39. Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Benjamin
O ver the next hour, Benjamin did his best to project an air of calm pleasantness despite the array of emotions parading through him. Even when he’d made it to the groom’s suite and found Zac stalling out in the hall. Reaching around the wounded groomsman, he’d pushed open the door. They both entered.
“Zac,” Jonathan exclaimed, voice rife with relief and irritation. “Nice of you to show up.”
Zac nodded sheepishly, shoulders slumped in a way Benjamin had yet to see from the usually confident man. A twinge of understanding tugged at the back of his mind. The groomsman wasn’t the only man in the room to have let Johnny down. Benjamin hadn’t exactly been the poster child for the perfect best friend.
“He was handling a few essential things downstairs.” Benjamin clapped Zac’s shoulder. “I had to remind him that there was an entire army of people making sure the day goes smoothly and that his services were needed up here.”
The groom looked between the two men, smiling in appreciation and wearing a hint of doubt. Clearly, as long as the people he cared about were there, he’d accept whatever excuse they gave him.
A knock sounded on the door. Todd strode in with an air of confidence that put Zac’s usual display to shame. The man was beyond comfortable in his skin, not an ounce of insecurity. He knew who he was and what he stood for.
Benjamin decided he liked the bride’s best friend.
“Well, well, well, isn’t this a room brimming with devastation,” Todd whistled, casually appraising all four tuxedo-clad men. “We’re ready for you, Mr. Miller.”
Jonathan beamed at the newest arrival with the affection given to family. But that’s what Jonathan did; he collected brothers.
A short while later, Benjamin found himself congregated at the back of the building, just inside the door leading to the deck positioned to face the snow-capped mountains that surrounded the little Bavarian-themed town. The sun idly drifted down toward the peaks, preparing to set and wash the landscape in a haze of purples and pinks.
Beaming with joy, Jonathan stood beside Todd under a bough-woven arch, sparkling with white fairy lights and silvery, glittery things. Patio heaters encircled the altar, doming the space in comfortable warmth. A quiet murmur hummed through the crowd of about two hundred guests dressed in an array of clothes ranging from glamorous dresses to flannel shirts and puffy vests. The invitation had read Come as you are , and the interpretation varied greatly yet worked with the rustic theme of the whole affair.
“Ready, professor?”
Her warm touch seeped through the fabric of his jacket sleeve, quickly venturing a direct line to his chest. He turned, taking in the wintery goddess at his side. He’d seen her before when they’d handled the wayward groomsman and his date, but the second sight of her was just as moving as the initial glimpse. Her icy blue velvet dress appeared to have been custom-created to glide along her decadent curves. The long sleeves added a demure quality that offset the seductive plunging neckline. Woven into a thick, understated updo, her honey-golden hair glowed and shimmered with bits of sparkles strategically placed to catch the waning sunlight. A whisper-thin silver chain hung at her neck with a tiny infinity pendant resting gently in the hollow between her collarbone. Benjamin imagined sneaking a taste of her skin just beneath the shiny twist.
Francesca was beautiful. Strong. Steady. Filled with adoration for her family.
She was . . .
Everything.
Everything he wanted.
Perhaps he could make her happy.
Maybe if he was very careful he could have her and not destroy her like his father did his mother.
Benjamin shook his head, banishing the romantic flights of fancy. His focus should be on the wedding. He could dissect his feelings tomorrow and go from there.
He glanced at the maid of honor on his arm. Despite the joy wafting off of her as a result of the upcoming nuptials, Benjamin couldn’t help but notice the strain of tension in her eyes. She was keeping it together, but the happy day held a swath of shadow—undoubtedly caused by his reckless seduction back at the cabin.
He sobered, stilling his reaction to her nearness.
“A better question is whether the bride is ready,” he teased.
Francesca rolled her eyes. “Lucy’s been chomping at the bit since last night. Practically tried to shimmy down a trellis to get to her groom. Speaking of. How’s Jon holding up?”
“Same,” he said with a chuckle. “Exactly the same.”
“I guess that means they’re making the right choice.”
“I guess so.”
Lingering, eyes full of meaning, Benjamin couldn’t help but understand the translation .
We would never work.
“I like your glasses,” she offered casually.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“They aren’t as harsh as the last pair. You look more approachable.”
Benjamin readjusted the wireframes on the bridge of his nose. He’d been fortunate that the local optical shop had the option to rush order a new pair; otherwise, he’d be stuck wearing the same scratched lenses with an arm held together by sticks and tape. The style was different than he was used to, but after Francesca’s assessment, he didn’t mind the change so much.
“Who’s running this thing?” came the singsong complaint behind them. “I’ve got a hottie to marry and a buffet to destroy.”
Benjamin glanced over his shoulder at Lucy, who was indeed jittering around like a racehorse, ready to blast through the starting gate and gallop down the aisle. He sucked in a snicker.
“See what I’ve been dealing with?” Francesca bit her lip, holding back a burst of laughter. “I’d better check on things and figure out when we can start. Can you make sure people are lined up properly?”
He nodded and watched as she glided off, the picture of calm. His chest ached as though his heart were reaching out between his ribs for her retreating form.
Todd was right. He had it bad.
It was high time he admitted it to himself. Francesca was exquisite. She was the woman of his dreams, which would make the remainder of his time here in Leavenworth unbearable. Being this close and not having her was just too much.
Mustering all his focus and resolve would take everything in him, but what other option did he have?
As expected, the ceremony went off without a hitch, filled to the brim with expressions of love and devotion and splashes of humor throughout. Benjamin managed to only look at the maid of honor a couple dozen times, which felt like quite an accomplishment considering how radiant she was.
He sat alone at the wedding party table, dinner having been cleared away, toasts given, cake cut. The room was alive with music and dancing, laughter and cheers for the bride and groom to kiss kiss kiss ! Swirling the glass of scotch he’d barely consumed, he watched with hawk-like intensity as Francesca swayed in the arms of Sheriff Howards. The overgrown Boy Scout dwarfed the petite woman, despite her sky-high silver heels.
It may have been his imagination, but with every attempt Clint made at pulling her close, she managed to shift and maintain a sliver of distance between their synchronized bodies, and Benjamin was eternally grateful for that.
Torture seemed like too meek a word to describe the way he felt watching those large hands graze the small of Francesca’s back, lips move close to whisper some sweet nothings in her ear, eyes rake over her dress like he knew what lay beneath despite the fabric’s heft.
Jealously was a useless baser emotion, one Benjamin refused to entertain.
Typically.
Nonetheless, it bloomed aggressively in his chest. The heat of it rose in his throat, and for a moment, he believed that fire would shoot from his mouth at any moment. The unsettling realization that she might end up warming another man’s bed made Benjamin sick. He wanted to smash something: his glass, the sheriff’s face.
With another subtle press, Francesca was flush against Clint’s hulking chest. Glancing away from her dance partner, her eyes scanned and found Benjamin’s. In one look, he read her discomfort, and he didn’t stop to translate the nuance. Mechanically, he threw back the rest of his scotch, wincing slightly at the burn slashing down his throat, and stood. Long strides quickly ate up the distance between him and his target, giving very little time for his rational brain to reboot and take control of his body.
Fortunately for him and his lack of self-control, the second his hand came down on Clint’s large shoulder, the sound of shattering glass and resounding slap rang out in the large tent. A hush settled over the crowd as everyone, Benajmin included, strained to see what all the fuss was about.