Page 14 of One-Star Romance

“It’s…a bit toasty.”

“I don’t know why this is happening!” Gabby said. “It’s fourteen degrees higher than the average temperature for this time of year.” Weather.com had become her top visited website over the past month.

“Global warming,” Becks said. She was extremely pretty and extremely gloomy. “You think it’s bad now. Just wait until your children want to get married. They’ll have to do it in the dead of winter.” She fluffed her shining blond curls, regarding her reflection with woe. “If we even have winters anymore.”

Nat checked the clock. Still plenty of time before the ceremony. “I’m sure we’re not too far from a big-box store. I can run out and buy some umbrellas for people to use for shade, plus some extra bottled water.”

“Bottled water is part of the reason we’re running into this issue in the first place,” Becks continued. “Too many single-use plastics.” Shay nodded sympathetically. The rest of them ignored her.

“Yeah?” Gabby asked. “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” This was great! A mission. Something she could easily complete in a five-star way.

Gabby nodded, pulling out her phone to tap a message. “I’ll have Rob meet you out front to drive you.”

“No!” After their rehearsal dinner interaction, the last thing Nat wanted to do was spend quality time with Rob. Gabby gave her a strange look. Natalie scrambled. “I just mean, you probably need him to help out here. I can borrow a car and drive myself.”

“I know how nervous you get on the highway. And the New Jersey Turnpike is no joke.” Technically, Natalie had her driver’s license. She had passed her test by one point, almost gotten into an accident her first week on the road, and then proceeded to live only in cities with excellent public transportation. Calling her “rusty” was an understatement. Gabby’s fingers flew over her phone, texting away as she continued, “I do not want you dying in a fiery wreck on my wedding day!” She heard herself and took a breath. “I’m sorry. Obviously, I would be devastated if you died in a fiery wreck on any day.”

“I get it, though. Today would be particularly bad.”

Gabby’s phone dinged and she looked down. “Great news, Rob is driving you.”

8

Nat met Rob in the driveway of the bed-and-breakfast wearing the ratty sweatpants and T-shirt she’d put on for hair and makeup. He walked out the door already in his dark blue suit pants and button-down shirt, and she couldn’t stop herself from doing a double take at the way the pants hugged his lean frame. What right did he have to look so good? Impeccable tailoring, that was all this was. A good tailor could make anyone look dapper.

For a moment, the sun seemed to get in his eyes, blocking his view of the driveway. He squinted into the glare, rubbing the back of his neck, the expression on his face deeply unhappy. Then his eyes landed on her.

She waved, flashing him her most incandescent smile. She was determined to be extremely pleasant.

“Thank you so much for driving!” she chirped.

His unhappy expression remained unchanged. “We should hurry up,” he muttered, unlocking his car and cranking the air-conditioning. His sound system automatically began to play the last thing he’d been listening to: Fiona Apple. He quickly reached out and turned the music off.

They set off in silence, Rob checking his mirrors and backing up carefully.

As they pulled onto the highway, she cleared her throat. “So, what have you been up to for the last two years?”

“Finishing up my PhD.”

Normally, she’d ask a man one question, and he’d talk about himself for the rest of the night. In any other circumstance, she might find this change refreshing. “Thrilling. What’s the topic?”

“It’s linguistics.”

“Yes, I remember. But what area?”

“Specifically, neologisms. How new words enter the mainstream and become, quote unquote, ‘real.’ ”

“Wow, congratulations! And how has the whole process been?”

“A lot of work.” His jaw clenched. In fact, his whole body seemed to be clenched, from jaw to butthole.

Unfortunately, he smelled nice. An overwhelming attractive scent of soap and pine. She cracked her window. The incoming wind threatened to turn her blowout into a rat’s nest. She rolled the window up again. She could live with the smell.

Despite their time constraints, Rob was only driving one mile per hour over the speed limit. Cars flew past them. “Maybe we should go a little faster,” she said. “We do have a wedding to get back to.”

“I grew up in Jersey.” His voice was edged with irritation. “It’s near the end of the month. The traffic cops have their quotas to fill.”

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