Page 48 of How to Ruin a Wedding

He moves to shove it away. “I don’t need to see—what is this?”

“Not me,” I point out. The name on the page readsAshley Palmerand features a beautiful blond I found on Pinterest who bears a striking resemblance to Valerie. “Just in case John is actively seeking the comfortof other women, I made a profile that’s just his type. I’ve gotten a lot of attention, but nothing from John yet. He might not be a cheater, which would be the most obvious reason for a breakup.”

“Oh,” he says, his shoulders relaxing. “Oh. This is bait.”

I nod. “Just trying to work every angle possible.”

“You really think of everything.”

“For some things.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Others, not so much.”

I’m not sure if it’s some kind of game, or if we just like staring intently at each other, but we lock gazes—and somehow Anders’s face inches closer to mine, or mine to his, or maybe we both just pull together like we’re magnetized.

Regardless, some of my confusion about reciprocated attraction begins to clear up.

Even when Anders drops the dishcloth over my face, breaking the moment, the fog continues to dissipate. He’s not voicing it, but he’s annoyed at the thought of me going on a date. Now, whether that’s because he thinks I should be focusing on the job or because he finds the idea of me going on a date romantically irritating—that’s still up for debate.

For now, I try to take Taina’s advice and not overthink. I laugh, toss the towel back at him, and head to the door.

“Hurry up—we don’t want to be late for our date!”

13.

Seeing as how Anders and John have exchanged fewer than three words in thirty minutes, my promise to avoid an awkward night feels like false advertising. The two men greeted each other, led us to a booth overlooking the dozens of pool tables and a heavily populated curved bar, and haven’t said a word since.

Valerie returns from the bar with a round of double shots for our table, and I refrain from thanking God outside my own thoughts.

“Here”—I push two of the wet glasses toward Anders—“loosen up.”

Valerie downs one herself before snuggling up beside John, holding his glass to his lips. Anders scowls at them, and I grab his chin to do the same.

This earns me a frown. I give him a look that readsYou’re not helping. He returns one that readsI’m at a bar with what used to be a close friend who’s marrying my sister.He wins the silent argument, but downs the shot anyway.

“Come on,” Valerie says. “You’re really not drinking?”

“No,” I say. “My liver is on its last leg right now. I’ll stick to water.”

“Don’t be a bore.” Valerie pushes a shot at me.

Anders takes it and drinks it in a gulp. My gaze watches the way his Adam’s apple bobbles, and something about the movement sends a jolt of heat between my legs. He peels the glass away, and leftover whiskey gathers at the side of his lips, slowly slipping down his chin.

Jesus Christ, Lucinda, you’re like a dog in heat.

In a humiliating moment, my hands act of their own accord, lifting themselves to wipe away the droplet. I freeze, hand midair, as his gaze pins me in place.

Anders takes my thumb to his mouth and swipes the liquor from his skin. The act alone is enough to send my stomach into a frenzy. But then he pulls my thumb into his mouth and sucks the alcohol from my finger.

An arrow of heat shoots itself directly between my legs.

Unable to resist the instinctual urge to rub them together and relieve the heat building, I cross them, snatch my hand away from Anders, and direct my attention to John.

“So, sorry to be blunt, but as much as it makes Anders feel awkward, I’m so interested in you two.” I smile between them. “I mean, John, you must have only seen Valerie in tiny moments between hanging with Anders. What was the moment you realized you had feelings for her?”

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking at Valerie for immediate assistance with what I would assume is a very basic question.

“We’ve always had these little moments the few times I was around when he was visiting Anders.” Valerie speaks for him. “Questioning glances, tiny brushes, but I just thought he was my brother’s cute friend, never made it a big deal. Then, when we saw each other at that party, I don’t know, everything justclicked. We realized it could never work with anyone else because we were meant to be. There aren’t words to explain it; you justfeelit. We couldn’t be apart. We couldn’t, wouldn’t, let anything come between us.”

I face John. “What was coming between you two?”