Page 41 of Holiday Wedding
“I thought I’d let you pick the flavor.”
I drop my hand and blink at him, uncomprehending. “Why? This cake is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten. You have to try.” When he still doesn’t reach for his fork, I cry out, frustrated, “Come on! Live a little.”
His movements controlled, Dean carefully rolls back the sleeves of his pristine white dress shirt. I stop chewing, distracted by his corded forearms, which have enough muscle to crack a walnut in the crook of his elbow. Once that’s done, he reluctantly reaches for the fork and picks up a bite of yellow cake mixed with eggnog buttercream frosting. When he places it in his mouth, Dean lets out a quiet, “Yum.”
“See?” I take a bite. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
His eyes are bright with pleasure as he chews. “It’s phenomenal.”
“Here,” I say, holding out my cake-laden fork, “try the pink champagne with the vanilla frosting.”
Dean freezes, staring at me. I hold the fork higher, offering it to him. Slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, he leans forward and gently takes the cake between his teeth. His breath, warm and soft, brushes against my knuckles before he pulls back.
Butterflies swoop low in my stomach, fluttering their wings before I crush them.Stop it,I tell myself.This is Dean. We don’t like him, remember?
I’m suddenly absorbed by the way his jaw moves as he chews, the way his throat works when he swallows, and the shallow way he’s breathing, stuck in this tiny room with me. He catches me watching and stills. Brown eyes unblinking, he stares back with that intense gaze of his. There’s a hint of apprehension in his expression, mixed with something intense. Tension builds, a string pulling taut that snaps when he looks away.
He clears his throat, then changes the subject. “Any updates on the wedding planning?”
Bolder now, Dean grabs a large scoop of vanilla cake with vanilla frosting.
I mix chocolate and raspberry. “The wedding?” I lick frosting off the back of my fork. Dean tracks the motion, and my cheeks burn. “Um—” I stammer, suddenly self-conscious. “I went over the to-do list with Gwen on the phone this morning. She still feels guilty for leaving.”
“She shouldn’t.”
“I agree, but you know Gwen. She’s not the best at asking for help. I told her we’ve got it covered. The only big thing left is the final fittings for the tuxes and my bridesmaid dress. We will go on Thursday for that. I assume you’ll be there too? Getting your tuxedo altered?”
Dean nods confirmation.
“We have most of the preparations done.” I drop my hands into my lap and blow out an audible breath. “Weddings are a lot of work. All this effort for an event that’s going to last less than six hours.”
Dean chews slowly, leaned back in his chair. He swallows. “Do you think it’s not worth it?”
“Are you kidding me? For Gwen, it’s definitely worth it. We’ve been planning imaginary marriages to our Prince Charmings since we were pre-teens. I’d do anything to give her the wedding of her dreams. She deserves it more than anyone.”
Brown eyes with rings of gold observe me intently. “You really love her, don’t you?”
“She’s my sister from another mister.” I try to say it lightheartedly, but there’s a pang from deep inside because it’s the truth.
A beat of silence, then he says, “I owe you an apology.”
I sit up with a start. “Apology?” I repeat dumbly.
He shifts, the metal of his chair creaking alarmingly. Dean casts his gaze upward, at the ceiling, and says, “It was hard, watching Caleb fall apart when he lost Gwen, dragging him out of bars, tucking him into bed when he passed out. I know there’s no one to blame but him. It was his decisions, his choices, but it’s hard to be angry at someone who’s already suffering so much.” He visibly swallows, his voice dropping lower by an octave. “I needed to point the finger at someone, and I directed it at you. Maybe that was unfair.” His eyes drift back up to meet mine. “I’m sorry.”
Something inside me lightens. Dean’s not looking at me like a person he hates right now. Instead, he watches me warily, like he’s worriedImight not likehim.
Before I can respond, Laura pokes her head into the room. She says, “Just checking on you lovebirds. Do you need anything?”
I smile sweetly at Dean. “What do you think, Boo Bear? Need anything?”
His gaze narrows as my grin grows wider. Then he smirks and says, “No, Sweetheart. I’ve got everything I need.”
Sweetheart.
“Okey-doke,” Laura says cheerfully. “I’ve got to grab a cake out of the oven and then I’ll be back to get your selection.”
Once she’s gone, Dean growls, “Boo Bear, really, Jennifer?”
