by Lexi Ryan
***
Present Day
Mom, Granny, and I have been looking at wedding venues, and this is our last stop. I’ve been tense all morning, but the moment I stepped into the gallery, I remembered Max kissing me for the first time. The memory drained the tension from me like someone turned a release valve in my muscles.
I’ve always loved this place. William’s gallery, the smile on Maggie’s face when she works with art, the way the sun shines through the wall of windows at the back and reflects off the stained-glass art hanging from the ceiling. And best of all is the memory of that kiss.
“Hey, girlie. How are you doing?” Maggie asks as I step into the gallery. She’s looking especially gorgeous today in a loose-fitting black tank, dark jeans, and strappy sandals.
“I’m good.” I force myself to be positive.
Across the street, Max is standing outside the health club, chatting with a gorgeous, leggy blonde. The old Hanna would have felt twelve kinds of inferior to a girl like that. The old Hanna wouldn’t have believed a guy like Max would want a girl like her. Too bad the old Hanna’s mind is stuck in the new Hanna’s body.
I shift uncomfortably as the girl leans in flirtatiously and presses her hand against Max’s chest. I’ve never had the confidence to be a flirt, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize when someone is putting the moves on my man. Who is she? Some sorority girl he’s training? Does he like her?
Max carefully removes her hand from his chest and takes a half-step back.
Next to me, Maggie follows my gaze and snorts. “Don’t even worry about it, Han-Han. That boy only has eyes for you.”
Mom paces a circle in front of us and frowns. “I’m just not convinced the gallery really gives you enough room for many guests. It would make for a gorgeous, intimate wedding, though, that’s for sure.”
“I didn’t even know Will let people have weddings here,” I whisper to Maggie. “I mean, I don’t remember if I did know.”
“We just started it maybe six months ago,” Maggie says. “It works really well. The bride generally comes down the stairs instead of having a traditional aisle, and we have white chairs in storage we can set up here in the lobby for your guests.”
“Sounds beautiful.”
“It is.” Maggie raises a brow. “Have you actually set a date?”
“No, but Mom’s pushing me to.”
“Nothing pleases that woman more than seeing her daughters marrying good men,” Maggie grumbles. “I swear, if she keeps pushing Asher, I’m going to lose my shit.”
“So no ring for you yet?” I ask.
Her shoulders tense. “Asher dropped some hints a couple of months back, and I freaked out. I think I scared him, and God knows if he’ll ever ask now.”
“I’m sure he just wants to make sure you’re ready.”
She shrugs and waves away the subject. After Maggie’s history, I can imagine talk of weddings would panic her a little. I cut my eyes to Max. Only he’s not outside anymore, and before I see where he’s gone, the bell over the door chimes.
“Hey, Max!” Maggie calls.
From the door, Max grins and runs his eyes over me appreciatively. They’re this gorgeous blue that made me weak in the knees back when he didn’t notice me, but having them aimed at me like that nearly melts me to the floor.
“Max!” Mom calls, hurrying over to him. “You got my message. I’m so glad you could come over.”
The way he just looked at me has my heart pounding triple-time in my chest. Or is that anxiety over what we found on my computer this morning, fear that I’ve screwed up a good thing?
Max escapes Mom’s grasp and then he’s spinning me around and grinning at me.
“Pardon me for a moment,” he tells Maggie. “I need to kiss my fiancée.” He presses his mouth to mine in a kiss that’s sweet and tender and sizzles all the way down to my toes. Before I can kiss him back, he’s pulling away.
“Hello there,” I whisper.
His eyes have gone smoky. He brushes my hair off my shoulders. “I didn’t know we were looking at wedding venues.”
I settle my hands on his shoulders awkwardly, not sure what else to do with them. After last night, it’s funny that I would feel unsure about touching him, but it’s not natural to me yet. In my mind, Max is still more crush than fiancé.
“Mom insisted.” I watch him carefully. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“We aren’t in any rush.” He smiles. “Well, you aren’t. Personally, the sooner I have you sleeping in my bed, the better. Speaking of which, how’d you sleep?” His voice drops, low and husky. He may not have Nate’s river-bottom bass, but sweet Jesus, Max does husky well.
“Okay.” I force a smile. After he dropped me off at home last night, my conscience kept me up tossing and turning, and my four-thirty alarm came too soon. “What about you?”
He presses a kiss to the crook of my neck. “I would have slept better with you in my arms, but I managed okay.” He inhales audibly. “God, you smell so good. What are you wearing?”
That makes me smile. “I think you’re smelling sugar cookies and cinnamon muffins. Lizzy and I did a little baking this morning. Making you hungry?”
“Hmm. I’m hungry, all right.” He snakes a hand under my shirt and brushes my navel with his thumb, and my mind flashes on the image from the gossip site—me pressed against the side of the building, Nate’s hand creeping up my skirt.
I try not to tense. God. This is ridiculous. How can I feel so guilty when I don’t even know if I’ve done anything wrong? Right. Because there’s an innocent explanation to all of this.
“Mom’s having girls’ night at her house tonight. She wants to talk wedding plans.”
“You should.” He pulls his hand from my shirt and smooths the fabric back in place, but his expression is unreadable. “You’ve been working too hard lately. Not spending enough time with your sisters.”
So I’m told. Why didn’t he encourage me to spend more time with them back before the accident, when I was alienating Liz? Then again, I’ve probably been busy with the business and all the exercising. Not to mention a very serious boyfriend and a hottie on the side.
“Want to come with me? Mom wouldn’t mind you crashing her dinner.”
“I wish I could, but I have a late client again.”
A late client. The same woman as last night? I bite back the question. I have no right to be suspicious of Max. Quite the opposite.
“The bride can enter from the stairs,” Mom’s saying. “Guests right there where you two are standing. It would be small but intimate.”
“What are you thinking?” Max asks me quietly. “You seem distracted.”
I force a smile. We’re supposed to be deciding where we’re going to exchange vows, and I’m too busy trying to figure out what I’ve done to pay any attention. “I’m just wondering when you can come by my place so we can pick up where we left off last night?”
“What do you think, Max?” Mom asks from the back. “Should we try to do this in October? Imagine the colorful leaves floating past on the river.”
He never takes his eyes from mine. “The sooner the better.”
“Great!” She claps her hands gleefully. “Maggie, pull out the calendar for October. Let’s set a date!”
