Against the Rules

by M. E. Montgomery

  I wondered if the minute hand must have been auditioning for the hour hand position as the "watched" sensation never faded. About four sentences into the homily, I couldn't take it anymore. I discretely glanced across the front pew, the only one I could see without turning my head. My eyes skimmed over the bride's family who was hanging on to every word spoken.

  I pivoted a teeny bit on my toes until I could see more of the pews. My gaze slid across the aisle and boom! Dark eyes set in one of the most handsome faces I'd ever seen stared back at me. Those eyes never wavered, not the least bit ashamed at having been caught. In fact, the right one winked at me while its partner-in-crime lips quirked up in a one-sided smile that was alarmingly sexy.

  This man was no Alton, not even close. No, this man produced a funny little flurry inside me that zipped right past my stomach and didn't stop until it reached a more private place below.

  Startled by both his audacity as well as my reaction to it, I fought to regain my focus. The tingles lingered, however. It was thrilling and nerve-wracking. Most eligible men I encountered fell into two categories—either there was no chemistry, or they didn't have the staying power once they met my dad. It was the pitfall of living life in a fishbowl. Hardly anyone was willing to jump in and swim with my sisters or me, but there was no shortage of people staring through the glass. Some watched, if not hoped, for one of us to screw up and sink. And since I'd already done so in a most spectacular way, they all held their breath, almost salivating, for it to happen again.

  I was used to it, but it didn't mean I didn't resent it.

  Now, most of my dating opportunities came from men who thought I'd be so desperate I'd be willing to accept their offer. Or they came from mothers or grandmothers who were certain I'd be grateful for the opportunity to date their precious progeny. It might sound shallow, but there was a reason they were still single—they were duds. Boring. No chemistry; not even a little flame that could be kindled over time.

  It wasn’t a new experience; it had been going on since my sisters and I were teens and old enough to date. Shy, pimple-faced boys would ask us out, thinking we were too nice to say “no.” We called them "sympathy dates,” and at first, they were right. We didn’t want to hurt their feelings. But as we grew older, my sisters and I made up all kinds of plausible excuses to decline or break a date. The best and most reliable was anything about our menstrual cycle or asking if they had or were willing to get a Prince Albert piercing. We could always tell the ones who had to look up what it was before they gave us a horrified "no." It was a risk for us to say such things to them, but most were too embarrassed by the topics to ever tell anyone why we "just didn't work out."

  This man, however, exuded an aura of confidence that made me wonder if he would not only jump into the fishbowl, but make a big splash when he did, washing away the smirks of the onlookers. Maybe he didn't know my past. He certainly didn't seem like a dud. If nothing else, maybe he'd act as a deterrent from the sympathy date offers that were sure to come at the reception. Best of all, there wouldn't be a way for Daddy to run interference without drawing unwanted attention to the situation.

  Lost in my thoughts, I was surprised when I heard the words 'man and wife' spoken by the pastor. Startled into action, I handed Maggie her bouquet and straightened the train on her dress as she turned. She grinned at me before latching onto her new husband's arm.

  I had to be the worst best friend on record. I needed to keep my focus on her and not the sex-on-a-stick a few steps away. Besides, anyone that hot, that confident, was probably looking for a quick hookup in a closet somewhere. And like Alton, I suspected he only heard what he wanted to hear, although, with his looks, I doubted he heard the word “no” very often. Experience had taught me you if you gave a guy like that an ounce of interest, he'd take a chunk of your heart and leave you cold in bed. It didn't make a difference.

  It was better just to not get involved. Period. Ignore him and not give the smallest suggestion I was interested.

  I hadn't taken two steps down the aisle on the arm of the best man before the dark-eyed gaze of the stranger pulled me in, the steel to his magnet. Damn, that smile was even sexier up close.

  Only two more steps and you'll be past him!

  Then he winked. Geez, I was a sucker for winks. There was something so sexy and flirty about them.

  I smiled back.

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What had I done?

  Now he was going to think I was interested in handing out more than little bags of birdseed to throw on the happy couple later. Maybe my dad was right about my judgment of the opposite sex. Then again, he didn't think any man was good enough for his girls.

  Fortunately, I didn't have long to linger on the mystery guest. The bridal party was whisked away to a holding room until the church sanctuary cleared so we could get all the required pictures to formally document the occasion.

  Three quarters of an hour and one achy smile later, we arrived at the hotel where the reception was being held. I sat to the left of Maggie at the head table situated at the front of the elegantly decorated room. To my left was one of Derek's older brothers, Paul, who was also the Best Man. We spent the majority of our meal catching up on our lives. I knew most of Derek's family since he and Maggie had been an item for coming up on three years.

  When Paul turned to talk to another bridesmaid on his other side, I was able to check out the guests. At the back corner were members of the BAG. They came to every wedding, funeral, or any other social event held at the church. They thought they were the spine that held the church together. I thought they were more like the arthritic joints that always groaned and offered resistance.

  The rest of the guests were the standard fare you would find at weddings. The cheapskates had their plates loaded so they wouldn't have to eat for the next twelve hours. There were the desperate girls who'd stuffed themselves into dresses that were at least a size too small, hoping to entice some poor guy with their generous 'attributes.' Their voices were always a little louder and their laughs a little too shrill and calculated. And last, there were the average Joes who were the ones who enjoyed themselves the most, laughing and catching up with friends and family.

  And then there was the sexy stranger. He was in a class of his own. I was surprised to see him at one of the tables set in the front for close relatives of the bride and groom, but he didn't appear to have brought a date. Members of Derek's family surrounded him, talking animatedly with hands flying everywhere. The older woman he was sitting next to during the service was deep in conversation with Derek's mom, Julie. He, however, sported a look of boredom as he played with the stem of his wine glass until he glanced up and caught me looking at him. The corners of his mouth lifted. I tried to hold his gaze with a nonchalance I wasn't feeling, but I sucked at being something other than who I was.

  Maggie grabbed my arm, saving me from whatever awkward next move I might have made. Her face was aglow, and her eyes sparkled more than the diamond earrings Derek had given her for a wedding gift.

  "Grace," she squealed. "I'm married!"

  I returned her smile. "You are indeed, honey, and I couldn't be more excited for you." I gave her an impulsive hug, at least my fifth of the day.

  "Next wedding will be yours," she whispered in my ear before pulling back. "He's out there, sweetie. I know he is." She knew all about my dating misadventures, but she was forever the optimist.

  Shrugging, I tried for my best casual voice. "Do you know who the guy is sitting close to Julie?"

  Maggie shifted her glance and froze. "Oh, Grace. When I said, 'out there,' I didn't mean literally!"

  I lifted my eyebrow. "So, you do know him?"

  She squirmed a little in her chair, and for the first time all day, her smile slipped a fraction. "No, I don't know him know him. He's one of Derek's cousins. I've only met him in passing at a couple of family gatherings. He was polite and nice, but he came across so..."

  "Arrogant? Confident?" I wasn't patient
with her hesitation.

  "Yes, and also maybe...detached, you know, more like emotionally unavailable, I guess?" She shrugged her shoulders.

  "Oh." It figures.

  "I've only met him a couple of times," Maggie continued, casting a dubious eye on the topic, who was now talking to Derek's mom. "I've never had a deep conversation with him, but he's never brought a date to any of the family events I've attended if he comes at all. From what Derek and his brothers say, he likes to play the field." Maggie must have noticed my frown. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "He is hot, but—"

  Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the clinking of a fork on a glass. Maggie winked at me before she turned to meet her new husband's lips as custom required. Any further questions I had for her were going to have to wait, because Paul, Derek's oldest brother and best man, stood and began the series of toasts. Knowing it would be my turn next, I took a fortifying sip of wine and collected my thoughts.

  In a matter of minutes, the speeches had been delivered, and the newly married couple was celebrating with their first dance. The rest of the attendants were invited to join. As the maid of honor, I was matched with Paul, who made an excellent partner as he whisked me around the floor.

  "If I missed telling you earlier, you look beautiful. Are you having fun?"

  I smiled up at him. "I am. Although, without all the wedding planning with Maggie and Julie, I'm not sure I'll know what to do with myself."

  He grinned as he dipped me low in his arms. "I doubt that. Maggie told me about your business and the reputation you've gained. I'm sure you have plenty of parties to keep you busy."

  I laughed, knowing he was right. A thought hit me as we settled back into a slower step. "Hey, Paul..."

  He quirked an eyebrow, and a grin spread across his handsome face. "Sorry, I don't need any party planning."

  I ignored the sarcasm in his tone. "No, silly. That man talking to your mom, who is he?"

  He glanced over my shoulder and back at me. "That's our cousin, Jax. That's my mom's sister, Aunt Carolyn, who he's sitting next to." He lost his smile. "And of course, he's alone."

  "Is he not supposed to be?" I didn't understand why Paul almost sounded sad when he spoke.

  He shrugged. "No, I guess not. It's just..."

  I waited for him to continue, but he frowned and refocused on me again.

  "Do you want me to introduce you?" He seemed reluctant to ask.

  A beautiful redhead appeared at Jax's side. I watched as he focused on her finger that traced the neckline of her dress that happened to dip low across her breasts. He stood and offered her his elbow before leading her to the dance floor. He laughed at something she said as she fitted her body close to his. As they swayed together, he seemed engrossed by what she was saying. Her fingers started playing in his hair as she snuggled closer to him. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, before leading her off the dance floor.

  I quit watching and refocused my attention on Paul. "No. I'm sure I'll meet him at some point. I was just curious." And maybe a bit jealous.

  "You probably will. But, Grace, I recognize that look."

  "What look?"

  "The one that a lot of women get around him," he answered. "The one that he responds to, to a lot of women, if you catch my meaning. It's not a club you want to be part of. He doesn't do relationships, at least not the way we understand them, and that's what you deserve."

  Now I was intrigued. "You mean like BDSM type of thing?"

  Paul looked shocked. "What the hell do you know about that?"

  "I read. I know things. I'm not that innocent."

  "God, don't say anymore. But, no, that's not what I meant. I mean, he's not a long-term commitment type."

  "So, a player."

  "Pretty much."

  "Don't worry. If that's the case, he'd never make it past Daddy, anyway."

  Paul spun me out and safely back into his arms. "Someday you'll find a guy who deserves you. And, trust me, he'll be a lucky son of a bitch."

  "From your lips to God's ear!" I laughed and tried to lose myself in the music and celebration, accepting a dance with Derek and then their other brothers, Troy and Brian. I quietly still hoped Jax would ask me if only because it would delay the inevitable matchmaking attempts that I knew were on the horizon. At least he knew how to move on the dance floor. Surely, I could remain immune to his charms long enough to get through the reception.

  "Oh, Graaace! Over here, please. I have someone I want you to meet."

  Crap. Too late. I turned to see Mrs. Oglesbee waving and poking her cane in the air, almost depriving a male guest of future children as he walked by. A wide-eyed young man was standing next to her. I could almost see him drooling as his eyes raked over me.

  I sighed and took one last glance around but didn't see Jax.

  I forced the requisite smile and forged my way across the room.

  Smile, Grace. Just smile.

  3

  Jax

  I should've known better. I should've stuck to my original plan to only stay for the wedding. But no, I'd made the mistake of thinking with the wrong head, and now neither of us was happy.

  The reception was in full swing. Dinner had been served, toasts had been made, and the first dance as husband and wife was over after many “oohs” and “ahhs.” I sat at a table playing with the stem of my empty wine glass, wishing for something stronger, or better yet, an opportunity to get out of here.

  I was surrounded by family including my mom and her sister's children: Aunt Julie, Uncle Dave, and my cousins' wives or dates whose other halves were at the head table as groomsmen. Their sudden squeals competed with rapid hand gestures as they shared the latest gossip or whatever the hell women talked about with such animation. Phrases like “no, she didn't” were only outnumbered by “and then she” in a match that would make a tennis coach proud at how well they were volleyed back and forth. Whoever she was, she provided plenty of amusing fodder for my cousins-in-law, and I imagined if I wasn't there, I might become the “he” of a similar conversation.

  However, it was obvious my mom was enjoying herself. I didn't want to be the cause of disappointment by leaving. So, I sat in silence, plastering on a smile to camouflage my sour mood. Perhaps I wasn't doing as good a job at masking my feelings as I thought, though, because a few unattached women who started toward my table with large “come hither” eyes veered at the last minute. They still glanced over their shoulders as if they hoped I would come after them.

  Guess again, girls. I don't play chase.

  When a more daring woman approached and asked me to dance, I was desperate enough to escape from the table that I accepted. She was a good dancer, but I suspected it was different moves she had in mind for later. She rubbed her not-so-hidden breasts against my chest and played with my hair.

  For a few seconds, I thought about finding a hidden closet and taking her up on what she was so obviously offering, but I wasn't willing to give her any ideas that this venue promoted. Then, as we circled the room, I saw the nameless maid-of-honor dancing with my cousin, Paul. The woman in my arms suddenly felt cheap and distasteful by comparison.

  "I'm sorry," I said, disentangling myself from her. I tapped my knee. "Old injury. I need to go sit." I guided her to the edge of the dance floor.

  "Oh, you poor thing. I can rub—"

  "Maybe another time." I turned and escaped through a group of dancers back to my table.

  I scanned for Maggie's friend, but she was in the arms of some other man. I'd wanted to ask my aunt her name, but I knew that would only launch a well-meaning but unwanted inquisition about my interest and her oh-by-the-way-you're-still-single-aren't-you matchmaking efforts.

  I'd caught my mystery woman sneaking glances at me throughout dinner. I hated that each of my cousins got to twirl her around the dance floor. I'd wanted to ask her, to see if she felt as good in my arms as I suspected she would, but I couldn't escape my uncle's questions about the loc
al economy and building boom without being rude. Now she was constantly surrounded by men all but tripping over themselves vying for her recognition.

  I observed as she danced and laughed in the arms of other men, none of whom looked smart or smooth or in any way good enough to be in her shadow much less holding both her body and her attention. Despite the distance, I could tell her smile was captivating. Her movements were graceful, even when it was obvious her feet were being sorely abused by the clods who had all the grace of a buffalo stuck in a mud patch.

  I grew increasingly frustrated. Watching her charm everyone forced me to realize she was the kind of girl who wouldn't settle for a fling. Her smile wasn't calculating, nor was she a shameless flirt like the woman I danced with earlier. No. She was someone who'd want the white picket fence, two-point-five kids, and to be part of the PTA. I could offer her jewelry, nights out, and countless orgasms, but not that.

  It all grew to be too much. After whispering in my mother's ear that I would be back, I escaped through the double doors at the back of the room and into the lobby of the large hotel that was catering the reception. Wandering a few twists and turns, I found myself in an atrium full of potted trees, plants, and flowers spread between rock enclosed gardens. A small waterfall in the middle of the room flowed into what was supposed to look like a babbling brook, ending in a small pond several yards away.

  I chose a bench hidden behind a large stone planter that doubled as a divider between me and another bench. It was overflowing with huge greenery, providing the privacy I sought. Leaning against the arm, I stretched out my legs and closed my eyes. I breathed deeply, my shoulders slowly relaxing as I allowed the peace to soothe my mood.

  It didn't last long. It only felt like a few minutes before I noticed the sharp clacking of heels on the stone floor.

  Please don't stop. All but growling, I slunk down further on the seat.

  "Grace?" A male voice called from a distance. The leaves above me stirred, and I heard the sound of wood scraping against stone on the other side of my hiding spot.