Single Bells (Davis Sisters #2)

Chapter 1

1

GRANT

August

Next to me, Tessa Davis was smoothing her dress for what felt like the hundredth time. The bridesmaid dress was hideous—a crimson crushed velvet that had to be uncomfortable in the late August heat, but Tessa wore it well, filling every curve as if it were a second skin, looking simultaneously sexy and a little wicked.

“You look great,” I said, but Tessa only frowned, her brow pulling low over her dark green eyes. She tugged the dress once more.

I assumed this frown meant Tessa was feeling particularly stressed, because, of the Davis sisters, she was generally the nicest. Emily, oldest sister and most horrible shrew of the bunch, was in line ahead of where we stood. Emily and I had been in the same grade in school, though she was a year older in age than me, and she’d hated me from the jump.

Literally.

From the moment I’d skipped the fifth grade and started middle school with her, Emily had been ruthless. I used to think her hatred was personal—and it probably was—but as we got older I’d also become increasingly sure hostility was her default setting.

Behind Emily was my sister, Alexandra, followed by the second-oldest Davis sister, Claire. Claire was pretty, but the bridesmaids dresses didn’t suit her. The deep crimson looked lovely against the pale skin of all three eldest Davis sisters, but the cut of the dress hung on Claire. My gaze was drawn to the ripple of fabric across her hips, but I looked away quickly.

This past week had been incredibly awkward with Claire, and I didn’t want to get caught staring. Next to her was my brother’s best friend, Jock, who was currently leaning back to whisper to Tessa. My eyes lingered on this interaction, and I felt an odd tug in my gut I couldn’t identify. I assumed my discomfort was due to the clusterfuck the past few days had been.

In preparation for the wedding, Claire and Emily had both come to visit our hometown of Bridgeport. As a junior in high school, I’d had a short-lived crush on Claire Davis, but I hadn’t thought about her in years. Still, when Claire’s mother, Juliet, had announced Claire would be coming home and that I should date her, Claire suddenly became very centered in my thoughts.

At first, I’d been skeptical. Claire had been my childhood crush, sure, but she’d lived in Bridgeport for a few years after college and I hadn’t really thought about her. If I were honest, she didn’t especially appeal to me now. She was high strung and anxious with a thin, angular body. Not that she wasn’t beautiful—she was—she simply lacked all the plush curves I’d grown to crave as an adult.

But I would never say such a thing. I’d admit to having a tendency to say the wrong thing and offend people, but even I knew suggesting a beautiful woman was too thin for my taste was absolutely not something to be said aloud.

Besides, people thought Claire and I would make a good match—people like my mom and Juliet—people who usually knew better than I did. Juliet had said to me, “You and Claire would be perfect together. You’re both so smart, and she’s good at talking to people. You’d be great for each other.” The statement had bounced around my head for two weeks, making me uncomfortable every time I replayed it. Did I require Claire as a translator? Was I that terrible at interacting with other humans?

But Juliet wouldn’t lie to me. She was frank, but she was honest. And if she thought I needed Claire to help me be more approachable, she must be right.

Next to me, Jock drew my attention once more. “You’re going to save a dance for me, right, Tessy?” He was leaned up close to Tessa’s ear, and my eyes narrowed irritably at the sight.

Although she was a few years younger than Claire, Tessa was a grown woman, surely capable of speaking for herself. And yet, before I could think better of it, I snapped, “Don’t speak to her.” Then added, “Don’t speak at all,” when I realized it sounded more like I was upset about his interaction with Tessa than that he never shut the hell up.

Ethan’s friends were all a bunch of dumbasses, and while Jock Jurkowski had never annoyed me prior to this wedding, his constant flirting was growing irritating. Women liked Jock, though, so I’d probably stuck my foot in my mouth.

I risked a glance over to Tessa, bracing myself for anger, but she was smiling. She’d always been the quietest and most serious of her sisters, and it occurred to me how infrequently I saw Tessa’s smile. Instead, her expression more often defaulted to a wry twist of her lips, her brow tilted over her dark green eyes.

And so maybe it was the rarity of that smile that scattered my thoughts for a moment.

Whatever it was, it was dazzling, and I blinked at her blankly for a second, until she mouthed, “Thank you,” and like a switch being flipped, I regained my ability to think coherent thoughts and I nodded in return.

Although she looked similar to her sisters, Tessa tended toward plain hairstyles and minimal make-up. She was unquestionably beautiful, but she didn’t always stand out the way Claire and Nora did. Smiling widely as she was now, as if a laugh was on the verge of bubbling up out of her at any moment, she was unmistakably gorgeous, though, and I imagined she had to fend off the advances of far more men than just Jock. Oddly, the thought irritated me.

I turned forward, preparing for our walk down the aisle, but my emotions still swirled like a maelstrom, and I snuck another peek in Tessa’s direction.

Tessa’s eyes were different from her sisters. The other three Davis sisters had bright eyes the color of sea glass, but Tessa’s were so dark most people probably assumed they were brown. Up close it was evident her eyes were actually a dark, mossy green, and while they didn’t get the attention her sisters’ glowing eye color did, I’d found them absolutely compelling ever since I’d noticed them a few months ago.

“What?” Tessa asked, this time in a whisper.

“What, what ?” I asked in reply, not sure what she was asking me.

“You’re looking at me,” she hissed. “Weird.”

Of all the Davis sisters, Tessa was the easiest to talk to, a quiet listener with a good sense of humor. “I was thinking about your eyes,” I replied, kicking myself for the embarrassing level of honesty nearly as soon as the words left my lips. So often in my life I said the wrong thing, and each time my words were followed by the same perplexed look. This time was no different, and I recognized the expression immediately. Her knitted brow and thoughtful frown demanded I say more, that I provide some context or explanation for the unexpected words.

“They’re much darker than your sisters’, but they’re pretty,” I added, but these were still not the right words, and Tessa was still frowning.

“They got the good green,” she muttered.

“I don’t think so,” I replied quickly.

Tessa’s eyes widened slightly, as if I’d strummed one of her most delicate nerves and she hadn’t decided if it felt good or bad.

“They remind me of mossy trees in the dark parts of the forest.”

Tessa’s brow tightened further—this time in thought—as if she were trying to decide if this were positive or negative.

“Pretty,” I added lamely.

“Okay,” she replied, dragging out the two syllables in a way I knew well. It meant she found my statement odd. It was a favorite dismissal among women—men tended toward the more clipped “ Okay then .”

It shouldn’t have bothered me, and yet, as Tessa’s eyes settled on the door where Janet, the wedding planner, stood with her hand poised on the handle, ready to usher us down the aisle as best man and maid of honor in mere moments, my eyes fell on her. “I meant you look beautiful. I was looking at you because you’re beautiful,” I said.

Her gaze shot back to me, mouth dropped in shock, but before she could reply we were shushed by the wedding planner, who swung the doors open and nodded at the front of the line. I stuck out my elbow and pasted a smile on my face, just as I’d been instructed.