We walked passed packed rows of people, all watching expectantly for the blushing bride. I probably knew a lot of people here, but they were all a blur as the beauty of the moment consumed me. Starting at my feet, fizzing up my legs and through my chest, reaching my fingertips and the very top of my head.
White and pink peonies interspersed with the prettiest greenery was draped from the ceiling and along the walls and decorated the aisle chairs in elegant wreaths. There was a wrought iron arch at the end of the aisle, backdropped by the open patio and the late afternoon sun and the hum of Durham just beyond.
That was where Vann and I parted ways. But not before his fingers brushed mine in the sweetest goodbye.
Or maybe his fingers brushed on accident.
God, this whole wedding haze was clouding my judgment.
I waited for my fellow bridesmaids to join me. And then it was the flower girls’ and ring bearer’s turn. They were adorably off course and mischievous. The pastor gestured for the room to stand, the hired band changed their music and Vera entered the room on her dad’s arm. Killian made a choked sound and I glanced over just in time to see a single tear roll down his cheek.
That’s when the tears started flowing for everyone. I was a strong woman and all that, but even I couldn’t hold it together when Killian, a man that was basically my brother and one of the smartest, strongest, most resilient guys I had ever known, was staring so completely enamored at his bride.
They didn’t stop either. Not when the pastor started talking about the sanctity of marriage and the sanctity of the lifelong promises the happy couple was about to speak to each other. Not when Molly’s mom read a verse about love from the Bible. Not when one of Vera’s second cousin’s sang a song by the Lumineers while they lit a unity candle. Not when they whispered choked vows and Vera sniffled her I do’s. Not when they were pronounced man and wife. And certainly not when they shared their first kiss as newlyweds.
The wedding erupted into a true celebration after that.
Vera and Killian danced down the aisle, freshly dubbed Mr. and Mrs. Quinn. We followed, cheering and wiping tears and loving these people more than any of us knew was possible.
My loneliness disappeared, reminded of how happy I was for my friends—how special this day and night were for them. How completely wonderful they were for each other.
The wedding guests were asked to mingle in the bar area, while the staff reset the restaurant to accommodate for the meal and the bridal party scurried outside to take advantage of the late sunlight.
For an hour and a half, the photographer snapped pictures of the happy couple and their coordinating wedding party. Vann and I were continuously put next to each other, forced to touch, forced to be close. And I’d like to think we weathered it like pros.
I mean, there was the lingering brush of his hand along my spine. And the extra close posturing as his chest pressed against my back or his arm wrapped around my shoulders, tugging me into him.
But that was the point of pictures—that we all looked like we knew each other. And liked each other. And like Vann and I had totally slept together the night before.
Oh wait, not that last one.
I would be surprised if Vera got her pictures back and I wasn’t face-palming through half of them.
What made it worse were the tingles and snapshots of the night before running through my thoughts whenever Vann touched me.
By the time we reentered the reception, I needed a drink. And fast. The rest of the guests had been reseated at tables around the room and Vera and Killian were making their way through the crowd to the head table.
I veered off course and slid onto a barstool. I’d seen the guy behind the bar a few times before, but I didn’t think he worked here. After giving me a surprised look, he walked over with a smile on his face.
“What can I get you?”
“Something strong,” I responded immediately. Then of course, I thought about last night and the questionable decisions I’d made and changed my mind. “Just kidding, something mild. Barely alcoholic. A virgin daiquiri if you have it.”
He laughed at my insane answer. “Is that really what you want? A virgin daiquiri?”
I plopped the side of my head in my hand. “No, I want an Old Fashioned.” I scanned the shelves of liquor. “With that Bulleit Rye.”
His grin kicked up a notch, giving him the most devilish look I had ever seen on a man before. This guy was trouble. And he knew it. “Atta girl.”
“Don’t make me regret this decision,” I told his back as he searched for the right bottle.
“Good whiskey isn’t a drink people should regret.” He found what he was looking for and then started searching for something else. With an apologetic look over his shoulder, he said, “Sorry, this isn’t my bar.”
“I didn’t think so. You look familiar, but I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”
After he’d gathered everything he needed, he shook his head and said, “I own Craft.” He paused to look at me, searching for recognition.
“I was just there!” I told him. “Friday night. It was amazing.”
“That’s good to hear. We haven’t been open for very long. But since Killian has convinced half my staff to leave their good employment to take a chance working with me, I offered to work his wedding.”
“You know that was his game plan from the beginning, right?”
He laughed, but his eyes stayed focused on the drink in his hands. “I’m realizing that. I think the whole kitchen staff is here for the same reason.”
“They are,” I said seriously. “It’s why the wedding took so long to plan. They had to line up a quality catering staff that could please two very good, very picky chefs.”
“And their guests,” he added—another sly look.
I smiled. “And their guests. Who are mostly chefs.”
He grimaced. “Not an easy task. I think they ended up flying someone in from California.”
“Probably safe to outsource.”
A body slid onto the bar seat next to me. It was Vann. He didn’t bother looking at the bartender. He only had eyes for me.
“They’re looking for you,” he said, his voice pitched low and direct.
I licked my lips and tried not to look at his. Maybe I should forego the drink altogether. “Who?”
“The girls,” he said, not needing to give them names. “I think they want you to sit down before they bring the food in.”
“Ah. Okay. Sorry, I was just grabbing a drink first.”
At just that moment, the bartender slid my Old Fashioned across the counter. I could already tell it was a good one. The orange peel was curled perfectly, and he’d given me two cherries.
“How much do I owe you?” I asked, suddenly realizing I didn’t have my purse on me.
He winked at me. “Bridal party drinks for free.”
Had more beautiful words ever been spoken? “You probably shouldn’t have told me that.”
His laugh was deep and genuine. “Remember what I said about whiskey.”
That people shouldn’t regret drinking it. Maybe there was truth to that. Last night’s bad decision had been brought to you by tequila. Maybe whiskey would appeal to my more rational drunk side.
Not that I intended to get drunk three nights in a row. I wasn’t that girl anymore.
Still, a little something to steady the nerves was in order. Especially with Vann boring a hole into the side of my head.
“Thanks again…”
“Will,” he supplied. “Will English.”
“Thanks again, Will English. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
Vann was full on glaring by the time I stood up. He was apparently my escort in all ways tonight and stuck by my side as we skirted the outside of the room trying to get to the head table. “Who was that?”
“Will English.” Giving him a perplexed look, I added, “He just told us.”
“I meant, who is he? How do you know him?�
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I shrugged, not understanding where the attitude was coming from. “I don’t. We just met. He made my drink.” I held up the cut crystal tumbler so he could see for himself.
“Huh.”
“What does that mean?” I didn’t like his tone is what I meant.
“It means, I thought you were a nice girl.”
Now that sounded like an insult. “Excuse me?”
“I used to date nice girls. They didn’t work out for me. So, I stopped dating them.”
“Okay.”
“And then I met you. I assumed you were a nice girl. I thought I would make an exception. Just for you. And you’re telling me we’re at The End. I was wrong about you being a nice girl.”
I stopped, whirling around and planting my free hand on my hip. “I am a nice girl. I’m a very nice girl. I’m the nicest girl you’ll ever meet.”
He leaned in, a surprising smirk tilting one side of his mouth. “No, Dillon, you’re not.” Just when I contemplated smacking him, he added, “But don’t worry, I think I’m into it.”
He turned away and made his way back to his seat. I mumbled, “You think?” to his back, but he was already gone. What did that mean? He thinks he’s into it? Into me?
I took a long sip of my Old Fashioned, even though I usually preferred to wait until the ice melted. I tried to decide if last night was a fluke or if Vann Delane was going to drive me to drink. Er, all the time.
* * *
Three hours later, I was full of all kinds of amazing food, the best drinks I had ever had, an insanely delicious honey, vanilla, and lavender wedding cake, and so much laughter.
The dinner had been one of the best I’d ever had. The toasts from Ezra and Molly had been heartwarming and moving, the cutting of the cake adorable, and Kaya happened to catch the bouquet—when Vera tossed it directly to her while she was sitting down.
Dancing had started an hour ago and I was having the time of my life moving around the floor with my friends and a string of single guys that never let me stop. I’d only had one other drink so I was also pleasantly sober.
This was a night for the books.
And I was so happy that Vera and Killian would have these perfectly beautiful memories for the rest of their lives.
I had just escaped the dance floor to take a break and sit with my brother for a few minutes—who had two left feet and hated anything but slow dancing where he could just sway back and forth—when I nearly bumped into another girl practically throwing herself at Vann.
The moment surprised me so much that I had to take a step back and regroup.
To be honest, I’d had my eye on him the whole night. Not that I was being a creepy stalker or anything. But after last night, and then today, there was just this awareness of his presence. I couldn’t help it! I was female after all.
It was in our DNA to know where available, attractive, mysterious men were at all times.
Er, at least I’d found that to be true in the last twenty-four hours. When it specifically applied to Vann Delane.
But let’s not analyze that too closely.
Okay, so maybe I’d picked this side of the dance floor to walk off because he happened to be standing nearby. And maybe I’d totally nailed my aloof exit with a laughing conversation with Molly so that I could pretend that I had no idea he was over here. And maybe, just maybe, but probably not likely, I had been hoping he would stop to talk to me.
He hadn’t said anything to me since before dinner and I found that I didn’t like that he was also playing the aloof game.
It was okay when I did it. But frankly, he was annoying me.
Also, since when had I turned into this girl that was all, “Pay attention to meeeee?” I wasn’t that girl. I was levelheaded. I was unattached. I was perfectly confident in my single status.
Where were all these emotions coming from and what did I do with them? Because keeping them and dealing with them was not a viable option.
And now there was this female in front of me, who had deliberately blocked my path so she could have all of Vann’s attention and I was contemplating murder in the first degree. Basically, it was time for another drink and a scavenger hunt for my sanity.
“Excuse me,” I managed to bite out politely. Okay, politely-ish.
She barely turned her head to acknowledge my presence and just kept talking to Vann with enthusiastic hand gestures. I tried to step around her when one of her flailing arms nearly clotheslined me.
I took a step back and glanced at Vann. The damnable man was trying to bite back a smile. Those gray eyes shifted to mine, full of humor.
He was enjoying this.
“Excuse me,” I said louder.
The woman turned to finally give me her attention, an ugly sneer twisting her otherwise pretty face. “What?”
Okay, that was it. I tried to be nice. At least polite. And I could even admit, at least to myself, that I was playing a game with Vann, but she didn’t know that. Now she was just on my nerves.
Leaning around her, I grabbed Vann’s hand and tugged him toward me. “I just need him,” I told the snotty woman. “For a sec,” I promised.
Vann let me pull him onto the dance floor, ignoring the evil woman and her demonic glaring from behind him.
“She is awful,” I told him as we naturally started to move with the upbeat music.
He finally let go of his smile. “She barely said anything to you.”
I growled, thankful he couldn’t hear me over the bass. “She didn’t need to,” I told him. “It was her attitude.”
His eyes lit with pretend understanding. “Ah. I get it now.”
“Thank you.”
He leaned in, brushing a stray hair over my shoulder. “Told you.”
My eyes naturally narrowed. “Told me what?”
“You’re not a nice girl.”
I continued to stare at him, wondering what this meant. He sounded like he was gloating, like he’d uncovered some great secret about me. But I didn’t get it.
I was nice. Most of the time. To the people I loved anyway.
And I had always been nice to him.
Nice-ish.
“I’m super nice,” I argued. “That biotch had it coming.” I realized something awful way too late. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, she wasn’t your wedding date or anything was she?”
His eyes bugged in a satisfying way. “Her? No. No. No.”
Three no’s was good confirmation he wasn’t into her. That shouldn’t have made me as happy as it did.
“If you’d rather dance with her…”
He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arm around my waist, tugging me against him. “I’m dancing with the girl I want to be dancing with.”
He was always so straightforward with everything, so completely direct and unflinching. It was strange. Or at least different than the other guys I had spent time with. Even my brother had a tendency to dance around sensitive issues with me. Ezra was always afraid the truth would break me. Like I was this delicate flower that was at risk of losing her petals.
To be honest, Vann’s way was jarring. Like actual punches to my gut. But it was growing on me. I found I didn’t like to be treated as though I were fragile. Vann’s way seemed to convey more… respect for me. He trusted me to be a grown-up woman with her own mind.
And that was validating in a way I didn’t expect.
My jealousy was also appeased.
The music changed, slowing way down. The DJ said something about fulfilling a request, but all I could hear was the frantic beating of my heart as Vann wrapped his hands around my waist and I found my arms curling around his neck.
He looked at me from beneath hooded eyelids and thick lashes. “You don’t remember much about last night, do you?”
I shook my head, another blush creeping over my face, painting it in red with the admission of truth. “There were too many shots. It’s coming back to me, but it’s all jumbled and messy.”
His lips kicked wi
th a smile. “I remember some messy parts too.”
Dropping my head, I pressed my cheek against his chest to hide. “Oh, my god.”
His laugh rumbled beneath me and I had to close my eyes against the rapid beating of my heart. Oh hell, I liked that feeling too much.
His head dipped, so he could press his cheek against my forehead. “It was a good night, Dillon. I’m disappointed you don’t remember. It’s making me insecure.”
I clutched him tighter, unable to look him in the eyes. It was making me question everything. But that wasn’t something I could admit to him. I tugged my tried and true fine personality tightly around myself. I was fine. Last night was fine. Everything was fine. “It’s not you. Seriously, I can usually hold my liquor better than that.”
“I didn’t realize you were too drunk to remember.” His voice had lost the teasing edge and was replaced with concern.
Shrugging, I stayed under cover. “It’s one of my superpowers. I’m usually more careful though.”
We danced in silence for a while, both of us lost in thought. Honestly, I could barely untangle mine to make them out. I couldn’t even guess at his.
There was a lot to think about. A lot to be embarrassed about. Just all around a lot.
“I’m not planning to take you home tonight,” he announced.
I pulled back, unable to not look at his face and gauge whether he was serious. “Are you for real right now?”
His gray eyes turned silver with emotion I couldn’t read. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I’m not usually so… easy.”
My mouth dropped open. Was that a dig at me? I honestly couldn’t tell. Forget what I’d just decided about this man. He wasn’t open and honest. He was an enigma. A total and complete mystery. Who was he? “Are you insulting me?”
He laughed and pulled me tighter against him. His lips dropped to my ear. “No, not insulting.”
We danced in silence again. I was hypnotized by his body so close to mine and his lips at my ear, his breath floating over my bare skin. I was glad he didn’t think he was going to get laid two nights in a row. That wasn’t a thing I did.
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 108
