Page 42 of Mismatched Mates

The day of the wedding dawned fair and bright, the early June morning soft and lush with the promise of sun. Mom had the boys and I’d headed over to the house Victoria shared with Luke to help her get ready. Luke was at the fire station with his groomsmen.

Given the way I’d reacted when Victoria first came to the town, a human looking to date my brother—even though she didn’t know he was a shifter, and play mother to his kids, it had been a surprise that she’d offered for me to be a bridesmaid, but now I felt grateful.

“You made it,” she said as I shut the front door behind me. Someone—probably Victoria’s mom—had transformed the master bedroom into a bridal bower, and I had the feeling of walking into a boutique, my dress under my arm. Victoria was getting her makeup done by a professional makeup artist and her dress hung on a beautiful silk padded hanger with intricate white embroidery. I’d been there when Luke had been married for the first time to a woman who had never deserved him, and whose wedding had felt like a Her Show.

Victoria’s dress was soft and modern, bridal without a hooped skirt designed to take out small children, and themakeup artist was transforming her face into a sweet summer blush. If I hadn’t already known she was my brother’s perfect match, I’d have known it then.

For some reason, my heart jammed against the back of my throat, and my nose stung. “You lookincredible,” I told her.

She smiled slightly as she examined herself in the mirror. “I feel exactly the way I’d always wanted to feel on my wedding day.”

“Luke won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

Her smile grew a little wider and she glanced across at her dress. “I think I’ve made all the arrangements, but honestly, even if there’s a tropical storm and the caterer forgets to make today’s dinner, I won’t care, so long as I get to sayI do.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s so gross and soppy, isn’t it?”

Her words, so full of love and certainty, touched something deep within me. "Really?"

She nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Really. He's my home. Everything else is just... decoration."

I gave her a gentle hug from behind, careful not to dislodge her hair or get in the way of the artist. “I wouldn’t let him marry anyone else.”

“I believe it,” she said wryly, and laughed, gesturing for me to hang my dress beside hers and take a seat. “Sylvia’s pretty much done with me, so let’s get your makeup sorted. Is Grant going to be there?”

My stomach gave a traitorous flip. After the last time we’d seen each other, my obsession had gotten worse. It was at the point that I would lie awake and stare at the photos scattered across his social media. None of other women, but all of him in various locations, in between working for clients. I’d stare at his face in the early hours of the morning, my eyes watering from exhaustion, and wonder what terrible things were going wrongwith me. Even at the height of dating Jason, I’d never wanted him the way I wanted Grant.

Nothing made sense.

“It’s always scary when you meet your mate,” Victoria continued as Sylvia, who gave me a smile and an assessing look, picked up a makeup brush. Victoria had already given her the brief, and she knew I was clueless enough not to have any idea what I wanted anyway. “I know when I first got to know Luke, it was kind of overwhelming, even though I knew nothing about mates at the time.”

I almost spat at my reflection. “What?”

“I mean, you were there,” she continued. “You know what a big adjustment in thinking it was.”

“I’m not—” I zipped the words shut before they could fall out of my mouth.

Nope. Not even going to consider going there.

Grant was not my mate. I didn’t have a mate, and if I did, it certainly wasn’t a playboy wolf. This was just the natural reaction to being touch-starved then having amazing sex. Nothing more than that.

My hands shook as I stared at myself in the mirror. God, I needed to pull myself together. Focus on Victoria and Luke. The real couple here.

Sylvia, either unconcerned or oblivious to my confusion, picked up two tubes of gloss. “What color would you like for your lips?”

The wedding was held in an old barn at the side of town, two great big fire engines parked outside. Soft greenery draped from weathered beams, intertwined with delicate cream ribbons.Mason jars filled with wildflowers hung at varying heights, catching the late afternoon sun and casting a warm glow throughout the space.

The guests had all arrived by the time we pulled up outside, and Victoria’s mom fussed around her, pulling the veil down over her face and making sure her bouquet was every level of perfect.

I adjusted my own flowers, doing my best not to think too much about Grant.

“Are we ready?” Victoria beamed, and I forced aside my own worries, giving her my biggest smile in return.

“Ready.”

She gestured to a lady by the doors, and at the front of the barn, a cello began to play as the doors opened and Victoria made her sedate way down the aisle. At the front, Luke turned to see his future wife, and his face lit up. He looked almost thunderstruck at the sight of her approaching him, the awe in his eyes tugging something loose in my heart.

Then my eyes caught Grant’s, and it was like the world went still. I hadn’t known, not really, how much I had been craving seeing him until it happened. Just as dressed up as I’d hoped he would be—wearing a different henley this time, a blue one that brought an almost blue tint to his gray eyes.

Broad and strong, with my boys on either side of him like they belonged there, but with eyes only for me.

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