He lifted my suitcase one-handed with ease. That thing barely slid under the maximum-weight requirements at the airport check-in. I may have been impressed if he hadn’t immediately heaved it over the side of his dirty truck, tossing it into the rear bed.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I gasped.
“Helping you with your luggage,” he tossed over his shoulder with a shrug. He turned to face me, his large, masculine hands resting on his broad hips just below a lean waist, his brow wrinkling at the angry expression on my face. “Damn. Don’t tell me you’ve never had a man help you with your luggage. Guess those Yankees don’t know how to treat a lady up there.”
I glared at him, my hands on my own hips, my head tilting to the side at his incorrect assumption.
“Ah, I get it,”—he snapped his finger, pointing at me—“you’re one of those feminists. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll let you get it out yourself when we get to the house.”
“Are you serious, right now?”
“Of course. Wouldn’t want you to think I didn’t see you as an equal,” he winked. Again. Did he have a tick?
“Moron,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m not mad you helped me with my luggage. I’m mad because you threw it in the back of your filthy truck. It’s probably covered in horse shit, now.”
He glanced over his shoulder where the luggage resided. “Nah, maybe some cow manure, but it’ll wash.” He gave me another slick smile, his eyes glistening with mirth.
I was not amused.
“Tell ya what, if it makes you feel better, I’ll move it inside the cab.”
“Oh, how kind of you,” I said, smiling sarcastically.
He chuckled, lifting the luggage easily once again as I walked to the passenger door. He opened the back door of the cab, placing it on the backseat before climbing into the driver’s seat. He stared at me, an eyebrow raising as I remained standing outside of the truck in the open passenger door.
“What now, city?”
I eyed the distance between the curb and floorboard of the truck. Even in my heels, it was still quite a jump, and the pencil skirt I was wearing was like a tight noose around my knees. There was no way I was going to pull off getting in this truck in a ladylike manner. At least not without his help. And I’d be damned if I was asking him for help.
“Nothing. Just…” I lifted a foot and the skirt tightened. I halted at the light tearing noise, dropping my foot back to the cement.
Wes’s face lit with sadistic amusement as he realized my predicament. “Need some help?”
“Nope. I got it.” I glared.
“Suit yourself, city.” He settled back in his seat, his smug smile taking up most of the real estate on his face as he lazily crossed his arms over his chest.
I bit back my irritation as I tried once again, only for my foot to come up short, failing to connect with the floorboard.
Ah, screw it.
Hiking up my skirt as high as I could without flashing him the goods, I crawled into the floorboard on all fours, landing my face a little too close to his goods. Way to think that one through, Hannah. At hearing his chuckle, I snapped my eyes up to his smirking face.
“Hey now, city. If I’d have known things were going to move this fast between us, I would’ve showered first.”
“Ass.” I grumbled, sitting back on my knees before lifting my butt to the seat and smoothing out my skirt.
I buckled my seatbelt, ignoring his eyes that were still on me as he chuckled and cranked the keys in the ignition. The engine roared alive, thankfully drowning out the obnoxious man sitting a few feet from me. I started to think maybe Billy would’ve been a better option until I recalled our one night together nearly a year ago.
No.
Most definitely not.
I’d take this embarrassing little stunt with the infuriating, older Monroe brother playing witness over Billy Miller. If I never saw Billy Miller again, it’d be too soon. Problem was, with his sister being one of Lottie’s closest friends and a bridesmaid in the wedding, I was pretty sure “too soon” was less than forty-eight hours away.
Chapter 2
HANNAH
Cracking the door open just barely, I peeked out of the room, watching the crowd of wedding guests mingling and chatting with old friends and family as they made their way into the church. My eyes searched the horde of bodies, my muscles tense with nerves.
“He’s not here…” Lottie’s amused voice came from behind me. “Yet, that is.”
“Who?” I played dumb, looking over my shoulder at her as she popped her ruby-red lips in the mirror before dabbing off any excess lipstick.
“My brother,” Leighton annoyingly interjected. “He just texted to say he’s running a little late.”
It was meant to be a rhetorical question. One I was hoping neither of my so-called “friends” would call me out on.
“What makes you think I’m looking for your brother?” I closed the door to the bridal suite, turning my back to it, crossing my arms.
“Because you’ve been looking over your shoulder for him since the moment you crossed into Billingsley city limits.”
“I have not.”
They gave each other a knowing look, neither of them buying my lies.
“What happened between you two anyway?” Leighton asked, turning her intrusive eyes back to me.
“He didn’t tell you?” I was a little shocked and relieved at the thought.
She shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head. “No. Every time I ask he dodges my questions, changing the subject or just telling me what he does with women he dates is none of my business.”
Women he dates. Ha. We hadn’t dated. A disastrous one-night stand? Sure. Dating? We didn’t even get close to that. Not that we ever would’ve, even without what went down that morning. We lived on opposite sides of the country. Thank. God.
“Sounds familiar,” Lottie snorted a small laugh.
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“So, what happened?” Leighton pried again when I didn’t volunteer any information.
I looked between the curious bride and nosey bridesmaid standing in front of me, knowing there was no way I was having this conversation at this moment. Or maybe ever, if I could help it. Lottie was my best friend and Leighton had become a close second. But there were some things a woman preferred to keep to herself. And this was one of those things.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” they said in unison, equal disbelief in their tones and expressions.
“Yes. Nothing we need to talk about minutes before my best friend is about to walk down that aisle and marry the love of her life. Today is not about me.”
Lottie smiled at the mention of her and Tucker’s wedding day, and Leighton was equally distracted as she grinned, looking over at Lottie in her wedding dress. I gave myself a mental high-five at how I’d navigated out of that little inquisition.
“She’s right,” Leighton agreed, hugging Lottie to her. “I’m so happy you and Tucker are finally getting hitched. You’re the best damn love story this town has ever seen.”
“Amen!” I hollered, pouring us each a small glass of champagne for a little pre-game celebration.
We clinked our glasses together, taking a few sips seconds before hearing a knock on the door. It cracked open slightly and Tucker’s grandma slipped into the room.
“It’s time, ladies,” she smiled brightly, tears already welling in her eyes as she peered over at Lottie.
“Looking good, city.” Wes grinned, straightening the lapels of his tuxedo jacket as he took his place beside me, both of us waiting for our cue to walk down the aisle.
It figures I’d get stuck with him as my damn escort. I ignored him, like I’d been doing since our first meeting at the airport.
“Why thank you, Wes!” He mocked me in a high-pitched voice. “You look sexy as hell yourself. So sexy in fact, I’d love to put my mouth on that giant co—”
“Serious
ly!” I whispered-yelled. “What are you, twelve?”
He chuckled beside me. His grams slapped him on the back of the head.
“Shit, Grams.” He rubbed a hand where she’d nailed him good.
I knew I loved that woman.
“Use that language in the Lord’s house again and you’ll be feeling more pain than that,” she threatened from behind us.
I bit down on my lips, suppressing my own laughter.
He bumped my shoulder with his, nearly knocking me out of my heels. I glared at him once again.
Leaning to the side, he dropped his voice to whisper in my ear, “It got you to talk to me, didn’t it?”
“Hardly.”
Perfectly timed, we were given the signal to follow in step behind Leighton and Derek, Tucker’s best friend. Wes held out his arm, and I begrudgingly linked mine through his.
“Smile, city. It’ll help distract everyone from those wrinkles you have.”
That son of a… “I do not have—” I stopped short with his wink and annoying grin as he tugged me forward.
I snapped my focus back in front of me, outwardly smiling, inwardly fuming. I kept my eyes straight ahead, focusing on a proud and beaming Tucker, until they were instinctively drawn to the man sitting on the end of one of the front pews. I could feel the heat of his stare as his eyes watched me, causing me to stumble a bit in my heels. Had it not been for Wes’s arm holding me up, I would’ve face planted in front of the entire congregation.
“Careful, city,” Wes whispered from the side of his mouth as he helped me steady myself once again. “Those level floors can be a bit tricky to walk on.”
“Shut it, asshole,” I gritted through my smile.
He smiled wider, barely holding in his laughter as we parted ways, taking our positions on our respective sides. He winked again at me from Tucker’s side as he straightened his shoulders and jacket.
Seriously. He needed to get that looked at.
I ignored him, sneaking another glance at Billy, my chest tightening when I realized his eyes were still on me.
The music changed.
In my heart.
In the room.
The whole church stood, and everyone turned their attention to the bride, except Billy and me, our gazes still lingering on each other. I straightened my shoulders, hardened my resolve, then tore my eyes from his to watch my friend. Grams smiled proud as a peacock while escorting Lottie down the aisle to marry her favorite grandson. At least if I were her, hands down Tucker would be my favorite.
For the rest of the ceremony I fought the urge to look at him again.
By some crazy stroke of luck, I’d managed to avoid Billy most of the night. Unluckily, Wes was like an ingrown hair I couldn’t seem to pluck from my body. It was as if he thought it was his duty as best man to constantly annoy the maid of honor, me. The only time he wasn’t pestering me was when he was swinging a different woman around on the dance floor. He was a shameless flirt. That much was obvious.
“Come on, city. Let’s dance.” Wes snatched my hand, pulling me from my spot in line at the bar. Granted, I was at the end of the line, but I was still furious about losing my place.
I yanked my hand away ready to let him have it, now that liquor flowed freely in my veins—not that I needed much assistance to give him a piece of my mind—but my mouth snapped shut when my eyes caught sight of Billy Miller walking toward me, looking tall, dark, and sexy in his suit with a bouncy, pretty brunette suctioned to his side.
Wes glanced over his shoulder at the couple before turning back to me, his eyebrow arching upward, a knowing smirk on his smug face.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
“Interesting. Here I thought you were about to put up a fight.”
“Shut up,” I sneered, grabbing his wrist, pulling him hurriedly to the dance floor.
He smiled without argument, spinning me under his arm before pulling me tight to his body and expertly guiding me around the floor. I peeked over his shoulder, finding Billy now in line at the bar with the bubbly brunette. He was standing directly behind the man I’d been waiting next to.
“You want to tell me what that was about?”
“Nope.”
“Come on now, city. I thought we were friends.”
“First, no. We are not. Second, stop calling me city. My name is Hannah,” I said my name slowly, annunciating it clearly just to make sure it got through his thick head.
“Ouch. If I didn’t know you better, city. I’d think you meant that.”
“You don’t know me. And I did mean it.”
“Nah. We’re definitely friends. But if you’d prefer to take our friendship up a notch, I’m always willing to be friends with benefits.”
“You’re a child.”
He leaned in, pulling me closer, whispering in my ear, “I’m all man, sweetheart, and I’m more than happy to prove it to you.”
I pressed my hand against his shoulder, forcing him to take a small step back. “Wes Monroe, do you have a crush on me?” I gave him a taunting smile, exaggerating my feigned surprise. “Is that what all this juvenile teasing is about? You never upped your game from playground flirting. Should I be worried about you pulling my ponytail at recess?”
His head fell back as he released a loud laugh that bellowed through the white reception tent that had been set up near the main house of the Monroe farm. His smile was gorgeous, his laugh unfortunately charming. And for some reason, our banter suddenly elicited my own laughter. Strangely, it felt good, and relieved some of the tension I’d felt at seeing Billy—with another woman.
“I can’t say I’ve ever been a hair puller. But for you, city, I’d make an exception if you’re into that.” With that, he spun me out of his arms, twisting and turning us as I followed his lead.
When the fronts of our bodies reconnected, he tugged me closer to him to whisper in my ear once again, “You ready to give me the story, yet?”
“And what story would that be?” I asked, pulling back a fraction.
“The one about you and Miller.”
“Not sure what you’re talking about.” I shrugged, giving him zero indication I had any clue.
He slowly shook his head with amusement. “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. Not a soul in Billingsley would buy the manure you’re selling.”
“You called me Hannah!”
“Don’t change the subject.”
The music ended and I shifted, trying to take a step back out of his arms.
“Oh, no you don’t.” He shook his head, holding me tight, pulling me back in place. “Not unless you’re ready for Miller to take my spot. He’s been waiting all night for his moment.”
“What are you talking about?” I turned to look behind me and sure enough, Billy’s eyes were on me, glaring at me. I spun my head back to Wes, my heart rate picking up a notch. “He looks like he wants to murder me, not dance with me,” I muttered, wanting to bury my face in Wes’s dress shirt, but refusing to look as mortified as I felt inside.
“Ha. Not even close. Trust me. That particular look”—he nodded his head toward Billy as we continued to dance—"is meant for me. The look he’s been giving you since the moment you stepped down that aisle is the look of a man with a serious hard-on for you.”
“Wow. You sure have a way with words, Wes. I see now why all the ladies are swooning at your feet.”
“Noticed, did ya? Don’t tell me you’re jealous, city?”
“Not the slightest bit.”
He chuckled.
“But you obviously noticed another man watching me.”
“It’s hard not to, sweetheart. I don’t think there is a man in here who hasn’t gotten the vibe Miller is laying claim to you.”
I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that. Besides he has a date. And if he’s watching me, it’s probably to make sure I’m keeping a safe distance from him.”
“So, there is a story.”
“I didn’t say that.”
He smirked. “All r
ight. If that’s how you want to play it.” He spun me quickly without warning, releasing my hand so I smacked into an innocent bystander.
I grunted, gripping onto the strong back I’d landed against as I righted myself. “I’m so sorr—”
The man rotated to face me, and I ripped my hands from his body, choking on my words. Shit.
“Hannah?” His lips lifted with a hesitant smile.
“Billy,” I responded, shoulders back, head held high, chest out. It was my confident stance. One I’d learned to master even when I felt anything but.
His gaze swept over me so quickly that if you blinked you’d miss it, the corners of his mouth flattening into a thin line.
We remained in an awkward stare down, until Wes’s arm landed across my shoulders. “My bad, Miller. Teaching my girl here how to dance. Apparently, she has two left feet.” He nuzzled his face into my neck like it was an everyday occurrence.
My elbow jerked to the right, landing in Wes’s ribs as my cheeks flushed. To his credit, he barely flinched, muffling his groan in my hair as he played it off. “Mmm…damn, baby, you smell good.”
My eyes remained locked on Billy’s stoic expression as he watched the whole exchange. Wes lifted his head to face Billy once again.
“Yeah… No problem, man.” Billy gave us a stiff nod before turning and walking away without another word or glance in my direction.
“Huh,” Wes said, pulling me back into his tall frame before I could argue.
I draped my arms over his shoulders, locking my hands behind his neck as our feet fell into rhythm with the slow tempo of the new song. “What?”
He shrugged. “Just figured we’d get a little more reaction out of him.”
I took a page from Grams’s book, smacking him upside the head.
“Shit!” He jerked his head back. “What the hell was that for?”
“You did that on purpose.”
“Of course I did. You should be thanking me, not smacking me on the back of the head.”
“Why would I thank you?”
“Because I just helped you as your self-appointed wingman. When you’re getting laid tonight, I expect an apology with that thank you.”
Love Me Like I Love You Page 39
