Moonlight Road (Virgin River #11)(61)

She still remembered the things she’d jealously listened to the girls in gym class say about the long day of primping, going to the beauty salon, having manicures and pedicures, about the series of picture taking at her house then at his parents’ house—all things she’d never experienced. Well, she wouldn’t be experiencing them now, either, though it did cross her mind to drive into Fortuna or Eureka to find a beauty shop that would give her one of those old-fashioned updos, all piled ringlets and curls.

Instead, she tended her vegetable garden (soup pot and metal spoon nearby), showered, painted her toenails and fingernails pale pink and whiled away the time. Seven couldn’t get there fast enough.

When she tried on the dress, it was a bit too large and in a strapless, that wasn’t a good thing—one wrong move and it would be around her ankles. She had to tighten it up with safety pins. And of course she hadn’t brought a strapless bra to the mountains; she sagged a little bit, but he would just have to live with that. After all, he’d seen her na**d and knew the thirty-six-year-old girls were starting to drop a bit.

She fussed over her hair, pinning it up and curling little dangling ends with her curling iron. By God, if she didn’t look exactly like a thirty-six-year-old senior in high school! At last there was a knock at the door.

She opened it with a smile and there he stood—wearing a tux and holding a plastic box of flowers! “Oh my God, I guessed right!” she said with a laugh. “We’re playing prom!”

He stepped inside and his free hand slipped around her waist to pull her close. He whispered against her lips, “When I’m done with you, you won’t feel like there’s anything you missed.”

She pulled back just slightly. “Are you planning to be done with me soon?”

He shook his head. “It will be a very, very long time, honey. Very.” Then he handed her a wrist corsage.

She opened it and sighed—an orchid. When she was in high school, the boys that put out for an orchid were really trying. She put it on her wrist and said, “This is fun, but I’m not sure I’m willing to be seen in public like this. Everyone will think we’re dressed for a costume party.”

“Well, if I remember right, first you go to dinner, then you go to the dance. Right?”

“I guess,” she said, nodding.

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out four CDs—all late ’80s and early ’90s. Wilson Phillips, Billy Joel, Michael Bolton, the “new” Mariah Carey. “I picked only the slow ones. We have reservations at Jack’s. We’ll come back here to dance.”

“Ohhh, Aiden. You are the sweetest man…”

“And we’re going to do things we’d have gotten detention for. While we dance, I’m going to be all over you—kissing your neck, touching your br**sts, begging…”

“You probably won’t have to beg….”

His lips were on her neck. “Of course, we have to do it in the backseat of the car….”

“I might draw the line there,” she told him.

“I bet I can talk you into it,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s go.” And he put out his arm to escort her.

Erin hadn’t been in Jack’s bar often and therefore wasn’t immediately aware that it was quite different on this Tuesday night. For one thing, it was lit by candlelight. Right by the window was a table set for two with fine china and a linen tablecloth. It was only seven-thirty, but the restaurant was empty. Jack stood in his usual place behind the bar, but he was wearing a white shirt. It took her a while to realize that this was a very special setup. In fact, Aiden was holding her chair out for her before it occurred to her, “Did you rent out the whole bar?”

“More or less,” he said. “Jack said they weren’t likely to be real busy and he gave me a deal.”

Then Jack was beside their table, a clean dish towel draped over one arm. “If you kids have some ID, I can serve you a drink. But…”

Aiden grinned up at Jack. “Want to give us a break, pal?”

He chuckled and asked, “Bottle of wine?”

“Raymond Reserve Merlot 2004,” Aiden said.

“My pleasure,” Jack said.

Erin leaned toward Aiden and whispered, “What is that?”

“The best you’ll ever taste,” he whispered back. “I bought a bottle and gave it to Jack earlier. Prizewinner.”

“He doesn’t carry it?”

“I doubt it—not much call for it around here. You’ll love it.”

Jack proved he wasn’t a completely ignorant small-town barkeep. He brought the bottle to them, opened it and presented Aiden with the cork. Then he poured a small amount in the glass and passed it to Aiden to swirl, sniff, sip and accept. He poured for both of them and left the bottle. “I’ll bring your soup and salads in a minute,” Jack said. “Enjoy the wine.”

“Try it,” Aiden urged. Erin took a sip and let her eyes gently close. She smiled and nodded. Aiden reached across the table for her hand. “I know it won’t be like it should have been for you, Erin. But we can have fun with it.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “When I was sixteen, I picked out a prom dress. I was determined I was going, but I was delusional—I didn’t have a prayer of being asked. I didn’t date, didn’t even have a guy who walked me to classes, and on prom night my dad caught me crying about it. The next year on prom night he got a sitter and took me out to dinner. Dinner with my dad, that was what I did on prom night. This is so much better.”