Page 18 of Wicked Pickle

We duck into the bridal suite on the pretext of setting aside our bouquets and wait a few minutes for the others to join the family.

Then we sneak down the hall to the French doors.

They’re closed now that the ceremony is over, but we can peer through the glass.

“Is he in there?” Jenna asks, jostling for position.

“I don’t see him,” I say, scanning the group. “Maybe he’s not family after all.”

A deep voice behind us rumbles, “Looking for me?”

All three of us jump.

I whirl around. Diesel is behind us.

“Hey,” I say, my voice wavering.

Jenna and Marietta dash off like the cowards they are.

Diesel watches me, his tie loose, the black shirt beneath his jacket open at the throat.

My heart thunders. I barely know him. It’s been two weeks since we met, and I didn’t exactly have his number to chat him up.

The silence stretches until I can’t take it anymore. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

“Uh. Good.” I’m way too nervous looking at him, so I turn back to the doors. “It was a lovely ceremony, don’t you think?”

“Definitely the part I was looking at.”

Does he mean me? My face heats, as well as several parts of my nether regions.

I watch the photographer arrange everyone around the couple. “You sat with the groom’s family.”

His voice is dark when he says, “Pretty dirty trick.”

White-hot confusion trickles through me. “What are you talking about?”

He takes my arm and whirls me around, pressing me against the glass door. His face is inches from mine. “What’s your game? How did your little party end up in my bar?”

God, he’s close. I breathe hard, taking in his woodsy aftershave and a hint of motorcycle exhaust. It’s like huffing danger.

“Answer me. Why were you at the Leaky Skull?”

My words rush out. “Bailey threw up in the car. The man driving kicked us out in your parking lot.”

Diesel leans away a fraction of an inch. “He abandoned you at a biker bar?”

“Yes! We needed to clean her up. I’ve never heard of you before. Or your bar.”

“What about Bailey?”

“I want to ask her. When you sat with the family, I was dying to know what she knew.”

Diesel blows out a gust of air against my cheek. “I’ll have words with her before this is over.”

As angry as he is? My urge to protect her kicks in. I lift my chin. “I won’t let you ruin her day. She doesn’t need a confrontation.”

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