Chapter 20 Grace Nash
Spencer in a Suit
The Day After the Wedding
I smooth down the silver sequins on the cocktail minidress I bought for tonight’s dinner. Spencer read me the dress code from the itinerary, and this was what I went with. I’m nervous to walk out of the bathroom to see his reaction, though I’m not sure why I’m nervous.
I feel pretty in this dress. I feel sexy and sensual.
But I’m not sure if sexy and sensual is appropriate. It’s a bit lower cut in the boob area than I’m used to, and it’s a bit higher cut up the thigh area than I’m used to.
So it’s a short, tight, lowcut dress when I’m usually more of a cover-it-all-up kind of gal—and I’ll be meeting his family in this dress.
I’ve already met Lincoln, but that was before the wedding when I was screaming like a banshee around a security guard.
I’ve already met Grayson, and he walked out in utter disappointment at both of us when he learned the truth.
I haven’t met Asher yet, and I haven’t met Spencer’s parents, who may or may not be in attendance tonight. I haven’t met Spencer’s sister-in-law, a former sports reporter married to the head coach of the Vegas Aces .
It’s a family of celebrities, and I’m just a nerdy girl hoping to inherit her family’s winery as I walk into a situation I probably have no business walking into. Spencer’s barely been broken up with Amelia for five seconds—or three months, anyway—and now he’s married to me when there were no signs whatsoever that we were even dating.
So…yeah. The nerves are in full force, and after dissecting all of that in my mind, I think they have every right to be.
But there’s no turning back. Eventually, I’m going to have to face my husband’s family…or I’ll have to meet them anyway.
I draw in a deep breath and slowly let it deflate through my mouth, and then I open the door.
On the other side of it stands Spencer Nash in a suit.
Spencer. Nash. In a suit.
My brain malfunctions. My mouth malfunctions.
I gasp.
“Holy shit, Spence.”
He looks good all day, every day, but something about seeing him in a suit as he gets ready to attend a fancy dinner followed by a Vegas show is out of this world. His hair is slicked back, which highlights the blue of his eyes, and he looks as if he hasn’t shaved in a few days, which somehow makes him look tough and rugged even though his personality comes off more on the golden retriever side. His eyes connect with mine, and his heat as they sweep down my frame before moving back up again.
“Wow,” he grunts. “That dress…you look great, Gracie.”
Hearing him turn my name into two syllables with a bit of a rasp in his tone does things to me.
Crazy things.
Intense things.
A deep, dark ache pulses between my thighs.
I want to rush at him, to take him in my arms and kiss him and let him do whatever he wants to my body. His eyes dip to my cleavage again, and then they flick to my lips before they move to my eyes once again.
He feels it too. I know he does.
I clear my throat. “Thank you,” I say softly. “And you in a suit…wo w, Spence. Impressive.”
One side of his mouth tips up into a smile, and then he reaches for my hand. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I confirm. I grab the handbag I bought that matches the dress, and we head downstairs to get into the limo provided by the hotel to take us to another hotel for dinner. We end up at a fine dining steakhouse at the Aria, and we’re led through the restaurant toward a private room in the back.
And that’s where we find the party just getting underway.
I recognize Lincoln right away, and his arm is around a woman who’s holding a baby. By her side is a young boy of maybe nine or ten, and they’re talking to a woman who has to be Spencer’s mom—a woman who looks quite a bit like the man she’s currently chatting with. She’s wearing a dusky rose-colored ruffled dress, and her hair is pinned up, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s also going to the burlesque show.
Won’t that be weird to go to a sexy Vegas show with your mom ? I wouldn’t want to go with mine.
My relationship with my mom isn’t very complicated. She’s my mom, and I’m an adult who no longer lives with her. We text and talk a few times a week, but she’s busy living her best life while I’m busy living mine—best or otherwise.
She’s a free spirit, and I’m more conventional like my dad. Nana really took on the role of raising me, but she sort of took on the role of raising Amelia, too—which is why it’s such a mystery that we ended up so completely opposite of one another. You know, that whole good versus evil thing.
Though I suppose I’m giving my evil sister a run for her money by marrying her ex-boyfriend five minutes after their relationship death certificate was signed. Maybe I’m giving my free-spirited mother a run for hers, too.
The woman talking to Lincoln glances toward the doorway as we enter, like she has some sixth sense that one of her sons just arrived, and she excuses herself from her conversation with Lincoln as she ambles over toward us, her ruffled dress sashaying all the way over.
“Spencer Thomas, introduce me to your bride immediately,” she demands, and even though she’s yelling at her son, there’s an air of cheer about her that tells us both she’s joking around .
“Mother, meet Grace, your new daughter-in-law,” he says dryly, and he holds a sweeping hand out toward me.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nash,” I say softly.
“Oh, stop all that formality, my dear,” she says, and she moves in for a hug. She squeezes me tightly. “Call me Missy or Mom, but never Mrs. Nash.” She pulls back and holds me at arm’s length as she studies me. “You’re a gorgeous girl that I wish I could’ve seen as a bride. In your own clothes, of course.”
My cheeks burn red in total and complete mortification.
“She’s teasing you,” Spencer says. “She does that to the people she loves most. You’ll see.”
She can’t love me yet. She doesn’t even know me. But at least her teasing me seems like a good sign that maybe eventually I’ll win her over.
“See? It’s funny already,” she says, letting go of me and elbowing Spencer in the ribs.
He grunts a little.
“Tell me all about yourself, and leave not a single detail out,” she says to me, and she slings an arm around my shoulders and starts to guide me toward the bar.
Yes. The bar. A glass of wine is needed promptly if I’m going to make it to the other side of this evening alive.
“There’s my ex, also known as your new father-in-law,” she says, nodding toward a man talking to a slightly younger, slightly shorter and leaner version of Spencer wearing a purple velvet tracksuit when everyone else here is dressed to the nines. “And Asher, my youngest, in the velour.” We approach the bar, and Missy yells to the bartender. “Take care of this one, okay? She’s a newlywed.”
Oh, God. My face burns again, and I know she’s just being sweet, but she’s really talented at embarrassing me.
“Oh, is this the girl Spence drunk-married last night?” Asher asks, turning away from his conversation with his father and beelining toward Missy and me.
“The very one,” Missy confirms.
I feel like this is going to be a very long night.