Page 5 of Kiss the Girl
“Like every comedy with a wedding ever?”
“No. I’m offended that you’d question my creativity. Those always ruin the wedding cake. This is just the rehearsal dinner. Totally different.”
“Right. Got it. And you’d do this in front of everyone?”
“Obviously.”
“Wow. So I guess on that scale, me flashing an almost empty garden while trying to do my friend a solid should be humiliating.”
You couldn’t win at trick questions.
Time to backtrack. “I’m only spitballing.”
She smiled at me, the first smile from her that had felt real. Real and warm. “I appreciate the offers, but no deal. Here’s what would help: forget the garden thing ever happened. Forget what you saw, maybe even forget me. And on that note, I need to go check on Brooke.”
She turned with a sexy swish of her dress that sent it flaring out from her knees enough for me to get a glimpse of the legs I wasn’t going to forget.
Not those legs. Not her hanging upside down in the garden.
And definitely not her.
Chapter Three
Grace
It was a killer exit. I couldn’t believe that for once in my life, I’d come up with the right comeback at the right time. Normally I didn’t think of the right thing to say until the next time I was in the shower or stuck at a long red light.
I floated on that victory for about six steps until my stupid shoe hit wrong on the uneven terrace pavers and my ankle bent in like I was trying to do a Monty Python funny walk.
Once again, my gymnastics reflexes saved me, and I regained my balance with some windmilling and core strength. I had to freeze for a second to make sure I wasn’t going down the aisle on crutches tomorrow.
I gave my ankle a tiny wiggle and let out my breath when it felt okay. Then I froze again. Noah had probably seen that. Did I want to know? Could I stand it if he had? Because right now, it was fifty-fifty as to whether I would brush it off or leave town, family obligations be damned. This was potentially catastrophic ego damage, no repairs possible.
I wanted to know. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder toward Noah who was staring into the bottom of his cocktail glass like it was revealing the secrets of the universe. I snorted and walked off toward the pool house with the guest bathroom. That was the worst “I didn’t see a thing” acting job I’d ever seen in my life.
I slipped inside and splashed cold water over my face, careful to avoid my mascara. Once again, I had the overwhelming urge to drive home and be done with this whole ridiculous night, but I sighed, splashed my face again, reapplied my nude pink lipstick, and headed back out to the terrace to run interference between Brooke and her parents so she could enjoy her rehearsal dinner. Heaven knew I understood high maintenance moms.
I made a slight detour to the table first, scanning the place cards to make sure I wasn’t next to Noah. Knowing Brooke, she’d have seated us next to each other, but I’d had all the Noah-adjacent humiliation I could stand, even to appease her on her pre-wedding night.
She had. She’d put her mom on one side of me and Noah on the other. I rolled my eyes and snatched up the name card, hunting until I found the one that belonged to Izzy, Ian’s sister, and made the switch. I could handle that. I liked Izzy, who was the only other bridesmaid.
I found Brooke with her parents and smiled at Brooke, who smiled back, slightly strained around the edges. It was the look Brooke wore when her mom was trying to tweak wedding details. “Hey, Miss Lily was asking for you,” I said. She wasn’t, but it didn’t matter. Brooke needed a rescue.
“We’d better go see what she needs,” Ian said, familiar with the maneuvers needed to escape Mrs. Spencer when she wanted to make yet another of her infinitesimal wedding adjustments.
“How are you liking Creekville?” I asked the Spencers as Ian led Brooke away. “Aren’t Miss Lily’s grounds so perfect for a wedding?” A courteous but long litany from Mrs. Spencer about why they should have had the wedding in McClean followed, so I fixed a polite smile on my face and made sympathetic noises while I didn’t listen.
At last, one of the servers approached our group to let us know that dinner would begin soon, so I gently herded the Spencers toward the table, resigning myself to listening to more of the same when we took our seats.
Except when we reached the table, Noah was in the chair next to mine.
I frowned at him. “That’s Izzy’s spot.”
He picked up his place card and flicked it a casual glance before turning it toward me. “I don’t think so.”
The rat. He’d switched places, but I couldn’t call him out on it without making it clear that I’d changed it in the first place.
I took my seat and put my napkin in my lap, determined to make the best of a bad seating situation. Mrs. Spencer still wasn’t done so I listened to more of her wedding grievances. The catering crew had served our salads before Mr. Spencer drew his wife into a different conversation and I could take my first bite.
