Page 24 of Three Pucking Wedding Dates

“Hey, Oakley,” Reid says, sidling up next to me with his own dish in hand. “I have to say, mine’s looking pretty good. Better than yours, at least.”

“Excuse you?” I snap, narrowing my eyes as I take in his perfectly rolled and crimped pastry, the golden-brown hue already starting to appear on its surface. It irks me that he might be right, but my competitive nature won’t let me admit it.

“Come on, admit it,” he teases, smirking like the devil himself. “Mine looks like a masterpiece, while yours…well, yours has character.”

“Character?” I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re just jealous because mine will taste better.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” he chuckles, playfully nudging me with his elbow. I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the warmth that blooms beneath my skin at his touch.

“Reid, please, I need your help!” a woman’s voice cuts through our banter. We both turn to see her sauntering toward us, her breasts pushed out in a blatant attempt to catch his attention. She bats her eyelashes at him, looking every bit the damsel in distress. “My beef Wellington is a mess, and I saw how amazing yours turned out. Could you give me some pointers?”

“Actually,” Reid says smoothly, prying her hand off of him with practiced ease, “Gray is the real expert here. Why don’t you go ask him?”

“But, I was asking you,” she tries again.

“And I was telling you I’m not interested.”

As the woman’s face falls, I can’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction. She puffs, calls him a jerk under her breath as shewalks away. Reid turns back to me, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Now, where were we?”

“Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you to turn down a woman like that,” I tease, trying to mask the relief that floods through me. “Wasn’t she your type?”

Reid chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, Oakley. The only brat I need in my life is you.”

“Hey!” I smack his arm playfully, feigning indignation. “That’s not fair. You’re good-looking and good at everything, including making beef Wellington, apparently. What am I supposed to do?”

“Accept defeat gracefully?” Reid suggests, grinning as he leans in close. His breath tickles my ear, making me shiver involuntarily. “Besides, who said life was fair?”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” I mutter, my cheeks warming as I try to ignore the way my heart races in response to his proximity. A small smile sneaks onto my lips, betraying my true feelings.

“You know, I’m good at things you can’t even imagine,” he whispers in my ear.

His words are laced with a sexual undertone that catches me off guard. I feel an unfamiliar heat pooling between my legs and my cheeks flush with color. When did Reid’s closeness start affecting me like this?

“Really?” I try to play it off, keeping my voice steady despite the way my body betrays me.

“Absolutely,” he murmurs before pulling away, leaving me craving more of his touch.

As we wait for our beef Wellingtons to bake, I focus on the conversation around us, trying to distract myself from the thoughts racing through my mind. When did my feelings for Reid begin to shift? Has his loyalty and friendship woven its way into something deeper without me realizing it?

12

OAKLEY

The cooking class comes to an end, and I watch as everyone packs up their stuff and heads out the door. As the room empties, I make my way over to Gray who’s wiping down the counter with a satisfied smile.

“Gray, you did an amazing job leading the class,” I say, beaming at him. “Better than I would have expected.”

“Better than you would have expected?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at me. “You doubted me?”

“Well…”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Thanks, Oakley…I think. Although, I’ll be making sure to read all the contracts put in front of me before signing them from now on.”

I can’t help but laugh at his joke, knowing full well how he was roped into this whole thing. But it’s hard to deny that he made the most of it. “You know, you’re really lucky to be able to do something like this and make a crap ton of money, just like that.”

His eyes meet mine, warmth radiating from his gaze. “I guess I am,” he admits, his lips curving into a grin.

Curiosity piques as I watch Gray finish cleaning up his station. “So, how much did you make doing this?” I ask, trying to guess the amount. “Twenty thousand? Thirty?”

---