Page 10 of The Best Man Wins

“Right…uh…” Ray spins in circles like a large, dumb dog.

“You two find that,” Susie says. “Do you think I could get a glass of water in the meantime?”

She looks at me hopefully. I read her mind.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” I say.

Cora and Ray hunt the living room for Cora’s little book. I wind Susie through the loft’s long living-room-cum-dining-room. There are barely any walls in Cora’s apartment, everything knocked down to give it a more open-air feel, so we’re only awarded a small amount of privacy as I lead her into the kitchen and pluck a glass from the shelf.

“So,” I say as I pull a pitcher of water from the fridge, “are we going to talk about last night, or would you prefer we pretend it never happened?”

“What’s there to talk about?” She doesn’t mince her words. Her tone drops low and intense, a sharp contrast from her bubbly attitude only seconds earlier.

“When you vanished…”

“Oh. That.” Susie draws her hair behind her ear anxiously. “I saw the wedding invitation with your name on it. I panicked.”

“Ah,” I mirror her. “That.” At least I can sleep at night knowing it wasn’t anything I did to make her uncomfortable. I fill her glass of water and hand it off to her. “I have something of yours.”

“My dignity?”

“Your panties.”

She nearly chokes on her water. “Keep them,” she says. “As a memory of something that’s never going to happen again.”

“Why stop there?”

“This is my job. I can’t complicate work with feelings. It didn’t turn out so well for me last time.” Her eyes lock on mine. “Can I count on you to be professional?”

I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”

Her eyes sharpen. “What do you mean?”

I dip an inch to murmur in her ear, “You’re far too sweet to only have a single taste.”

She shudders. I can see it. But then she takes a step away, putting distance between us. “If you won’t be professional for me, do it for your sister, then.”

My jaw tightens at that. “As I explained to you last night,” I remind her, “right after I licked your brains out against the Central Park backdrop, I’m not here to celebrate. Ray Dalton is not good enough for my sister. So help me God, I’m going to tear this wedding apart before he ever steps foot on that altar.”

Her face goes pale white. She turns away and takes a long sip of cool water. I try not to focus on the way her lips curl around the glass or the bob in her throat when she swallows.

“Fine,” she says quietly, sternly. “You’re on.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“This wedding is happening.” She turns to me. “With or without you. So I suggest you and your perfectly sculpted arms get on this boat before I leave you sans life vest.”

Oh. This woman is good. “It’s on, honey.” I bare my teeth in a smile.

“Well, time for me to get to work building the perfect wedding for your sister.” She sighs dramatically and passes the glass back to me. “Try not to stare when I walk away.”

Her heels click on the hardwood. I want to retort, but her bottom does look phenomenal. The things I would do to her in that dress. I smooth my palm over my thigh briefly to cool my blood. Her coral lipstick lingers on rim of the glass, and I smudge it off with my thumb.

Two can play. Let the wedding games begin.

5

Susie

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