So she took a deep breath and stood up, smoothing down the simple, sleeveless black dress Serena had chosen for her bridesmaids. “Fine. If it’s a choice between you winning and Amanda winning, I’m going with you.”
Ariana clapped her hands in delight as Taylor started over towards Charles. She gave Amanda a little glare as she passed, which caused Amanda to burst into laughter.
All the teasing was good-natured. Taylor didn’t actually mind that much, as long as it didn’t seriously inconvenient her. But she wasn’t about to look compliant.
Compliant was something she never was.
Charles had been soberly studying the room as he ate a wedge of cantaloupe. He looked up at Taylor as she approached, and his eyebrows pulled together as she sat down.
“Hello,” he said politely.
“Hi.”
He waited, clearly expecting an explanation for her unexpected presence.
Taylor, obstinate by nature, didn’t explain herself.
“Is there something you wanted?” Charles asked after a minute. He was a quietly handsome man with brown hair and dark blue eyes like his sister. He had a high forehead and a thoughtful, intelligent air around him that seemed to command respect, despite the fact that he wasn’t much of a talker.
Taylor had known him forever. Older brother of one of her best friends. Sharing childhood. Going to school at the same private school. Always being on the periphery of each other’s lives. She’d never thought much about him in the past, but he suddenly seemed better looking than normal—sexy in a unexpected smart way—as he gave her a dry, questioning look.
“Not really. I was just told that since we were both sitting by ourselves, I should come over here so we could sit together.”
“Why should we sit together?”
“I have no idea. Just that some people think that when we’re alone that means we’re lonely. It doesn’t, of course, but not everyone knows that.”
“I already told my sister that I don’t need company.”
“I know. I told her the same thing. But if I didn’t come over here, then Amanda would win a bet, and I couldn’t have that.”
He gave a huff of something that must pass as amusement for him. The man almost never smiled. “Fair enough. As long as you’re not planning on being obnoxious, you can stay.” He spoke the words with an air of intentional condescension as he neatly cut into his melon and took another bite.
Taylor stared at him for a minute, her lips parted. She was torn between amusement and outrage over his patronizing attitude, and she honestly couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not. She wasn’t used to be off-stride like that. “Um, you do know me, right?”
He eyed her soberly. “Yes. I’ve known you since we were kids.”
“So why would you think it was likely I wouldn’t be obnoxious right now?”
He gave another of those huffs but still no smile. “I gave it a shot.”
“And why are you eating that melon that way?” she demanded, still staring at the way he was slicing into the orange flesh with absolute precision.
“What way?”
“You cut perfect little squares. Like it’s a chessboard. Who eats cantaloupe that way?”
“As you can see for yourself, I do. How else am I supposed to eat it?”
Taylor took the fork out of his hand—she didn’t need the knife—and gouged out a large, sloppy piece from the rind. Then she popped it into her mouth, a little bit of juice running down her chin as she chewed.
He shook his head, his eyes amused but his mouth utterly sober. “I think I’ll stick to my method.”
“Nothing wrong with getting a little messy.”
She didn’t—absolutely did not—intend that comment to be anything close to sexual. But she wiped the juice from her mouth as she said it, and for some reason it ignited a little spark of interest in her body. She was suddenly wondering what Charles would look like messy. Rumpled. Urgent. Passionate.
Taylor’s body really liked the image.
She gulped, willing away the ridiculous response. Charles wasn’t the kind of man to have casual sex, which was the only kind of sex she was interested in. So no sense in thinking in that direction at all.
“You are ridiculous,” Charles said, lightly, without any heat. It didn’t sound like an insult, just a mild statement of fact.
Taylor didn’t have a problem with it. “Probably. But I’m not the one eating cantaloupe like I’m trying to stay in the lines in a coloring book. So which one of us is more ridiculous here?”
“That’s a good question.”
His family had a ton of money. He’d even taken a year off of work with his family’s business so he could write a novel. It would have been easy for a guy to be arrogant and entitled and spoiled in that situation. But Charles wasn’t at all stuck-up. That was one good thing about him.
“What?” he asked, raising his eyebrows when she just looked at him.
She shook her head. She wasn’t going to tell him what she was thinking, because what she was thinking was dying to know what this man was like in bed.
YOU CAN FIND OUT MORE about The Mismatch here.
about Noelle Adams
NOELLE HANDWROTE HER first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she writes full time, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances. For more information, please check out her website: noelle-adams.com.