CHAPTER TWO
Leanne
Iturn my back on Bryce the moment he walks out the door, not allowing myself even a moment of weakness to look at his sculpted ass in his Wranglers.
I already caught an eyeful when I followed him in from outside, and through the reception area, and into the lodge, and all the way to the end of the hall.
Having an ass that good should be a crime, especially when the owner of it is himself an ass.
I push my hands through my hair, lifting it off the back of my neck to cool my flushed skin. I release a sigh and stare into the mirror mounted on the wall. The bright shade of pink on my cheeks gives away exactly how flustered I am—by him… by this whole situation.
I need to get it together. I am thirty-seven years old, not some teenager who can’t handle her emotions.
But it’s not only about Bryce. Though my very unfortunate attraction to him isn’t helping matters.
He may not be my usual type, but he’s objectively good-looking with his chocolate-hued eyes, dark brown hair, and matching beard that’s the perfect length to be soft to the touch while not overtaking his entire face.
And don’t get me started on the barbed-wire tattoos that wind around his tanned, corded forearms.
I just don’t understand how I could’ve missed the fact that he’s a man.
I want to have a reason to blame him for this mix-up. But I know I can’t… and that only makes me more upset with myself.
I did make assumptions—which is the real kicker, because I work corporate events and know there are male event coordinators, wedding planners, and the like. My favorite coworker, and the only person on my team who could likely do my job as well as I do, is a man.
Dammit. I shake my head and turn away from my reflection, flopping onto the bed and covering my face in my hands. Right now, I wish I could go back six months to when I agreed to take this wedding on and say no.
It’s not that I hate weddings or anything. I don’t. But I should’ve had one of my own this year. Instead, in a fucked-up twist of fate, Jenna got her happy engagement on the same day mine ended.
Hurt slices through me at the memory of that day, and I push it back down until it feels manageable again.
It’s not Jenna’s fault, and I refuse to dampen even an ounce of her happiness. She deserves this. Considering everything she went through growing up—Leukemia when she was nine; chemotherapy; remission; and a relapse scare years later—a happy ending is all any of us have ever wanted for her.
When she asked me to take over the planning of her special day—to be her maid of honor—I couldn’t say no.
Even if I was wilting inside at the prospect.
I’m the dependable one who steps up when my family needs me; have been since I was a teenager tasked with keeping everything on the rails while my parents focused on Jenna and her treatment.
I never minded, never complained, because that’s what you do for family.
But the thought of putting all the effort into planning a wedding that wasn’t my own made my stomach churn.
But I’d do all that and more for Jenna—like put on a smile and numb myself to my own pain.
I groan into the darkness behind my palms. I should’ve been upfront with my sister—with my whole family—about what happened between me and Craig, but I didn’t have the heart to tell anyone. I didn’t want or need their pity or their sad glances.
Instead, I lied and told them we decided on a mutual break.
Neither of us at fault, neither of us to blame.
What a load of fucking bullshit.
If I’d been honest though, I might not be here burning up with embarrassment over this entire situation with Bryce or wishing away an event that should bring me nothing but joy.
With a growl, I push myself to sit and wiggle my toes in my boots. These stupid boots.
I went all in on “country chic” for this weekend: hiking boots and a chambray for today, cowboy boots and jeans for tonight’s rehearsal, and a flouncy lace dress for the wedding tomorrow.
But instead of helping me feel more comfortable in this unknown situation, these clothes only make me feel like a fraud.
More like a fraud that is, because everything about the past six months has felt like one big facade, put on to keep those closest to me in the dark while I pretend my life is bliss.
But the mask is wearing on me, chafing against my skin.
Two days, Leanne. You can make it two more days.
There’s a soft tap on the frame of the open door and I look up to find Jenna leaning against it. Her blonde hair has been pulled up into a ponytail, allowing her green eyes to take center stage. She’s a knockout, even in cutoff jean shorts and an oversized tee. Eric is lucky to have her.
“Hey, Annie,” she says, head cocked as she studies me.
I smile, the nickname reminding me that I’m here for her. And with that, my need to put her at ease immediately overshadows everything else.
I muster as much enthusiasm as I can and pat the bed beside me.
She shakes her head. “You okay? That was… something between you and Bryce.” She chews her lip like she’s holding in a laugh, or maybe she’s wondering whether our tension will cause friction around her big day. Either way, I don’t want her worrying.
I swallow my pride and say, “It was my mistake. I honestly don’t know how I came to the conclusion he was a woman. But it’s fine now, we’ve talked.” I nearly choke on the word. Fought would be a better description. “It’s all good. Nothing to worry about.”
“You’re sure? It seemed pretty strained between you guys…”
She’s not wrong. It is strained between us, but only I fully understand why.
Considering I didn’t want this “job” in the first place, I allowed my bottled-up feelings to manifest with Bryce in a way I couldn’t with anyone else.
It’s not something I’m particularly proud of.
My first email may’ve been a bit demanding—a little short, you could say—and it set off a chain reaction.
I’d love to lay the responsibility for our less-than-stellar working relationship at his feet, but I’m adult enough to recognize I’m the one who set the tone for it and we never recovered.
“Nope. All fine,” I lie, then change the subject. “Don’t you have a fiancé around here to canoodle or something?” Her cheeks flush and I notice her lips look a little kiss-swollen already.
A twinge of longing hits and I glance away, saying, “I actually should go find Bryce. Lots to do before tonight.” I force the smile wider on my face and keep my voice sweet around his name, even if my internal reaction to this idea is akin to a flight of butterflies being decimated by a flock of birds.
“Okay, I’ll track down Eric and the others so we can help. I think he and his brothers were going to smoke cigars.” She rolls her eyes and walks out of the room with a small wave.
As soon as she’s gone, I fall back on the bed again. I’m going to have to do better at hiding my sentiments about Bryce from her… from everyone. Even the look Mom gave me earlier when I bit back at him for calling me blondie told me she was picking up on the tension and my mood.
But I mean, really… Does he need to call me that?
I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. Just like with everything else, none of it matters.
Today and tomorrow are about Jenna and Eric, nothing else.
No one else. I can get through two days around the guy, no matter how I feel about him and his stupid nicknames…
and his dick. Which unfortunately does present a bit of a problem for me.
Because, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m much too attracted to him. But I will be civilized like I asked him to be—even if a small part of me is itching to verbally spar with him again. It’s cathartic somehow, to finally unleash my inner turmoil on someone. Anyone.
But no. I’ll get through this weekend with a glowing smile and a good attitude. I’ll find a way to soothe the tension between us—if not for my sake, then for everyone else’s. I will be the bigger person. I can show him I’m a dedicated sister of the bride, a joy to work with.
That’s the Leanne everyone else is expecting and I will not let them down.
Then…
Well, then I can finally allow myself to grieve everything I lost six months ago.