Page 45 of The Love Chase

That was crazy. Wasn’t it?

And I was kissing her. Her lips were soft and warm and tasted slightly of candy. Somehow in all of this scam of a wedding, I hadn’t considered what it would be like to kiss her. And yet, when Mr. Bob told me to kiss my bride, I didn’t hesitate. I stepped forward, my hands sliding over the stunning dress she was wearing and around to her back, pulling her against me until our lips met.

Honestly, I’d kissed a lot of girls, but even this simple kiss with Emma had more spark and feeling than I’d ever experienced before.

But this was Emma. Why was I feeling like this about her? Why did I want to pull her back in for another kiss as I released my hold on her, and we turned to face the clapping crowd?

“You two can head back down the aisle and into the house now,” Bridget whispered behind me, appearing out of nowhere. “Photos are next, and then the reception after that.” She gave me a pat on the shoulder. “Go.”

My feet moved automatically as I laced my fingers with Emma’s and led her back up the velvet aisle, pausing here and there to accept hugs from both family members and complete strangers.

By the time we made it into the blessed air-conditioned house, a steady stream of sweat was sliding down my spine, and I was breathing heavily like I had just gone for a run. Emma, too, seemed to be equally affected as she stood there, hands on her hips, heaving a long breath into her lungs.

For a moment I could only stare at her.

Her wedding dress was covered in lace which made her look like a princess while somehow also keeping an air of simplicity that fit Emma perfectly. I usually only ever saw Emma with her hair in a ponytail or a messy bun, so she looked especially gorgeous with her brown hair falling in loose waves to the middle of her back. For a second, I debated running my fingers through it…but I didn’t want to mess up all the flowers woven into the strands.

There were times through our lives where I had acknowledged that Emma was a beautiful woman. I didn’t think anyone would disagree. But I had never been attracted to her before.

Not until now.

It felt like there was suddenly a bungee cord linked to both of us, and the farther I tried to step away, the stronger the pull back to her was. Maya’s comments from yesterday replayed in my head. Even though they should have made me uneasy, now they made a sense of relief settle into my stomach.

Our kiss flashed through my mind and suddenly I wanted to do it again.

Why was I thinking about kissing her? Why were my feet guiding me toward her?

“Liam?” Emma asked, and I froze in my tracks, her voice pulling me out of my head.

Emma may have been my wife now, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be. And now my feelings were all confused, and I wasn’t about to make her uncomfortable while I figured them out. She meant too much to me for that.

I cleared my throat, turning toward the kitchen, needing to do something before I tried to kiss her again. “Want some water?”

Emma hesitated for a moment before saying, “Sure.”

I went to the shelf above the sink and grabbed two glasses, filling them at the tap before handing one to her. Silence fell while we each chugged our water.

Did she feel the tension between us? Was she overthinking that kiss too? Or was it all in my head?

Before I could open my mouth to say anything else, Bridget stepped inside, wiping the sweat from her temple. Why she chose to wear all black to an outdoor wedding in June was beyond me.

“The photographer is ready,” she said, waving us out the front door. “We’ll start out by the barn, then head to the gazebo, and we’ll finish by the creek running through the trees. Should only take an hour. That’ll give everyone else time to set up the tables and dance floor for the reception.”

Without another word, Bridget stalked back outside with her clipboard, expecting us to follow.

In her usual fierce way, Emma just arched an expectant brow at me before lifting her skirt and following after my manager. I couldn’t remember the full amount of money that Bridget was paying Emma for this scheme, but I suddenly had a feeling it was nowhere near enough.

Thankfully, the photos passed fairly painlessly. Emma and I had always been comfortable with one another, and even despite getting married and our brief kiss, that fact hadn’t seemed to change.

It was easy to hold her in my arms, to do all the poses the photographer asked us to do without overthinking it. Bridget also must have asked the photographer to limit the kissing to the cheek and forehead since she only asked for one real kiss.

Inexplicably, I was both relieved and annoyed at this.

Emma seemed relaxed the entire time, but I didn’t miss the little things that gave away her nervousness. The way her fingers fiddled at her sides, how she would bite her lip when my hands went around her waist, or avoid my gaze when our faces grew close.

On camera, I was sure we looked as natural as could be. And maybe part of it was natural just because we’d been friends for so long. Part of me couldn’t help but wonder if she was uncomfortable because it was me, or if she was uncomfortable because she thought I was uncomfortable.

That was one of the things I loved about Emma. She was so good at picking up how other people were feeling, and even if it was to her detriment, she’d go out of her way to make sure that person left in a better mood than when she found them.

---