Chapter 1 #4
I squeezed his biceps. A jolt of awareness zinged up my arm, and what had been a flutter in my nether regions became a seismic wave measuring at least 6.
5 on the Richter scale. In all my adult life, I’d never experienced a shock of lust from such a casual touch.
Sex with him would be life-altering. My laughter stuttered to a breathless stop at the thought of getting naked with Henry.
We silently stared at each other; gazes locked. I dug my nails into his arm through his jacket. This feeling was worth chasing.
His breathing was ragged, and mine was almost nonexistent. I felt lightheaded. He leaned in. I licked my lips. First kiss in the Perrault’s lobby—hell yes. I rose on my tiptoes, inviting him to close the few inches separating our mouths.
Then it happened: cat-cataclysm!
Midnight lost her mind completely and transformed from a sedate kitty passenger to a whirlwind in a plastic bubble. The kitty meltdown shattered the delicious tension enveloping Henry and me into a million pieces. The cat’s flailing unbalanced me, and I staggered backward.
He caught my shoulder, steadying me on my feet as Midnight continued to howl and throw herself against her transparent cage. What had gotten her so riled up?
“Hello, Mrs. Wilmore,” Henry said over my shoulder.
Shit. The papillon from hell. I spun out of Henry’s grasp and maneuvered so Midnight couldn’t see her archenemy.
“Henry, darling, so good to see you.” Mrs. Wilmore oozed sweet old-lady kindness. Her evil little dog danced excitedly at the end of its sparkly leash. I loved dogs, but not that one.
“Mrs. Wilmore.” I nodded coolly.
“Dr. Ash.” She returned my greeting before sailing off toward the elevators with her hellhound lapdog at heel.
“Midnight and the papillon have a history, and it’s not good.” I turned to explain.
“Apparently.” He brushed his arm against mine.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the lobby’s air conditioning rushed down my spine. My nerve endings sprang to life, aching for more of Henry’s touch.
“You were saying something?” I couldn’t drag my gaze off his lovely, sculpted lips and hint of five o’clock shadow. The urge to touch his cheek and feel the stubble was almost undeniable.
“Yes, would you join me for drinks on Saturday? The wine bar across the street?”
“Okay.” I’d have agreed to give him my spleen at that moment. “Wait, not this weekend. I’m working. I have nights all weekend.” It was the price I had to pay to get the week of the wedding off from the clinic.
“That sucks. I feel you. I’m swamped at work too. We could postpone, do something the week of the twenty-first?”
Wow, he was planning post-wedding dates. Brave man.
“That could work. Once we recover from everything.” I shot him an indulgent smile.
“Yes, exactly.”
“Exactly,” I repeated like a simpleton.
That debilitating awareness of each other held us in its thrall again. We leaned closer, the inches between us shrinking as if by magic. I tipped my head up, lips parted. The hammer of my heart against my ribs filled my ears, chanting: Yes. Yes. Yes. A thousand times Y-E-S!
Henry slid his hand up my arm and cupped my cheek. The space between us evaporated. He dipped his head, and his lips brushed mine, lingering for the blink of an eye.
Too late, I tried to surge forward, grab his lapels, and drag his mouth back to mine.
The fleeting kiss was worse than nothing.
A tease. A promise that there was more to come.
I’d explode if he didn’t follow through.
Thank God, we’d see each other in Texas.
I needed him like I needed to burn my bridesmaid's dress in a pagan cleansing ritual as soon as the wedding was over.
Rocking back on my heels, I looked up at him.
The scorching need I felt in every ounce of my being was mirrored within the depths of his gaze.
He stood rigid, vibrating with desire. If I hadn’t been a fully responsible adult who was late to work and had a cat strapped on her back, I’d have shoved him into the building mailroom and ravaged him like a crazed sex addict.
This was going to be a hell of a wedding weekend.
Henry
New sister-in-law: What flight are you taking to Texas?
I looked at the message on my phone, confused. Apparently, she knew I was flying to the wedding. I didn’t even know what city she was in. The elevator dinged, and I stepped into the reception area of my accounting firm’s office, juggling my keycard, coffee mug, and cell phone.
Henry: I land in Austin at about 4:30. Looking for a ride?
The wedding was being held in a small town over an hour’s drive from the Austin airport. My brother swore all this hassle was worth it. He promised Elmer was the “cutest damn town in Texas.” I wanted to believe him, but it was hard to take him seriously when he used his fake Texas drawl.
New Sister-in-Law: Maybe coming home. I’m getting to Elmer two days before you.
Henry: Bride stuff?
New Sister-in-Law: Lord help me. All the ladies are going for a spa day and then happy hour at a bar/donkey rescue.
Henry: Bad Ass.
I smiled at Jane, the receptionist; she looked frazzled. Tax season had taken its toll. Her normally perfect silver-white dome of shellacked waves was lopsided, and her frosted pink lipstick smudged. She gave me an apologetic smile before holding out an enormous stack of folders.
“For me?” I asked.
“They need last-minute extensions filed.”
“Of course they do.”
My cell chimed, and I glanced down.
New Sister-in-Law: A bean counter with jokes.
I chuckled.
“That’s an awfully big smile for a man about to file thirty-seven extensions.” Jane raised one eyebrow. She mother-henned all the staff.
“I’m just texting with my soon-to-be-sister-in-law.” I wiggled the phone and shrugged. “Wedding stuff.”
“Well, keep it up. I haven’t seen you smile like that in ages.”
“Thanks for this.” I gestured with the stack of unwanted files and rolled my eyes, ignoring her comment about my smile.
“You are always welcome.”
Before I reorganized all my belongings to swipe my keycard and get into the main offices, I typed out a reply to my almost sister-in-law. Texting jokes and silly comments to her had been the bright point of the day.
Henry: Don't hate, depreciate.
Before I got seated at my desk, she’d replied. I picked up the phone to see the screen. I hadn’t bothered to turn on my computer or hang up my jacket before reading her message.
New Sister-in-Law: Is that an accounting pun?
Henry: If it was funny, yes. Otherwise, no, it was autocorrect.
New Sister-in-Law: Well played.
Henry: Thank you.
Bantering with a stranger was fun. Zero risk, all reward.
I’d never have tossed out such a lame joke otherwise.
I reread the conversation. My jokes had actually been funny…
for accounting jokes. I gave myself a mental high-five.
Flirting with a faceless nobody was going great. Wait, was it flirting?
Flirting or not, in real life, I wasn’t doing as well.
I’d yet to hear from Cindy. That kiss in the lobby had been rash. Maybe I’d offended her. But in the heat of the moment, it felt right. It felt necessary. But the slightly sexy goodnight text I’d sent her the next night was still unanswered as of six this morning.
New Sister-in-Law: Are you staying at the guest ranch with the rest of the family?
Henry: Unfortunately, yes. I tried to get out of it. But…
My mother had put her foot down, demanding I be part of the wedding fun, like it or not. When your mother was seventy-five and she made demands, you listened. It was a respect thing.
I’d thought about booking a backup room at the closest motel but decided I could hack five nights with my family.
The ranch and winery we were staying at sat on a few hundred acres, plenty of room to escape if necessary.
I had to stay and join the fun… even if it killed me.
The wedding was my opportunity to show the family that I supported my brother and that my divorce hadn’t left me an emotionally stunted mess.
Yeah, I was the poster boy for #teammarriage all the way.
A value-sized bottle of Advil was already in my suitcase.
New Sister-in-Law: I feel that. I’ll have a six-pack of Lone Star chilling in your cabin when you get here. I’m in charge of the welcome gifts.
Henry: Can I beg for an upgrade to Shiner Bock?
New Stepsister: Done. Don’t tell the bride and groom. They are forcing Lone Star in a can on everyone else.
Henry: There’s nothing finer than a Shiner.
I felt a new flicker of excitement about my brother’s wedding.
If my new stepsister-in-law was half as fun and sarcastic in real life as via text message, this wedding might turn out to be a good time.
At least she and I could sit in the back and share snarky observations.
The bitter divorced guy and the bride’s stepsister. A match made in heaven.
“Did you get those files from Jane?” The managing partner rapped her knuckles on my open office door.
“Yes.” I pointed at the stack.
“When you finish those. I have another K-1 for you.” She yawned and stretched, rubbing the small of her back. She had been at her desk when I left last night.
“All right.” I nudged the mouse on my desk, and my computer flared to life. Time to get to work. Forty-eight hours more, we would survive.
Cindy
I braced for impact. Three. Two. One.
Both my stepsisters wrapped their arms around me and squeezed. The combination of the embrace and their competing perfumes made breathing nearly impossible. Anastasia bumped my suitcase with her hip, tipping it over as we rocked back and forth in a tangle of arms and elbows.
“Cindy,” they sing-songed in unison.
I winced. My stepsisters were only ten and twelve years younger than me, but at moments like this, I felt ancient. Then again, maybe it was the perspective of being on the wrong side of forty.
“Ana. Marge.” I used the old nicknames just to get a reaction from my stepmother.