Page 14 of The Best Man
“Say no more. Give me a sec to finish getting this stuff together for Elaine.” Ugh. I really want to be annoyed at him, and he’s making it difficult. And a Porsche. Damn the sexy guy who knows my weakness for fast cars.
“No problem. Do you really work in an industry wherein you have to explain to a grown man what constitutes a sentence?”
I shoot him a dry look. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve had to explain to grown men.”
“Ouch.”
“Present company excluded.”
“Damn right.” He smiles with satisfaction, and I momentarily regret that brief reference to our night together. I should have left it alone, should have allowed it to continue to be the giant-ass elephant we studiously ignored.
“You ready?” Ev is behind me, scooping up my tote.
“I am fully capable of carrying that,” I say, with more snark than necessary.
“Absolutely. But if you’re schlepping this, how can you catch these?” He pitches the rental keys in my direction, and in a move that would make my t-ball coach proud, I nab them in my left hand.
“You’re letting me drive?” I don’t know what his game is, but I won’t turn down a shot behind the wheel of that Porsche.
“Hell yea. Now, come on, or we’ll be late.”
“You sure about that? This car can go from zero to sixty in 2.5 seconds.”
“But a traffic violation will take at least twenty minutes. Come on, Speed Racer.”
We arrive at Picturesque, the photo studio my sister wants to book for her wedding, and I am 100% sure that Molly is pissed at me. And I have zero clue as to why. I mean, I know she said she’d meet me here, but is it really a big deal to arrive together? I’ll admit we didn’t do a ton of talking back in December, but I definitely got the impression that she was a woman who liked her cars fast. Turns out, I was right. So, I figured she’d love a turn at the wheel of the Porsche I rented, and truthfully, I loved watching her handle said car. There’s something undeniably sexy about a woman who is confident and determined, and Molly is clearly that.
I made polite conversation on the drive, and she answered in kind. There’s no outward hostility, just an underlying current of irritation.
At first, I figured she was mad about the way things ended. And I’m fully willing to admit that I’m not up-to-date on morning-after etiquette. Is she mad that I didn’t leave my number? I was maybe two miles down the road and already I regretted not leaving her a way to contact me. Had she felt the same way?
But that makes no sense. She’d been adamant about our one-night-only arrangement. Before we even stepped foot into her apartment, she’d pressed her palm against my chest and told me not to get too comfy. She said I was lucky to have her for the night, and I should plan on enjoying every minute, because there was definitely an expiration date. Not gonna lie, I think I fell halfway in love with her at that moment. She knew exactly what she wanted, and what she didn’t, and that’s a hell of a turn-on.
So it’s implausible that she’s now pissed because I left the next morning. That was more than two months ago. Surely the wound isn’t still fresh? Besides, she’s the one who laid down the edict about our time together being temporary.
Does she have an issue with the fact that I’m Elaine’s brother? That, too, seems unlikely. I mean, yeah, I gave her my middle name instead of my first, but she did the same. And we’re not in high school, so I highly doubt that she takes umbrage at having had a fling with her best friend’s older brother. That’s a juvenile complaint and though I can’t claim to know all there is to know about Molly Randall, I am certain she wouldn’t be so petty. We spent less than 12 hours together, sure, but she was genuine and up front at every turn. Well, exce[t for fake-naming me. But since I did the same thing to her, I’m calling that even.
“You waiting for an engraved invitation? Or should I be chivalrous and open your door?” She smiles cheekily as she stands poised outside the car.
“That’s why I’m still sitting here.” I deadpan. “And you sure as hell better open that lobby door for me. That thing looks heavy.”
“I was planning to, seeing how weak you clearly are.” She rolls her eyes and pops open my door. I notice that she pockets the keys—she’s not giving them up anytime soon.
“So, I figure I’ll take the lead on this since I’m sure you’re heading out of town soon. I don’t mind being the contact person. Really, apart from the fact that I love driving that car, you don’t even need to be here. I’m fully capable of handling all of this on my own. It’s kind of my thing.”
Her words should appease me. Hell, that would certainly make my life easier. Yes, my sister complimented my good taste yesterday, but that only holds true if you equate good with expensive. Or if you’re talking about suits, booze, or cigars. As for wedding photographers? Or venues? Or invitations? Definitely not my areas of expertise.
But something in her tone bothers me. She’s trying to get rid of me like I’ve overstayed my welcome. Sure, I fit the bill for a spectacular fuck, but that’s all I’m good for in her eyes.
The hell with that. I’ve been in the finance business nearly twenty years. I can read people easily, and I adjust my attitude accordingly in order to get what I want. And, for whatever crazy reason, I want more time with Molly.
I don’t respond to her offer, and if she takes that as acquiescence, so be it.
We walk into the studio together, and she holds the door as promised. I bat my eyelashes in appreciation. What is it about this woman that makes me act like a flirtatious teenager?
The lobby boasts clean lines and sparse decorating, save for the giant photographs hanging on the walls. There’s a naked, chubby baby in a rustic bathtub, a set of twins on a see-saw, and a married couple shoving cake in each other’s faces. I know next to nothing about photography. Just like most people, I guess, I know what I like, what appeals to me, but I have no actual knowledge of angles or lighting or anything. It’s obvious that this photographer knows her stuff.
As if on cue, a tall brunette appears behind the desk. “Hi, I’m Lori. You’re Simon and Elaine, here for the 11 o’clock wedding consult?”
