That decided, he called room service on his cell and ordered her some food. He also ordered himself some, but in his own room. As he filled the ice bucket, it occurred to him he didn’t have any Ziplocs, so he spent another ten minutes hunting one down. By the time he returned to Christine’s room, he half expected her to have fallen asleep.
But when he opened the door, she sat up and smoothed the blanket over her lap. Her wet hair was pulled back in a flawless ponytail, and all the traces of dirt were gone from her face. She’d showered. Just the thought of her standing under a stream of water was enough to make his mouth go dry, so he forced himself to focus on the other aspect of her showering. “You should have waited for me to help you.”
“For what? A shower?” She arched a brow. “I think I can handle it myself. I’ve been doing it on my own since I was five.”
He gritted his teeth, his exhaustion heightening his frustration. “You could’ve slipped.”
“But I didn’t.” She tilted her chin up in the air, her nostrils flaring. “Stop worrying about me so freaking much. I’m not your problem, Tyler.”
He set the ice down hard. “Yeah, you’ve made that clear. But it doesn’t stop me from worrying about your well-being. I care.” Yep. He totally threw her words from last night back in her face. “And you can’t make me stop.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t,” she said, her voice so soft he barely heard it.
Ignoring her, he peeled the blanket off of her, grabbed an extra pillow, and gently lifted her leg. After putting the pillow under her ankle, he laid the ice over her swollen ankle. Probing it a little bit, he nodded in satisfaction. It already looked better than it had last night. The swelling had gone down. “Make sure you keep it elevated, okay?”
She squirmed under his touch. “I will.”
“Good.” He ran his fingers over the swollen ankle and lifted the blanket back over her. “And no dancing tonight.”
She sighed. “Yes, Doc.”
He grabbed a bottle of water off the table next to the bed. After opening it, he handed it to her. “And you should hydrate, too. It was a long night.”
“On it.” She lifted the bottle up and raised it to her lips. Her hand trembled as she drank. She was worn out and needed rest. It was time to go before he said something he regretted. At the doorway, he hesitated, one foot in and one foot out. “I ordered you some food. I’ll leave the door open so they can get in without you getting up. After you eat, get some sleep.”
“Thanks for ordering the food. That was…” She hesitated, as if unsure what to say, and settled on, “Sweet.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I’ll be okay.”
He nodded and opened the door, making sure to slide the metal lock in between the door and the jamb so it wouldn’t latch. And then? He went against every instinct inside him and left her alone.
Just like she so obviously wanted.
Chapter Fifteen
A few hours later, Tyler stood in the crowded ballroom and rubbed his eyes. The orchestra performed quietly, and he could barely manage to keep his eyes open thanks to the lullaby tune they played. Would it be so much to ask for an upbeat salsa or the fucking Macarena? Maybe something that didn’t make him want to find the nearest bed and sleep for the rest of the week.
He scanned the room and hid a yawn behind his hand. Everyone looked like they were either bored, tired, drunk, or all three. The only person who looked like they even cared about this damn thing was Julie, and even she looked as if she were forcing the never-ending enthusiasm she always sported. Hell, even Kady wasn’t there yet—and neither was Colt. If the bride and groom couldn’t bother to show up on time, why should they?
Brock elbowed him in the ribs. “If you yawn one more time, I might forget my good manners and punch you right in the teeth. I’m exhausted enough as it is without you trying to catch flies over there.”
Tyler snapped his mouth shut on another yawn. “I can’t seem to control it.” As if on cue, he yawned again, earning another scowl from Brock. “Sorry.”
“You’re not the only one.” Brock inclined his head toward Christine, who yawned and covered her mouth. “She looks as if she’s about to tip out of her chair,” Brock said. “She better not fall asleep in that thing, or she might hurt an elbow, too.”
Tyler’s gaze stayed on Christine. He kept trying not to look at her, but he’d have better luck ripping his eyeballs out. She drew his eye like a moth to a flame, and there was no possible way for him not to look at her when they were in the same room. She sat in the corner, her fingers tapping on her thighs in tune to the soft music. Her soft blue dress made her eyes appear bluer, and he wanted nothing more than to cross the room, pick her up, and kiss her in front of everyone.
She was so…so…infuriating, stubborn, beautiful…perfect.
Okay, that might be a stretch. He knew her flaws, but he liked her because of them, not in spite of them. Did that even make sense? Shit if he knew. Lately, he wasn’t making any sense at all, and he knew it. That was the worst part. He knew how much of an idiot he was being around her, but he didn’t give a damn.
But he had to tell her he wanted to be more than a memory.
His gaze strayed down her long, lean legs to her feet. She wore a pair of silver flats—which looked new—and a brace on her ankle. Had someone bought it for her, along with the shoes, or had Julie managed to find it for her? Even with the addition to her apparel, she was the most beautiful woman in the room.
He took a step in her direction, but a man Tyler didn’t recognize beat him to her. The jerk talked to her, his attention on her leg as he gestured with his hands. When Christine laughed and pointed down at it, her cheeks pink, he could practically hear their conversation even though he was across the room. “Yes, I hurt it. I was all alone in the woods and fell,” she’d say.
At this point, the jerk would be planning how best to get up her skirt. “Oh, let me rub it for you.”
“Oh, dickwad, I couldn’t.”
Insert a long, meaningful stare here. “Sure you could. After, we’ll go to my room.”
“Well, okay. At least you’re not Tyler.”
Christine looked over at him as she spoke, seemingly in time with his thoughts. When she saw him watching her, her eyes went all wide. After the way she’d acted earlier in the morning, he half expected her to glance away. To ignore him, maybe. But she stared right back at him before turning away to bestow the fool at her side with another smile.
She hadn’t smiled at him, damn it.
He took a step toward her without even realizing it, his fists clenched. No way he was going to stand here and watch her pick up another man right in front of him.
Hell, no. She was his.
“Uh, Tyler?” Brock grabbed his elbow. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Tyler looked at Brock’s hand pointedly. “To check on Christine. Let go.”
Brock clucked his tongue, but didn’t release him. “I think you need to wait a second and cool down. You look like you’re ready to kill that guy for talking to her.”
That’s because he was ready to kill that guy for talking to her. “Who the fuck is he?”
Brock didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “I don’t know, but even I can see his ring from here. He’s married. Relax, man.”
Tyler flexed his fists and forced his eyes off of Christine and the mystery dude. What the hell had gotten into him? She was allowed to talk to other men. He didn’t own her, for Christ’s sakes. Damn it, he didn’t like the churning jealousy eating him alive. Not one little bit. After taking a calming breath, he turned back to Brock. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes across the room. Logan and Regan were on the dance floor, and Brock flexed his fingers before looking back at Tyler. “Love sucks, doesn’t it?”
Tyler stiffened. Why would Brock of all people mention him being in love with Christine? “I don’t…we’re not…” He clamped his jaw tight. �
��Shit.”
“Yeah.” He clapped Tyler on the shoulder. “That about sums it up.”
“How did you know?” That’s not something the laid-back Southern charmer should have been able to piece together all on his own. Tyler hadn’t even realized that was what he was feeling. Not really. “I didn’t even know.”
“I can see it in the way you’re watching her.” Brock lifted a shoulder. “I’m not blind, you know. You love her, but you’re not sure what to do about it yet.”
A part of Tyler wanted to deny his feelings, but what was the point? He rubbed his aching temples. “What should I do?”
“I’m observant, not a therapist,” Brock said. “That’s for you to figure out.”
Tyler was saved from answering when Kady walked up to his side. “What are you two up to over here?”
“Just chatting,” Brock said, his eyes on Regan again. Logan was still dancing with her, but he kept looking toward the door impatiently. Who was he waiting for? Sophie? Jesus. What a mess they’d all become. “You look ravishing tonight.”
“Thank you. But I came to steal my brother away,” she said, reaching out and holding Tyler’s arm close to her side. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” Brock bowed. “He’s all yours.”
Kady led him away, her hand on his arm loose yet firm. “You doing okay?”
“Of course I am.” He smiled at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
She gave him a weird look, but smiled back at him. She looked so gorgeous in her soft pink gown, her hair piled on top of her head. He couldn’t believe his baby sister was getting married. Fucking married. Unbelievable. “You know how much I love you, right?”
“Of course,” he said, his voice coming out a little bit gruff. “Why? What did you do this time?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and laughed. “Just because I say I love you doesn’t mean I have bad news.”
“It always has before,” he reminded her.
“Not this time.” She sighed, the smile slipping away. “I want you to be as happy as I am with Colt.”
“Colt’s nice and all, but I doubt I’ll ever feel the same way about him as you do,” he said lightly. “He’s not my type.”
“I’m serious,” Kady said, laughing and nudging him with her elbow. “I want you to be happy.”
He cocked his head. “I am happy. Why would you think otherwise?”
“You’re always so alone. You’ve never even brought a girl home to Mom and Dad.” She wrung her hands, mangling his suit jacket in the process. “I know you like being single, but I want to see you in love. With someone who I know will love you back.”
“I’m fine just the way I am.” His eyes found Christine again. She was watching him and Kady with a soft look on her face. When she noticed him looking, she turned away, her cheeks red. “Are we being assigned partners during this thing, or what?”
Her brow furrowed and she looked at Christine, too. “You’re supposed to be, yes. But with Christine out…it messes the numbers up. I don’t know what to do with you now. Maybe I could split my time with you and Colt…?”
“No way.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He rubbed his jaw. “How about this? Since she can’t dance, how about if I go over to Red and keep her company? Then you’ll be back to even numbers, and I don’t have to dance. It’s win-win.”
Kady blinked. “Red?”
Oops. “Christine.”
“No one calls her Red.”
“I do.” He gently pushed her toward Colt. “Now go. Have fun.”
She watched him. “If you’re sure…”
“Positive. You go to your man and show him all those moves I taught you.”
Kady leaned in, kissed him on the cheek, and headed toward Colt. As soon as she reached his side, the instructor clapped his hands and started lecturing everybody about the waltz. Tyler tuned him out and made his way toward Christine. The jerk who had been flirting with her earlier was gone, so she was alone again.
Good. He didn’t like that dick.
She had a pair of crutches up against the wall. Where had she gotten them? Julie, no doubt. She had a way of finding anything that was needed.
When she caught sight of him approaching, she curled her hands into fists. “Let me guess. You’re on gimp duty?”
“Yep.” He stood next to her, his hands clasped behind his back. “But I don’t mind.”
She lifted a shoulder. “I figured you wouldn’t. You’re that guy.”
“What guy?”
“The one who volunteers to be with someone who can’t dance. The one who always helps other people, even if he’d having a lousy day himself.” She tipped her head back so she could see him. “You know. That guy.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” He smoothed his shirt. “You know what? Don’t answer that. How’s your ankle feeling?”
“It’s better.” She looked down at her ankle, lifting it up slightly, and stared up at him. “It hurts a little bit, but I elevated and iced it all afternoon, just as the doctor ordered.”
He stared at it, resisting the urge to drop to her feet and examine her for himself. “Technically, you should still be in bed.”
“I didn’t want to miss the dancing.”
“You can’t even dance,” he said, gesturing out at the couples on the dance floor. “What’s the point in coming down?”
“I don’t know,” she said wistfully. “I like watching.”
He turned to her and examined her face. Big mistake. Huge.
The sight of her longing expression as she watched the dancers made him want to rip his own leg off and give it to her so she could dance. That’s how bad he had it. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, I for one hate dancing, so I’m much more content to stand here with you.”
“How could you hate dancing?”
“Easily.” He shrugged. “I just do.”
She tapped her fingers on her knee. “You can’t hate it that much. You taught Kady your moves all those years ago.”
“That’s different. She’s my sister.”
“You’re so good to her,” she said, her gaze latched onto him.
I could be good to you, too, if you gave me the chance. “Isn’t that what all brothers do? Spoil their sisters?”
“I know mine does,” she agreed. “But a little birdie told me you’re quite an excellent dancer because of a bet gone bad.”
He watched Kady, wanting to cross the room and shake her until she promised to never tell anyone else his secret again. He’d been forced to take ballroom dancing lessons in college, when he had made a wager that his football team would beat his buddy’s team…and lost. The cost of his losing had been six months of ballroom dancing with a bunch of old women.
He’d gotten damned good at it, truth be told, but by the time he was finished, he’d never wanted to see a dance floor again. “I made her swear not to tell anyone about that.”
Christine snorted. “I’m not just anyone.”
“Yeah, I guess not. Did she tell all of you?”
“I don’t think so.” Christine smiled. “We were alone when she told me, anyway. It was over a container of Chunky Monkey, after a particularly painful breakup.”
He fisted his hands. “Whose? Hers, or yours?”
“Hers. I told you. I didn’t have anyone serious.”
He swallowed the words trying to escape. He wanted to be her first serious man, damn it. “So she told you about my secret because some jerk broke her heart?”
“Yep.” She laughed. The sound made his heart soar. He loved her laugh. “We called you Tiny Dancer for a week after that conversation.”
Fucking A. “Yep. I’m going to have to kill her. Right before her wedding, too. What a tragedy.”
She laughed again. “What? It’s cute.”
“A baby or kitten is cute.” He crossed his arms. “Me dancing with a geriatric patient on a Friday night isn’t. Neither is you laughing about it af
terward.”
She tapped her fingers on her knee. “I bet she was hot though, wasn’t she? A little spitfire of an old lady.”
He burst into laughter, remembering the little old lady he’d danced with every week. She used to bring him cookies, and knit him scarves with matching mittens. “Oh my God, no.” He pictured her hitting on him and burst into laughter again. “Just…no.”
She joined in. “That bad, huh?”
“She was the sweetest thing ever,” he managed to say. “Not a spitfire at all.”
“I bet.” She smiled up at him, and he smiled back. God, she made him so happy. Around him, he stopped worrying about everything and just…lived. “You liked her, didn’t you?”
He rubbed his chin. “I did. She was nice to me.”
“I’m kind of jealous of her.”
“Why?” he asked, watching her. The idea of her being jealous of an old lady was preposterous to him. “You’re much prettier, I promise. And your ass is much—”
“It’s not that,” she said, smiling and waving a hand dismissively. “She got to dance with you before you hated it. I won’t get that chance today. I won’t get to dance at all.”
His breath punched out of his lungs. “I would’ve danced with you tonight, just so you know. Because it’s you, I would’ve. But if anyone else asked, I’d say no.”
That was the closest he could get to admitting he had feelings for her without some sign from her that she maybe cared about him, too. He needed something. Anything. Their gazes collided and didn’t let go. This moment, this conversation, scared the hell out of him. Almost as if he’d admitted something he shouldn’t have.
Or…maybe it was the opposite.
Maybe it was because he admitted something he should have admitted long ago.
Finally, she broke off the connection and looked back out at the floor. Her cheeks flushed red, and her pulse raced at the base of her throat. “Now I’m even more angry at myself for falling down that hill than I was before. I would have liked that very much.”
Damn it. How could he hear that and not give her what she wanted?
“Well in that case…” He held out his hand, knowing as he did so he offered her more than a simple dance. He offered her himself. “May I have this dance, Red?”
Falling for the Groomsman Page 13
