Interesting. Did Little Ms. Perfect go overboard at her bachelorette party? I wouldn’t know because I wasn’t invited, but from the looks they’re giving each other, I’m guessing there was at least a stripper involved.
“Excellent.” The man who knocked on the door nods and stands to the side. “Go ahead and proceed to the atrium.”
“You weren’t here last night.” Heather eyes him up and down. Not that I blame her for checking him out. He’s tall, dark, and handsome with soulful brown eyes and a five o’clock shadow.
His gaze meets mine, and I forget how to breathe. It feels like he’s looking into my soul. The room spins, and I blink, sucking a gulp of air.
“Are you okay?” Bridgette shakes my shoulder. “For fucks sake, don’t pass out. That’s all we need.” Of my sister’s friends, she’s the most dramatic.
“No. I’m fine.” Heat floods my face, and one corner of his mouth arches upward. Wonderful. He knows I’m a loser with drenched panties over him. That’s all I need. Another perfect person to make fun of me.
He clears his throat. “I flew in last night. My flight was delayed, so I didn’t make it to the rehearsal activities.”
“That’s too bad.” Heather bites her bottom lip and steps closer to the man.
“Yes, it is. I would have loved to have more time to spend with my cousin. It’s been a while.” He shifts backward, evading her advancement.
“Oh….” My sister’s eyes light up. “You must be Alexander, Wyatt’s first cousin.”
“Yes, that’s me. His father and my mother are siblings. We spent a lot of time together in the summers at our grandparents’ lake house up in Michigan.” He holds the door open, causing the edges of his suit jacket to stretch apart. The man is stacked.
Yeah, too bad he wasn’t here last night. I could have spent the hours I listened to the bedsprings squeaking in the hotel’s adjoining room, thinking about him braced above me rather than knowing Julia and Wyatt were going at it all night.
Heather advances forward again and runs her finger down his lapel. “Are you a doctor like Wyatt?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” He grabs her hand, pats it, and steps sideways. It’s like watching a chess match.
She wrinkles her nose. “Too bad.” She spins around as if she’s dismissing him even though he was dodging her advances. That’s one way to keep her at arm’s length.
He thrusts his hands into his pockets. “They’re waiting for us.”
As everyone files out, I hang back. Not that they notice. I could skip the entire wedding, and the only reason they would complain would be because theattendant numbers would be lopsided.
I step through the threshold and watch them file down the hallway with their perfect backsides swaying. Their thighs probably don’t even touch.
“Not a fan of weddings?”
“Shit!” I jump and stumble on my heel. The flipping sexy-as-sin guy drags his hand out of his pocket to grab me but misses my arm. Double shit. My arms flail around as I try to catch my balance. Oh, my God, please don’t fall on your face. The seams of the dress stretch as my legs wobble.
He grabs my upper arms and pulls me toward him. “I’ve got you.”
When my chest lands against his, my heart slams against my ribs. He smells woodsy, like cedar, with a sweet, earthy undertone. God, he smells good. I straighten, causing my boobs to rub along his suit jacket.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” I glance up and swallow.
Concern etches his features as his jaw twitches. Is he gritting his teeth? He’s gritting his teeth. Heat floods over my face. How embarrassing. He’s repulsed by me touching him, and I’m about to dry hump his leg. Thankfully, everyone else had disappeared and didn’t witness my stumble.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” His hands slide down my arms, and a whimper escapes from my lips. He licks his lips, and heat flares in his eyes as they linger on my chest.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” Does he…. Stop. Your tits are in his face. Men don’t have to be attracted to a girl to get turned on if you’re shoving your tits in their face. I could be anyone.
I step backward and rub my hands along my skirt. “I’m sorry about that. Thank you for catching me. This dress is not made for aerobics. Not that I was doing aerobics.” I roll my eyes. “Or that I even do aerobics. Just ask my mom. That’s why the dress is too small. I should have skipped that last Red Velvet cupcake at the rehearsal dinner.”
What am I doing? I’m babbling. I never babble, but he’s the best-looking guy I’ve ever seen.