“They’re such a beautiful couple, aren’t they?” Bethal, the eighty-year-old woman next to me asked. She was sweet, just like my grandmother.
“Yes,” I nodded, maintaining my manners.
She shuffled a bit closer, excited for conversation. “How do you know the lovely couple, dear?”
“Oh... well...” I started, failing to create a lie. I sucked at lying. “Roman’s my ex-fiancé, and Rebekah was my best friend.”
“Oh,” she said, her brain working the words like a riddle. Bethal’s beaming smile started to fade, her eyes flicking between the two dancing. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“It’s fine. It wasn’t meant to be.”
As if having an epiphany, Bethal cheered up. “That’s right, dear. I’m on my fourth.” She nodded to the elderly gentleman next to her who hadn’t heard a word.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Hawk said, leaning across so Bethal could hear. “Do you mind if I steal my beautiful fiancée for a dance.”
This time, Bethal’s eyes lit up like a disco ball, and she even managed a blush before turning to me. “Ohh... you are a lucky girl. If you don’t want him, I could do with husband number five.”
Both Hawk and I laughed as he took my hand. Other couples were starting to make their way to the floor but when we arrived, it was just Roman and Rebekah and me and Hawk. Roman turned, catching my eye before his gaze fell to my dance partner. He looked Hawk up and down, and I would have given anything to know his thoughts. Hawk pulled me against his body, one hand holding mine, the other around my waist. I was immediately lost in his world, his cologne intoxicating me. Being pressed against his hard body in such an intimate setting had me almost delirious. He moved with such elegance, yet he dominated the space.
“You’re a good dancer,” I said, loving the feel of his stubbly cheek against mine.
“I’m good at a lot of things, Britta.”
There was an instant pang between my legs, and I wanted to know about all these other things. In detail.
“Excuse me,” a feminine voice interrupted my naughty thoughts.
Reluctantly, I pulled my face away from Hawk to see Ms. Redhead, looking perfect in her elegant bridesmaid’s gown and flawless makeup. Her round eyes were only for Hawk.
“Mind if I cut in?” she continued.
Hawk pulled me in tighter, a frown marring his face. “Yes, I do,” was all he said to the surprised woman before turning us away. I managed to catch a glimpse of her jutted jaw, her eyes moving side to side to those who may have witnessed the rejection. Turning on her heel, her long loose hair flowed behind her as the redhead stormed off into the crowd.
“What... who is she?” I finally managed.
Hawk’s eyes diverted to mine and narrowed in on something behind me. “If you want to run, you better do it fast.”
“Huh?”
“Britta...” I heard my name from that familiar voice. Hawk stopped dancing and together we faced the wedded couple, him behind me, hands resting protectively on my hips.
“Hi,” I barely managed, feeling the awkwardness. I looked between them, to their locked hands and to the smiles on their faces.
Rebekah observed Hawk and me exactly the same. Roman, however, studied Hawk and barely looked at me.
Rebekah’s smile appeared genuine, and the fondness I had toward her growing up started to return. Until I remembered her betrayal.
The smiling assassin was an apt description.
“I didn’t think you would come,” she started in a cheery voice. “I mean, Roman told me you were, but I had doubts as to whether you would.”
“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?” I asked her, not that I expected her to be honest.
She shook her head.
“No, that’s absolutely not the case.” Her face softened. “I would have had you up front with me. I mean, that was our plan growing up.”
The fact she said that startled me, but I didn’t let it show.
Why on God’s earth would I want to be a part of the bridal party after she rolled in the hay with my fiancé?
Had she been smoking some wacky-weed prior to getting married?
Realizing her error, she quickly changed tack. “But I see you’re engaged.”
“Yes.” I managed a smile to look half-convincing.
“Well...” she practically squealed, “... show me.” Rebekah reached for my hand and studied the ring. “Oh, Britta! It’s gorgeous.” Then she turned to Hawk. “You did well picking this out. This is exactly Britta’s style.”
“It’s actually Hawk’s grandmother’s ring,” I said, and he squeezed my hips affectionately.
“Well, good taste all around.”
“Congratulations, man,” Roman spoke up for the first time. He reached out and shook Hawk’s hand. “When Britta told me, I didn’t think it was true.” He laughed, and I wanted to kick him in the shins until I remembered it’s not actually true.
“Why wouldn’t you think it true?” Hawk asked, playing dumb for the sake of the charade.