That had flummoxed me.
The woman didn’t show a single bit of curiosity in the man she’d agreed to go out with, to a wedding of all things. Disappointingly, that told me she wasn’t the slightest bit interested in me. Instead, she was just fulfilling her obligation to attend the weddings with me.
I’m heartened by the fact she’s reaching out now, because, truth be told, she could have figured out what to wear to a wedding on her own.
I wait for her to reply, but nothing comes back.
“So, my name’s Heather,” the blonde says, touching my arm. I’m startled, having completely forgotten about her.
My head snaps up, first to take in the gorgeous creature in front of me, who bats her eyelashes. Then around the table to find all four of my buds snickering at my uncharacteristic lack of game.
I look past her to Baden. “Hey man… will you get her a drink? I’ll be just a moment.”
“Yeah, sure,” Baden replies with an easygoing smile. The blonde knows she’s just been dismissed by me as a potential hookup, so she turns her charms to Baden, looping her arm over his shoulder and leaning into him.
By the time I turn back to my phone, she’s forgotten completely. I send Clarke another text.
Or… you don’t have to go with flirty if you’re not feeling it. You’re not feeling it, are you?
I stare at my phone. In the back of my mind, I vaguely wonder what the hell is wrong with me. I just turned down a guaranteed fuck tonight so I could poke at the fascinating bookstore owner who doesn’t seem to want much to do with me.
I’m so surprised when she responds I nearly drop my phone.
It’s hard to be flirty via text. Also, I suck at flirting.
I bark out a laugh. Lifting my eyes to see Jim and Jett watching me curiously, I drop my gaze back down to the phone.
Believe it or not, it’s kind of attractive you acknowledge that.
It takes her a few moments to respond, which makes it clear the conversation is most likely over.
Goodnight, Professor. See you tomorrow.
I can’t let that go, so I type back.
Professor?
Her reply is nearly instant, because she was expecting me to ask.
Yeah… professor, because you totally schooled me in classic literature yesterday.
My heart actually skips a beat when she adds on a crying-laughing emoji.
Which means she finds me at least partially funny, and that’s something.
In this moment, one thing becomes abundantly clear via this exchange. There isn’t going to be any hookup tomorrow night after the wedding and reception. That’s not her game, nor her style.
And oddly… I’m okay with that.
CHAPTER 4
Clarke
For the first time ever, I doubt my GPS as it guides me into a neighborhood filled with gargantuan-sized houses. Aaron had told me there would be valet parking, so I just assumed the wedding would be at some type of public venue. At the very least, at this neighborhood’s clubhouse, yet the map leads me right to a salmon-colored Mediterranean-styled home that has to be at least seven- to-eight-thousand-square feet if it’s an inch.
Sure enough, there’s a valet stand in front with five tuxedoed men waiting to take cars and park them down the street so people don’t have to.
I pull my little Honda Civic hatchback manufactured circa 2009 directly behind what looks to be a Ferrari. Making sure to leave plenty of room between our cars, I then step out, immediately assisted by one of the valets. Scrambling inside my little clutch purse, I curse when I realize I don’t have anything smaller than a ten. I hand it to him and move to the curb, giving a last glance at my little car. It’s been so trusty and loyal, and I love it far more than any Ferrari.
“That dress is definitely flirty,” a deep voice behind me says. I whirl to find Aaron Wylde standing exactly where he said he’d wait, holding the gift he’d bought from me two days ago.
Damn it… I have to admit he looks exceedingly handsome in a pair of light gray slacks and a lavender-colored dress shirt. It’s hot as hell—love a summer day in Phoenix—and I’m guessing that’s why he’s without the matching jacket. His blond hair is swept back in waves from his face and whereas he was sporting some stubble when I met him the other day in my store, he’s clean-shaven now.
I’d chosen a sleeveless dress in a light coral that complements the vivid coloring of my hair. It’s made of chiffon, and it swishes lazily around my knees when I walk.
And when I say I’d chosen, I mean I raided Veronica’s closet as I had not one single thing suitable for a wedding. Luckily, Veronica has more than enough to compensate. It was just as convenient to raid her closet as to go shopping.
Cheaper, too.
I step onto the sidewalk, then move toward Aaron. Other cars pull up, people spill out, then start heading toward the front door of the sprawling mansion.
Aaron’s eyes rake over me, making me feel entirely self-conscious and just a bit pretty when I see the approval on his face. “You look beautiful,” he says, turning to offer his arm.
“Thank you,” I reply demurely, trying to remember the last time a man said that. Searching my memory, I work backward in time through the men I’ve dated in the past and I have to go all the way back to “him” before I can remember such a compliment.
I immediately scrub “him” from my mind, not wanting to taste the bile in the back of my throat, which is a frequent occurrence with those memories.
“You clean up very well yourself, Professor,” I tell Aaron, which is a phenomenal understatement.
He laughs as we walk up to the house. “I love that. Professor.”
“You really did school me,” I mutter, still a bit put out I’d gotten taken so easily. There’s a bit of a line waiting to get in the door, so I take the time to say, “You didn’t tell me that your friend who was getting married was rich as sin. I might have suggested a nicer gift than a wine opener.”
Aaron laughs again. It’s that sort of effortless sound a person makes when they find genuine humor in life. “Trust me… Erik and Blue might be rich, but they are very down to earth. In fact, beer bottle opener would have been more appropriate.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” I say, sweeping my hand against the backdrop of the grand house as we move onto the porch.
Standing inside the doorway, I’m surprised to find a boy—no, a man—in a wheelchair with another tall man standing beside him. It appears they are the welcoming committee.
Aaron pulls his arm loose from my hand and holds his fist out to the man in the wheelchair. “Hey, Billy… big day, huh?”
Billy smiles broadly, sort of rocking back and forth before bringing his own fist up to bump against Aaron’s. He doesn’t say anything, and I guess he might be non-verbal.
Aaron introduces me. “Billy… this is my friend, Clarke.” Turning, he says, “This is Blue’s brother, Billy.”
I bend slightly, bringing my face more in line with his so he doesn’t have to look up. I’m not sure what to say, but I say what anyone might to the young man. “Hi, Billy… very nice to meet you. You look very handsome for the occasion.”
Billy grins back.