“You’re right. As usual. But I still should have let you know I was pulling a runaway bride.”
“You definitely should have. Although, I did get great pleasure seeing Warner’s mother break the news to him in front of the entire congregation. Watching them both trying not to freak out to keep their porcelain reputation intact was comedic. Besides, I took one of the groomsmen home.”
“Which one?”
“Paul.”
“Nice. He looked good in his tux,” I mused.
“He looked better out of it.”
“Hey-oh!”
“Speaking of hot sex. Back to the beast.”
I choked on my wine. “There’s no sex happening with the beast. He called me ‘needy’ and ‘uppity’ and a ‘pain in his ass.’ He’s rude. He’s constantly yelling at me or complaining about me. Telling me I’m not his type. As if I wished I were his type,” I scoffed.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because he lives right there,” I said, pointing my glass in the direction of Knox’s cabin.
“Oooh. Grumpy next-door neighbor. That’s one of my favorite tropes.”
“The first time he met me, he called me trash.”
“That bitch.”
“Well, technically he thought I was Tina when he was yelling at me in front of an entire cafe full of strangers.”
“That vision-impaired bitch.”
“God, I love you.” I sighed.
“Back at you, Witty. So, to clarify, you’re definitely not sleeping with the hot, grumpy, tattooed neighbor who took you shopping for underwear and a phone?”
“I am five thousand percent definitely not sleeping with Knox. And he only went shopping with us because there were reports of a man in town looking for me.”
“You’re telling me he’s a grumpy, overprotective hottie next-door and you’re not going to sleep with him? How wasteful.”
“How about instead of talking about Knox, I’ll tell you why I burned rubber out of the church parking lot and ended up homeless in Knockemout?”
“Don’t forget carless,” he added.
I rolled my eyes. “And carless.”
“I’ll get the truffles I hid in your bedroom,” Stef volunteered.
“I really wish you were straight,” I said.
“If I could be straight for anyone, it would be you,” he said, clinking his glass to mine.
“Where did these glasses come from?” I asked, frowning at the barware.
“These are my car wine glasses. I always carry a pair.”
“Of course you do.”
Dear Naomi,