Countdown To A Kiss (A New Year's Eve Anthology) Read online

  Chapter Five

  Present Day

  Every time Wilder walked into the Club, he couldn’t help but remember the first Devine-Kampmueller New Year’s Eve party he’d attended—ten years ago. That was the night Tess kissed him in order to win some sort of bet. Little did he know that was the beginning of The Curse of Tess Devine.

  All his plans for Jilly Henson in the rear seat of his roomy F-10 (or on the couch in her parents’ basement, or even in the hot tub room at the Club—he wasn’t particular) had gone to hell the minute Tess leaned into him. Not only had that kiss left him feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut, but despite his subsequent explanations, Jilly had eventually left the party with Vance Evans—and ended up showing him her parents’ couch in the basement.

  In reality, the kiss meant nothing to either Tess or Wilder—hell, he’d kissed a lot of girls; he wasn’t shy—but it changed things anyway.

  Until that night, he knew the upperclassman Tess only as David Grathwold’s co-star in the school play and the daughter of one of the most prominent families in town. Plus Grace was in his class. But since he and Grat (a junior) were tight, and Tess and Grat had become close doing the show, the three of them began to hang out together during the rest of her senior year. Sometimes Tess had a boyfriend with her, other times Wilder had a date, and usually Cara was there because everyone knew she and Grat were destined to get married as soon as they graduated. (They had.)

  Heck, he and Grat used to ask Tess for dating advice. He could remember sitting at a late-night coffee session at Denny’s, talking through his next move or how to ask out a girl he was hot for.

  In fact, Tess had bought him and Grat their first box of condoms. He and David had been arguing about who was going to walk into Clavell’s and buy them.

  Tess had rolled her eyes, held out her hand for their money, and walked bold as brass into Clavell’s. Moments later, she’d come waltzing out with a bag much too large for a single box of condoms. But it wasn’t until they’d returned to David’s house that she’d dumped the contents onto the table in front of them.

  She’d bought condoms all right ... ribbed ones and lambskin ones, gold coins, glow in the dark ones, lubricated with and without spermicide, and even a box of extra-large. “I wasn’t sure what size you guys wore,” she’d teased.

  And she’d purchased samples of other contraceptive methods—foams and inserts and a tube of K-Y Jelly.

  “I thought I was going to shit my pants when she said she told Mr. Clavell it was for us!” Grat told him after she left.

  Now, ten years later as he escorted Laney into the Club’s crowded ballroom, Wilder couldn’t help but glance over at the corner where he and Tess had kissed—that one and only time. What would’ve happened if he’d given up trying to explain his actions to Jilly and instead hung out with Tess the rest of the night?

  Maybe things would have been different. But probably not. It wasn’t as if he and Tess hadn’t had ample opportunity to hook up over the next few years.

  It was just that the circumstances had never been right.

  And now she was married. To a major ass.

  “What can I get you to drink?” he asked Laney, admiring the deep vee of her neckline instead of scanning the room for Tess. The dress wasn’t red, but he found he didn’t mind at all—black lace worked just as well when it was showcasing a generous rack like hers. Christina Hendricks didn’t have a thing on his date.

  “Chardonnay,” she told him, her fingers curled around his arm. “Oh, look. There’s Tess Devine! I haven’t seen her in ages. She looks amazing. And she’s famous.”

  Famous, talented, bossy—and surrounded by rich and powerful men. She could have her pick. And she’d picked Barry Markham.

  “I’ll go get our drinks,” he said as soon as he caught a glimpse of her heading their way. As he walked off, he heard Laney greeting Tess. Coward.

  I’m just getting us a drink, he argued with himself.

  Yeah, you beat it faster than a horny teen after his first make out session. Pussy.

  I’m not hiding from her.

  His inner self snickered and rolled its eyes.

  Thank God there were empty stools at the bar. Wilder took a seat with his back to the ballroom, which was just across the way. With luck, he could hang out here for a few minutes until the women were done talking.

  “Jameson, neat,” he said to the dark-haired bartender. Harry was on his name tag, and although it took him a surprisingly long time to find the bottle of whiskey, he finally pushed a short glass over to him. Filled to the brim.

  “Nice pour,” Wilder said. Jesus. Do I look like I need it that bad? “A chardonnay, too.”

  “Right,” said Harry, who turned to stare at the array of wine bottles behind him. He didn’t seem to know what to do next.

  “No hurry. Seriously.”

  “So who’s the hot blonde?” Harry asked, pulling a glass down and setting it on the bar.

  “Tess Devine,” Wilder replied into his glass. Then he looked up, realizing he’d answered wayyy too quickly. “I mean, which one? There’s a lot of hot blondes here tonight.”

  “Right. But only one as far as you’re concerned.”

  Wilder frowned and looked around. What the hell? How did this guy know anything? And weren’t there any other customers the guy could be serving? This side of the bar was tucked away and empty. Great. He took another sip, deciding he was in a hurry for the chardonnay after all.

  But then he glanced around and saw Laney and Tess deep in conversation. They seemed to be comparing shoes. Maybe not so much in a hurry then.

  “So what’s the deal? You’re here with the stacked brunette, but you wish you were with the blonde. Story of my life,” Harry sighed. He’d poured a glass of wine all right, but it was red. Wilder was about to correct him when the bartender lifted the glass and drank from it. “Mm. Very nice.” He held onto it as he leaned forward companionably. “So…old flame, ex-girlfriend, or what?”

  Wilder shot him an irritated look. “Isn’t that the same thing?” When Harry just raised his brows, he capitulated. “None of the above. So what’s the weather saying?” He gestured to the screen above the bartender’s head.

  “They’re calling for ice and snow later tonight. Around midnight.”

  “In Henderson? Are they on crack?” But when he looked at the screen, he saw the weather advisories running along the bottom of the monitor.

  Harry shrugged. “I’ve been watching the radar. It doesn’t look like they’re on crack. Looks like we’re going to have a white New Year’s Eve.”

  Great. Suddenly, Johnny felt more optimistic. Excellent excuse for leaving early. Like, asap. “How about that chardonnay?”

  “Right. They’re still talking you know. And another lady joined them. You probably want to sit here a little longer.” Harry grinned, then, mercifully, went to serve another customer who’d slid onto a stool nearby.

  Wilder swirled the whiskey around in his glass and watched it funnel down. Ten years of Tess Devine. The first year—that hot kiss—had surprised him. The second year, he’d simply hung out with her and a group of friends, and admired from afar. But it was the next year that changed everything.