Page 7 of Always a Bridesmaid

3

Henry made his way through the ballroom, greeting people and making sure everything ran smoothly. The cocktail party was in full swing. People had come from all around the world to share in Sarah and Wayne’s special day and he wanted to make sure they felt welcomed. At least that was the job Sarah had delegated to him minutes before the first guest arrived.

Since Sarah and Wayne wanted their guests to feel as if they were getting a taste of not only the UK but also each European country that they’d be visiting on their honeymoon, they had chosen a different theme for each event leading up to a traditional British wedding, which would be held at a stunning cathedral on the west side of London.

Tonight started the week of festivities, a welcome party for out-of-town friends and family. Sarah had gone for an Italian Riviera vibe, with potted topiaries and floral arrangements scattered through the ballroom.“In the colors eternalized by the most famous of Italian Impressionists,”she’d explained as if Henry were one of her bridesmaids.“I want a full-sized stringquartet playing classical renditions of modern songs, like how they did it on Bridgerton.”

The brother part of him had been tempted to zone out on the hour-long call where she explained every minute detail of each event. But the protect part, which always won out, had listened to every word andOoh-edandAhh-edat all the right moments. He’d even smiled a few times. She’d been so excited it was like she was using all caps when she spoke.

She’d thanked him over and over again, which he said wasn’t necessary, which it wasn’t. He loved to spoil his family. But it made his day to see her this excited. He was still feeling out Wayne, but he had to admit that he hadn’t seen his sister this happy since before their dad left.

“It’s the first event, so it will set the mood for the entire week,”she had explained.

Which was how he wound up spending his evening moving through the room and chatting up everyone he ran into—strangers and friendlies. Thank god Sarah had made it mandatory that people surrendered their phones at the door or he’d have spent his night taking selfies with everyone he came across. As it was, he’d signed a hundred or so cocktail napkins. Not that he’d normally complain. He liked engaging with fans, they were a huge part of the reason for his commercial success, but tonight he wanted to fill the role of Sarah’s brother—let her shine in the spotlight.

“It’s about time,” his longtime friend and fellow racer, Jake Evans, said as he approached the bar. “You’ve been so busy playing the lady of the house I wasn’t sure if you had to surrender your man card along with your phone.”

Because he was the host and financier of the event, he had surrendered neither.

“Do you have sisters? No? Then fuck off,” Henry said.

“I’m just saying there’s a lot of pretty ladies here and you’re rubbing shoulders with the grannies.”

Oh, Henry was well aware of the view. He’d been scoping the more age-appropriate female population of the room all evening, and there were several potential candidates. See, he had an endgame for the evening. And it included champagne, tangled sheets, and a beautiful woman.

He’d already spoken to a few, including a beautiful brunette who was cheeky, had great banter, and no ties to his sisters. She had shown all the signs that she was interested. Now all he had to do was clarify that it was casual. He wasn’t really into one-night stands anymore, but a week-long fling would be a nice distraction. As long as all parties involved knew that when the wedding was over so was their time.

“Where’s Enzo?” he asked, referring to his teammate.

“He’s already working the room.”

“As long as he isn’t working one of my sister’s friends or the wedding party, we’ll be fine.”

“Good to know because Camilla is looking smokin’ in that little black dress. And may I emphasize the wordlittle?” the American said, and even though he knew Jake was screwing with him, he still wanted to punch him.

Jake was another Formula 1 racer—the only one from America, which the guys gave him shit for—and one of Henry’s biggest competitors. Only thirteen points separated them from becoming the World Champion last season, but Henry had come out on top. Even through that they had remained best mates. So while they were fierce competitors on the track, their bond was cemented off the track.

“She’s twenty,” he said through a clenched jaw, because Jake wasn’t the only man to have noticed his sister.

“Point taken.”

“Your brother-in-law’s cousin is pretty hot.”

“They haven’t saidI dojust yet. And relations are off-limits in case they do.”

“Got it.”

Henry scanned the room for the brunette, his eyes snagging on the back of a woman in a jewel-colored green dress in the process. It was silky, with these skinny straps that were made to drive a man crazy. The fabric draped at her lower back and hung to her toes, hugging every curve in between. And there were a lot of curves. Even in her mile-high heels, she was a pocket rocket.

Her hair was this light red, golden under the chandeliers and twinkle lights that were strung overhead like a constellation. Part of her waves were twisted into some kind of complicated knot at the base of her head, while the rest hung past the middle of her bare back. Even though he couldn’t see her face, he couldn’t seem to look away.

“Yeah, I spotted her too. Talked to her actually,” Jake said, and a ping of jealously jolted through him, which was ridiculous since a) he’d never met the woman and b) he didn’t do jealousy. “She’s American, hot, funny, and not interested in a fling. She must be gay.”

Henry snorted. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Jake looked horrified for a brief moment, then smiled. “Nah, it’s never me.”

“Care to place a wager?”

---