Page 41 of Always a Bridesmaid
Ford chuckled and snatched her wrist out of the air. He lowered their entwined hands and rubbed his thumb over the knuckles she couldn’t crack without sound effects, which, how damn cute was that?
As cute as she claimed my puppy’s badass names were.
Since he’d been going somewhere with this speech, he reined in his thoughts about Violet’s adorableness. “Addie’s one of my best friends. You have more experience than I do at the bridesmaid thing, and I don’t want to steer her wrong. ’Specially since she’s as clueless about dresses as I am.”
“Look, I don’t believe all that nonsense the lady in the Old Firehouse spouted. In fact, I think you’re a great guy—”
Ford groaned. “Great guys never make history.”
“Yes, they do. Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King Jr., the Dalai Lama.”
“Fair enough.” He slipped his fingers between hers. “My point is you’re not gonna date any of those guys.”
“Well, some of them are married or dead. Or married and dead, and—”
“Again. Missin’ the point.”
“Sorry.” Violet slipped her hand from his, leaving it empty and longing to grasp for what it’d lost. “What I’m trying to say is that I’ve sworn off men. Namely, dating them.”
“Good thing I didn’t exactly ask you out.”
“You didn’t exactly not ask me out, either.”
Dang Addie, goading him into spending time with Violet so he could go and get his hopes up. This conversation wouldn’t have stung his pride if it’d happenedbeforethe pool game and the almost-kiss. “All right, I hear you. We can just be friends.”
Violet sighed. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Ford.”
“Fortunately for you, I do know, and it is.”
Violet pressed her lips together, fighting that killer smile of hers, and he chucked her on the chin.
The gesture brought out the full smile, along with a shake of her head.
“This is me, asking a friend”—he inclined his head toward her—“that’s you, lest you didn’t piece that together yet—to help him help his friend pick out a bridal gown.”
“Typical dude stuff, then?”
Damn, she was funny, and that only amped up his desire to spend more time with her. “Now you get it.”
The reflection of the porch light danced in her eyes as she tipped her face to his. “Then I’ll be there. You’re lucky I’m such a sucker for wedding dresses.”
A thread of panic stitched its way through his chest—jab, tug, jab, tug. Usually talk of wedding anything on a first date would send him running.
But this wasn’t a date, and Violet had asserted there wouldn’t be any of those.
Disappointment stabbed at him as that realization set in, and he wondered if that madehimthe moody one. This woman was doing a number on his head and his emotions.
He summoned up his most winning grin. “Pick you up Saturday at two. Just know that if we’re late, I’m gonna tell Lexi it’s your fault.”
“Friends all of five seconds and you’re already willing to throw me under the bus.”
“Absolutely,” he said with a laugh.
Then he forced himself to tell her goodbye and beat a retreat. Because friends didn’t normally kiss, and if he stood there for much longer, he might go and forget that fact.
Chapter Eight
It’s just my dad. No big deal.
