Page 3 of Wright Kind of Trouble

“She’s right,” West agreed, putting his fist through the middle of the seats. I bumped him, and we both laughed at the look on Whitt’s face.

Jordan and Annie’s wedding was on the south side of town at the vineyard that Jordan and Julian had opened with their friend Hollin Abbey. The place had come a long way since its conception with award-winning wine and a booming event business. Jordan had told me once while I was touring the place that it had started as a line dancing dance hall and it was where he and Annie had first gotten together.

It was hard to picture that as I drove up to the immaculate venue. The barn that he’d told me had been half falling down was strong and sturdy with fresh wood stain and a new roof. The vineyards were in their first couple of weeks of bud-breaking, blooming green everywhere in the spring weather. The lawn between the barn and the cellar was a rich green and covered in white chairs and florals. The happy couple couldn’t have asked for better weather. Lubbock was notoriously unpredictable in the spring, alternating between eighties and fifties, breezy days and dust storms, sunshine and flooding.

The parking lot was already packed with what looked like half of the town to celebrate the occasion. I parked at the back of the lot next to a fancy Porsche sports car.

West whistled at the shiny red exterior when he stepped out. “Nice ride,” he said.

Whitt sucked his teeth. “My Lexus is just as nice.”

“Be for fucking real,” I muttered as I admired the car.

“This is a Porsche 718 Cayman,” West said, his voice dripping with lust. He’d always wanted something like this. “This thing goes zero to sixty in less than five seconds. It tops out at a hundred seventy-something miles per hour.”

“Come along before you have an orgasm over the thing.” I pushed him in the back, and he shot me a look.

I grinned at him, and the three of us headed toward the vineyard.

“My car is just as nice,” Whitt muttered again.

I patted his shoulder. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I wonder who it belongs to,” West said. “Need to see if the guy will let me drive it.”

“Excuse me. It could be a woman.”

West laughed. “Sure, but it’s probably not.”

I looked to Whitt for help, but he just shrugged and agreed with West.

“Y’all are the worst. One day, I’m going to stop all this gendered shit from you two.”

West threw his arm around my shoulders. “And one day, we’re going to stop you from using the word y’all as if you’re from the South.”

I pushed him away with an eye roll. I’d adopted y’all as soon as I moved to Lubbock. It was superior to other options. My brothers were just ribbing me.

We stepped into line with the rest of the crowd. I’d only been in Lubbock for a few months and didn’t know all of the Lubbockites. I’d met my Wright cousins—Jensen, Austin, Landon, Morgan, and Sutton—as well as their respective partners. The other guys at the vineyard were familiar, as well as the girls who were on the soccer team I’d subbed in exactly one game for. I’d played casually in high school, but my joy from the game had been more…social than fitness-related. Everyone else at the wedding was a relative stranger.

Including West’s roommate, Nora, who he was super into. Even if he hadn’t exactly admitted it.

Finally, we reached the front of the line. West and Whitt were engaging with the ushers while my eyes roamed the outdoor space. Now that I had a full view, I could tell they’d sunk money into this wedding. Good for them.

I turned to try to wrangle my brothers when my eyes landed on a guy dressed in a tailored navy suit. My breath caught at the sight of him. Beautiful and pouty and tortured perfection. The consternation that played across his bold features was at odds with the occasion. As if he’d walked into the wedding off the street and was trying to figure out what he was doing here.

The light played across the soft curl of his ash-blonde hair, highlighting the golden strands threaded through the darker color. His eyes were a blue that shouldn’t be legal. Like falling into a pool of water. They kept glancing up at the altar and quickly away, as if he didn’t want anyone to see him looking. His hand kept going to the inside pocket of his suit, like he needed whatever was in there for courage.

For a split second, it was as if he could feel my eyes upon him. His gaze swept in my direction, and then they locked upon me. My mouth went dry. My body felt like it had been electrified. Every nerve stood on end. Just from a glance.

With those high cheekbones, a razor-sharp jawline, and pretty, pouty lips opened slightly on a question, I was a goner.

I didn’t even know his name.

“Harley,” West called.

I jumped, breaking eye contact and turning back to my brother. “Huh?”

“Let’s get our seats.”

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