You Complicate Me

by Isabel Jordan

  It was her favorite part of the day.

  Her favorite part of the night? Well, that was entirely different. And much dirtier.

  Her brain had treated her to countless wet dreams over the past few days. All X-rated, all starring Nick. The one that kept recurring was Nick in the shower, water sluicing over miles and miles of tanned muscles as she fell to her knees in front of him and wrapped her lips around the long, smooth length of his…

  “Grace, honey, are you feeling OK? You’re all flushed and sweaty-looking.”

  Her mother’s voice was the equivalent of face-planting into a snow drift, reminding her that she was in Sadie’s room and shouldn’t really be having sexual fantasies about Nick while the poor kid tried on her wedding dress. Her body instantly chilled back to its normal temperature. “I’m fine, Mom.”

  If only her panties were as dry as her tone, she thought wryly.

  “She’s thinking about that Irishman,” Grandma Ruthie said. She pulled a tissue out of her bra and honked into it. “I can tell by the stupid smile on her face.”

  Her mother looked nervous. “Grace, I’m not sure I like this O’Connor boy,” she said quietly, presumably so that Sadie, who was trying on her wedding dress in the bathroom, couldn’t hear.

  Grace snorted. Nick O’Connor was as far from a boy as she’d ever been with in her life. He was all man. “He’s a good man, Mom. Leave him alone.”

  “You barely know anything about him.”

  She raised a brow. “I know more about him than you do. So, who are you to judge?”

  “I never should’ve sent you to law school,” her mother grumbled. “You’re always so argumentative.”

  Ruthie stuffed the used tissue back into her bra. “He probably goes through your purse every night while you sleep. I told you that you can’t trust an Irishman. You’ll see. All sperm, no scruples.”

  Grace zoned out again as her mom and Ruthie argued about…something. She didn’t really care to listen or get involved.

  She straightened up in her chair when Sadie stepped out of the bathroom, biting her lip, looking hesitant.

  Sadie turned a small circle, arms held wide. “Well, what do you all think?”

  Sarah clasped her hands in front of her as her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, honey, you look lovely. Just lovely.”

  Even Ruthie murmured her agreement.

  Grace frowned. “Mom, is that your old wedding dress?”

  Sadie’s anxious eyes rose to Grace’s. “You don’t mind, do you? I just had trouble deciding on what I wanted to wear, and your mother offered me her dress.”

  “No, of course I don’t mind,” Grace was quick to add. She’d been offered the same dress when she married Brad. She just hadn’t worn it because it was so far from her usual style.

  There was no denying that Sadie looked like an angel—or, an underwear model dressed up like an angel—in the vintage dress. The delicate lace draped over her perfect form like it was made for her. But the style was so old-fashioned for a girl as young as Sadie. And what young girl had trouble deciding what to wear to her own wedding? Or serve at her own rehearsal dinner for that matter?

  There was something off about the whole thing. Grace just couldn’t put her finger on it.

  She was saved from further comment when Gage barged in, not bothering to look up as he pawed through a drugstore bag. “Sadie, I brought you some Gatorade to help replace your electrolytes and some—“

  He looked up, caught sight of Sadie, and immediately dropped the bag. Their eyes locked, and Grace suddenly felt like an intruder in the room.

  Her thoughts vacillated between oh boy, this isn’t good, and oh, boy, this is awkward.

  Her mother caught her eye and her expression pleaded with Grace to do something. She sighed. Why was she always supposed to be the reasonable one?

  “Hey, Gage,” she said casually, “did you see Michael on your way up here? Wouldn’t want the groom to see the bride in her dress before the big day.”

  She put an extra bit of snarkiness on the words groom and bride to drive her point home.

  That seemed to do it. He blinked a couple of times and looked over at her. Shaking his head, he bent down and scooped up the bag, handing it to Grace. Turning on his heel, he stalked out, slamming the door behind him after muttering a hasty, “Sorry to intrude.”

  Grace glanced back at Sadie, who was still staring unblinkingly at the spot Gage had vacated as if she could still see him there.

  That’s when she noticed the red splotches popping up all over Sadie’s throat. “Um, Sadie, are you okay?”

  Sadie’s eyes widened as they flew to Grace’s. She seemed to try—and fail—to pull a deep breath into her lungs. Shaking her head furiously, Sadie’s hands flew to her throat, clawing at the lace there.

  Grace and her mother and Ruthie must’ve looked like a Three Stooges sketch as they bumbled about the room, trying to help.

  Ruthie stuck her head out the door and yelled for Gage, while Grace helped Sadie out of the restrictive dress’s bodice and Sarah fanned her face.

  Gage stormed back in and shoved them all out of the way as he took charge. He stopped in front of Sadie and stooped down a bit so he could look her in the eye. “Close your mouth and take a breath through your nose,” he told her in his super-calm doctor voice.

  She shook her head furiously, eyes locked on his, mouth opening and snapping shut like a landed trout.

  “You can do it,” he urged, quietly. “Close your mouth.”

  He let her struggle for another half a second before muttering, “Fuck.”

  And with that, he grabbed her face between his hands and stepped closer to her. Their lips were only a heartbeat apart when he whispered, “Pretend it’s just you and me here, Sadie. No one else. No reason to panic. Take a big, deep breath for me through your nose. Do it for me, okay?”

  There wasn’t anything overtly inappropriate about the words themselves, but the way they were looking at each other…there was something disturbingly intimate about it. Something that gave Grace a really bad feeling about the impending wedding. A really bad feeling.

  But fortunately, it worked. Sadie sucked in a big breath through her nose.

  “There you go,” he murmured. “Again.”

  They looked like they were about three seconds away from kissing. Okay, this was officially too awkward.

  “I’m finding it hard to believe Johns Hopkins taught you that particular method of helping a patient who’s hyperventilating, Gage,” Grace said in her driest of dry tones.

  “Maybe I learned it from watching ER reruns,” he said, tone equally dry, eyes still on Sadie.

  Sadie let out a weak chuckle and stepped out of Gage’s reach. “T-thank you, Gage. I don’t know what happened there.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. “It was a panic attack. Have you ever had one before?”

  She shook her head, then crossed her arms over her chest, seeming to notice for the first time that the bodice of her dress was around her waist and her white lacy bra was on full display.

  Before Gage could notice Sadie’s cleavage, Grace grabbed him, turned him around, and gave him a shove out the door. “Time to go, Dr. Love,” she muttered. “Super-awkward half-naked bride time is over.”

  When they were outside the room with the door shut firmly behind them, Grace punched Gage in the arm, putting all her weight behind it.

  “What the fuck?” Gage yelped, rubbing his arm.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing!” Grace hissed. “Jesus, what’s going on between you two? You’ve been weird ever since you met her.”

  He scowled at her and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. I’m dealing with it, OK?”

  “Nothing? Are you kidding me? There was enough sexual tension in that room that I got a contact high.” She shook her head and jerked her thumb toward Sadie’s room. “That wasn’t nothing. Are you trying to steal the bride, Gage?”

  He looked disgusted. “Of
course not. I’d never do that to Michael. It’s just that…shit.”

  That’s when she noticed his expression had shifted from disgusted and grumpy to defeated. She’d never seen Gage defeated before. “You like her,” she said, gentling her tone. “You really like her.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair. “This is bullshit, right? It’s just a physical thing. It has to be. There’s no way you can start to have any real feelings for someone after a few days. Right?”

  The desperation in his voice made her wish she could tell him he was right. That whatever he was feeling for Sadie—and whatever Sadie was feeling for him in return—would pass. But since she was experiencing the exact same thing with Nick…

  His chin hit his chest when she didn’t respond. “What the fuck do I do, Grace?”

  She reared back as if he’d slapped her. Jesus, this was worse than she thought. Gage had never asked for advice from, well, anyone as far as she knew.

  “Well,” she said on a gusty sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to like her advice, “I think you should stay away from her and let this thing play out.”

  His head shot up. “What if she marries him? It’s a mistake.”

  “I know it is.” She paused, rubbing her temples. “But she’s obviously jittery and just getting over being sick. She’s not in any kind of emotional shape to be leaving her fiancé for his cousin, for God’s sake. We have a few days left before the wedding. Let me talk to Michael and Nick and see if we can subtly sort this…” giant potential clusterfuck “…thing out. Until then, you just stay away from her, okay?”

  She supposed she’d have to take his frustrated grunt as agreement, because he’d already turned on his heel and stalked away. Ungrateful, antisocial, grumpy bastard, she thought.

  “You’re welcome!” she yelled down the hall at his retreating form.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Hey, Nick,” Grace shouted toward the open door between their rooms as she tossed her card key on the bed. “Can we talk for a…oomph.”

  Grace promptly forgot whatever she was going to say when Nick wrapped an arm around her waist, spun her around, and pinned her to the wall with his weight.

  His mouth was on hers—urgent, hungry, demanding—before she could say anything else. Her fingers immediately tangled in his hair. His arms banded around her so tight they nearly forced the air from her lungs, and man, he felt so good against her—so hot, so strong, so safe. And his mouth…

  Sweet Christ, did he know how to kiss. He kissed her like she was water and he was a man dying of thirst. The fact that he was with her—kissing her—was overwhelming and comforting and terrifying all at the same time. It was almost too much. He was almost too much.

  He slid his fingertips up under her sweater, letting his big hands span her ribcage, thumbs dangerously close to her nipples which were, of course, on high alert.

  He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers as she gasped for air, much like Sadie had during her panic attack. “I missed you,” he whispered.

  “I guess so,” she choked out. “Jesus.”

  “And did you miss me?”

  “Are you fishing?”

  He grinned. “Like Brad Pitt in A River Runs Through It.”

  She bit her lower lip. It was kind of embarrassing to admit how much she’d missed him. So instead, she opted for a prim, “I guess I’m not entirely displeased to see you.”

  His grin widened, and she let out a sharp burst of laughter as he dug his fingertips into her ribs and proceeded to tickle the hell out of her.

  When she begged him to stop for fear that she’d pee herself, thankfully, he complied. “Was there something you wanted to talk about?” he asked.

  She blinked up at him. Huh?

  He smirked in a confident, cocky way that only really hot men could pull off. It was the kind of smirk that said, “I’ve seen you naked and I can see it all again any time I want.”

  Stupid, tall, smug, obscenely good-looking man.

  “You came in here saying ‘Hey, Nick, can we talk,’” he prompted.

  Oh, right… “Has your sister ever had panic attacks before?”

  His brow furrowed. “Not that I know of, why?”

  Grace gave him a brief rundown of the panic attack, leaving out Gage’s part in the whole thing. No need to start some kind of brooding, alpha-man war between the two of them. The whole thing was already weird enough as it was. Why add extra crazy to the mix?

  When she was done, Nick took a step back and shoved a hand through his hair. “She’s probably just nervous,” he finally said. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

  Grace frowned. The bride breaking out in hives and having to be torn out of her wedding dress was nothing to worry about? This thing had Runaway Bride written all over it, as far as Grace was concerned. “I don’t know, Nick. It was weird. And all the decisions she’s been having so much trouble with? Have you really talked to her lately? I mean really talked? Are you sure she wants to do this?”

  His hands shifted to his hips and she could tell he was a little irked by her questions. “Look, Grace, I know you don’t approve of this marriage, and, hell, I can’t say that I’m thrilled about it, either. But I know my sister. When other little girls dreamed of being ballerinas and princesses, she dreamed of being a wife and mother, of having a nice, normal family like yours. I’m going to believe she wants this marriage until I hear her say otherwise.”

  The emphasis he put on the word her made his point abundantly clear. He wasn’t going to listen to conjecture. And she shouldn’t either, really. She was a lawyer, for God’s sake.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and tipped his head down so that she could look at him at eye-level. “Grace, Sadie deserves to be happy. You have no idea what she went through when we were growing up. She just…shit, she just deserves this, okay? Please don’t actively interfere and look for ways to ruin it for her. And for your brother. Can you do that? Can you just…go with the flow for the next few days and let what happens happen? Please?”

  It was the please that was ultimately her undoing. And the intense look he fixed her with. And the press of his hard body against hers.

  Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I never stood a chance against this guy.

  Grace nodded slowly. “Sure. I can, um, go with the flow. I won’t interfere. You have my word.”

  His answering kiss was hard, fast, and left her leaning against the door to support herself, gasping for breath.

  “You won’t regret it,” he whispered against her lips.

  An image of Sadie and Gage eye-fucking each other popped into Grace’s mind.

  “God, I hope not,” she muttered.

  Chapter Twenty

  Grace was willing to bet her favorite Kate Spade purse—and she really, really loved that bag—that it wasn’t Sadie’s idea to drag all of them to the Royal Landing amusement park, which was a good hour’s drive from their resort.

  Sadie’s skin turned a sickly shade of pale as she gaped up in mute horror at a giant coaster called The Disemboweler. The poor girl obviously didn’t share Michael’s lifelong love of crazy, lose-your-lunch amusement park rides.

  Grace couldn’t say that she was exactly feeling it, either. After days of eating toast, bananas, and other mild fare, Grace’s stomach (and metabolism) was ready to actively revolt if she didn’t get some real food, real fast. And in Grace’s world, real food meant grease, cholesterol, and anything fried to a nice, crispy, buttery brown.

  Nick, bless his heart, gave her hand a squeeze. “What do you say we skip this one and get something to eat instead?”

  She might have moaned and drooled a little before blurting, “Oh my God, yes. Please.”

  Michael frowned at her. “Jesus, Grace, he’s offering you food, not orgasms. Chill out.”

  She shrugged, refusing to be embarrassed by her fervent enjoyment of junk food. But still, no way would she tell him she’d once had a nice little mini-orgasm while eating a deep-f
ried Twinkie at the State Fair. That fact was between her, Hostess, and a carney named Stan to whom she still sent a Christmas card every year. Good times.

  Nick leaned down and Grace shivered as his lips brushed her ear. “Just so we’re clear, orgasms aren’t off the table. All you have to do is say the word.”

  That time, there was no “might have” about it. She definitely moaned. And drooled.

  Nick chuckled while Michael grunted in disgust. “Ready to try this thing out, Sadie?”

  Sadie let out a high-pitched nervous laugh that reminded Grace of an injured hyena she’d seen at the zoo once. “Sure. It looks…” Sadie gulped, “…great. The Disemboweler…that’s quite a name. Let’s do it.”

  Michael rubbed his hands together in childish glee, completely oblivious to his fiancée’s apprehension. Grace frowned. “You don’t have to go, Sadie,” she said. “He can go by himself. You can come with us to get something to eat.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Grace,” Michael scoffed. “Sadie loves roller coasters. She wouldn’t miss it, right, baby?”

  “O-of course not.” She offered Michael a tremulous smile as he slung an arm around her shoulders. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  Grace glanced up at Nick, whose furrowed brow confirmed what she already knew to be true. Sadie didn’t like roller coasters.

  So why was she pretending she did?

  As Michael looped his arm around Sadie’s waist and tugged her to the line of roughly a hundred thrill-seeking idiots who wanted a turn on The Disemboweler, Grace forced herself to shrug off her concerns.

  It’s Sadie’s and Michael’s business, not mine, she told herself. Go with the flow.

  And as Nick reached down and laced his fingers through hers? Yeah, going with the flow pretty much rocked, she decided.