13. Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Saturday, 6 days until the wedding, Leavenworth: Frankie
B rrring. Brrring. Brrring.
Frankie sat bolt upright, gasping for air as the hotel room phone ripped her from a restorative slumber. She fumbled in the darkness for the offending relic, desperate to put an end to its obnoxiously shrill ring.
“What?” she rasped grumpily into the receiver.
“ Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey ,” Jonathan hollered in the usual upbeat tenor he reserved for irritating his little sister.
Frankie grunted in response to his cheery tone.
“It’s four-thirty in the afternoon,” he chuckled. “What are you doing asleep? The sun’s bright as hell.”
“They're called blackout curtains, my friend. And I’m still catching up from lack of sleep due to immense educational stress.” She flipped on the bedside lamp and sat up, squinting at the flood of light.
“Educational stress,” he mocked. “Aren’t you on break for the rest of the month?”
“Yes, but the damage has already been done.”
“Aw, poor baby,” Jonathan teased pitifully. “Do you need your big bad brother to beat up the mean old professor?”
Frankie snorted. “You’re the last person I’d call to kick someone’s ass. But is your fiancée free? I’m sure she could handle the prick.”
The laugh through her phone was so booming that Frankie had to pull it away to save her eardrums. “Any man who tussles with her would regret it.”
“No doubt. Why didn’t you call me on my cell? How’d you even know I was here?” Leavenworth was a small town, but she hadn’t gone anywhere yet. Not even to grab a snack. And she knew for a fact that Todd was getting a little beauty rest before dinner too.
“I tried. Twice. It went to voicemail. Gunther ratted you out. I asked him to send me a text with your room number once you checked in.”
Damn you, Gunther .
She should have known the jolly front desk manager at the Wilhelm Haus Inn was a snitch. His cheer seemed a little too manufactured.
“Ever the protective big brother.” Frankie rolled her eyes, but really, the concern always comforted her.
“I gotta look out for the ladies in my life. It’s my job to keep you all safe.” From any other man, the sentiment would have been condescending, but Jonathan never meant it as such. He didn’t have a macho-alpha-male bone in his body, but he was a natural-born protector when it came to anyone he loved. No matter what, Jon was always there in her corner, ready to throw down. Metaphorically of course. She never could recall a time when he’d ever been in a fistfight. He might dad-joke someone to death, but that was the extent of his attempted assaults.
“How are Lucy and Mom?” Frankie asked through a big yawn.
“A little stressed but managing. They’ve both been working so hard to make sure everything’s all planned out. It doesn’t help that Aunt Agnes and the twins are staying with Mom. Be glad you decided to stay at the inn. There’s already plenty of hard-headed energy at the house without you there too.”
“Hey,” she said, trying to sound offended but knew full well he was right. Their mom and aunt butted heads like the alphas they were. Frankie getting involved would just add fuel to the flames. “How are you faring?”
“Fine. I’m trying to help where I can, but it proves safer to stay the hell out of their way, ya know?”
Francesca did know. “Smart man.”
“It took a little time, but I eventually got there.”
“Don’t take it too hard, most guys never grow up. Take Zac, for example . . . Man-child all the way. You’re among the rare specimens that actually managed to claw their way out of adolescence.”
Jonathan let out a little snort. “Awe, thanks, sis. Speaking of the devil, he seems pretty excited to see you. Is there something going on there that you’re not telling me?”
Zac Hartford. Now, there was a guy Frankie wouldn’t touch even with her enemies’ genitals. The perpetual playboy would happily bang anything that moves. And did. She wasn’t judging. What happens between two consenting adults is their business. Frankie was all about sex positivity, but her brother’s friend since elementary school was a little too active for her tastes. To top it off, they’d worked together at her family’s guiding company, which meant any funny business would have elevated an ill-advised decision to a downright bad idea. Countless times, he’d tried to initiate an encounter with Frankie, and every time, he’d struck out. No doubt he’d take another swing—or two—during the wedding festivities and find himself slinking away from the plate yet again.
“Absolutely not. There’s not enough penicillin in the world.”
“I feel compelled to say ‘ouch’ on his behalf,” Jonathan said through a giddy chuckle. “What are you up to now?”
“Getting ready,” she lied as she snuggled back under the covers and wondered if she could fit a king-sized bed in her tiny room back in Seattle. “Just putting the finishing touches on before the party.”
“Bullshit. I literally woke you up five minutes ago, remember? I bet twenty bucks you’re wrapped in a robe and a comforter and about to fall back to sleep.”
“Wrong,” she lied again, doubling down. “As usual.”
“Cool, then I have some free time before dinner. Meet me at The Rooftop in a half hour for a beer so we can catch up.” Jonathan challenged his sister, knowing full well she needed every minute of the next two hours to get ready. An awkward ten seconds of silence crept by before Frankie finally caved.
“Fine. You win. I’m a cozy burrito with drool on my face, ok?” She groaned, finally accepting the end of her nap. “I’m just about to hop in the shower.”
“I’ll take my twenty bucks in small bills, thank you.”
“I’ll bring you a bag of nickels.”
Jonathan let out a hearty laugh that reminded Frankie of their father’s. Her heart pinched.
“It’s good to have you back home, sis.”
“I’m glad to be home. See you guys in a couple hours. Love you.”
“Love you too. Don’t be late. Bye.”
“Bye.” Frankie deposited the receiver back in its cradle. She rolled over, snuggled further under the covers, and shut her eyes before letting out a long, groaning sigh. She didn’t want to let her brother down. Or her soon-to-be sister, Lucy. Or her mom. They were all working so hard on the wedding while she moved to Seattle for school and hadn’t helped with a damned thing. The least she could do was be ready and on time .
It took all the mental and physical strength she could muster for Frankie to flip the covers off and let her feet touch the ground. The comforter seemed to beckon and whisper sweet nothings to entice her to stay. I’m warm. I’m snuggly. I’m a cozy sleep tortilla. Frankie jumped off the bed to distance herself from temptation and begrudgingly stomped to the bathroom. Hopefully, a warm shower would snap her into party mode.
An hour later, as she finished blow-drying her hair, her phone buzzed. She walked to the nightstand and picked it up.
Jonathan:
Wake up! It’s officially T-minus one hour until you are supposed to be here!
She took a quick photo of herself, complete with her tongue sticking out and middle finger brandished, to show off her freshly dried hair.
Frankie:
Bite me! Now leave me alone, you big bully.
She tossed the phone into the mass of comforter and returned to the bathroom to continue primping. Soon, with a fresh face of carefully applied makeup and hair curled into Hollywood waves, Francesca shimmied into the hunter-green wrap dress she’d chosen for the night. Tugging the sleeves into place, she realized she filled the outfit more than when she’d bought it in August. The switch from rafting and climbing forty-plus hours per week to studying all the damn time added a little fluff to her typically firm form. Taking in the near-overflowing bust and rounder hips, she grinned, not minding the added curves one bit.
Gold pumps, dangly earrings, and a clutch completed the ensemble. She dug through the purse she’d used daily for the past few years and pulled out the necessities that would fit into the shiny little handbag: lip balm, lip gloss, ID, cash, aspirin, and her hotel room key card.
Where is my phone?
She dug through the covers to find it. Eventually, she picked up the fluffy white comforter and shook it until her phone landed with a thud on the ground.
She winced. “OtterBox two, gravity zero.”
A glance at her phone showed she had a missed call and a text message from an unknown number.
Unknown:
Francesca. It’s Professor Clark. We should probably talk. Soon.
It’s rather important.
Please, Francesca.
Whaaaaaaat?
Frankie couldn’t think for a moment. Static crackled in her skull, mimicking the sensation of a head stuffed with Pop Rocks. So many questions buzzed together in a jumble of chaos.
Why the hell is Professor Clark calling and texting me?
Was whatever he needed to talk to me about last night outside the Tackle Boxx really that important?
Is it about my exam?
Isn’t it against the university’s policy to talk to me about my exam before it’s graded?
How did he get my freaking number?
She nearly dropped her phone again as her fifteen-minute warning alarm chimed aggressively. She had to get ahold of herself, and the only way to do that was to silence her phone and ignore the persistent professor until after the party. Stuffing it in her purse, she blew out a breath, feeling grateful that a full bar awaited her. She shrugged into her cream wool coat and left her hotel room. Whatever Professor Prick needed was going to have to wait.