Page 123 of Always a Bridesmaid
So she lifted her chin and stuck it out a few inches, shifted her weight onto her back leg, and popped her hip.
Not that it mattered, but Ford would see these pictures, so she’d put her best foot forward. Literally, since the photographer had them lift their skirts an inch or so as they stuck their sneakers together.
The dude of honor was on Addie’s other side, and he lifted his pants leg as well, his much-larger sneaker joining theirs. While she’d been sad about the idea of Ford cutting his hair, it made his jawline stand out and highlighted lips she’d dreamed about too often to scrub them from her mind. Short hair, long hair, beard, or trimmed scruff—like he had now—he was illegal amounts of sexy.
“Perfect,” the photographer said. “Now, let’s get the entire wedding party.”
They lined up, Lexi and Will next to Violet and Easton.
The photographer backpedaled, lowered her camera, and frowned, and Violet’s instincts went on high alert for reasons she couldn’t understand.
“Lexi and Will, you switch to the other side of the bride. Ford, you stand by…” The photographer pointed at Violet. “What was your name, sugar?”
In a trance, Violet stood helpless as she was sandwiched between Ford and Easton.
As soon as the flash went off, Ford placed a hand on her lower back. Sweet torture. Her skin hummed to life under his touch, and did he have to smell so incredible?
“I need to talk to you,” he whispered.
Violet held the tenuous grip on her smile and spoke through her teeth. “If you make drama or force me to cause a scene at this wedding, I’ll have to kill you. Then Lexi will kill you, and then Addie will revive you so she can kill you.”
“I’m not tryin’ to cause a scene. But I—”
“Just shut up and smile so we can get this over with.”
“Eyes on me, everyone,” the photographer chirped.Click, click, click.
Shift positions, pose, and do it again.
The photographer announced they were nearly done, and Violet gave a longing glance at the tables filling the reception area.
During most weddings, it was her feet begging her to take her seat. Thanks to the Chucks, her feet were sublimely comfortable, but if she didn’t get a break from being plastered against Ford’s side, she was going to have a mental breakdown.
With the last staged photo snapped, Violet strode toward the tables, but large fingers wrapped around her wrist.
“Ford, I swear,” she said as she spun to face him. She had half a mind to slug him in his devastatingly handsome face.
“Just promise that after the reception, we can talk.”
“Do you promise not to say anything else to me until then?”
Hurt flickered across his face, and a pang struck her chest. How unfair was it that she couldn’t stop caring?
“If that’s what you want,” Ford said, and she told him it was. His grip loosened, and she renewed her clipped pace, eyes on the chair Lexi had set up for her—as far away as possible from Ford.
A compromise had been struck over the dancing. Tucker and Addie had their first slow dance as a couple, swaying in the center of the area for less than a minute before the DJ asked everyone to join them.
Easton glanced at Ford, and Violet’s muscles tensed. “Don’t you dare.”
With a sigh, the cop escorted her onto the dance floor. His hand left her lower back to rub at his forehead. “It’s just… I feel responsible. I’m the one who told Ford about your record.”
She’d wondered how he’d found out, but when it came down to it, she couldn’t arouse any anger for the conflicted dude in front of her. “It’s okay. It happened, and I paid my dues. Ford’s the one who decided it was worth dumping me.”
“Yeah, but he’s dealt with a lot of volatile women. And I guess I sorta thought you might be one of them. But then I talked to Addie and Lexi, and I judged you wrongly. Now I feel like I need to make it right.”
“I’m leaving town tonight. There’s nothing to be done. Please just let it go.”
Easton didn’t appear happy about it but dropped the subject.
