Kitty Valentine Dates a Best Man

by Jillian Dodd

  All right, this sounds like more than hyperbole. Looks that way, too, since he’s stone-faced, and I’m suddenly embarrassed.

  “Oh. I don’t know anything about that. I figured you were kidding.”

  “No, he really went through some tough times a while back. He was getting in pretty deep.”

  I don’t even know if I should be hearing this.

  At the same time … okay, I’m more than a little curious. Call it a natural part of my personality, that craving for a plot twist.

  “In deep with what?”

  He winces, his eyes moving back and forth, like he wants to be sure nobody hears us before whispering, “Gambling. We both dabbled in college. Betting on football and basketball games—you know, that sort of thing. Only he got deeper into it than I did. To the point where I thought he might need help, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh my gosh. I had no idea.”

  “I guess he wants to keep it quiet. It makes sense, of course. I wouldn’t want to blab about it to just anybody.”

  Right, but I’m a hundred percent sure I would’ve heard about this if Hayley had even the slightest clue, which she couldn’t possibly. Which means, if Kylie knows, she’s never told her family.

  That makes sense now that I think about it, my mind spinning. She wouldn’t want anybody to know things were less than perfect, would she? Always so dedicated to presenting a good front.

  Though I have to wonder what she was thinking, wanting life to be perfect but getting herself involved with a gambler.

  “If things were still bad for him, I doubt she would’ve married him. Right? She’s a smart girl. She doesn’t suffer fools, if you get what I mean.”

  His brow creases. “He’s not a fool.”

  “I wasn’t being literal.” It’s easy to forget sometimes that he can be very literal. “I’m only saying, she doesn’t have a lot of patience with people who aren’t as pulled together as she is.”

  He snorts, eyeing the bridesmaids now making slobbery, tear-filled speeches about what an amazing friend Kylie is and how their lives were forever changed when she stepped into them. “You sure about that?”

  I see his point.

  “I didn’t mean to get you upset.” He takes my hands, which were resting in my lap. “I’m sure you’re right. Everything’s fine with him now. He tells me so sometimes, you know.”

  “He does?” If anything, I don’t know why he brought it up at all. I’ve never had that kind of addiction though. From what I’ve heard, it’s not the sort of thing that ever goes away.

  It’s always there. The addict has to avoid falling back into the worst of it, is the thing.

  So, it’s probably always on his mind. He’s got to stay vigilant.

  “Especially during March Madness. He knows I’ll always be checking on him. I can’t not. I saw how bad things got. How low he sank. Bookies … well, you don’t need to know all of it.”

  Frankly, I have to wonder if I needed to know any of it. Because, now, all I can do is hope Zack has things under control.

  And that Kylie can manage to keep it a secret from her family, if it’s still a secret at all.

  “Finally,” Hayley groans, tearing my attention away. “Time for dessert, and then we party.”

  Only I don’t have such a big appetite for either dessert or dancing anymore since I know she’d hate it if I kept this from her.

  Where’s the line between being a good friend and leaving a man’s past alone?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I upset you earlier.”

  I shake my head with a smile. “You didn’t.”

  It’s a lie. Kellen upset the heck out of me. Now that I know about Zack’s issue, I can’t think about anything else.

  It’s not the worst thing a person can be guilty of, of course, and I know it. He’s not a murderer. He isn’t violent. He’s a good man. And he adores Kylie.

  But she’s worked so hard. Call it an overactive imagination, a by-product of having read so many books over the course of my life, but I can’t help but imagine him going through her savings someday.

  No matter how smart she is, love has a way of blinding people to fundamental truths.

  “Because, really, there’s no other excuse for a beautiful woman to frown so much when she’s in my arms and I’m taking her on a trip around the dance floor.” Kellen’s arm tightens around my waist.

  Giggling, I ask, “You’re sure that’s the only reason a girl would frown when she’s in your arms? You have a pretty high opinion of yourself.”

  The shoulder under my left hand shrugs. “You tell me whether it’s a high opinion or whether it’s fact. Don’t pretend you aren’t swooning over my awesome dance moves.”

  “We’re swaying back and forth. A toddler can sway back and forth in time with the music.”

  “And I haven’t stepped on your feet once yet, have I?”

  I lean against him, laughing. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  “That’s more like it. It’s our last night together, and I would hate for you to be sad.”

  Well, if he doesn’t want me to be sad, he could start with not saying things like that.

  It takes serious effort not to react badly. To keep from reacting at all. “Our last night together?” It’s not easy, talking with a lump in my throat.

  This isn’t how I wanted things to go.

  Though I guess I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I told myself I wouldn’t, didn’t I? I wouldn’t let myself get tricked into believing there was more here than a weeklong acquaintance. A little fun. Flirting.

  So, why do I feel like I’m going to cry?

  “Our last night here, yeah. Unless you know something I don’t know.” He pulls his head back, searching, trying to catch my eye even though my head is ducked.

  I would rather he didn’t see my face. I don’t want to imagine what a nerd he’d think I was if he put two and two together.

  “No, tonight’s the last night.”

  “I mean, seeing you in the city won’t be the same as it is here, will it?”

  And here I am, with my heart soaring. Darn it! Why am I so easily swayed?

  It could be because he’s such an exceptional person. The sort of man a girl could be attracted to. To want to know better than a week at a resort would allow.

  “So, you want to get together back home?” Did I sound cool when I said that? I hope I did. That’s what I’m going for, though, historically, my moments of coolness have been few and far between.

  Hayley knows all about that.

  “Am I wrong? Do you not want to?” He looks at me again. “I’ve made mistakes before. There I go again, thinking I’m charming and funny and not too hard on the eyes …”

  “Shut up.”

  “So, is that a yes? Yes, you’ll see me in New York? Yes, you’ll have dinner with me?”

  I could practically float off the floor. If it wasn’t for him holding on to me the way he is, I just might. “Yes. It’s a yes.”

  “Whew! I thought I was gonna have to start begging.”

  Our eyes meet. I’m so happy; I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face if I tried. Though what’s the point of trying? Why bother pretending to be anything less than thrilled and relieved and, yes, flattered?

  “I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me after this,” I admit with a flush on my cheeks. “I mean, no pressure. I don’t expect anything.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. And know when to leave well enough alone,” he adds with a twinkle in his eye. “Otherwise, you’ll end up talking your way out of getting asked out.”

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

  The song changes, though it’s still slow. Romantic. The lights are lower than they were before, casting a soft amber glow over the room, which the candles and glinting crystal decor only add to.

  We might as well be in a dream—except there are eyes staring daggers at my back, which doesn’t happen when I’m dreaming. People actually like me in
my dreams. Bridesmaids don’t usually hate me in my dreams.

  Let them. Let them see I’ve won the best man this week. For once, I don’t mind showing off a little.

  Kellen leans in until his lips nearly brush against my ear. “Though I don’t take rejection easily, you know. Some people would call me downright stubborn.”

  “You?” I snort. “The man who barged into the kitchen and demanded oatmeal? Who strong-armed his way into my room last night, whether I wanted you there or not?”

  “For your own good.”

  “Hmm.” I snort. “According to whom? Maybe I’ll be busy when we get back to the city.”

  “Every night?”

  “I’ll find something to do.”

  Our eyes meet, and I can tell he knows I’m only kidding. Though it’s partly a joke, partly the truth. I don’t like being told what to do, which is something he’s going to need to get used to if he wants to date for real.

  “Got it.” His smile widens. “You should know, I love a challenge.”

  “So do I.”

  There might as well not be anybody else here but the two of us. That’s how it’s been all night. Talking, eating together, dancing. I should try to enjoy time with Hayley, too, right?

  I can’t imagine having anywhere close to as good of a time without him. Even with my best friend in the whole world.

  Besides, something tells me she’d find a way to leave me with Kellen anyway. One of her patented getaways.

  “Would it be completely shitty if I asked if I could walk you back to your room tonight?”

  My face is maybe a few seconds away from bursting into flames. Not because I’m embarrassed. Not even close.

  More like I’ve been wondering if he would ask. Hoping he would ask.

  There’s nothing quite like getting exactly what you want and wondering what the heck to do with it.

  I mean, not that I have to wonder exactly. But would it be completely cliché to sleep with the best man tonight?

  What’s wrong with being cliché every once in a while?

  I can practically hear Maggie’s voice in my head, asking that question. It’s uncanny. And a real turn-off, but that’s beside the point.

  I’m taking too long to give him an answer. I know I am. I can tell by the way his face falls an inch at a time.

  “It would be shitty,” he finally mutters.

  “No, no, no.” I slap a hand to my forehead. “I’m such a dork. Of course I want that. It’s just that I think too much. I overthink until I miss opportunities I don’t want to miss.”

  His eyelids slide down partway, like shades over a window. His mouth lifts at one corner. “Tonight’s a new start for the newlyweds. Maybe it can be a new start for you too. Something new. Going with your gut. Doing what feels right in the moment without overthinking it. What do you say?”

  What do I say?

  I say, forget dancing.

  I say, it’s time to get out of here.

  I back away with a wink, his hand in mine, and lead him from the dance floor. It’s been a long night anyway, and the party’s starting to wind down. Now’s as good a time as any to make our escape.

  Hayley catches my eye as we leave the banquet room and can’t conceal a grin. I only scowl at her for immediately jumping to the conclusion she jumped to.

  Granted, she’s not exactly wrong, but still. Just because we’re going back to the room doesn’t mean we’re going to take our clothes off or anything like that.

  But dang, wouldn’t it be a shame if we didn’t? Talk about a wasted opportunity.

  “Wow. You’d never know there was a storm.”

  The sky has cleared, moon and stars shining. Like nature said everything it wanted to say all at once and got it over with rather than lingering and drawing things out.

  That would account for the unbelievable strength of the storm anyway. I can’t remember seeing anything like that in my entire life. At least, I had never been in the middle of such a storm before.

  “It’s not just that. Everything’s cleaned up,” Kellen notices, pointing here and there. No palm leaves strewn around, no overturned lounge chairs. “They know what they’re doing around here, for sure.”

  “I’ll miss this place,” I admit. “Corny, I know. But I will. I’ve never been anywhere like this before.”

  “I thought your grandmother was super rich and lived on Park Avenue though. You mean, she doesn’t live a wealthy life?”

  I’m so taken aback by this that it stops me short. He’s surprised when he finds that I’m frozen in place, turning to me with a frown.

  “How did you know about my grandmother?”

  He blinks hard, fast. “You told me about her. Don’t you remember? On the bus.”

  Of course. For the second time in maybe fifteen minutes, I have no option but to slap my forehead. “I’m sorry. Right. I told you about her and my parents and everything.”

  “Hey.” He draws me closer, hooking a finger under my chin and tipping my head up so we’re face-to-face and barely an inch apart. “Did somebody hurt you? Or try to anyway? Why are you suspicious when someone thinks you’re incredible?”

  Have I been hurt? There’s a laugh.

  “After a certain age, doesn’t everybody have their scars?”

  “I guess so. You’d have to live in a bubble if you wanted to keep from getting hurt.” He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out while his eyes search my face. “I can’t imagine anybody wanting to hurt you, Kitty Valentine. They’d have to be heartless.”

  “You might be amazed.”

  He offers a tiny, sad smile before catching my mouth with his, and I can’t remember ever being hurt a day in my life.

  It’s a sweet kiss. Tender, gentle.

  That doesn’t keep my nerve endings from jumping and sizzling. It’s like this past week has been prolonged foreplay—teasing, bantering, getting to know each other.

  Now, all that tension has broken, and there’s nothing but relief. The sort of relief that makes my knees weak, to where I have to hold on to him or risk folding into a heap.

  He holds me up, arms tight around me. He won’t let me fall.

  My hero.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “I hope you don’t think I’m this sort of girl all the time.” Missy glanced over her shoulder, watching as Trent put his clothes on. Boxers. Pants. Shirt.

  It was almost sad really. Him covering himself up. He was too delicious to be clothed all the time. The most perfect man she’d ever seen in person.

  And definitely the most perfect she’d ever had the pleasure of touching. Tasting. Feeling.

  She could remember the taste of his skin under her lips, under her tongue. The sound of his heavy breathing against her ear, hot on the skin of her neck.

  And other places. So many places. He’d taken his time getting to know her body, though he’d seemed to instinctively know what she liked. What she needed.

  How long had it been since she’d been taken good and hard, until there was nothing to do but scream her approval?

  The memory made her mouth go dry.

  Why couldn’t she control herself for just a little while, until he was out of the room and it was safe to fall back on the bed and pick through every last memory?

  Probably because he’d just given her a night like she had never known before. Sweeter. More passionate.

  The kind of night a woman could get addicted to if she wasn’t careful.

  And Missy had spent so, so long being careful. Painfully careful.

  She didn’t want to be that way anymore.

  Yet there she was, saying stupid things. Like this was some mid-twentieth-century movie or show where the girl had just lost her innocence and hoped the boy would still respect her in the morning.

  It had been a long time since Missy was innocent.

  Still, somehow, this felt different. Deeper. More real.

  More dangerous, too, because of all that.

  “You’re not?�
�� His hair stuck up in all directions. He ran his fingers through it, combing it down. Fingers she could remember being on her. Inside her.

  A flush burned her cheeks at the memory. “No, I’m not.”

  “That’s disappointing because I like this sort of girl.”

  “Stop.”

  He laughed. It wasn’t a taunt, a tease. He wasn’t treating her like a joke. How did she know? No way of telling. She felt it just the same.

  “Hey. Not everything has to be so serious.” He sat next to her, where she had just about wrapped herself in an entire cocoon of sheets. “No, I don’t think you’re a slut, if that’s what you’re trying to say. Even if you were, that’s none of my business. Don’t be so worried about what people think about you.”

  “I’m not worried about people in general.” She found the courage to look him in the eye. “Just about certain people whose opinion matters.”

  “My opinion matters?”

  She managed a soft laugh. “I told you, I’m not that sort of girl. Which means you must be something special, right?”

  He kissed her shoulder. Even that simple, touch was as tender as any caress she could imagine. “That means more than I can say. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “No, I mean it.” He turned her head, so she faced him, and then buried his hand in her hair. Hair he had run his hands through, had clutched in his fists. His touch was softer now. “I’m not good at things like that. These moments, you know. I haven’t had many of them. Wanting to spend time with a woman afterward. Staying in bed. Sitting here, making sure she was okay with what we did.”

  He looked away before she did, making her wonder how much more uncomfortable he had to be than she was. Even she’d had the nerve to hold his gaze.

  Maybe it was one thing to pretend to be comfortable with himself and another to truly okay inside.

  In a way, this was just as new to him as it was to her.

  I sit back, reading over what I just wrote and remembering the moments that had inspired it.

  Kellen hadn’t stayed until morning the way Trent did in the book. Missy wasn’t sharing a room, but I am. Hayley had been nice enough to give us time to be alone and might have stayed away all night if I hadn’t told her it was okay to come back.