Free Beauty Bites by Mary Hughes Page A

fire in peace.”
    “Not the wine?”
    “That’s medicine.”
    “Says the almost-a-doctor.”
    “Emphasis on almost.”
    While the wine warmed my belly, Nikos efficiently stacked kindling and logs in the fireplace, then lit it with one match. If you’ve never built a fire, let me tell you it’s a skill to get it going that fast. I reflected on the luck of some cousins, finding such a catch. Not to mention he was almost eerily in love with her. He said it, not with words, which could lie, but with his actions: his tender yet protective hovering, the softness in his eyes when he looked at her, the only softness about him. Although if anyone deserved such a great guy, Twyla did.
    “Are you enjoying your vacation here?” I asked. “Since New Year’s was a bust?”
    “Yeah.” Her eyes sought out Nikos and softened, confirming if I needed it how she felt about him. “I’m sorry everything toileted at the party. It was supposed to have been some fun for you.”
    “It wasn’t a total epic fail.” I held my glass up to the firelight; it gave the wine a warm, ruby glow. “Holiday said no, but he said no to Camille too. And he gave me a clue as to why his answer was no. He won’t come to Meiers Corners. He travels all over the world, so it must be something to do with us particularly.”
    “Or something near us,” Nikos said.
    Twyla beamed at him. “Honey! Four words. You’re improving every day.”
    He stared at her, deadly black eyes that made me blanch, but she just laughed. Jumping up, she hugged him then goosed him. “You know I’m teasing. I love you, however you talk.”
    “But only for now.”
    “For a whole bunch of nows, lover. In fact—why don’t you go get the bed warmed up? Synnove and I want a little girl time, but then I’ll be in to show you how much love happy-for-now can bring you.”
    His lips curved, a small reflection of the giant smile that lit his eyes. We watched him glide off, our minds on all ten muscular acres of him warming up Twyla’s bed.
    The door shut behind him.
    I shook my head. “I have to say, Twyla, I don’t understand. You get a hunk like that, money and looks and brains, and loves you besides, and you don’t get a ring on his finger?”
    Her smile disappeared. She sat. “What’s wrong with happily for now?”
    “Nothing, if you’re not sure. But I’ve seen you two together. You click. That’s rare, and I’d think you’d grab onto it for as long as you could. Forever, if possible.”
    She leveled me with a steady brown stare. “That decision is mine to make.”
    I leaned over and touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry, hon. It’s your life. I only want you to be happy.”
    “Thanks.” She set down her glass and smiled briefly. “We were talking about Holiday. You have to go back.”
    “Go back? I can’t.”
    “We need Holiday. He’s the best.”
    “What part of ‘he said no’ are you missing, the nicht or the nein ? I’m telling you, it’d be an exercise in futility. I might as well try to herd chickens or avoid chocolate over the holidays. Ric’s not the kind of guy who changes his mind.”
    “Ric? You know him that well?” The implications were hot in her voice.
    “No! Well yes, but not how you’re thinking.” I remembered his kiss and flushed. “Well, sort of how you’re thinking.”
    “Progress!” Her delighted smile said she meant more than snaring Holiday for ad campaigns. “Synnove, you’ve got to go back. You owe me.”
    “I owed you. I tried; it didn’t work. Favor done. Besides, what you’re asking is so much bigger than lending me a suit.”
    “Problem is, Camille’s entered the picture. Shit got real. I need your help, and I need it all, everything you have to give. If you haven’t used every weapon in your arsenal, you haven’t tried hard enough.”
    “All my weapons ? What is this, an advertising jihad?” It echoed Holiday’s “you’ve got more arrows in your quiver,” which made me a little sharp. I winced,