Chapter 2
2
TESSA
I could only imagine how horrified my mother would be when she got back the wedding proofs and discovered me gawking in every picture. Yet, as I walked down the aisle, I couldn’t seem to put my face back to rights. I did all the actions. I looped my hand into Grant’s proffered elbow and began to walk, focused on the curve of his bicep under my fingertips even though I had never thought much about it before. But I couldn’t seem to throw on the unaffected smile I was meant to have. I tried, but then I remembered the last words he’d said and my mind began to whirl.
I was looking at you because you’re beautiful, he’d said.
I peeked up and over to find him looking at me, smiling crookedly, and I felt my lips curl in reply. It was a smile my mother could approve of, borne not of obligation or even from joy at seeing Nora married, but in simple reply to Grant’s smile. It was mind boggling.
I looked forward again, the smile now effortlessly in place, even as my mind frantically ran through the emotions flooding my body. I had never once thought of Grant as anything other than…well, Grant. That’s not to say he wasn’t attractive. On the contrary, Grant was handsome as hell. He was tall and lean with a strong jaw and straight nose. There should have been a crease between his eyes from the thoughtful frown he usually wore, but right now it was gone, erased by the rare, easy smile I found so mesmerizing. I glanced back at him, my eyes lingering too long on his lower lip, watching as a tiny muscle twitched, turning his smile into more of a grin, and I realized he was looking at me again.
A flash went off, reminding me we were at the end of the aisle, and I dropped his arm, a hot blush warming my cheeks as I turned and took my place. No one would notice the heat on my cheeks, not with Nora walking down the aisle, but I could only imagine what that final picture would look like. Was I gazing into Grant’s eyes?
My fingers tightened on my bouquet as my cheeks grew hotter with the memory. The whole of the audience had turned to watch Nora and Dad as they came out the doors and through the gable to enter the garden, but I risked one quick glance at Grant, surprised to find him staring back. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I raised my brow, as if perhaps he could answer the question of why the two of us were looking at one another instead of at the bride. Grant’s left shoulder bobbed slightly as if to say he was as confused as me.
The thing was, I believed him. Grant was many things, but he wasn’t suave. In the year since he’d come home to work at his father’s family practice, I’d had many encounters with him, and he was awkward on his best day. I’d heard rumor he’d gone on a lot of first dates since moving back to Bridgeport, but far less second dates. It was clear that neither his looks nor his wealth were getting in the way of his prospects, so I had to imagine it was his blunt, humorless demeanor.
The wedding began—a quick ceremony since Nora and Ethan had decided on choral vows, which they spoke together—and my eyes wandered over and over to Grant. It was hard not to look at him, since he stood directly opposite me, on the other side of the couple, and perhaps he felt the same way, because every time I looked, our eyes met across the altar.
Nora and Ethan kissed and were introduced by their friend, who was officiating, and as they turned to face the cheering crowd, I felt a bubbling excitement that—of all things—I would get to lace my hand around Grant’s arm. I handed Nora her flowers, bent to straighten her small train, then stood again, finding the elbow held out and the man smiling at me.
Down the aisle, to the receiving line, and straight out to pictures, all with Grant right next to me, and then we were standing in a field, being arranged by a young brunette with a camera, and we were split up without further comment.
“Tessy,” Jock said, stepping up to my side once more, breaking whatever invisible connection I’d begun to imagine stretched between Grant and me.
“Don’t call me that,” I muttered, but Jock always had and always would. Apparently it was very hard to get a moron who voluntarily went by “Jock” to understand the concept of disliking a nickname.
Jock winked. “I like the way you pretend to hate it,” he replied.
I sighed.
“This week has been crazy, but you’re not back to school yet, are you?” he asked.
“No,” I replied coolly, shaking my head. If I were being honest, I hated the fact that Nora had chosen to have her wedding in the last full week of summer before I went back to teaching, but it was unacceptable to complain about that, so I kept it tucked away in my brain. “I start next Thursday.”
Jock grinned. “We should go out on a date this week, then. How about Monday?”
“We still have family in town until late tomorrow night. I don’t even think I’m going to leave my house Monday. I’m already exhausted,” I said.
“No, no, you’re right,” Jock agreed. “We can do dinner on Tuesday.”
“It’s really a busy week,” I hedged.
“We’ll have so much fun, you won’t feel tired anymore.”
“She said no,” Grant said flatly, glowering at Jock, then looking at me. “Right? The answer’s no?”
I felt a little uncomfortable, put on the spot as I was, but I nodded with a conciliatory shrug. “No. Definitely not this week.” Jock was insipid, but I wasn’t ruling out sleeping with him in the future. The man was damn pretty and I was a single adult woman.
“No,” Grant grumbled, as if ruling it out altogether for me. I shot him a questioning look, but he only glowered harder (a feat I didn’t know was possible), his eyes remaining trained on Jock.
“Okay,” Jock replied, seeming mostly unfazed, though he looked questioningly at Grant. At least I wasn’t the only one confused by today’s interactions. “But let me get your number, Tess.”
“Let’s have the whole bridal party together here,” the photographer called out, and Grant looped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to the rest of the group.
“We stand here,” he said matter of factly, directing me to our spot. We were being positioned in a standard “prom pose” where each man stands behind a woman and settles their hands around the woman’s waist, but Grant had only one hand around me, a single large palm that splayed across my middle and pressed me close. I should’ve resisted, should’ve kept my distance, but instead I leaned into Grant’s hard body, aware of each muscle under his tux.
What was happening to me?
I was too distracted to realize Janet, the wedding planner, was speaking again, and Grant’s arm was still around me when he leaned into my ear and asked, “Which do you want to do?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. “Huh?” I asked inelegantly, turning a bit in his grasp so I could see him better. His arm didn’t drop.
He let out a tiny snort, his lips curling indulgently, and for a second I wondered if he knew I’d been fantasizing about him. Then he nodded toward the wedding planner. “It’s time to line up to be introduced,” he said, and now the hand that had splayed so possessively across my stomach shifted to my back as he began to walk. I fell into step with him as he continued talking. “She said we can walk out or we can dance. Which would you like to do?”
“I can’t dance,” I said automatically.
“Personal preference?” Grant asked.
“Personal capability,” I replied simply. “I can’t dance.”
His head cocked to one side as if the idea didn’t compute. “I can dance. Do you want to dance with me?”
“Best man, maid of honor, right here!” Janet directed, waving us over impatiently. “You’re first for this part,” she explained as we took our spot at the front of the line. God, I hated being first.
“Say yes,” Grant whispered. His face dipped closer to mine to remain private, and when I turned to look at him he was only centimeters away. My eyes darted—blue eyes, hint of stubble at his cheeks, full lips…
“To what?” I asked blankly, my eyes lingering on his lips.
“Introducing, Best Man, Grant Dupree, and Maid of Honor, Tessa Davis!” the DJ exclaimed.
Grant smiled. “All you have to do is grab my hand and stay with me,” he murmured, ushering us forward onto the dance floor. During the ceremony I hadn’t felt on display, but now I was, and, lacking any better option, I turned toward Grant and accepted his hand. He pulled me close, very nearly holding me up with his grip on my back, and then the crowd was gone, and there was only the blur of faces as he turned us. He took big, fluid steps, while I took a thousand little steps to keep up, but I didn’t stumble, even when he shifted the hand from my back and said, “Spin back to me, I’ll catch you,” and he pushed me away from his body. Reaching the limit of our outstretched arms, I spun back until he caught me against his chest and rocked us. The crowd cheered. It was bizarre, like I’d just performed in a talent show I hadn’t meant to sign up for. Slipping an arm around my waist—which was for the best because I didn’t even remember where I was supposed to walk—Grant led us toward the head table at the edge of the lawn. Behind us, I heard more announcements from the DJ, and all eyes remained trained on the dance floor. Without thinking, I grabbed Grant by the arm and dragged him behind a hedge.
“I think we’re supposed to go to the head table,” Grant said, the knit in his brow back as he tried to make sense of why I’d dragged him off course. And maybe it was the strangeness of the day or exultant feeling of being the center of attention, but that crease between his brows was suddenly charming the hell out of me, and I threw my arms around him in a hug, throwing a kiss on his cheek.
Or, at least, that was what I meant to do. But in a Freudian slip of kisses, my lips landed far closer to his mouth than I’d intended. Like, almost all the way onto his mouth. Let’s say five-sixths of the way onto his mouth.
But instead of freezing in embarrassed horror, as I did, Grant’s lips softened. His arms found my waist and then my hands—my traitorous, moving-of-their-own-accord hands—dug into the hair at the back of his neck, keeping him close. When his tongue swept between my lips, I moaned into his mouth, pressing closer.
“Holy shit,” I whispered, pushing Grant away suddenly, shaking my head. What in the sweet hell was I doing? “We have to go sit down,” I hissed, straightening my dress for the thousandth time and walking quickly back around the hedge.
“Tess,” Grant called out hoarsely, but I didn’t turn back. The whole family was probably sitting, waiting for me—for us!
But when I turned the corner and my eyes set on the table, what I found was even worse. Every seat at the table was filled except for my sisters, who were all gone.My heart thundered, wondering if they were looking for me.
“We should talk later,” Grant murmured as he passed, making his way to the table and sitting at his assigned seat.I had no idea where my sisters were, so I found my own spot and poked at the flatware absently.
A moment later, I was flanked on either side by Nora and Claire. Nora’s bright green eyes burned in a way I knew was dangerous, and I turned to Claire for information. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
Claire looked at me, and I swore she’d been crying. Panic turned my stomach. “I’ll be fine. Are you okay?”
I nodded dumbly, clearing my thoughts and wiping any lingering expression off my face. “I’m fine,” I said quickly.
Totally fine. Completely fine.