angie said, and curled her hands around the mug. ‘What’s the strongest alcohol you serve?’

  Chapter Two

  Ezra’s lips curled into a smile. It was the strangest feeling. He hadn’t had many reasons to smile over the past year. Honestly, he didn’t feel like he had any now.

  Sure, he was returning to his home in Cape Town. He was reuniting with his family. He was heading to a new lecturing post. But his mind wouldn’t let him forget why his life had taken all those turns. Or that returning would remind him of it—of his failures—for the foreseeable future.

  Of course smiling felt unfamiliar. Foreign. Much like the attractive woman sitting across from him.

  He studied her as she spoke with the waitress. She had a mass of dark unruly curls around a face that was only a few shades lighter. Her eyes were dark brown, too, and animated whenever she spoke. High cheekbones and slightly curved lips rounded off her utterly unique, utterly compelling face.

  He could understand why people kept trying to lure her into the wedding celebrations. She would upgrade the aesthetics of the event without even trying.

  The dress certainly helped, too.

  ‘I’m only having one glass,’ Angie said when the waitress left. There was a slight tremor in her hands when she lifted the mug to drink her latte.

  ‘One glass of the strongest alcohol they have?’

  She gave him a half smile. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you plan on driving back to Cape Town this evening?’

  She nodded. ‘You’re not?’

  ‘No. I’ve booked a room at the lodge for a few days.’

  ‘You’re staying at the lodge tonight? The night of a wedding?’

  ‘Yep.’

  He winced, though it was more for show than anything else. He wasn’t sure how to explain why he was there. Hell, he was still trying to figure it out himself. Or maybe what he was trying to figure out was why he’d come for the wedding, but was now working in the most obscure part of the café so he wouldn’t see anyone he knew.