Page 5 of The Way We Collide

Okay, I know. The point of being a bridesmaid is the possibility ofhooking upwith an insanely hot groomsman… But the thought of Hendrix Bradford wanting a post-wedding hookup makes my stomach jump to my throat and do a roundoff, back handspring, with two backwards flips in a pike position.

Basically, it turns my stomach into Simone Biles.

Amelia once told me that Beyoncé developed a fake persona to help her when she was nervous about going on stage.

Beyoncé’s persona isSasha Fierce, so we decided mine would beTasha Scarce, which made me a bit skeptical. Why was Tasha scarce? Was she broke? Had she gone missing? Would she dip out when I needed her most?

Amelia said myfearwas scarce, and I went with it. All those years of pageant training had to be good for something.

So while I wish I’d made it in time for “Dare Night”-dancing and tasting one of those little cups of vanilla ice cream with the Trinidad Scorpion blueberry sauce, Tasha gives me a fabulous personality to deflect my nerves around this big, rowdy family and their devastatingly handsome men.

“I’m a meteorologist.” I blink up at him with a smile. “I chase hurricanes.”

His brows quirk, and he steps closer, causing my core to clench. “Are you one of those poor reporters struggling to stand up against 100 mile-per-hour winds while you tell everybody to evacuate?”

“That’s me!” I even manage to laugh. “I almost ended up in the ocean once, but as you can tell, I’m not so easy to knock down.”

I motion to my sturdy frame, and his sexy eyes slide down my body. It’s like a hot caress, and it leaves me feeling completely naked and slippery and I’m pretty sure my ears are pink.

“You look good to me.” His low tone lights a fire in my veins, and I won’t lie, I like it.

Fighting the blush covering my entire upper torso, I lift my chin in defiance like Tasha would. “I’m going to be the next Jim Cantore.”

“Oh, shit.” His low laugh tickles my stomach. “If Jim Cantore shows up, you’d better get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Exactly!” I tap my finger against his rock-hard bicep. “Imagine how many lives he saves just by his reputation alone.”

“I never thought of it that way.” Hendrix’s smile reveals straight white teeth as he studies me. “That’s a pretty cool twist—a life-saving reputation.” He nods. “I like it.”

“If only my dad agreed with you.” I take a sip of the Modelo I’m holding. “He thinks I’m trying to be a weather girl.”

Hendrix’s forehead crinkles, and even his laugh is sexy. “Does anybody still sayweather girl?”

“My dad does.”

My tone mellows his humor, and he genuinely seems bothered by this new information. “I hate that. You have a dream, and it means a lot to you. Your dad should respect it.”

“I think so.” My lips twist into a smile, and the gratitude I feel helps with the nerves twisting my stomach. “I appreciate you saying that. It’s nice.”

He leans closer, and I’m surrounded by his sexy scent—warm vanilla and sandalwood. He smells delicious.

“I know what it’s like not to see eye to eye with your family.” His chin lifts, and he takes a sip of his own beer. “Or when they try to tell you what you’re supposed to want.”

I tilt my head, looking up at him. “People actually treatyouthat way?”

“I have three older brothers.” He smirks.

“In that case, we should join forces and be rebels this weekend.” Tasha is in full control right now. “Leave all those limits behind us.”

“I like how your mind works.” Mischief is in his eyes, and he lifts my hand into the crook of his arm. “If you’re game, we can have a little adventure. Just say the word.”

“I never know the right response to that.” I lean forward with a laugh. “Is itword? If so, thenword!”

He points at me. “Word up.”

2

Hendrix

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