That much was true.
“Oh.” A beat. “Well, I should—”
The music changed, the heavy beat of a fast-paced dance anthem melting into a slow melody, into an unhurried ballad that coaxed couples to the floor, that made the hot, sweaty atmosphere shift into something intimate and hushed.
“Dance with me,” he said.
She shook her head, those curls bouncing. “I shouldn’t—”
“We’re a bridesmaid and groomsman,” he coaxed, nodding toward Kelsey and Cora, both of whom were twirling with other members of the bridal party, and Jaime and Kate, who were in the center of the mix, looking blissfully happy. “We should be out there.”
White teeth nibbling into a pink-painted bottom lip.
He took a risk . . . and took her hand.
Four
Heidi
Warm fingers laced with hers, a slightly calloused thumb stroking across her palm.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and—
Then she was pressed to Brad’s chest, the heat of his body surrounding her, her breasts tingling as they brushed against the hard muscles of his torso. The sneaky man had maneuvered her into the dance on the back patio of the restaurant Kate and Jaime had rented out without her recognizing it, like a mesmerizing hand-ninja who’d stroked her palm and all of a sudden, she was in his arms, his body coaxing hers into sensually unhurried motion. A shiver skating down her spine when he slid his hand down, the heat of him seeping through the layers of his shirt and her dress, imprinting onto her skin.
“I—”
“I love this song,” he said softly.
She blinked, surprised that he’d admit to liking the poppy ballad. “Really?”
“What can I say? I’m a Gaga fan.” He smiled, slow and sexy. “The woman’s got pipes.”
Lips parting, she scrambled to say something. Hell, to say anything.
But nothing came.
Which seemed to suit him just fine. He just tucked her closer and swayed them to the music.
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.
Silence as they moved to the music. Silence for long enough that she thought he wouldn’t answer. But then as the chorus ramped up, he murmured, “I’d like us to be friends.”
Now it was her turn for silence.
Then . . . she burst out laughing.
Probably not the wisest thing to do in the middle of the dance floor, the music soft enough that her outburst garnered attention. But she couldn’t help it. The man was going to be an A-list comic if he thought that was even in the realm of possibility.
She glanced up, lifting a palm from his chest—how had that gotten there?—and using her fingers to wipe the tears forming at the corners of her eyes.
His pretty hazel irises were focused on her, the golden and green deepened to a rich brown with the twinkling lights and navy sky above them. “That’s a no, then?”
“That’s a no.”
He nodded, his eyes on hers as the song wound down, as a faster one took its place, the DJ breaking into it with the announcement that the cake cutting would begin in just a couple of minutes.
“I should—” she began.
Another nod, his arms slipping from around her, one hand grasping her elbow as he led them off the floor. Once on the side, he kissed her cheek, making her breath hitch and her heart skip a beat as his heat came close again, as his scent—spicy and earthy and tempting—filled her nose.
“I should have said goodbye,” he whispered.
And then he was gone, walking away, his broad shoulders stretching the white cotton to alluring degrees, his stride purposeful as he disappeared into the restaurant that Kate and Jaime had rented out.
The urge to follow him was strong.
Really strong.
But the moment she actually gave in to the temptation to follow him, the moment she took a single step in his direction, Kate came up and grabbed her arm. Saving her from doing something incredibly idiotic. “Did you do that?”
Run off the sexy, gorgeous man who clearly wanted to give her another glorious night of sexy time?
Yes, she had done that.
But out of self-preservation.
Because . . . self-worth and value and . . . some other things that were important for some reason. She blinked, shook her head. No, not for some reason. They were important for her to keep hold of her self-respect, not to mention her feminist card.
But it turned out that Kate wasn’t staring after the gorgeous Brad.
She was looking at the cake table, the mishmash of flowers and supermarket cakes she’d thrown together.
Heidi winced. “Yeah. I know it’s not—”
Kate hugged her tight. “Why the hell did I spend that much money on an expensive cake when you could create that?”
“It’s not—”
Kate released her. Then promptly gripped Heidi’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “You are an amazing friend, and I love you.”
Shit.
Now Heidi’s eyes stung.
And then they were hugging each other, and yeah, so maybe it was mostly because Kate was deliriously happy—and perhaps had consumed one too many of the signature cocktails—but Heidi was still emotional. “I love you, too, Katie girl,” she whispered then nudged her friend back. “Now, go find that sexy husband of yours and let’s cut some cake!”
“Holy shit,” Kate breathed. “Husband? Husband. I’m married!”
Heidi grinned. “You are, honey.”
Kate did a little dance. “And now I get to eat cake.”
“The literal embodiment of having your cake and eating it, too.”
“Precisely.” A grin. A kiss to her cheek. And one more squeeze that hurt Heidi’s heart—in the best way. “I’m going to go find my husband.”
Heidi nodded her chin behind Kate’s shoulder. “I don’t think you have to do much searching.”
Not that the happy couple heard her.
They were smiling and staring into each other’s eyes in a way that should have been sickening, but she couldn’t fault her friend for that type of love, even if Jaime had regrown his man bun solely because Kate demanded it.
The man had nice hair, but—Heidi shuddered—she just couldn’t get behind man buns.
And she digressed down the rabbit hole of
