'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

  I’ve never felt so cared for.

  “But I really didn’t want it,” I say once they’ve pulled away from me. I glance down at the gorgeous bouquet, the deep red roses that are so soft, they look like velvet. I touch the edge of one, bring up the bouquet to my nose so I can inhale their scent. “Oh my God, it’s beautiful. And they smell delicious.”

  “Uh huh,” Eleanor says, and I can hear the doubt in her voice, though I can also see that her eyes are twinkling with amusement. “Sure you didn’t want it.”

  “Now it’s time for the guys! Get on up here, gentlemen! And you’re going nowhere, Mrs. Sullivan. Your mister has to take the garter off first!” the DJ announces.

  We go to the edge of the dancefloor as all the single men make their way out there, led by Charlie. He heads straight for Candice, wraps her up in a big hug and a deep kiss, leaving Candice standing there with very red cheeks and her hand on her head. Like she needs to keep it there or her head is going to fly off.

  Adorable.

  I clutch the bouquet tight while someone brings out a chair and Candice sets her foot on the seat. Charlie slowly lifts up the skirt of her wedding dress, exposing her bent leg and the delicate pale blue garter wrapped around her slender thigh. He sends his bride a seductive look, then tugs the scrap of fabric down her thigh, over her knee, along her calf, before slipping it off. He turns to face the guys, twirling the garter around his index finger and grinning like a mad man.

  You can just feel the happiness radiating off the newly married couple, and it makes my heart ache with joy. And longing.

  I want that.

  Someday.

  “All right, men. Line up and get ready to grab that garter! You know the myth that accompanies these rituals, am I right? Whoever catches the bouquet and garter, they’re the next to marry.”

  Please. That is so not going to happen. Stella will be the next one to get married in our friend group. Actually, Sarah is the one who’ll walk down the aisle next, considering she’s currently wearing a giant rock on her finger. Thanks to her fiancé, Jared, who just so happens to be the brother of the bride.

  I’m still wallowing in the aftermath of ending my toxic relationship. Marriage is the last thing on my mind.

  “Are you ready?” the DJ asks. All the guys shout their agreement. “On the count of three! One!”

  “Carter better get it,” Stella grumbles.

  “Two!”

  “No way. It’ll be Mitch. He catches footballs for a freaking living,” Eleanor stresses.

  “Three!”

  The men are like ancient warriors battling it out on the dance floor for that stupid scrap of lace and satin. I watch in horror as they all seem to tackle each other—save for the big burly guy who happens to be the only professional catcher out there. I’m guessing he didn’t want to hurt anyone since he’s a giant who could do permanent damage to the average man.

  “Yes! I caught it!”

  My eyes widen when I hear the familiar voice. See the familiar man standing in the center of the rest of them. I didn’t realize Isaac was so tall compared to the other men here. And his shirt is clinging to his back and shoulders almost lovingly as he holds the garter above his head in one hand, grinning like he just won the heavyweight champion of the world.

  I can’t help myself. I burst out laughing.

  Of course he caught it. And he’s turning toward me with that triumphant smile. Our eyes meet and I slowly shake my head, still laughing. He nods toward the bouquet clutched in my hand, then tilts his head to the side, in the universal gesture that says come here.

  Without thought I walk toward him, my laughter dying as he heads for me too, so that we meet in the middle.

  “You caught it,” I say, reaching out to touch the garter in his hand.

  “I wanted to. Told the big guy I’d give him twenty bucks if he let me,” Isaac says, gesturing toward Mitch.

  More laughter on my part. “You do realize he’s a professional.”

  “A professional what?” Isaac asks.

  “Football player? For the Raiders? Mitchell Anderson. That name ringing any bells?” I ask.

  Isaac frowns. Turns so he can study Mitch for a moment before he returns his attention to me. “Well, shit. You’re right.”

  “I know I’m right,” I say. “One of my friends is living with him in Las Vegas.”

  “No way.” Isaac’s eyes widen the slightest bit.

  “Yes.” I nod. “And I can’t believe you paid him $20 to get the garter.”

  “I wanted us in photos together. They’re going to take them, you know.” He grabs hold of my free hand and pulls me close to him, his voice lowering. “So we can document this moment.”

  “What moment?” I ask breathlessly. The dark look in his gaze fills me with sudden yearning.

  Fills me with the need to fling myself at him and kiss him.

  What in the world?

  “You know. Our first date. Or whatever you want to call it.” He smiles. Let’s go of my hand so he can skim his fingers across my cheek, making me shiver. “So someday we can look back on this photo and see it.”

  “See what?” I whisper.

  “That moment when you realized I might be the right guy for you after all,” he says.

  Just before he kisses me.

  Chapter 8

  Isaac

  Her lips are soft and she tastes like wine and Amelia, which I can’t particularly identify, but I know it when I taste it. Like I’m tasting her.

  Right now.

  I keep the kiss simple. I touch her face. Cradle her smooth cheek. Nibble at her lips. Pull away when a soft whimper leaves her, like she wants more. She blinks her eyes open, oblivious to all the dudes that were just vying for the garter who are all now hooting and hollering their approval of our kiss.

  Smiling, I let my hand drop and grab hers once more. “Let’s pose for the camera.”

  She nods, looking a little confused. “Okay.”

  The wedding photographer chooses that exact moment to appear with her giant camera, asking us to pose. Asking all the guys behind us to get off the dance floor. We snap a couple of photos together, and I take the opportunity to slip my arm around Amelia’s slender waist and hold her close. She fits perfectly against my side.

  Of course she does.

  Once we’re done taking photos, we make our way back to the table, never letting go of each other’s hand. Only when we’re settled in our seats do we finally break our shared link. I toss the garter on the table. She holds the bouquet up to her nose and breathes deeply, like she’s trying to inhale it. The tiny smile curling her perfect lips when she lowers the bouquet is sweet.

  Beautiful.

  Charlie and Candice are about to cut the cake. I scoot my chair in closer to Amelia’s and lean over so I can whisper in her ear. “You think he’ll shove cake in her face?”

  Amelia slowly shakes her head, never taking her gaze away from the married couple as they stand before the towering cake, both of them clutching the knife together. “No way. She’d get so mad. Candice expects things to be a certain way.”

  “Charlie likes to cause trouble,” I point out, staring at her neck. It’s long and smooth and pale. I imagine kissing it. Feeling her shiver beneath my lips.

  “I’m sure they’ll come to a reasonable compromise,” Amelia says.

  “Uh huh.” I lean back in my chair once more, enjoying the way Charlie teases Candice, like he really is going to shove the cake in her face. But at the last second, she parts her lips and he gently presses it into her mouth instead.

  The smug look Amelia sends my way tells me she’s pleased with the results. “Told ya. No way would Candice let Charlie mess her up.”

  I smile at Amelia, thinking of all the many ways I could mess her up. “Guess you know your friends pretty well.”

  “I do.” Her smile softens. “I have some of the best friends in the world, though I wasn’t a very good friend to them the last few years.”
r />   “What do you mean?” I ask with a frown.

  “Oh, I was in a relationship with a guy.” She rolls her eyes. Shakes her head. I already hate this guy and she hasn’t said anything about him yet. “He demanded all my time. He was very—possessive. Jealous.”

  “Jealous of your friends?” Maybe that’s why she’s a reluctant flirt. Why she’s got that wall up.

  “Jealous of everyone, really.” She shrugs. “He always made things difficult. Started a lot of fights for no reason. It was a very—passionate relationship.”

  My frown deepens. “That doesn’t necessarily sound like a bad thing.”

  “Right? On the surface, I’d agree with you. But it was definitely a bad thing. Passionate in the fact that, when our relationship was good, it was great. But when it was bad, it was terrible.” Her smile is faint. “And most of the time, our relationship was terrible.”

  Without thinking I reach out, settling my hand over hers where it rests on the table. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She shrugs again, her expression uncomfortable. I’m guessing it was hard for her, admitting all that. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

  “But you’re getting it anyway.” I lean in close, my mouth near her ear once more. “Have I told you how fantastic you smell?”

  She dips her head, her lips curling. “No, you haven’t mentioned it.”

  “Well, you do,” I say. “Smell fantastic.”

  “You smell pretty great too,” she admits.

  My body prickles with awareness. Well, what do you know? She’s actually been paying attention to me. “Hey, thanks.”

  “You smell like a forest,” she adds.

  “I do deal with pine trees on a daily basis,” I say with a chuckle.

  “I know. And it makes you smell really—good.” Her cheeks are the faintest pink. Like it took a lot for her to say that, which is adorable.

  She’s adorable.

  No, that’s not the right word for Amelia. She’s beautiful.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I say.

  “Depends.” A smile is still on her face, so that gives me the green light.

  “What did you mean earlier, about our blind date?” I had no idea what she was talking about then, and I still don’t.

  “Oh.” She dips her head, her teeth sinking into her lower lip for a moment before she lifts her gaze to mine. “Candice said she wanted to set me up on a sort of blind date at the reception tonight.”

  I make a face. “Who the hell does that?”

  Amelia’s smile grows. “Candice. Anyway, she said she knew a guy who was perfect for me. She even told me his name, and it was…”

  Her voice drifts, and I wait for her answer. “What was his name?” I prod.

  “Umm…” She wrinkles her nose. “Jonesie.”

  I start to laugh. It just pours out of me, and I can’t believe Candice did this. That with everything else going on with her life, and Charlie’s, and the wedding, she still wanted to put me and Amelia together. Like a little matchmaker. “Wait a minute. She actually wanted to set us up on a blind date? Here? Tonight?”

  “Why do you think she seated us at the same table?” Amelia asks, her dark brows shooting up.

  I glance around at the people sitting nearby. “I thought we were seated at the singles table.”

  She shakes her head slowly. “Take a closer look.”

  Doing as she says, I study everyone at the table and realize they all look pretty cozy. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. They all look like couples.”

  “Because they are couples. They’re all together.” She waves a hand at them, frustration on her face. “And that’s great. But it’s also kind of awkward. What would’ve happened if you didn’t show up?”

  “I was definitely showing up. I work here, for the love of God. I’ve been helping set up for this damn wedding all afternoon,” I retort. “I’m sure Candice was counting on that.”

  “Maybe. I just—I don’t like feeling tricked.” Her gaze hardens as she studies me, and her expression turns serious. “You really had no idea that Candice was trying to set us up?”

  “None at all.” I shake my head. “She never even mentioned you to me.”

  “Not once?”

  “Not once,” I repeat with a small smile. “But I would’ve been interested if she did.”

  Amelia’s face softens, and she rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

  “Nah.” I’m full-blown grinning now. “You’re cute. Well, you’re more than that, but I don’t wanna scare you. You’re interesting to talk to, and I can tell you’re full of fire.” I wink at her, and she actually blushes, but damn. It’s true. She’s a fiery thing, and I like it. “You’ve got your shit together. And I’ve always had a thing for older women.”

  That last bit isn’t quite true, but I thought I’d say it to make her feel better.

  Amelia throws her head back and laughs, and damn if it isn’t a sexy sound. I could get used to that quick. “You just say whatever you’re thinking, don’t you.”

  “As long as I don’t hurt anyone, yeah. May as well be honest, right?” I send her a meaningful look. “And if you’re curious, no, I’m not possessive, and I’m not what I would consider jealous either. But I do like to lay claim to what I consider mine.”

  Her expression turns flustered. “Um, not that I was particularly curious but—good to know.”

  “Yeah.” My smile is flat-out arrogant now. “Good to know.”

  Chapter 9

  Isaac

  Charlie and Candice are the only ones on the dance floor, swaying to some romantic song I don’t recognize, but it has a faintly Christmas-y vibe. They’re staring into each other’s eyes, both of them looking a little dazed and so damn happy, they’re even making my slightly anti-relationship heart thaw just a tiny bit.

  Not that I’m actually anti-relationship or down on love, I’ve just never experienced it before. Not an all- consuming, oh my God I need this woman in my life now love.

  I haven’t felt that way about anyone. I can barely remember the last time I had a semi-serious relationship. I’ve just been cruising through life.

  And now I’ve met Amelia. Though we are pretty different—some would definitely call us opposites—I’m drawn to her. I want to know more. I’d like to get closer to her.

  Does she feel the same? God, I hope so.

  The music stops and we all automatically applause.

  “Come on now everyone, join us on the dance floor,” the DJ says as he starts another song. It’s a jazzy holiday tune.

  Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

  I smile at Amelia when she glances over at me. “Want to dance?”

  She frowns. “You want to dance with me?”

  I make a dismissive noise. “Of course I do.”

  I want to do more than dance with her…

  Though I might make an ass of myself out there. Haven’t danced with a woman since my senior prom, and that was no big deal. I know how to sway with a woman in my arms to the music, so how tough can it be?

  “Then let’s go,” she says as she pushes her chair back and stands.

  I stand with her, resting my hand at the small of her back while we walk toward the dance floor. Plenty of people are already out there and we find a spot for ourselves. I take her hand, wrap my arm around her waist, and start moving to the slow beat of the music.

  “Not bad, right?” I ask.

  “Definitely not bad,” she says with the faintest smile, tipping her head back so her gaze meets mine. She has beautiful eyes. Dark brown and warm. She’s watching me as if she’s trying to figure me out. Like she’s hoping she can read my mind. I keep my expression neutral, glancing around the room, spotting the bride dancing with her father. Charlie’s dancing with his mom, Isobel. Everyone is smiling. The vibe in this tent is positive. Full of happiness.

  I like it.

  “How long ago were you with that guy?” I ask out of the blue.
/>
  Amelia lifts her startled gaze up to mine. “We broke up—a while ago.”

  “You still in love with him?” I have to know. I’m not going to pursue a woman if she’s still wrapped up in her past.

  She blinks. “Absolutely not.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yes.” She nods firmly. “I’m sure. I won’t even let my friends say his name in my presence. Just hearing it makes my blood boil.”

  A chuckle leaves me. “I like you.”

  “Really?” She shakes her head. “I sound silly. It’s just—I’m very set in my ways. Pretty particular. A little grouchy lately, I can’t lie. I’m not a fan of the holiday season. When your family works in retail your entire life, you look at it as a busy time to make money. Not a time of joy and reflection.”

  “Go on,” I tell her.

  “And it’s not like I’m trying to deter you, but people might talk if we started—seeing each other. You’re not my normal type,” she says, her cheeks turning pink.

  “You’re not my normal type either. You’re a total upgrade,” I say.

  “I’m flattered,” she says wryly.

  “It’s true.” Leaning down, I press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Am I moving too fast? I probably shouldn’t have kissed you earlier.”

  She says nothing for a moment. We just sway to the music, and I start to get nervous.

  “You’re freaking me out,” I tell her, my voice low.

  “Why?” She leans back, smiling up at me. “You want to know if I think you’re moving too fast? You do realize we’ve only just met.”

  “We met a few days ago,” I point out.

  “Barely.”

  “We had a conversation.”

  “For all of two minutes,” she retorts.

  “I’ve been told when you know, you know,” I say.

  “When you know what?” she asks, blinking up at me innocently.

  She’s not innocent. There’s an amused gleam in her eyes.

  “That you’ve met—the one.” My tone is solemn. My expression is serious. I mean it. I’ve never felt this attracted to a woman before.