Chapter Two
Kaylee
I stare at the king-size bed in disbelief.
Behind me, Tristan stops short. “What’s wrong?” he asks, stepping around me and following my gaze. “Oh. There’s just one bed.”
“I planned on reminding her but that woman with her crying kids interrupted me and I forgot.” Sharing a room is something I can handle. Sharing a bed, however? Not so much, I think, and bite down on my lower lip. “This is a mistake. I’ll call the front desk and get it sorted out.”
I do, and the woman who checked me in confirms I booked a double with two queen beds. Relief fills me until she explains they’re fully booked, as they told the older couple, and there are no other available rooms to switch. She apologizes profusely and I hang up, assuring her it’s not her fault.
“We’re stuck with this room, aren’t we?” Tristan asks. He’s moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back on his elbows, looking extremely relaxed and even more sexy than usual.
I know it’s not intentional, but he’s doing nothing to make this situation any easier. “What is up with this resort?” I ask, frustration lacing my tone. “First, they nearly ruined that other couple’s anniversary, and now they’ve given me the wrong room.”
“Did you also use a third-party booking site?” he asks.
I turn to find him smirking and I laugh, letting the stress go. “No, if I’d done that, we wouldn’t even have this room.” I fold my arms across my chest and look toward the window, where I see the sun has now fully set. Darkness cloaks the outdoors and we’re safe inside. That’s all I can ask for.
“We’ll make do,” I tell him.
He nods, easing up to a sitting position. “And if not for you, I’d have been stuck sleeping in my car. Sleeping on the couch is an upgrade.”
“You really are an optimist,” I say to him. A glance toward the sitting area and I see the couch in question is a loveseat. Way too small for a man as tall as Tristan. It’s even a little small for me, but I’ll fit better than he will. “There’s no way you’ll fit. I’ll take the couch.”
He’s already shaking his head before I finish speaking. “No way. I’ll sleep on the sofa, you take the bed.”
I can’t help but smirk. “An optimist and a gentleman? How did I get so lucky?” His eyes light up in amusement at my teasing, but I’m not letting him get his way. “I’m taking the couch,” I insist.
He rubs his hand along the back of his neck, then shakes his head at me. “I had no idea you were so stubborn,” he says, standing.
“I come by it naturally,” I mutter.
“Well, if there’s one thing my grandfather taught me, it’s to put a woman’s comfort and safety above my own.
He’d roll over in his grave if I let you sleep on that tiny couch while I’m stretched out on a bed that was yours to begin with.
” He pulls up the handle on his suitcase, drags it to the sitting area, and plops it onto the couch, as if that settles things.
I’m about to argue further, enjoying this banter more than any disagreement I’ve had before, but my phone goes off. I grab it from my bag and see it’s a text. “It’s Ashley. She’s reminding me the dinner starts in thirty minutes.”
My cousin knows I get easily distracted and even on her wedding weekend, she takes time to remind me not to be late.
With people I love, I don’t take it personally, I’m grateful for them.
With assholes who use my weaknesses against me?
Another story entirely, I think, remembering Mark without any fondness.
“We have half an hour to meet everyone downstairs,” I tell Tristan. “I’m looking forward to dinner. I’ve heard the restaurant has an amazing seafood menu.” And I do enjoy lobster.
Tristan looks out the window, where the ocean is visible, the newly risen moon reflected on the surface. “I hope so. I’d love lobster tonight and since we’re by the water, hopefully that’s one of the selections.”
I laugh. “I was just thinking that myself. Umm, I need to freshen up and change. Mind if I use the bathroom?” I tip my head toward the open door across the way.
“Be my guest. I can change out here.”
I glance from him to the suitcase on the sofa and back again.
“We’ll pick up the conversation of who sleeps where when we get back.
By the way, I intend to win.” Not wanting to argue now, I spin on my heel and step over to my suitcase, but Tristan is there and lifts it onto the opened luggage stand.
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” he says.
I get my things together and stride into the bathroom where I touch up my lipstick and run my fingers through my long hair. I had my blonde highlights done at the salon yesterday, and I’m happy with the results. I may be dateless, but at least I look good.
I change into a hot pink sundress, turning to see the final look in the mirror. The neckline dips low enough to show off my cleavage in a tasteful way. Not enough to look tacky or get any tongues wagging at the wedding.
I just don’t want to deal with the “Oh, poor Kaylee, her boyfriend dumped her before her cousin’s wedding.
No matter how many times I might tell them he’s just sick—okay, I was going to pretend Cole was my boyfriend to avoid pitying glances—they’ll assume the worst, like a breakup or being dumped the morning we were supposed to leave.
That’s the way it goes when your ex-boyfriend is attending the same wedding with the woman he started dating just two weeks after your relationship ended.
It doesn’t matter that I’m perfectly happy with my situation and better off without Mark’s emotional distance or critical comments.
Never mind the fact that I’m the one who dumped him.
All everyone is going to see is a thirty-year-old woman that still hasn’t moved on.
The truth doesn’t matter. The optics do.
That’s why I invited my friend to be my date this weekend.
It’s just a shame he couldn’t make it. All I can do is act like I don’t mind being here alone.
I walk out of the bathroom to find Tristan has changed clothing from the dark jeans and collared short-sleeve shirt to a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt that’s unbuttoned at the collar.
No matter what he wears, he draws me to him.
Pathetic, but true. The scent of his cologne fills the room and ignites the desire I thought I’d banked earlier.
“Hi,” I say so he knows I’m here.
He turns, sees me, and his sexy mouth lifts in a wide grin. “You look gorgeous,” he tells me, and it’s all I can do not to swoon.
I smile and give a little curtsey.
“Ready?” he asks.
I lift my shoes from the suitcase, slip into the pumps, and quickly put a few necessities into a small purse. “Now I am.”
Together we head to the elevator and take it down to the first floor where the restaurant is located. All the information is on the couple’s website and I’ve memorized most of what we need to know. I’m good at that, though not at getting to places on time. But tonight I managed.
When we step off the elevator, it’s obvious the crowd has thinned.
The rush of people arriving to check in is much smaller and we only have to dodge a single luggage cart as we make our way to the restaurant.
There’s a hostess stand just inside the entrance, and beyond her is a horseshoe-shaped bar area where I see several familiar faces there, but the bride and groom are yet to arrive.
The hostess turns to us. “Can I help you?”
“We’re with the wedding party,” Tristan tells her.
Her gaze runs over him and a small smile lifts her lips. Yes, he’s impressive, I think to myself, hating how other women react to Tristan. Which is ridiculous. He’s not my date.
She nods. “You can join everyone inside,” she says, gesturing toward the bar area.
We walk inside and look for Rainey and Lucas, but so far they aren’t here.
In the corner of the room, my mother is talking with my aunt Joanne, the mother of the bride, and Ashley’s friend, Paige, another bridesmaid, is flirting with a blond-haired man.
Her glassy eyes make her look like she’s already had a little too much to drink, and I know she’s one of my cousin’s louder friends.
I hope the alcohol doesn’t make things worse.
“I’m going to grab a beer,” Tristan says. “Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’ll go talk to my mom.” I tip my head toward where she’s standing.
“Okay. I’ll see you later.” He strides over to the bar and leans in.
The pretty bartender’s eyes light up when she sees him, and I sigh. None of your business, I tell myself, even as I wonder if he’ll ask for her phone number.
I shake my head and spin around in the opposite direction.
“Kaylee!” I recognize his voice before I see his face, and my shoulders bunch up with tension.
I force a plastic smile and slowly pivot to face my ex, his arm draped around the shoulders of a woman with an hourglass figure and pouty lips. She runs an assessing gaze over me, and I straighten my shoulders. I understand her interest. After all, I’m the ex and she’s bound to be curious.
“Mark,” I say, in a deliberately neutral voice. “How have you been?”
“I’m great.” He steps in close and briefly gives me a one-arm hug. It’s not intimate but still more physical contact than I’m comfortable with, and I stiffen until he steps back. “Kaylee, this is my girlfriend, Shannon.”
She meets my gaze and steps closer to him.
I can’t tell if she’s worried about me or just staking her claim.
Either way, I’m not jealous and she has nothing to worry about.
I ended my relationship with Mark for good reason, but I still felt guilty because we’d been together for two years and I had feelings for him, even if they didn’t run as deep as they should have.
But he lost his mind when I broke up with him.
For a man too emotionally stunted to say I love you, he was quick to anger and spit out cruel comments that stung.
He pointed out all of my flaws and given how some of them were on point, he accomplished his goal of hurting me.
Forcing myself off that train of thought, I meet Shannon’s gaze. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say honestly.
She blinks, a flicker of surprise in her gaze. Had she expected me to be catty and mean?
Mark takes her hand, intertwining their fingers and treating me to his smug smile. “Shannon might look familiar to you. She’s a weatherwoman,” he says with pride, as if her accomplishments are his.
“Congratulations,” I say. “But I’m afraid I get my weather forecast from an app on my phone. I’ll have to watch. What channel are you on?”
She tells me the station, and I store it in the back of my mind.
“I understand. Thank goodness enough people like the human touch that comes from a real meteorologist,” Shannon says with pride she earned, followed by a glare at Mark.
My eyebrows pop up as I look at his clueless face.
He called her a weatherwoman, suggesting she just points at cloud formations on a television screen and looks pretty.
But she’s a physical scientist and I’m impressed.
My ex is a moron, something confirmed when he listed my flaws and informed me I’d have problems finding another man, as if I should stay with him for that reason alone.
I stuck to my decision and informed him I’d have no trouble replacing him.
And that’s probably true, but I don’t date for the sake of not being alone.
I need to feel a spark, which hasn’t happened since I dumped Mark.
“I’m impressed,” I tell Shannon. “I promise to check out one of your broadcasts.”
Her lips part in surprise. I have no doubt Mark told her I’d be a bitch.
I merely look at her and smile. Though our breakup killed any remaining feelings I had for Mark, he wounded my pride and being here alone while he’s shoving his girlfriend in my face is irritating.
I just want to get away as cleanly and quickly as possible.
Glancing around, I see my mother is talking to someone else.
Aunt Joanne has too many responsibilities to talk to one person all evening.
“And what about you, Kaylee?” Mark asks, redirecting my focus to him again. “Where’s your date?”
I take a deep breath and straighten my spine, determined not to let him bother me. I open my mouth to admit I’m here alone when I feel a warm body and an arm brushing against mine. I glance up to see Tristan beside me with a smile on his face.
He hands me a glass of wine and I notice a glint in his eye that I can’t read.
I accept the drink I didn’t ask for as he loops one arm around my waist, gripping my hip and pulling my body flush against his. Every inch of his sculpted form eases against my side and the temptation to melt into him is strong.
What the hell is he doing?
“Mark, it’s good see you, man,” Tristan says. “And to answer your question, I’m right here.” Until this moment, I forgot they even knew each other. Since Mark is the groom’s best friend and Tristan is also in the wedding, of course they’re either friends or acquaintances.
Mark frowns, his eyes darting back and forth between Tristan and me. “Excuse me?”
“You asked where Kaylee’s date is,” Tristan says, pausing to take a sip of his beer. “I’m right here. Right, honey?”