Page 6 of Wretched Heart
“Come on, then,” Melissa says as the coffee machine grinds the beans. “We need more details. What made you realize you were marrying a douchebag at the very last minute?”
“You know that point in the service where the pastor asks if someone wants to object? Well, someone objected,’ I say as an image of Hunter forms in my mind.
Melissa sets down my espresso and peers at me. “Oh. My. God. Please, say it was another man,” she begs. My expression must give me away because her mouth gapes. “It was, wasn’t it?”
Ignoring the coffee, I reach for the dregs of whiskey in my glass and knock it back. The heat goes straight down my spine to my… “I don’t know who this man was,” I explain quickly.
“But he was hot,” Melissa concludes.
I offer a nervous laugh. “If you ever get bored of bar work, you should join some elite interrogation unit,” I reply, to which, Melissa waits patiently. I huff out a sigh. “Fine, yes he was damn hot.”
“Describe him, woman.”
I stretch my hand high above me. “Tall enough that I’d need to be on tiptoe to touch the top of his head.”
“Or run your fingers through his hair.”
“Dark brown locks just long enough to grip,” I reply, helping her paint the picture. The whiskey has certainly loosened my tongue, and is now working on my inhibitions. “And his green eyes were so intense. It was like they held the power to see right into my soul.”
Melissa shudders in a way she seems to enjoy. “Was he ripped?”
I roll my eyes. “He was wearing a custom-made suit that strained around his biceps. And his thighs were as thick as tree trunks.”
“Lots of tattoos?”
“Not visible, but yeah, I imagine so,” I say with a groan because now I’m imagining in exquisite detail what might have been underneath that suit.
“Jesus.”
I check the guy next to me who’d been sitting quietly until this point.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he explains. “But for the record, I accept defeat. I don’t think I want to get on the wrong side of this guy.”
“No, I don’t think you would,” I agree, but I can’t help smiling. Hunter has inadvertently saved me from the lecher next to me. For the second time today. What had been in store for me if I’d gone ahead and married Barrett? It wasn’t just me he intended on ruining, but my family’s business.
I notice Melissa’s eyes sparkling. She’s still thinking about Hunter. “Damn, I’ve never met the guy, and I can already tell you that I’d be saying I do to whatever he asked,” she says in a low voice. Her eyes narrow. “And so would you.”
“Stop!” I warn before she gets carried away by some fantasy and takes me with her. “This isn’t some wild, romantic story. He wasn’t my hero. I didn’t have two men fighting over me on my wedding day. It was just two men fighting each other. I was collateral damage.”
That sinks the mood, and we fall silent long enough for me to drink my espresso, clear my head and plan my next move. My bladder has become painfully full despite myefforts. My sister-in-law had needed to lift my dress for me this morning while I used the bathroom. Jennifer and I have become close friends and confidantes since she married my brother, and I don’t envy her being left behind to manage whatever fit Hugo’s throwing right now.
With no more than a subtle nod to Melissa, she finds someone to cover the bar and leads me to the restroom located between the bar and reception. After my earlier humiliation, the prospect of having a stranger pull down my panties because I can’t reach past the interminable layers of tulle and silk, barely registers. Melissa couldn’t be sweeter and I don’t begrudge her the story she’ll be able to tell for years to come.
My relief as I head back to the bar is short-lived when I catch furtive movement in my periphery. I scan the reception area, but there are columns that block my view. If it was a glimpse of a man in a dark suit I’d caught, I don’t see him now. The hairs on the back of my exposed neck stand on end. It’s enough of a reminder that I should book a room and hide out of sight sooner rather than later. Using the corporate account is still my backup option, but I might see if I can persuade the guy at the bar to exchange cash for my ring since Melissa wouldn’t take it.
I follow closely behind the server, and as we reach the bar, I glance over my shoulder to check the reception area again. I don’t see anything amiss.
My sigh of relief catches in my throat as I face front again. Melissa has slipped behind the bar, and I get my clearest view of the man waiting for us. It isn’t the bored businessman we’d left.
When the new arrival stands up, I have to tip my head to look up into his moss green eyes. “No, no, no,” I repeat as I start backing away.
My heel spears through a layer of my dress, pinning it to the floor, and my next step back snags on more fabric. As I start to fall back, Hunter slips one arm around my waist, and the other snakes around my neck. The touch of skin against skin sends my emotions into freefall.
“I think you should sit down.”
“I don’t want…” His thumb strokes the nape of my neck. I should resist. Ineedto resist, but my heels are snagged in my dress. I can’t move forward or backwards even if I wanted.
Hunter lifts me by the waist and drops me onto a bar stool. “Stay,” he orders, his voice so deep it vibrates through to my core.
