Page 12 of Messy Match

I’veneverhadsucha hard time focusing on a meal in my life. Not just because Charlotte’s presence across the long banquet table has my mind spinning and my body on high alert, but thanks to the fact that all I can think about is getting her alone.

I’ve dropped my fork twice now. The first time, thank god, the clatter was mistaken for someone clinking their glass for a kiss from the happy couple. The second time, however, more than a few curious glances are thrown my way.

“You okay there?” Mack asks at my side, his voice low enough that only I hear him.

“Fine,” I mutter, but my response lacks conviction, especially when Charlotte’s throaty laugh fills the air again. She seems completely unaffected by my presence, focused entirely on whatever story Maya is telling. But I’m as clumsy as hell for no reason other than I’m watching the gorgeous woman across the table tuck her hair behind her ear or focusing on how her handsdance through the air as she describes her latest audition to Levi, on her left.

The candlelight from the votives lining the table catches in her dark hair and makes her skin glow. And when she crosses her legs under the table and her foot brushes mine, the contact makes me wish this dinner would just end already. Plus, she keeps fidgeting with the thin cardigan draped over her shoulders. Every time she adjusts it, my fingers itch to strip it off her entirely.

When she lifts her wineglass to her lush pink lips, I track the graceful movement until I’m forced to look away, gripping my own glass so hard it’s likely to shatter.

“Jake, dear.” Dr. Novak’s voice cuts through my Charlotte-induced haze as she lays a hand on my shoulder. “I didn’t get a chance to say hello earlier during the rehearsal.”

“Dr. Novak.” I push back my chair and stand to greet Brock and Charlotte’s mother properly. “It’s good to see you.”

“How are things with you?” Her shrewd gray eyes regard me closely before they flick to her daughter and return to me with a glimmer of knowing amusement. “All is well?”

“Yes, good,” I manage, but her raised eyebrow tells me she’s not buying it.

“I noticed you didn’t bring a date this weekend,” she continues with a hint of a smile that’s eerily similar to Charlotte’s when she’s giving me a hard time.

“I’m not seeing anyone at the moment,” I confess so fast it makes me sound as if I’m defensive about the topic.

She waves a hand toward the couples sitting side by side down the long table. “Surprising, considering the way love seems to have spread through the station like a viral epidemic.”

There’s no way in hell I’m having a conversation about love with Charlotte’s mother when her daughter is sitting only feet away, likely watching us like a reality TV show. And definitelynot when an offer sits open on the table to, as Charlotte said, ‘Get… whatever this is out of our systems.’ So I do the one thing I hope will distract this wise mother-of-the-groom. I lean forward and shoot her my famous smile. “I must be immune.”

Dr. Novak’s measured chuckle grates on my tenuous calm, making me feel like a patient being diagnosed. “Oh, Jake,” she says, patting my arm with maternal indulgence. “In my experience, there’s no such thing as immunity when it comes to matters of the heart. Only denial and delayed onset.” She glances meaningfully at Charlotte again before adding, “And sometimes, the most resistant patients end up with the most severe cases.”

An hour later, as servers are clearing the last of the dessert plates and the older attendees are saying goodnight, I spot Charlotte in the crowd and hurry toward her. But before I can reach her side, the women, in a flock of linked arms, scoop her up and head off to god knows where.

“Damn it,” I mutter, watching them disappear toward the lobby. I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. After two years of carefully maintaining my distance, now that she’s offered to ‘make the rumors true,’I want her alone more than I need my next breath. And circumstances are making it impossible.

“Going somewhere?” Brock’s voice carries a hint of amusement that makes me want to deck him. Instead, I turn to find him and the guys commandeering a collection of Adirondack chairs in a corner of the terrace.

“Was just gonna turn in,” I lie.

“Like hell you are,” Levi calls out. “Get over here. Mack brought the good whiskey for once.”

Part of me wants to tell them all to go to hell. I’ve got more pressing matters to attend to, like tracking down a certain sharp-tongued barista, who’s made it her mission to drive mecrazy. But I’m the best man, and abandoning my best friend the night before his wedding to sleep with his sister surely makes me even less worthy of her than I already am. So I drop into an empty chair, accepting the tumbler Mack passes over and surreptitiously checking my watch.

“Hot date?” he teases.

I freeze at the casual question that hits way too close to home.

“He wishes,” Levi snorts. “Though I have to say, watching Jake try to maintain atruceis way more entertaining than his usual bickering with Charlotte.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I scoff, trying and failing to play it off.

“You’re not fooling anyone, brother,” Mack chimes in.

I nearly choke on my drink. “What?”

“Please.” Brock rolls his eyes. “You’ve been watching Charlotte like a hawk all night.”

“I have not,” I protest, but my declaration sounds weak, even to my ears.

“Look, man,” Mack says, leaning forward. “You’ve been dancing around each other for what, two years now? Maybe, it’s time to stop pretending there’s nothing there.”

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