“Don’t tell anyone.” Piper leaned his way, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with waiting.”
“Agreed.” Levi didn’t understand, but nor did he judge. Still… He felt a wave of sympathy frustration. “I get why he was in such a hurry. Thirty years without getting laid is a long time.”
“The bride swears they’re in love.” Piper rolled her eyes. “Maybe. Hopefully. I’ve known Celia for five years. She was born dreaming of her wedding day. Started planning every detail before she was old enough to understand there’s more to life than getting dressed up in satin and lace.”
Desperate Bride Syndrome. Levi nodded. He’d witnessed the phenomenon before, up close and personal, with his older sister. She turned a certain age, panicked, and jumped into marriage with the first man who asked. Or did she do the asking? Didn’t matter. After months of getting every detail perfect, becoming a bridezilla from hell, and spending a cringeworthy amount of money, the union between wife and husband lasted all of six tumultuous months.
“Since when is thirty old?” Levi asked with a frown, the image of his sister’s desperation burned indelibly into his brain. Plus, as a man about to leave his twenties, he wasn’t ready to brand himself as over the hill. “Don’t we still have plenty of good years left?”
Pushing her hair from her face—the teased bouffant style had collapsed and now resembled less of a poof and more of a pancake—Piper raised an eyebrow.
“We?” She took a sip from her glass, her lips quirking upward on one side. “What makes you think I’m in my thirties?”
Levi knew the signs. He’d entered a minefield. Swerve the wrong way and, boom! However, something told him Piper Winslow didn’t care what anyone thought about her or her age. If he was wrong, then he’d deal with her withering glance. If she threw her drink in his face, all the better. The vodka would nip the bloom right off his budding crush on the redheaded beauty.
“You could pass for twenty-five.”
“I know,” Piper said matter-of-factly. She let out a small chuckle. “Why do I hear a however lurking in your voice?”
“Most women in their early twenties bore me.” Levi shrugged. “You, Piper Winslow, are anything but boring.”
“Damn straight.” Piper grinned. “I’m thirty-three. And, if I don’t miss my guess, older than you.”
“Three years isn’t older,” Levi argued. “It’s—”
“A lifetime,” she interrupted. “In terms of wisdom and experience, I’ve been there and done that more times than I care to remember.”
“If you don’t remember, what’s the point?”
Glass halfway to her lips, Piper froze, snorted, then let out a full-blown laugh. As he watched her face light with delight, Levi felt his low-grade crush take a worrisome step toward rock-solid.
“Well articulated, my handsome friend,” Piper said. “You have the kind of quick and agile mind I might appreciate if I weren’t dressed like a slightly pornographic version of a Disney princess.”
Levi had to admit the amount of cleavage presented by Piper’s dress was a trifle risqué for a church wedding. However, from a strictly male point of view, he appreciated the way the material clung in all the right places.
Searching for a compliment that wouldn’t make him sound like a clueless man, Levi fell back on an oldy but goody.
“The color suits you.”
Piper smirked as though she recognized his dilemma.
“Most people think redheads should never wear pink.” She finished her vodka in one gulp. “Most people are wrong. Since I’m booked as a bridesmaid four more times in the next six weeks, it’s a good thing that I look good in all colors. Though lime green, neon yellow, pumpkin orange, and a shade of blue that would make Mother Nature cringe might push even my fashion tolerance to the brink of implosion”
“I believe the color is called powder blue,” Levi said with a shudder. “The groomsmen’s tuxedos match the bridesmaid’s dresses.”
As the meaning of Levi’s words sank in, a commiserative glint entered Piper’s gaze.
“You, too?” she asked.
Levi nodded.
“Best man.”
“Maid of honor.” Piper shook her head. “Something’s in the water this year. Seems every other person I know decided to get married. Football players. Ugh!”
Trying to keep a straight face, Levi nodded as he rubbed his face while his hand hid a grin.
“Not a fan?”
“Sacrilegious, right?” Piper said with a sigh. “Seattle loves its Knights. And my best friend has been crazy for the game since forever. Me? I don’t get all the fuss. Grown men chasing a weirdly shaped ball? Kind of ridiculous.”
Piper wasn’t wrong. However, personally and professionally, Levi felt the need to defend the sport.
“But entertaining,” he told her. “Maybe if you understood the rules better then—”
“Didn’t you hear what I said? Best friend. Obsessed. Since childhood.” Piper snorted. “Hanging around Darcy, the game seeped into my pores. I’m a reluctant expert. Not by choice; by osmosis.”
Again, Levi did his best to stifle a smile. Damn, she was cute.
“I do love one thing about football.”
“Enlighten me,” Levi urged.
“The money. Rich athletes? Yes, please.”
As Piper’s eyes took on a dreamy quality, Levi’s stomach sank. Straight to the floor like a freaking lead balloon.
“Money?” he asked, hoping for the first time in his life that his hearing might be on the decline.
Making a happy humming sound, Piper gave a short nod and Levi felt his crush dissolve just as quickly.
“Half of the team are my clients,” she said.
Clients? Levi didn’t want to know. Except he did. He really, really did.
“What’s your, um, occupation?”
“Working girl,” Piper answered without a blink or a blush.
“Ah.” Levi cleared his throat. “I see.”
“Oh, if you could see your face. Wait.” Piper lifted her phone and snapped a picture. She surveyed her handy work and laughed. “Better than a thousand words.”
Despite himself, Levi tried to take a surreptitious peek.
“Maybe another time. After you use my services,” she said with a wink.
“Not going to happen.”
“I’m pretty persuasive. Ask around. My reputation is stellar and growing all the time.” Piper opened her purse and removed a small, rectangular piece of
