Page 9 of Definitely (Maybe) Dating
Be nice.
One minute she was studying the eclectic collection of state-shaped stickers covering her camera bag—Alabama to Wyoming and every state in between—and the next her gaze was locked on his. He took note of every emotion that crossed her face, uncertainty and cautious surprise fighting for dominance, which made him wonder what kind of assholes she’d been exposed to. Then the shutters dropped, and it was all Tough Girl all the time.
“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Once again, she thrust it his way. And once again, he didn’t take it. “Take the money, then we’re even. You helped me, I paid you, no substitutes, exchanges, or fine-print favors to come back and haunt me.”
“No favor, no haunting. You needed a ride. I had a car.” He shrugged. “Simple.”
“You performed a service. I paid you. Doesn’t get simpler than that.” She shoved the money into his shirt pocket and gave it a little pat.
He looked at the bills sticking out of his pocket, then at Piper. “You and I know what kind of service I provided, but if my brothers see me with a beautiful lady who’s stuffing bills into my clothes, they’re going to ask where my G-string is.”
“Not my problem. Now scoot.” She even gave a cute little flick of the wrist as if she was used to people moving aside for her.
He scooted, right up the steps, to the back door where, with a grand sweeping gesture befitting of Jeeves, he opened the back door for her. “Ladies first.”
She moved in behind him and, looking around as if about to impart secrets of national security, whispered, “What are you doing?”
“Getting the door.”
She stepped inside, then faced him. “Thank you. Now you can close it and leave.”
When he didn’t move, she crossed her arms and gave him a frosty glare to emphasize the level of irritation, which, based on the daggers she was shooting his way, ranked somewhere between a cool disdain and cryogenically freezing his nuts “Seriously, you did me a solid, but I’m already late and I can’t be distracted by you hanging around.”
“I distract you?”
“You’re missing the point.”
“The point that I distract you was not missed but catalogued to discuss at a later date.”
“There won’t be any date.” She wiggled her fingers. “Bye.”
“We can talk about that at our second date.” Before she could close the door on him, he stuck his foot out. “And did you think that maybe I’m going to the party as well?”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed. “Do you have another client?”
“Nope.”
Jillian appeared in the doorway, her hair spilling from her ponytail, her blouse covered in frosting—looking about one Margo-moment from losing it.
“Thank God you’re here. Margo has too much time on her hands. She’s already rearranged the flowers and put out a poll to see if anyone has food sensitivities, even though I explained that I have gluten-freeandvegan options. Now she’s watching YouTube videos on how to shoot a wedding using only a smartphone,” Jillian said in one long breath.
“I can be set up and ready to shoot in two minutes,” Piper said, feeling all kinds of confused when Jillian bypassed her to get to Josh.
“Josh,” Jillian placed a pleading hand on his arm, “please go soothe the beast before she turns, what’s supposed to be Darcy’s night, into some kind of reality show. Because if your mom’s in charge, I will be the first kicked off the island.”
“Your mom?” Piper asked, and Josh smiled.
“Well, this is awkward,” he said. “Usually, I know a woman’s name before I help her out of her dress. Then again, nothing about today has been normal.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Josh Easton. The best man. Nice to meet you.”
3
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“Hi, I’mJosh?”Piper said, lowering her voice and sounding more like Meathead Josh than the Josh in question, but his smile said he got the point. “Seriously, just 'Hi, I’m Josh' with no further explanation. Not cool.”
“You didn’t tell me your last name,” he said, his hands gripping the top of the door frame, his legs spread wide in a stance that was completely masculine.
After the disastrous start to an already disastrous first day on the job, Piper had gone out of her way to avoid Josh. She’d scouted two locations for the happy couple—neither of which Margo signed off on with her steel opinion—and was staging a third when Josh walked in.
