PROLOGUE
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
LOVE AT FIRST sight. Fact or fiction?
Levi Reynolds smiled as he remembered the first words Piper Winslow ever said to him. More of a challenge than a question, her green eyes a bit hazy from weariness and a few precisely timed shots of her drink of preference—ice-cold, premium-grade vodka—she seemed to dare him to produce an answer she could rip to shreds with her sharp, smart-ass brain.
If Levi recalled correctly, he hadn’t been in the best of moods when Piper approached him. All he wanted was to exit the noisy ballroom, get in his car, roll down the windows, and crank up some tunes. Perfection equaled an open road and a heavy foot on the accelerator. The last thing he needed was to be waylaid by a nonsensical question delivered by a woman whose bad mood almost rivaled his own.
As the memory solidified, Levi’s smile widened. From the first moment, Piper Winslow was impossible to ignore. How could he not be drawn to a fiery-haired woman with an attitude to match? A woman who, despite her momentary belligerence, was also adorably tipsy. Not drunk, but floaty—her word. And, looking into her soft-focus green eyes, he saw no reason to argue.
Levi would learn in the years to come that Piper was a woman who knew how to handle her alcohol.
As the band played one more syrupy love song, despite his wish to be anyplace else, Levi was intrigued. Instead of leaving, he watched as Piper hitched up the mermaid-style skirt on her dress and climbed onto the barstool to his right.
“Vodka. Straight up,” she told the bartender. She leveled her gaze onto Levi. “Love at first sight. Fact or fiction? I’m Piper by the way. Can I buy you a drink?”
Because Levi neither accosted women nor was he a glutton for punishment, he swallowed his sudden and illogical desire to plant a kiss on the woman’s full, red lips. He cleared his throat as he reminded himself that he was, at heart, a gentleman.
“Levi.” He smiled. “The drinks are free.”
“So they are,” Piper said with a wink of one green eye. “Well, what’s the verdict?”
“Love at first sight is a fallacy,” Levi stated, ignoring the flutter of increased interest. “Lust, yes. But love? Absolutely not.”
“Exactly!” Piper slapped a palm onto the bar. The sound was loud enough to momentarily rouse the drunk four chairs away. “And yet, three weeks after they first laid eyes on each other, the happy couple has tied the knot. Why?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Levi pondered the question. One answer came to mind.
“The need to justify twenty-one days of sexual hijinks.”
“Reasonable assumption, but you are way off the beam, my newly acquired friend.” Piper sighed. “The reason you see me dressed in a bright pink taffeta confection straight out of every bridesmaid’s worst nightmare isn’t because of an overload of sex but a massive case of unfulfilled desire.”
“Unfulfilled?” Levi glanced toward the door, remembering the newly married couple’s hasty retreat after a rushed cake cutting ceremony. He’d wondered at the time why the groom looked so wild-eyed. Now he had his answer. “She wouldn’t sleep with him until he put a ring on her finger?”
“Typical,” Piper said with a scoff. “Place the blame on the woman.”
“You mean…? He wouldn’t…?” The idea was too inconceivable for Levi to articulate.
“Don’t tell anyone.” Piper leaned his way, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Virgin. Not that there’s anything wrong with waiting.”
“Agreed.” Levi didn’t understand, but nor did he judge. Still… He felt a wave of sympathy frustration. “I get why he was in such a hurry. Thirty years without getting laid is a long time.”
“The bride swears they’re in love.” Piper rolled her eyes. “Maybe. Hopefully. I’ve known Celia for five years. She was born dreaming of her wedding day. Started planning every detail before she was old enough to understand there’s more to life than getting dressed up in satin and lace.”
Desperate Bride Syndrome. Levi nodded. He’d witnessed the phenomenon before, up close and personal, with his older sister. She turned a certain age, panicked, and jumped into marriage with the first man who asked. Or did she do the asking? Didn’t matter. After months of getting every detail perfect, becoming a bridezilla from hell, and spending a cringeworthy amount of money, the union between wife and husband lasted all of six tumultuous months.
“Since when is thirty old?” Levi asked with a frown, the image of his sister’s desperation burned indelibly into his brain. Plus, as a man about to leave his twenties, he wasn’t ready to brand himself as over the hill. “Don’t we still have plenty of good years left?”
Pushing her hair from her face—the teased bouffant style had collapsed and now resembled less of a poof and more of a pancake—Piper raised an eyebrow.
“We?” She took a sip from her glass, her lips quirking upward on one side. “What makes you think I’m in my thirties?”
Levi knew the signs. He’d entered a minefield. Swerve the wrong way and, boom! However, something told him Piper Winslow didn’t care what anyone thought about her or her age. If he was wrong, then he’d deal with her withering glance. If she threw her drink in his face, all the better. The vodka would nip the bloom right off his budding crush on the redheaded beauty.
“You could pass for twenty-five.”
“I know,” Piper said matter-of-factly. She let out a small chuckle. “Why do I hear a however lurking in your voice?”
“Most women in their early twenties bore me.” Levi shrugged. “You, Piper Winslow, are anything but boring.”
“Damn straight.” Piper grinned. “I’m thirty-three. And, if I don’t miss my guess, older than you.”
“Three years isn’t older,” Levi argued. “It’s—”
“A lifetime,” she interrupted. “In terms of wisdom and experience, I’ve been there and done that more times than I care to remember.”
“If you don’t remember, what’s the point?”
Glass halfway to her lips, Piper froze, snorted, then let out a full-blown laugh. As he watched her face light with delight, Levi felt his low-grade crush take a worrisome step toward rock-solid.
“Well articulated, my handsome friend,” Piper said. “You have the kind of quick and agile mind I might appreciate if I weren’t dressed like a slightly pornographic version of a Disney princess.”
Levi had to admit the amount of cleavage presented by Piper’s dress was a trifle risqué for a church wedding. However, from a strictly male point of view, he appreciated the way the material clung in all the right places.
Searching for a compliment that wouldn’t make him sound like a clueless man, Levi fell back on an oldy but goody.
“The color suits you.”
Piper smirked as though she recognized his dilemma.
“Most people think redheads should never wear pink.” She finished her vodka in one gulp. “Most people are wrong. Since I’m booked as a bridesmaid four more times in the next six weeks, it’s a good thing that I look good in all colors. Though lime green, neon yellow, pumpkin orange, and a shade of blue that would make Mother Nature cringe might push even my fashion tolerance to the brink of implosion”