Page 43 of How to Ruin a Wedding

To break the tension, I move my lips to thank him, but we’re so close together I fear any movement will lead to our mouths pressing. And though my body begs for the touch, the warmth, for Anders in this moment—I fear if I start kissing him, I won’t stop.

And those are too-real desires for a fake-dating situation.

With effort, I sneak my hands between us, pressing against his chest. A gentle push doesn’t budge him.

His eyes flick between mine and my lips, like he’s measuring the distance too.

I know I’m attractive—I’m not naive enough to think Anders doesn’t find me so. Still, there are millions of attractive people in the world, and normal people can appreciate seeing one and keep it moving, they don’tdoanything about it.

But when I see Anders, my brain doesn’t move on to the next thought, it only burns with the feeling of finding him so sexy it feels like the world might end if I can’t have him inside me.

And it’s the first time I’ve felt it in such an all-consuming wave. The attraction runs deep—visceral, bone deep, and between my legs.

Just my luck it’s for the most unreadable, unattainable man I’ve ever met.

I push harder. It’s not enough to move him, but he blinks, then pulls back, righting me to stand, before stepping away. My knees buckle, and he swoops in again, wrapping an arm around me.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, mistaking my shaky legs for drunkenness rather than lust. He leads me to the bench, sits me down, and leans in, fingers massaging through my hair, pulling out tiny strands. After the second pass, I notice wood chips under his nails before he flicks them away.

I chew my lip, gaze down. Each time he leans in, his scent orbits me, and the warmth from my cheeks spreads and spreads.

“Do you feel okay?” he asks.

“Why are you here on your own?” he asks.

“Are you upset with me?” he asks.

His fingers pause their exploration. “Are you on a silent strike?”

“No,” I say. “I’m just trying not to embarrass myself.”

His hands slide to my cheeks, thumbs pressing into the high points. “What are you talking about?”

“I know with how you met me, this silly little job, and my failure to actually do it right before—you may think I don’t have any pride. But there’s a sliver of it left. And there are only so many times I can be drunk in front of you before you start thinking I have a problem.”

His brows furrow. “Don’t speak for me,” he says. Firm, not argumentative, but close. “The only thing I have a problem with is you being out after midnight, drunk and alone, not answering your phone. You’re not from around here, you don’t know anyone—you should’ve called me.”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I know that I don’t,” he says. “Is it a problem that I do?”

“I think we had this discussion when you took me out to dinner, and it feels like you’re disregarding that.”

“No. I believe I said, ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ And I have. And I don’t think caring about your safety is as big a deal as you’re making it out to be. You should expect basic human decency and concern from other people.”

Something tightens in my chest.

It’s not that I don’t deserve it, but that I’ve gotten used to not expecting it. It’s been a while since I’ve been in a real relationship, and the ones I was in before didn’t offer much care. There was a turning point for me, a pivotal moment in my life’s path of failed relationships and excessive self-deprecation, where I learned to view care from others as a luxury, not a bare-minimum act from another human being.

Right. Good. It’s not a big deal to him. Justhuman decency. Which means it shouldn’t be for me. Good. Great.

The warmth that enveloped me quickly cools off. Every time I think I’m getting mixed signals, Anders is quick to remind me that this is just how he is.

It’s me and my eager little heart and imaginative mind that muddle things.

“Okay, then.” I wave him off, removing his hands from my face. “I am drunk. I got drunk with your sister, and I think she really likes me.”

“Of course she does,” he says, settling beside me on the bench. “She cursed me out for leaving you out here on your own—despite me not knowing you were here at all.”