Kitabı oku: «Stop The Wedding!: Night Driving / Smooth Sailing / Crash Landing», sayfa 3

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Tuesday, June 30, 11:50 p.m.

FOR THE PAST three hours, they’d been driving east down lonely Highway 90. The barren landscape made Tara happy that she wasn’t traveling this route alone. Montana was pretty, but in the dark, it stretched out long and lonesome.

Funny, she’d never noticed how empty the state was when she’d made the drive up from Florida fourteen months ago following Chet, more for fun and adventure than true love. Her friends raved about falling in love, finding that special someone, but Tara had never been that lucky. She’d liked lots of guys, sure, and had plenty of friends, but she’d never had that special connection with a guy.

Sometimes, she wondered if there was something wrong with her, some secret inability to experience love the way others did. Her mother told her it was simply because she just hadn’t met the right man yet. The guy who would make her happy to give up her independence and settle down.

Tara sneaked a glance over at Boone and her heart did this strange little tightening thing. She was grateful for Boone’s company, even though he was trying mighty hard to pretend he was asleep.

The plan he’d given her—the control freak—detailed driving to Billings tonight, catching a few hours of sleep in a truck-stop motel and then hitting the road again at dawn. He’d programmed all their stops into his GPS and given her an estimated time frame for how long each stop should take. He’d made no allowances for detours. He was methodical and prepared. It drove Tara bonkers. How in the world could you truly experience life if you never strayed from the beaten path? If all your time was carefully plotted, where did spontaneity come in?

Boone had the passenger seat pushed back as far as it would go and he wore a Minnesota Twins baseball cap pulled down over his face. His breathing was slow and steady, but he had his arms crossed over his chest. Her gaze drifted down to his right leg encased in the metal brace. He had to be hurting from the day’s efforts, but she hadn’t seen him take a pain pill. He’d even refused the beer she’d offered him at her impromptu goodbye party.

Leaving Bozeman was more difficult than she’d thought it was going to be and it was all because of the man sitting beside her. She was excited about seeing her family again and happy that she wouldn’t be spending another winter in Montana, but for all his gruffness, she was really going to miss Boone.

Her cell phone rang. Who was calling her this late at night? She couldn’t see the caller ID in the dark, so she just answered it through the hands-free device that broadcast the conversation throughout the car. She tried to whisper so as not to disturb Boone. “Hello?”

“Tara? I can’t hear you,” said her older sister, Kate.

“I’m here.” She raised her voice and cast a glance over at Boone to see if she was bothering him.

“Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?”

“I’m at the hospital with Mom. She came through the surgery with flying colors and most likely she’ll be released tomorrow.”

Tara breathed out a sigh of relief. “That’s good. I regret that I couldn’t be there for the surgery.”

“It’s okay,” Kate said. “You’re coming home now.”

“I’m sorry this is all falling on your shoulders.”

“It’s not. Everyone is pitching in. Joe and Matt are staying at the house with Dad. Erin and Dave are flying in tomorrow.”

“I’m still several days away.”

“No worries. You’ll be home to help drive her to chemo treatments once she recovers from the surgery. Really, the doctors say she’s got an excellent chance for a complete recovery.”

“Still, it’s scary to think of losing her.”

“I know,” Kate said softly. “She’s really happy you’re moving back home for good. We’ve all missed you.”

Guilt nibbled at Tara. Her mother had been her biggest cheerleader, always urging her to follow her dreams and her heart, but she couldn’t help feeling selfish that in her wanderlust, she’d left her family behind. While she loved adventure, Tara was a traditionalist at heart. Family meant a lot to her. It was time she went home.

“I’ll call in the morning,” Tara said.

“You be careful on the drive. Don’t rush. We’ve got everything covered here.”

More guilt. “’Night, Kate.”

“Good night, Tara.”

She cut off the call and peeped over at Boone again. Had he heard her conversation? The guilt turned into another feeling she couldn’t quite identity, a cross between regret and wistfulness. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

The car’s headlights cut a swath through the darkness, the single illumination on the silent highway. A shiver of loneliness passed through her and, for a second, she felt as if she were completely alone on the surface of the moon.

Up ahead, she could see the lights of Billings, and an impish part of her wanted to drive on through without stopping. Throw off his best-laid plans; prove to him there was nothing wrong with a little impulsiveness. She would have done it, too, except she had no idea how far away the next town was.

“Take the next exit,” Boone said.

Tara startled. “You’re not even looking at the road. How do you know the exit to Billings is coming up next?”

“I have an acute sense of time. At the speed you’re driving, we should be coming up to Billings.”

She shifted her gaze to the clock in the dash. He was right on the money. “Dude, that’s a freaky skill.”

He shrugged, didn’t bother to lift the cap off his face. There’d be no making end runs around this guy.

“Is the whole trip going to be like this?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“I’m only asking because if you’re going to be quiet as a corpse the whole way, I want to dig out my earphones before we hit the road in the morning so I can listen to some tunes.”

“You’re not supposed to wear earbuds while you’re driving.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s only common courtesy to have a conversation with the person who’s driving you to Miami. I mean it’s miles and miles of driving. If you can’t at least talk to me, then you’re forcing me to break the law.”

“You don’t have to wear earbuds. You can play whatever you want on the radio.”

“So, in other words, you’re not going to talk to me.”

He heaved a sigh, swept the cap from his face and sat up in the seat. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing now. We’re almost to the truck stop.” She sailed up the exit ramp.

“Why don’t you talk,” he said. “Tell me something about yourself. Your hopes, your dreams, your secrets.”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to talk.”

“You’re impossible.” Peeved, Tara reached over and clicked on the radio. The Black Keys were singing “Howlin’ for You.” She turned up the volume. Loud.

Boone winced.

“Too loud?” She smiled sweetly.

“No.” He settled a hand on his knee.

“Is your knee hurting?” Contrite, she turned down the music.

“I don’t need your pity. Crank the damn music.” He reached over and turned the volume back up again.

“You’re a real sorehead, you know that?”

“I wasn’t always,” he mumbled.

She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. She turned down the music. “What did you say?”

Silence settled over the car.

“I know you’re a wounded warrior and all that, but this dark and broody stuff isn’t working for me. Get some sleep tonight, but then tomorrow, I expect a complete attitude adjustment.”

One eyebrow shot up high on his forehead. “Oh, you do?”

“I do.” She pulled to a stop outside the bed-and-bath motel connected to the truck stop.

“You think it’s that easy to just turn your mood around?”

“Fake it till you make it, baby.” Okay, maybe she was being glib, but there was only so much gloom and doom she could handle and she’d noticed whenever she issued a challenge, he got feisty. “You know what I think?”

“How can anyone know what you think? Your mind jumps around like a spider monkey.” The blinking lights of the motel sign flashed across his face in green neon.

Vacancy.

“I think that maybe deep down, underneath the pain and grief and pissiness, you’re just plain bored.”

“Bored, huh?”

“Yep. You’re accustomed to lots of action and you’re not getting any.”

“Is that supposed to be a double entendre?” He lowered his eyelids, gave her a sultry look that sizzled her shorts.

Tara gulped, ignored that and trudged ahead. “From here on in, I want to see smiles, smiles, smiles.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll drive off and leave you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Just try me.”

He reached over and plucked the keys out of the ignition.

“Hey!”

“I’ll give them back to you in the morning.”

“You’re a pain in the butt,” she said. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time,” he said. Then, for the first time that day, he gave her a genuine smile. “All the damn time.”

EVEN IF BOONE didn’t want to admit it, Tara was right. He was a pain in the butt, he was bored and he hadn’t had any action in a very long time.

That included sex.

He lay on the narrow motel bed and stared up at the ceiling. He could hear the chuff of Jake brakes as eighteen-wheelers rolled in off the highway. He tried to sleep, but Tara crowded and clouded his mind. He had underestimated exactly how tough this was going to be—sitting beside her in the car, hour after hour, smelling her feminine scent, taking in the bare stretch of skin from the hem of her shorts to her sandals, hearing the sweet sound of her voice. It was all he could do to keep his hands off her. Now, he fully realized why he’d kept her at arm’s length all these months.

She was in the room next door. The walls were thin and when she’d taken her shower, he heard the water come on.

Instantly, he pictured her in those shorts that crept high on her thighs when she sat down. She had million-dollar legs and he imagined her sliding them over his. Her features were etched on the back of his eyelids and it was as real as if she were standing right in front of him—from the gentle arch of her sandy eyebrows to her determined little chin beneath those wide, luscious lips. Her face was shaped like a soft heart, wider across the forehead, smaller at her jawline. Her nose was short with a delicate tip.

He might want to deny it, but she was cuter than a basketful of puppies. Boone hated cute. Nothing could trip a guy up faster than cute.

An unwelcome stiffness gripped him.

Dammit. He did not want her starring in his X-rated fantasies, but his body had other ideas, his brain teasing his appendage with provocative images of her. Stepping out of the shower, naked, wet and slippery.

She turned him inside out and she wasn’t even in the same room.

“Stop thinking about her,” he commanded himself, but it was like telling a dieter to stay away from chocolate cake.

Goose bumps spread over him at the thought of what it would feel like to take her into his arms with those spectacular breasts pressed against his chest. Inhale the scent of her hair. Taste the sweetness of her lips.

His erection tightened, throbbed.

Ah, hell.

He flopped ungracefully over onto his side, dragging his injured knee after him and stared at the digital clock on the bedside table. Two in the morning. He was never going to get any sleep at this rate.

His shaft ached. He pulled in a deep breath.

Just do it and get it over with so you can get a few hours of sleep.

He didn’t want to give in. His body had betrayed him enough, but if he didn’t do something about this erection soon, he’d lie awake until dawn.

Once upon a time, he’d had an iron will, but these days? No such luck.

The persistent throbbing won out. Blowing out his breath, Boone reached down a hand, and with visions of Tara parading through his head, proceeded to take care of his problem in the most expedient way possible.

SUNLIGHT PUSHING through the dusty window jerked Boone awake sometime later. He sat up abruptly and immediately regretted it when his knee twinged. He gritted his teeth, shoved a hand through his hair. What in the hell time was it? His plan had been to get on the road at dawn. What he’d done last night had worked, but he’d slept far longer than he intended.

A glance over at the clock told him it was seventhirty—a good hour and a half later than he’d planned. He’d no sooner gotten dressed and put on his knee brace than a knock sounded at his door. He opened it to find Tara standing there wearing a short red sundress and matching red sandals that showed off the sexiest toes this side of Montana.

“Good morning,” she chirped.

“Why did you let me sleep so long?” he groused. “I told you we needed to be on the road by six.”

“Relax. We’ve got plenty of time. You don’t have to be in Key West until Saturday.”

“It’s already Wednesday and I don’t like cutting things close.”

“C’mon.” She beckoned with a wriggly finger. “Let’s go have breakfast.”

“No. Let’s get on the road. We can hit a drive-through on the way out of town.”

But she was already swishing away from him, headed across the parking lot toward the truck-stop diner, her oversized purse slung over her shoulder.

He swore under his breath, picked up his knapsack and limped after her as fast as he could. “Tara,” he hollered. “We don’t have time for this.”

Stepping lightly, she turned and, still walking toward the diner, grinned at him. “You’ll feel better after a hearty breakfast.”

“I’ll feel better when we’re on the road.”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“Watch where you’re walking.”

“I’m—” Her retort was cut off by an eighteen-wheeler bread truck as it whizzed away from massive gas pumps at the back of the diner. The truck came barreling straight for Tara.

Adrenaline shot through Boone. His natural instinct was to run toward her, throw himself between her and the truck, but given the shape his knee was in, he simply could not move that fast. “Stop!” he commanded and then took half a dozen deities’ names in vain.

Tara froze, her face gone deathly pale.

The driver of the eighteen-wheeler blasted his horn, coming within inches of Tara as he rocketed from the parking lot.

Boone’s stomach had vaulted into his throat.

She jumped then, leaping into a hedge of bushes surrounding the diner. Boone moved as fast as he could, heart hammering. He’d intended to give her a good long lecture, but when he reached her, she was trembling all over.

“Are you all right?” he murmured.

She nodded mutely. Her legs wobbled beneath her.

He reached out and took her into his arms.

“You were right,” she said. “We should have gotten on the road. If we’d been on the road ahead of that stupid truck, I wouldn’t have been acting like a dummy.”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe,” he reassured her, but she was a leaf in his arms, shaking uncontrollably.

“That was almost the end of me. Why don’t I ever think?”

“You were just caught up in the moment, enjoying the morning. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“It could have been my last breath.” She leaned heavily against him.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been walking backward,” he conceded. “But that guy shouldn’t have come cannonballing around the building knowing that people come walking through the parking lot from the motel to the diner.”

“You’re letting me off the hook?” She seemed surprised.

“I think you’re shaken up enough without me making any more comments. Let’s get some breakfast,” he murmured in her ear, surprised by the tender feeling of relief that had evaporated all his anger. She was okay. That’s all that mattered.

“No, we should get on the road.”

“You’re in no shape to drive. You need to sit down a bit. Get some color back into those cheeks.”

“Okay,” she agreed in a weak voice.

Boone let his hand drop to her waist, pressed his palm to the small of her back and escorted her toward the door. He had the strangest urge to grin.

They found a booth near the front door. Tara plunked down. It took Boone a minute to get seated across from her. He dropped his knapsack to the floor and stretched his right leg out across it.

Tara exhaled audibly.

He reached across the table to touch her hand. “You sure you’re okay?”

Her smile was wan. She pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “I’m getting there.”

The waitress came over. Boone ordered oatmeal and toast. Tara ordered the Slam Bang special. He eyed her speculatively. Where did she plan on putting all that food?

“What?” she asked as she handed the waitress her menu.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I have a high metabolism. I can eat like a horse and not gain weight.”

“Good for you.”

She took a sip of the orange juice the server brought her but didn’t meet his gaze. The steam from Boone’s coffee curled up between them. She fiddled with the wrapper from her straw, rolling the paper around her index finger, then unfurling it again.

“So,” she said. “How do you plan to get back home after you ruin your sister’s wedding?”

Boone blinked at her. For all his planning out the route and time scheduled, it had never once crossed his mind how he was going to get back to Montana. He’d been so single-minded about reaching Key West in time to stop Jackie from making a big mistake that he’d forgotten the return trip home.

“I’ll figure something out,” he said.

“Wow, something the great planner hasn’t thought out? I’m shocked.”

“Yeah, well, I was preoccupied.”

“Sticking your nose in your sister’s business.”

“It’s not like that.”

“No?” She planted her elbows on the table, rested her chin into her upturned palms. “What’s it like?”

“This is the first time Jackie has ever been in love. She doesn’t understand that she can’t trust those feelings.”

“Why not?”

“They’re not based on anything solid.” He studied her mouth. “It’s just lust. Not the real thing. You should know that.”

“What does that mean?”

“Guys fall all over you.”

“So?” She narrowed her eyes. “You think I’ve been in love gobs of times?”

“Haven’t you?”

“Just because I’m lively and like people doesn’t mean I go falling in love willy-nilly.”

That was precisely what he’d thought of her. Her house was always filled with people. She dated a lot. It was a natural assumption.

“How many times have you been in love?” he asked, not knowing why he was pursuing this topic. It was none of his damned business.

She studied him for a long moment, her winsome blue eyes drilling into his until he started feeling downright antsy. “How many times have you been in love?”

Boone drummed his fingers on the Formica tabletop. “I asked you first.”

She dropped her hands into her lap, notched up her chin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.”

“Not even with Chet?”

“Oh, heck no. He was good in bed and lots of fun and I was ready for an adventure. I was going through a cowboy phase, which was why I moved up here with him.”

Jealousy shot through Boone, crisp and concise. The last thing he wanted to think about was Tara in bed with that cowboy. He wondered if she’d ever gone through a soldier phase, and then mentally kicked himself for wondering it.

“So you weren’t crushed when he left?”

“Only because I had to pay the rent all on my own.”

Boone shook his head.

“What?” A smile played at her lips.

“I envy you.”

“For what?”

“The easy way you take life.”

“So you have been in love.” She nodded as if he’d just confirmed something she suspected.

“I thought I was, once. That’s how I know what love is not.”

Tara leaned forward, rubbed her palms together. “Ooh, now it’s getting juicy. What was her name?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Still hung up on her, huh?”

“No, not at all. I’m just embarrassed that I let her make a fool of me.”

“She cheated on you.”

“Yeah.” He bit off the word, grateful to see the waitress coming toward them with their breakfast.

“Well,” Tara said, “at least you’re not commitmentphobic.”

“Are you?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Kinda. Sorta. At least that’s what Chet said.”

“I thought he was the one who left you.”

“Yeah, when I turned down his marriage proposal.”

“Poor Chet,” Boone said, not feeling sorry for ol’ Chet in the least. “You broke his heart.”

She shrugged. “Not on purpose. I was very clear from the beginning that it wasn’t a long-term relationship.”

“Are you always that clear about your expectations from a relationship?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No,” he admitted.

She dug into her breakfast, fork in one hand, knife in the other, both elbows sticking out. The platter was heaped high with bacon and eggs and pancakes and hash browns. “You want some? I got plenty.”

He raised a palm. “I’m good.”

She narrowed her eyes at his oatmeal. “That’s not enough to feed a sparrow.”

“Since I’m not mobile, I have to keep a check on the calorie count.”

“Suit yourself.” She waved a fork. “So what was her name?”

“Who?”

“The one who broke your heart.”

He shrugged.

“You forgot her name?”

“Believe me, I wanted to.”

“Isn’t it a shame we can’t get selective amnesia when it suits us.”

“Shame,” he echoed.

“So what was her name?”

“Does it matter?”

“Not to me, but maybe if you talked about her, you could get over her.”

“I’m over her.”

“You sure?” She sank her teeth into a sausage link.

“Positive.”

“Then tell me her name.”

“Shaina.”

“Pretty name. Was she good in bed?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a legitimate question. The top two reasons couples break up are money and sex.”

Boone couldn’t believe she was asking something so personal. Then again, he could. Tara had no boundaries. Was it strange that, while her questions rubbed him the wrong way, he was starting to admire the way she just said whatever popped into her head? No filter. No caution. Just plowing straight ahead and grabbing at life with open arms. Trouble was, he was a cactus and she was a shiny red balloon.

“It wasn’t money,” he growled.

“So she was bad in bed.” Tara wiped her fingers on a napkin. “Could you hand me the syrup?”

He passed the syrup. “No, she was very good in bed. Everyone’s bed. That was the problem. Her extreme proficiency in bed.”

Tara’s eyes went all goopy soft as she drizzled maple syrup over her pancakes. “Oh, Boone, I’m so sorry.”

“Why? Did you sleep with her?”

Her hearty laugh captured him. Embraced him like a hug. How could someone hug you with a laugh?

A man put money in the jukebox and at eight o’clock in the morning, with the smell of bacon wafting in the air, it was downright incongruous hearing Ingrid Michaelson singing “Be OK.”

“That’s really why you want to stop Jackie from getting married, isn’t it?” Tara surprised him with her chirpy insight. “To keep her from making the same mistake you did. It’s really your mistakes you want to erase, not hers.”

Boone shook his head, polished off his oatmeal. “She barely knows the guy. They’ve only been going out a few weeks.”

“You and your sister weren’t raised together, right?”

“Yes. Where’d you hear that?”

“When I said goodbye to Mrs. Levison at the party, she said your sister is the daughter of Jack Birchard, the famous oceanographer.”

“That’s right. She’s my half sister.”

“Why the deep investment? It takes a lot of time, money and energy to drive across the country to ruin someone’s wedding.”

“I wasn’t there for her when she was growing up.”

“Why do you feel that it was your responsibility to be there for her?”

“When our mom dumped her, I could have made things easier for her.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. A big brother can’t make up for an AWOL mother.”

“I could have told her it wasn’t her fault that she left.”

“I doubt you telling her that would have made a difference.”

“Yeah, well.”

“You still feel guilty even when it had nothing to do with you. C’mon, Boone, you’re not responsible for what your mother did. I’m sure Jackie doesn’t hold you accountable in any way.”

This was making him uncomfortable. This is what he got for opening up to her. She was kicking off her shoes, climbing into his brain, making herself right at home, running barefoot through his psyche. He folded his arms over his chest. “You sure take your time over a meal.”

“You’re supposed to eat slowly. It aids digestion.”

“It does not aid expediency.”

“You went to college,” she said.

“I did.”

“You use a lot of big words.”

“In some circles, a large vocabulary is considered an asset.”

“I didn’t go,” she said, wistfully licking syrup from her fork. “To college, that is. My parents couldn’t afford it. Not on a plumber and secretary’s salary. Too many kids. I put myself through beauty school.”

“Doing what?”

“Swear you won’t laugh.”

“What? Did you work in a strip club?”

“Boone!” She looked half amused, half insulted. “What in the world do you think of me?”

He raked a gaze over her. “With a body like that you could make a fortune dancing.”

Her cheeks pinked and she looked both pleased and embarrassed. “Thank you. I think. No, I worked at an amusement park.”

“Doing what?”

“I was a character.”

“You are that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Specifically, a chipmunk.”

“You got the spunk of a chipmunk. I’ll give you that.”

“Why, thank you. That’s exactly what they told me at Florida Land.”

“You finished?” He tapped the face of his watch. “It’s almost nine. We’ve got to hit the road.”

“You know, if you keep doing that I’m gonna have to smash that watch.”

He narrowed his eyes, pretended to be affronted when he wasn’t. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s for your own good.” She bit into a crisp slice of bacon, her gaze hooked on his. “You don’t know how to slow down, relax and take it easy.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to sit around. It drives me batty. Relaxing is severely overrated.”

“Because your mindset is rush, rush, rush, go, go, go. It’s killing you to be incapacitated. That’s why you had to go back for a third surgery. Because you couldn’t sit still and just be. Now you’re having to learn the hard way that life doesn’t always turn out the way you planned.”

“How much do I owe you for the analysis, Dr. Freud?”

Tara grinned. “It’s on the house.”

“And the advice is well worth every penny.”

“Oh-ho, here come the barbs.”

“I wanted to be on the road hours ago.”

“And here we were getting along so well there for a split second.”

“You’d think you’d be in a hurry, too,” Boone said. “To see your mother.”

A shadow flickered over her face. “I’m not very good when those I love are sick.”

“But you’re going home anyway.”

“Of course. I love my mother.”

“Yet here you are, over a thousand miles away.”

She shifted uncomfortably. “It was my mom who told me to follow my bliss. She encouraged me to leave Florida.”

“Why’s that?”

“She got married young and started having kids, and even though she never said it, I think she regretted not getting to have adventures.”

“What did your dad say?”

“He’s my dad. He was dead set against it, but Mom convinced him.”

“Could you get a to-go bag for the rest of that?” He nodded at her half-eaten breakfast.

The waitress led a cowboy past their table. Boone pointed at Tara’s plate, silently mouthed “to-go box” to the waitress and pantomimed signing the check.

The waitress nodded.

“I90 East is a mess,” the cowboy told the waitress. “Eighteen-wheeler jackknifed and turned over, blocked that entire side of the freeway. Bread truck. Loaves of bread and buns strewn everywhere. You should have seen the birds flocking. I thought I was in a Hitchcock movie.”

Tara tucked her legs underneath her, sat up higher in her seat, looked over Boone’s head to the cowboy in the booth behind him. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the cowboy said.

“Did you say a bread truck overturned on the freeway?”

“Yep. Traffic is backed up all the way from here to the state line. It’ll be hours before they get that mess untangled. If you’re headed that direction, stay on the access road.”

“Thank you.” She threw the cowboy a beaming smile, then slipped her feet back on the floor and was back eye-to-eye with Boone. “You owe me an apology,” she said.

“How do you figure?”

“If we’d been on the road like you wanted, we’d be trapped in traffic with no way out. In fact, we probably would have been right behind that bread truck. It might have turned over on us. Squashed us flat.”

“You have a very active imagination,” Boone said because there was no way he was going to admit she was right. It was one thing to put up with her Mary Sunshine attitude. It was quite another to give her a reason to gloat.

She gloated anyway. “And the moral of that story, Toliver, is that sometimes it’s better to be the tortoise than the hare.”