Page 13 of Catch and Release Groom

“All I discovered about myself tonight is that I don’t like eating alone.” Her shoulders slumped farther. “That’s bad, isn’t it? Is this my life now?”

Unwittingly, his brain began sorting the evidence: the waiter’s bewilderment as he pointed out she’d already paid for the honeymoon package, and the fact that all the other resort guests were on their honeymoons and Imogen was alone.

It’s the safe paths… I was on one for so long that it started looking more like a prison sentence.

It’d stood out because it’d struck a raw nerve then, too.

I feel trapped here, Grace had told him the night he’d presented his business plan.Don’t you understand?

Memories he’d repressed crept up to steal the air from his lungs, and he gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t ask Imogen if she’d left her groom standing at the altar in the same careless manner.

“Here.” He nudged the barely touched glass of water in her direction. “Hydrate.”

Except now an internal tug-of-war was taking place. She’d already been embarrassed by the waiter, no matter how inadvertently, and he could hardly flee anytime anyone mentioned love and marriage and the rest of that nonsense.

Besides, he didn’t know the full story, and he intended to keep it that way. Reinstituting the sense of chivalry that’d brought him over, Easton unrolled the linen napkin that’d housed silverware for her nonexistent dining companion and dipped the corner in water.

A few inches shy of her dress, he realized he couldn’t clean the smear of potatoes without dabbing at her breasts. Abruptly, he switched directions, placing the damp fabric in her palm and jutting his chin. “You might wanna…”

Horror flooded her features as she glanced down. “Oh no. NowI’mthe dirty one.”

“Nah, my truck still wins.” He cracked a smile and straightened. “How about I walk you back to your cabin?”

She didn’t answer, too caught up in wiping at the mess on her dress, it seemed. Her efforts slowed as the fabric came clean. Then blue-gray irises the exact color the sky turned to warn of an impending storm seized hold of him, and his skin prickled in that same, barometric pressure way. “Did I get everything?” she asked.

Nod. That was all he had to do.

All heshoulddo.

Instead, he stretched an arm across the table and used his thumb to wipe the smear of chocolate from her lower lip. Time ground to a halt, second after second piling on top of one another, and the urge to pop his finger in his mouth and suck off the sticky sweetness surged.

In the end, Birdie approached and broke the brewing tension. She greeted them warmly, asked if they’d enjoyed their meals, and informed them the Cove Lakeside Resort provided patrons with rides to their cabins.

As glad as he was for the safety measure—and that Imogen would’ve been looked after, with or without him there—he still hesitated to leave her side.

“Just look for the decked-out golf cart out front,” Birdie continued. “You can’t miss it, and I’ve already alerted the driver he’ll have a couple of riders shortly.” She cast Easton a sidelong glance. “Mr. Reeves, after you’ve ensured Miss Kaplan’s safe return to her cabin, you can swing by my office and pick up Gator. The chef whipped her up a special entrée, and she’s happy and full and snoring up a storm.”

With that message delivered, the resort owner left to chat with other guests.

Easton offered Imogen his hand, and she took it and slid off the stool.

“Thank you, and sorry,” she said, releasing his hand to smooth her skirt and tuck a dark curl behind her ear.“I think I’m good now.” She snorted a laugh and jabbed an elbow into his side. “Good and tipsy.”

The move caused her to wobble, and he steadied her elbow as she slapped her palm on the top of the table to brace herself. “Sorry, these shoes aren’t helping matters. But they’re super-pretty though, yeah?”

Automatically, his gaze dropped to the heels in question. The pointy shoes not only boosted her height, they also emphasized the muscles in her legs from ankles to calves, up to her thighs, and…

And that’s where I’d better stop.

“Yep. Real pretty.” The shoes, the woman, the eyes, the hair—all of it. Which was why he’d merely see her safely to her cabin and turn right back around to get his dog and make the long drive home.

Sights set on the exit, he placed one foot in front of the other. Imogen secured her hand in the crook of his elbow, allowing him to take the lead, and that suited him just fine.

Until he reached the archway of pink and white twinkle lights leading from the restaurant to the lobby. Imogen held tighter to his arm as she tipped up her face to study them, and he couldn’t decide whether the awe spreading across her face was better or worse than the flash of grief caused by seeing the bride and groom kissing at the bar.

Either way, his throat was tightening. He secured his hand over hers and catapulted them faster down the corridor, the rushed clack of her heels echoing his rapidly pounding heart.

As soon they finally stepped outside, however, he immediately wished for the chance to backtrack and dawdle.

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