Jilted

3. Sloane

3

SLOANE

“Are you joking?” My hands flew to my hips. “Who insults someone they just met like that?”

“Actually I was.” He grinned. “Joking, I mean.”

“Well, it wasn’t very funny. Do you think I want to be wearing this… this…” My arms flailed around. “Costume?”

The ma?tre d’ walked over. His eyes flashed down the hall and back. I suspected he was looking for the bride. “Is everything alright over here?” he whispered.

“Fine.”

He gestured to the door. “People are waiting for the ceremony to start. The walls are thin.”

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Of course. Sorry.”

My eyes slanted to the guy standing next to me, my partner, it seemed. He still wore a shit-eating grin and looked pretty proud of himself. But while I continued to scowl, I took a moment to check out the rest of his face, since I hadn’t been able to move past his eyes earlier. Square jaw, defined cheekbones, flawless tanned skin—I wasn’t sure if Bridezilla made the men get spray tans, but his coloring was too golden bronze to have come from anything other than genetics. Not to mention, he was tall—a weakness of mine—with broad shoulders and… I inhaled. Damn, the fucker smells good, too.

I’d been so busy checking him out, I hadn’t realized he’d watched me do it. When my eyes met his again, he raised a brow. “Like what you see?”

Ugh. Cocky and rude . I plastered on a fake smile. “Yes, what a shame something so pleasant doesn’t come with a matching personality.”

Instead of being insulted, his smile widened. If he enjoyed being offended, maybe we were going to get along after all, because I was even more cranky now.

Wilder extended his hand. “Where did you come from, Sloane?”

For some silly reason, I hesitated to put my hand in his. Though the reason became obvious when I did. My body jolted to life. Oh Lord . For six months I haven’t felt a thing, and this guy floats my boat? Between the way he looked and his cocky grin, I was certain he made heaps of boats float.

Heaps? Did I really just think heaps ? What, was I suddenly British now, too?

Wilder lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it. This time the jolt fanned out a little lower… I cleared my throat. “I’m filling in for a bridesmaid who had an emergency.”

“Must be my lucky day then.”

“Yes, lucky for you, the mother of a dear friend of the bride is currently on life support.”

“Are you always this sassy?”

“Only when the first thing out of the other person’s mouth is an insult.”

He again lifted his eyes to my head. “Is that your natural hair color?”

Hair not hehr . “How come only some of the things you say sound British?”

“Because I’m American. Well, technically I have dual citizenship. But I’ve lived in London for the last decade.”

He still had my hand in his. I pointed my eyes down to it. “Are you going to let go?”

He smiled and laced his fingers with mine. “Maybe later. I wouldn’t want you to run away again, like you did earlier.”

“I wasn’t running away. I had somewhere to be.”

“And now…” He squeezed our joined fingers. “You’re here. So I’ll hold on to this.”

As cocky and rude as he was, there was something oddly endearing about him. I wasn’t sure what it could be. Maybe it was just the hint of an accent that did it.

“Are you friends with the bride or groom?” I asked.

“The hole in my head would have to be bigger than the one in yours for me to be friends with Piper. Aiden is a mate of mine from college. I don’t know how he tolerates her.”

“How do you know I’m not friends with Piper?”

“Because you obviously have good taste. You find me attractive.”

I burst out laughing. “Full of yourself much?”

“Perhaps. But I call ’em like I see ’em.”

“You’re much more attractive when you don’t speak.” I wiggled my hand from his grasp and looked around. “Wonder if they have any hand sanitizer around here.”

Just then, music started playing from behind the doors, silencing our game of insults. A few minutes later, I walked down the aisle on the arm of Azure Eyes. As we took the mandatory stuttered steps, I looked around the beautiful room—filled with flowers and people dressed to the nines—and wondered, What the hell ever made me love weddings so much? How I could have thought this staged ruse was magical?

Halfway down the aisle, my eyes met Elijah’s. His brows nearly hit his hairline when he noticed the man next to me. His surprise gave way to a smirk, and he gave me a secret thumbs-up. Only apparently it wasn’t so secret.

Wilder leaned over and whispered, “Your friend approves.”

I spoke through a sugary smile. “Bite me.”

He chuckled. “Later for that, love.”

“Would you like to dance?”

Two long hours later, I was back in my black dress, sitting at a table with a bunch of strangers. I looked up to find Wilder’s sparkling eyes.

“No, thanks.” I looked away.

Undeterred, he took Elijah’s empty seat next to me. “Do you suck at dancing?”

I shook my head. “Does anything positive ever come out of your mouth? In the sum total of five minutes we’ve conversed, you’ve insulted the way I looked in a dress, asked me if I dyed my hair, and now you want to know if I suck at dancing?”

“I didn’t insult the way you looked in the dress. I said the dress was horrible, which it was. You would look good in anything.”

I cupped my ear. “Was that… a compliment?”

“I would’ve given you another if you’d let me. I asked about your hair color because it’s beautiful.”

“But only beautiful if it’s natural?”

He smiled. “Is the guy you’re with your boyfriend?”

“What business is that of yours?”

“I have a lot of bad habits, but hitting on women who are in a relationship isn’t one of them.”

I arched a brow. “So this is you hitting on me? I think you might need a lesson on what women want.”

“ That I definitely do not need.” He took my hand, stood, and dragged me to my feet. “Dance with me, beautiful.”

God, was I so big a sucker that one beautiful was going to erase all the insults? No. No, I’m not. No matter how much my body lit up from being close to the guy. “I’m going to pass.”

“Let me buy you a drink?”

“The drinks are free.”

“Two then?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “One drink. But only because my date disappeared a half hour ago with a man who is prettier than me, so I’m bored.”

“Good to know.” He again laced his fingers with mine and led us to one of the bars.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Just water, thanks.”

“Why not something with alcohol?”

“Because I’m technically working.”

Wilder’s brows drew together. “Working?”

“I’m covering the wedding for a magazine.”

“Which one?”

“Bride.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, I probably won’t mention the rude groomsman in my article. I tend to focus on the bride and groom. Or at least on the details of the wedding like the flowers, venue, and dresses.”

He paused. “You’re going to write about the dresses?”

I laughed. “You’re right. On second thought, maybe the rude groomsman would be better.”

“What do you normally drink, when you’re not working?”

“Tequila.”

“Have you ever tried a siesta?”

“Two parts tequila, half part each Campari, grapefruit juice, lime, and simple syrup.”

He nodded. “Is it your go-to or something?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m more of a tequila-soda drinker than a sweet-drink girl. I prefer my sugar in the form of cupcakes or cookies. But my family owns a bar. I worked there all through high school and college, and somehow I’m still there a few days a week.”

Wilder nodded. He turned to the bartender and ordered a gin and tonic and a tequila soda.

I took it when he passed the glass to me. “That’s not what I asked for.”

“I know.”

“So why is it in my hand then?”

“I decided you’re done with work for today.”

“Is that right? You decided?”

He sipped his drink. “Yep.”

“And what gives you that right? To decide anything for me?”

“I think you deserve it after being bullied into wearing a dress you didn’t want to wear and tolerating me as a partner.”

“How do you know Piper bullied me?”

“She does it to everyone. How do you think she got my poor buddy Aiden to the altar?”

“Why does your friend let her bully him?”

Wilder shrugged. “Hell if I know. I guess he’s into that sort of thing—a woman who bosses him around all the time.”

“And you’re not?”

His eyes caught with mine, and the corners of his lips twisted up. “I’m okay with a bossy woman. But there are definitely times I prefer to do the bossing.”

I think he might’ve been right about that hole in my head, because his tone made my body feel a little flushed. There was no doubt what he’d been referring to, at least not in my dirty mind. Needing to cool off, I sucked back some of my drink—a little too much since I’d forgotten he’d ordered me tequila. The mix was more tequila than soda, too. A few more sips and it reactivated the buzz I’d caught earlier.

“So what made you move to London?” I asked.

“My father’s from here, but my mother’s originally from Cambridge. They’re divorced. She got sick when I was in my last year of college, and she moved back to be near her family in England. I have a half brother there, so after she passed away, I took a job in London to be closer to him. Been there ever since.”

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded and looked away. “Tell me about this job of yours that requires you to dress up in hideous gowns and tolerate someone like Piper.”

I smiled. “It doesn’t require it. But Piper’s family is close with the head of the company that owns the magazine I work for, so I thought I should be amenable when she demanded it. I usually just attend the event and write about it for the magazine. We cover one wedding a month with a six-page story. Elijah, the guy with me, is the photographer. We’re sort of a team. I also run the magazine’s social media and YouTube channel, so our jobs go hand in hand.”

“I guess you should be lucky she didn’t paint you orange.”

I covered my smile with my hand. “They did look orange when they went outside for the pictures, didn’t they?”

“With those purple dresses, it was like ten Violet Beauregardes who ate Oompa Loompas.”

I laughed. “Your honesty is amusing when it’s not directed at me.”

His eyes dropped to my lips. “I like it when you smile.”

My guard was slipping down too fast for my liking, so I rounded the conversation back to work. “Sometimes I use a quote from a guest in my write-up. Would you like to give me one?”

He smiled. “That’s probably not a good idea if your boss is a friend of the bride’s family.”

“True.”

“Is your boss a jerk or something that you felt like you had to go the extra mile for the bride?”

“No, at least not that I know of. He’s more of my boss’s boss’s boss. I don’t really know him, other than to find him a little intimidating because of who he is and the way he talks. He’s very direct.”

Wilder smiled. “I know the type.” He held out a hand. “Dance with me?”

The tequila had gone to my head, so I figured why not ? I gulped back the rest of my glass and set it on the bar. “Fuck it. Okay.”

He chuckled. “Don’t sound so excited.”

Wilder led me out to the dance floor. He took one of my hands in his, wrapped the other around my waist, and tugged me close. I looked up at him.

“What?”

“The polite thing to do when you dance with someone you barely know is to leave room for Jesus.”

His lip twitched. “What?”

“I went to an all-girls Catholic school. A few times a year we had these dances where we could invite boys, and that’s what the chaperones would say if they noticed our bodies touching—leave room for Jesus.”

He smiled. “Well, I’m cutting Jesus out of this one. You feel too good to leave an inch.”

That might be the first thing we’d agreed on. Wilder’s body felt pretty damn amazing. Not surprisingly, he knew how to dance. The way he held me was bold, and his steps kept perfect time with the music, leaving my brain to think about other things he’d probably be good at. He had me in such a tight clutch, I had to crane my neck to pull back enough to look at him while I spoke. “When do you fly back to England?”

“The day after tomorrow. Will you miss me?”

“About as much as you’ll miss me.”

He smiled. “So heaps then.”

Heaps.

He twirled us around. “Tell me, Sloane. What would you be doing tonight if you weren’t here working?”

“I’d probably be helping my brothers at the bar.”

“Not out with a boyfriend?”

I frowned. “Not anymore.”

“It sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Isn’t there always?”

“I suppose.”

I didn’t want to share that story, so I pushed the question back at him. “What would you be doing?”

“Lately? Scouring the streets looking for my little brother who sneaks out.”

I hadn’t expected him to say that . But it made me smile. “I have two older brothers. They came looking for me a few times.”

His face was hopeful. “You learned your lesson?”

“I learned I didn’t get caught as easily if I snuck my boyfriend in, rather than sneaking out to meet them.”

Wilder frowned. “Great.”

I laughed. “How old is your brother?”

“Fifteen going on twenty-five.”

“I have a fourteen-year-old niece. I get it.”

Elijah came onto the dance floor. “Hey. Do you have the—” He did a double take when he got a close-up look at Wilder. “Wow. Now I get what you meant about those eyes.”

Wilder smirked. “Discussing my appearance with your friend, are you?”

I ignored his comment and spoke to Elijah. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Oh. Do you have the coat check ticket they gave you when they stored my camera equipment?”

“It’s in my purse. Why?”

“I need something out of my bag.” I noticed the cute guy he’d been talking to earlier waiting anxiously at the edge of the dance floor. I was a little afraid to ask what he needed.

“I’ll grab it for you.” I pulled away from Wilder, but he firmed his grip.

“Is your purse on the table?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Wilder lifted his chin to Elijah. “Grab it yourself, will you, mate?”

Elijah’s eyes sparkled. “No problem.” He wiggled his fingers and rushed off in a hurry.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked Wilder.

“Dancing.”

“You can’t tell someone it’s okay to go in my purse.”

“Is it filled with secrets?”

“No. But that’s not the point.”

He shrugged. “Okay. So what is the point?”

“You just—that’s rude. It’s my purse.”

Wilder looked me in the eyes. “I wasn’t ready to let go of you.”

I was annoyed, yet oddly flattered. And tipsy now, too. And… I really liked the way it felt when he held me. Which meant I needed to put some distance between us—make room for Jesus and my sanity . I shook my head, wiggling out of his hold. “I need another drink.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need an escort.”

“A drinking buddy?”

I hesitated.

“Do you know anyone else here except for me and the lovely bride?”

“No, but—”

Wilder released his hold around my waist, only to slip his hand into mine and tug. “Come on. One drink. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

I hadn’t been sure it was a good idea to have one drink with this man.

Which meant two was a terrible idea.

And that third we had, that was the one that landed me in the coat closet…