Kissing the Maid of Honor

by Robin Bielman

  “You’ve never driven the wrong way?”

  “Nope. Now stop talking. My head hurts.” She curled up and rested against the door panel.

  Hadn’t she just asked him to keep talking? Her position and the quiet in the car reminded him of picking up her and Vanessa from a concert in Portland when they were younger. She’d looked the same then, exhausted from a night of fun, and just like that he was snapped out of his infatuation. He wouldn’t ruin her innocence. Because as sure as he was that he’d take a thousand more pictures, he was sure Sela deserved someone better than him.

  His plan had always been to live carefree and spontaneous until he was in his thirties. Only then would he venture to find someone to settle down with. His parents set a great example and one day he wanted a family. But at twenty-seven, he had a lot more single living to do first.

  He pulled up to Sela’s building and turned off the engine. He studied the two-story structure with a smooth concrete exterior, pillars on each side of the entryway, and overgrown foliage that wrapped around the corner establishment. It looked inviting, a place anyone would be lucky to live.

  “We’re here,” he said.

  She didn’t stir. And now that he’d cut the engine, he heard a tiny snore.

  “Sela?” He gently nudged her.

  She was dead to the world. A grin broke onto his face as he got out and opened her door. “Sela?” he repeated. When she didn’t answer, he scooped her up, ignoring the stab of discomfort in his side. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and burrowed her head into his chest.

  “Mmmm,” fell from her lips.

  He cursed under his breath. Did she have to feel so damn good?

  Leaning down, he grabbed her purse and gift bag, shut the door with his hip, and strode up the walkway. The glass front door to her building was locked, but just as he was trying to figure out how to get her keys from her purse without putting her down, a middle-age man with a dog opened the door. “Fell asleep,” Luke whispered. The man nodded, and Luke coolly glanced at the mailboxes to find her apartment number.

  He took the stairs, needing to get rid of the pent-up energy making his muscles tense. She wiggled against him and hell if he didn’t like it. He wondered what she would think if she realized what she was doing. Or maybe she did and this was her idea of torture.

  It took two tries to open her front door after he’d leaned against the wall for leverage and fished out her keys. He flipped the light switch and almost fell on his ass when some small creature attacked his ankle. It yapped and growled and pretended to be ferocious. Luke looked down at the tiny ball of fur and chuckled. The thing probably weighed five pounds.

  “Easy there, tiger. I come in peace.”

  “Becks?” Sela muttered. “It’s okay.”

  Luke didn’t know what a Becks was, but the assault on his leg stopped. That’s when he got a good look at the tiny dog. And the dog got a good look at him. After a few seconds of staring at each other, his—or her—tail wagged.

  Sela grew heavier in his arms, her body going into deep-sleep mode, and he debated with himself on where to put her. The slipcovered couch in front of him looked comfortable enough, and the gentlemanly thing to do would be to lay her there and leave, but curiosity led him down the hallway.

  The dog followed close behind. Leave it to Sela to pick the world’s smallest guard dog. Luke could palm it and toss it like a football.

  Her bedroom surprised him. He liked the light blue walls, upholstered headboard, and beach photographs on her walls. But her king-size bed was a rumpled mess, her desk was disorganized, and clothes littered the floor. The neat, organized Sela she presented to the world was anything but in her private domain. The contradiction did funny things to his stomach.

  Seeing black lace panties and a matching bra on the floor did not-so-funny things to other parts of his anatomy.

  He laid her on the bed and was about to cover her with her white down comforter when he noticed she’d gotten something on her sweater.

  Walk away, dude. This isn’t your problem. Go home and take a cold shower.

  Luke pulled off her boots. “Sela?” No response. “I’m going to undress you.” He moved aside the hair around her face and rubbed the pad of his thumb across her cheek. “Sela, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Still no response. He watched her chest to make sure she was breathing.

  A painful relief filled him when her chest rose and fell. Even comatose, she turned him on.

  He pulled down her black pants and took off her sweater. Any red-blooded male would look, he told himself, as he tried not to notice her pink push-up bra and matching underwear. The dog barked.

  Perfect timing. He pulled the comforter up to her neck and picked up the little thing. It squirmed in his hands with excitement and licked his face. Before he put it on the bed next to Sela, he’d take it for a quick walk outside.

  “Sweet dreams,” he whispered, and then turned to go in search of a leash.

  No doubt his dreams would be anything but.

  Chapter Seven

  Luke limped into the kitchen. A six-mile run after little sleep had kicked his ass. His chest felt better than it had in weeks, though, his breathing finally less labored. But his legs were already sore as shit.

  “Well, if it isn’t the star of the Sunday paper and blog,” Erin said, sitting at the counter with her laptop open.

  His mom stood beside her, a cross between a grin and scowl on her face. He hadn’t seen that look since he’d come home from the state championship baseball game. He’d hit the winning homerun—and the catcher who got in his face after the game, pissed that Luke had knocked him over at home plate.

  Luke grabbed a bottle of water and sat on the bar stool across from them. “What are you talking about?”

  Erin turned her computer so he could see the screen.

  The banner at the top of the blog page said, Cascade Captures: Big Living in a Small Place, and had a picture of the coastline. Luke wondered who had taken the photo. It didn’t do their location justice. The headline on the post read, Hometown Hero Luke Watters Dances Night Away with Sela Sullivan.

  “This is Cascade’s blog?” He noticed the side column had mention of The Chocolate Games, the baking contest Erin and Sela were entered in.

  “Yes, Sherlock.” Erin shook her head.

  He scrolled through the blog, keeping his expression blank. His mom and sister stared at him like he’d committed a major sin. This was another reason why he’d wanted to leave Cascade—while he didn’t mind being the center of attention, he did mind when it came at the price of his private life. He knew being a Watters in Cascade equaled good intentions on behalf of the town, but sometimes those good intentions did more harm than good. The post went on to describe the “wedding party of the century’s” escapades at the Crown & Anchor but focused most heavily on his and Sela’s interactions, going so far as to imply they were an item. The writer included a picture of Luke dancing with Sela.

  Erin spoke first. “I thought you two didn’t like each other.”

  “We don’t.”

  “And I told you if you scared Sela away I’d put a snake in your bed, and so help me, I will,” she added.

  “You were there last night. Did it look like I was scaring her? We’re just being friendly. It’s strictly a wedding bargain. We’ve made an agreement to get along for Vanessa’s sake.”

  “There’s getting along and then there’s getting along,” Erin countered. “Sometimes there’s a fine line between hate and, uh, like. I tried to hook her up with Troy but he said he got the idea the two of you were more than friends.” She took back the computer. “Mom, does this look like friends to you?”

  “Pictures don’t always tell the truth,” he said. But that one did. Whoever took it had captured the lust in his eyes.

  His mom scrutinized the computer screen before she took careful stock of his poker face. “You know what I think,” she said in an even tone. “I think of Sela like a dau
ghter and don’t want her getting hurt.”

  “Exactly!” Erin lifted off her bar stool.

  Interesting how it never occurred to them that he might get hurt. His heart wasn’t made of steel.

  “I have no intention of hurting Sela. We may have gotten a little carried away last night, but it won’t happen again.”

  “Make sure that it doesn’t.” His mom got up and came around the kitchen island to put an arm on his shoulder. “I love you, honey, but you have a way with women I’m not sure you’re aware of. And it’s not only Sela you could hurt but Vanessa, too.”

  He seriously had to start heading straight to the shower after his run. He was too damn old for lectures. “Got it.”

  Erin tossed him the newspaper that sat on the counter. “Nice article in the Gazette, bro. And next to Jane, you’ll get a lot of female attention.”

  Jane?

  The Life section of the paper carried a picture of him surrounded by professional surfers at the North Shore Invitational in Oahu. The feature included his younger days at Princeton and covered a great deal of his travels over the last five years. Vanessa’s wedding rounded out the piece.

  When he finished reading it, his interest moved to the women, life & love column on the same page. The article talked about women dancing their way into a man’s heart. Dance was used both literally and figuratively and was a total crock. The writer—“Jane is a real single girl living in Cascade”—didn’t know what she was talking about.

  “Women actually believe this stuff?” he asked.

  Erin huffed. “If you’re referring to Jane, meathead, then yes. She knows exactly what’s going on inside a man’s head.”

  “I don’t think so.” He glanced at the article. “Men don’t think dancing is an emotional expression. They’re just hoping they don’t look like fools on the dance floor and would much rather show their partner moves somewhere private.”

  “Really?” Erin put her elbow on the counter and a hand under her chin. “So your getting carried away last night meant—”

  “Nothing. A guy can also dance to be courteous because he’s in a position that requires it. All I was thinking about was stopping at Five Guys and getting a burger and fries on my way home.”

  “Jane wrote an article about men and food last week—you should read it.”

  “Who is this Jane person?” He folded the newspaper and pushed it away.

  “No one knows. Jane isn’t her real name.”

  “So what are you up to today?” his mom asked, putting away the dishes.

  “Thought I’d take the bike out and head to Neptune’s for a crab cake burger.”

  “I haven’t been there in forever.” Erin closed the lid on her computer. “You’re on some burger kick, bro.”

  “Want to join me?”

  “Can’t. I’ve got a thing.” She slid off her bar stool and came around the counter to kiss his cheek. “I’ll catch you later.” She gave the same affection to their mom. “’Bye.”

  Luke eased off his bar stool and tossed his water bottle. “I’ll see you later, Mom.”

  She closed a cupboard door and turned. “It’s really nice having you here, honey. Thank you for stepping in as best man and helping your father stay calm. Seeing his first daughter get married is more emotional for him than he’s letting on.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He meant it. Being home the past week had been better than he’d imagined.

  The fog didn’t keep diners away from Neptune’s. Nestled between a nursery and surf shop along the Oregon Coast Highway, it was famous for its clam chowder and cornflake crusted shrimp, not to mention the crab cakes.

  Luke stood just outside the entry doors in the long lunchtime line. Flyers for the Fourth of July parade and pie-eating contest decorated the windows. He and Shane had entered the contest after high school graduation and gotten their asses whooped by just about everyone else. Drinking beer beforehand hadn’t been the wisest decision.

  “Hey, bro,” Shane said, coming up behind him. “This is exactly what I needed today. Thanks for calling.”

  “Sure.” Luke needed it, too. Being around Shane reminded him of his place. The guy was like a brother to him and that was more important than getting something out of his system. Something he hadn’t realized until last night had been stewing since a damn kiss in a kissing booth ten years earlier.

  “So my sister got home okay last night?” Shane nodded to someone coming out of Neptune’s with a take-out bag.

  Luke cleared his throat. “Yeah.” After he’d walked her dog, he’d put it on the bed with her. He couldn’t remember the last time a sleeping woman’s beauty had made him want to crawl in beside her and never leave. He’d felt her quiet breaths in his chest, in his shoulders. Beautiful didn’t come close to describing her head on the pillow. The second he’d headed home, his body ached for her.

  “Great. I owe you one.”

  “You can buy lunch.”

  Shane smiled. “I can do that.”

  “How’d your night go?” Luke asked, needing to talk about anything but Sela in order to rid the brick load of guilt sitting in his gut.

  “Not the way I’d hoped. Turns out Kagan did just want a ride home. She’s sending me all sorts of mixed signals and damn if that doesn’t make me want to figure her out.”

  Luke shook his head. “That is not normal for you.”

  “I know. But when I’m around her something weird kicks in.” Shane’s brow knit. “I think I might actually like her. You know, maybe as a friend.”

  “You know what that means, don’t you?”

  “Dude, don’t even think about going all Sigmund Freud on me or I’ll have to drop your ass.”

  “Like you could take me.” Luke narrowed his eyes at his best friend.

  Once. They’d gotten into it once back in high school and raised their fists, but before a punch was thrown, Sela had stepped between them. He couldn’t remember what the hell the problem had been, but all of a sudden he remembered the look on Sela’s face. She’d looked at him with panic, like she’d crumble if he got hurt.

  “You want to find out?” Shane teased, bumping Luke’s shoulder. Hard.

  The surprise move sent a dull pain crisscrossing through his diaphragm. He grimaced and held his breath for a moment. Thankfully, Shane didn’t seem to notice.

  “Hey, you busy Tuesday night?” Shane asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Luke moved up in line until they stood just inside the restaurant. The smell of seafood replaced the smell of sea air.

  “I’m in a baseball league and we’ve got a game. We’re down a player and could use a ringer.”

  His stomach twisted. The last time Luke had played ball was during his freshman year at Princeton in an intramural league. It wasn’t the lack of practice that bothered him, though. He wondered how swinging a bat would feel to his ribs, his lungs.

  “I’d love to,” he said, ignoring his chickenshit brain. Enough time had passed that he needed to push his body in a new direction and baseball offered that. He’d stretch like a pansy beforehand and be sure to stretch afterward.

  “Great. Six o’clock at Watters Field.”

  “I know where it is.”

  “You’ll remember a lot of the guys. It’ll feel like old times.” Shane’s cell phone rang and he glanced at the screen. “I’ve got to take this.”

  Luke nodded and watched him step away. Though foggy, the ocean was still visible across the highway. He zeroed in on the surf, the whitecaps calling to him. The last of the gray whales migrating to Baja might be out there. A sight he never tired of seeing.

  …

  Sela pulled the covers up as high as they would go. She did not want to wake up. Not yet. Not when her head pounded harsher than the waves at Seascape Beach. But then tiny canine feet tap-danced on her head. She slipped the comforter down, and Beckham licked her face.

  “Okay, Becks. I’ll take you out.” She pushed up with a groan. Her cloth
es from last night were at the foot of her bed. Huh. She didn’t remember putting them there. She glanced down at her body—brand-new push-up bra and panties. Why wasn’t she wearing her pajamas?

  A prickling sensation raced down her spine. Her body grew melty. Melty!

  Oh, God. It all came flooding back. Throwing up out the car window. Throwing up out the door. Her embarrassment. Luke’s soothing voice and story about sponges settling her nerves and calming her stomach and lulling her into sleep. She’d passed out by the time they got to her apartment.

  She remembered him lifting her out of the car and gulped. His body had been warm; his corded muscles had made her feel safe. She’d tucked herself against his chest and wanted to stay there forever. A sound had come out of her mouth. Dammit. She’d purred.

  Then! Then Luke had undressed her and put her in bed.

  She fell back until her head hit the pillow, and she covered her face with her hands. He’d taken care of her and seen her half naked. Her cheeks flamed.

  Becks barked.

  She rolled out of bed, picked her robe up off the floor, and padded to the front door. Crap. He’d also seen her very messy bedroom. No one saw her very messy bedroom.

  With thanks that the sun had yet to peek out from behind the clouds, Sela led Becks to his favorite tree. When they got back to her apartment, Vanessa was waiting.

  “There you are. I’ve been worried. I tried your cell a couple of times, and when you didn’t answer I decided to come over.” Vanessa zeroed in on her face. “You look terrible.”

  “Thank you.” Sela led them inside her apartment and plopped down onto the couch. Becks jumped into her lap.

  A killer headache the size of Mount Hood throbbed like a sonofabitch. She tried to relax her forehead.

  “Are you hungover?” Vanessa’s shocked tone grated on every nerve ending above Sela’s shoulders.

  “Could you talk a little quieter? I think my head is going to fall off. And to answer your question, yes, I think I am.” Her eyes fell shut. It took way too much effort to keep them open. Plus, the glare coming in through the crack in her curtains threatened to split her brain in two. Now she understood where that saying came from.