Chapter Eight #2
She looks over at me, and I smile. “You seem lovely, but I think we both aren’t really what the other is looking for. There’s no harm in it.”
“You sure? I don’t want to be a bitch. You seem like a good guy, just… preoccupied.” There’s no bitterness in her tone, just honesty.
“Yeah. And I am. Sorry about that. Work has been nuts, and I’ve had some personal stuff happening. Long as you don’t go telling everyone I was the worst date you ever had, we’re good.”
She grins at me. “Deal. Though I hope you’ll keep the same promise. I look hot in this dress.”
I nod. “You do. Go find you a groomsman or something so it doesn’t go to waste.”
She gathers up her plate and walks over to the other table, and I bite back a sigh. I probably should make a hasty exit as soon as it’s polite to do so.
Ava is at the head table with the rest of the bridal party.
She leans in close to the bride, whispering something that makes her laugh hard enough to cover her mouth.
A second later, Ava grins, wide and unguarded, and bumps her shoulder lightly into the bride’s. I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her.
The groomsman beside her is trying to get Ava’s attention, trying to draw her into a conversation.
She gives him a soft smile, and the surge of jealousy inside me makes me almost choke on the bite of grilled salmon and lemon risotto I’ve placed in my mouth.
Surely she isn’t going to entertain this asshole? He looks like a thumb.
When the speeches start, I try to ignore her and focus on what is being said, but I’m hyperaware of all things Ava in my peripheral vision.
She listens attentively during the speeches, her chin propped lightly on her hand.
She tears up during the maid of honor’s toast, swiping discreetly at the corner of her eye before anyone can make a big deal of it.
When the best man makes a joke that lands particularly well, she tosses her head back laughing in a way I’ve never seen her do.
By the time the DJ calls everyone to the dance floor, I’m restless.
I know I should leave, but instead I find myself at the bar, getting another drink.
I sip at it, leaning against the rail as all the predictable first dances take place before the DJ shifts gears.
I try to mingle some more with the people I know.
Older family members of the newlyweds begin to make their exits as an upbeat, familiar song fills the room.
Like a switch has been flipped, the dance floor floods.
The bridal party leads the charge, pulling reluctant guests in their wake.
I find myself edging closer and closer, drawn like a magnet to the woman I should be doing everything in my power to stay away from.
She’s in the thick of it, because of course she is, her body rolling in perfect harmony with the beat.
Soon, Mr. Thumb reappears, and I have to school my features before anything slips.
From the outside, I’m neutral, detached.
Inside, not even close. His hand settles at the small of her back and he turns her, and she goes with it, ending up with her back to his chest as the music shifts, their bodies lining up in a way that’s less dancing and more grinding.
My alpha snarls within my chest. Abso-fucking-lutely not.
I make my way through the throng of bodies until I’m standing in front of her. There’s no real surprise on her face, so I have to wonder if she’s been as hyperaware of me as I have been of her.
“Evan, can I introduce you to Mark Taylor, youngest district attorney of Manhattan?” Her voice is cool, but there’s a fire in her eyes that I can’t decipher. I barely manage to drag my gaze from hers to look up at Mr. Thumb.
“Hey, man,” he says with a smile, extending his hand. “I’m Evan. I don’t really follow politics. What does the district attorney do exactly?”
I glance back at Ava just in time to catch the faint wince she can’t quite hide.
“It’s an elected position,” I say, managing just barely to suppress a laugh.
“I oversee the prosecutors. We’re the ones who put away the bad guys.
” I pause just long enough, unable to keep a hint of a grin pulling at my mouth.
“When Ava isn’t busy getting them off on technicalities. ”
There’s no real bite to it, just enough edge to sound like the way I always talk about her.
Evan laughs like I’ve said something genuinely funny, and I don’t miss Ava’s upper lip curling a little in disgust. If he had a shot of getting into her panties, I’m fairly confident he just fumbled it.
One thing Ava doesn’t have patience for is stupidity.
“Evan, I’m getting kind of hot with all these people out here. Could you go grab me some water?” she asks.
He nods, like a puppy eager to make her happy, and heads away.
“He seems… nice. Gonna head home with him later?”
“Oh, shut up,” she snaps, and starts to spin away from me, but I reach out and grab her wrist, pulling her body flush against mine.
“I’ll shut up, but you’re going to dance with me. You were clearly having fun, that doesn’t have to change,” I growl into her ear. It’s a calculated risk—she could tell me to go fuck myself. But just like at my apartment, her body language seems to relax a fraction at my command.
“Dance, Ava.”