Page 102 of Wicked Serve

“Which is why you shouldn’t be hiding from us.”

“I’m not hiding.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.” I fish my phone out of my pocket and pull up the notes app. “Look at what I need to do for the wedding.”

She scrolls through the long, detailed list. “Damn, this is a lot.”

“And that’s just what I have to get done over the next few days.”

“I thought Nik’s mom was helping you.”

“She is.” My heart twinges at the thought of Katherine. I have zero idea if she knows I know what happened during Nik’s childhood, but if she does, she hasn’t brought it up, and I’m content to follow that lead. It makes me sad to think about, though. She’s such a vibrant personality, it’s hard to imagine her trapped in that situation. “But it’s still my project. It’s something I can really put a lot of thought into. I want James and Bex to have the perfect wedding, they deserve that.”

“Will you think about it? You could even just come to the practices and not do the games. A couple of the girls are doing that because of class commitments.”

The thought is tempting—I haven’t so much as touched a volleyball since I got back to campus—but I just shake my head.

“I don’t know. Maybe. But we should hang out.”

“Want to do something this weekend? Or are you and Nik celebrating Valentine’s Day early?”

“I’m touring venues with Bex and James.”

She sits back, mocha in hand. “How about tonight? We could just study together, or watch a movie.”

“I’ve been dying for a margarita,” I admit.

Her eyes light up. “Margaritas and Bridesmaids?”

“Make it 27 Dresses and you have a deal.”

Chapter 49

Nikolai

I knock on Isabelle’s front door, adjusting the flowers and gift bag in my arms. I’m not sure why my stomach is doing a gymnastics routine—it’s just Valentine’s Day—but I barely have a chance to take a breath before she flings open the door.

“You didn’t have to knock,” she says, eyes alighting on the flowers. “It was unlocked.”

“Sounds like a great way to get murdered.”

She shrugs as she leads the way to the kitchen. “I knew you were coming.” As she searches for a vase, she adds, “And I want you to feel comfortable here. It’s so much better than your dorm.”

When she straightens, I tug her into my arms. The vase is wedged between our chests, but I don’t pay it any mind. “Happy Valentine’s Day. I thought we were staying in and watching a movie?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” She rises onto her tiptoes for a kiss. “What, I can’t show off my new dress?”

I’m not sure I’d call what she’s wearing a dress; it reminds me of the fancy nightgowns she wears to bed sometimes. It’s a soft, gauzy pink, held together with a bow over her breasts. It barely reaches mid-thigh. My mouth goes dry as I take in the perfect way it clings to her curves. She tilts her head to the side, clearly aware of the way she’s affecting me. If the not-dress wasn’t bad enough, she’s wearing sheer black knee socks, also adorned with bows.

I actually rub my sternum; this is too fucking much. “I was under the impression we were watching that movie you really like—”

“—The Wedding Singer—”

“—possibly with your brother and Penny and the cat—”

“—they’re gone for the night. We have the house to ourselves.”

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