Page 16 of Catch and Release Groom

“Now that one I believe, and I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Well, it’s not my job to surprise you.” Nor was it her job to think tempting thoughts about him, but that didn’t stop her brain from conjuring an image of him shirtless, pants slung dangerously low on his hips, the dark trail of hair dipping beneath the waistband…

Whoa, what the hell, brain? Either shush or offer something helpful.

Arguing with her own thoughts would only cause her head to swim faster, so onward and upward and all that jazz. “Fine,” she said, blowing a stray curl from her eyes. “I’m still kinda tipsy, but it’s also these shoes and the uneven ground. No need to worry, though, I’ve walked Navy Pier in taller heels than these, in much worse conditions. I’m fully capable of seeing myself inside.”

She wasn’t sure whether that last one was a bluff. But as one of those cheestastic inspirational posters would suggest, she made like Indiana Jones and took a leap of faith.

While the ground was there to “catch her,” she managed to stumble-shuffle two whole steps! If it wouldn’t end with her falling on her ass, she’d rub her success in Easton’s face with a victory dance. “See?” She made a shooing motion. “Go ahead and get into the golf cart that’ll return you to your puppy and your truck-y.”

Her laugh came alongside a snort, and she swore she spotted the tiniest hint of a smile on Easton’s lips as he glanced in the direction of the cart. He didn’t move toward it, though, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could play it cool without cracking.

The weepies were about to kick in, a side effect that usually left her reluctant to imbibe while sad.

“I’d rather die,” Easton said and, since that was her exact thought about bursting into tears in front of him, she pressed a fingertip to his lips to double-check if it’d come from there or her head.

A mistake, it turned out, as that same cologne she’d caught a whiff of earlier invaded her senses, woodsy and musky, with a hint of citrusy sunshine. Her heart pounded faster and harder, and suddenly she wasn’t so confident about her ability to remain upright. “I’d call you out for being melodramatic if I didn’t feel the same way. As if not making my planned walk down the aisle wasn’t painful enough without it being rubbed in my face.”

Every muscle in Easton’s body tensed, going from warm and welcome to icy and…dicey? No, dicey wasn’t the word she was searching for, but her thoughts were whirring too fast, right along with the rest of the world.

“You might’ve already figured it out, but I guess the runaway bride’s out of the bag now.” A sense of urgency arose, so why did the rest of the confession snag in her throat? “The romantic fanfare, prepaid dinner for two, and even the fly-fishing lessons that I booked with my fiancé in mind—I was trying to be supportive and show him that I got it, you know?”

Easton made no indication he did.

But for some reason she kept on going. “Yep, that’s right. This trip…” She hiccupped and frowned, then managed to catch the slippery thread that guided her back to her original point. “It was supposed to be my honeymoon.”

Chapter Seven

The extra vehicles turning the front of Easton’s house into a parking lot when he returned to Uncertainty that evening alerted him they had company. Far be it for him to stop Gator from sounding the alarm as they strolled up the sidewalk—if only it’d do a better job scaring away the pesky intruders.

He swung open the door to see his friends seated aroundhisliving room, making themselves right at home. Beers in hand, feet kicked up on the coffee table, their combined brood of dogs piled on the big rug in front of the glowing fireplace, warming themselves with flames he hadn’t lit.

A white Lab and a couple of German shepherds—Tucker’s, Ford’s, and Violet’s dogs, respectively—leaped.Claws in need of trimming clacked against the hardwood in a scurry of canine activity. Excited barks were followed by the touching of noses and sniffing of backsides, as if someone might’ve changed scents since the weekend before last, when they’d all been together on Tuck’s houseboat.

The human members of the party stuck with nods and the occasional two finger salute—waving wasn’t quite as important as keeping hold of the neck of a bottle of beer.

Easton shed his fishing gear, letting his pack and vest drop to the floor. “I take a few days off, and the town’s crime rate is already skyrocketing.” He stepped over legs and crossed ankles, giving Tucker’s sneakers a shove as he plopped onto the open couch cushion next to him. “Crawford, as the group’s legal counsel, you didn’t think to discourage breaking and entering?”

Tucker shrugged a shoulder, the harried edge he’d gained during his stint as a big-city lawyer long gone. “Nah. Seemed like a waste of time—you know how we get when an idea grabs hold. I figured it’d be easier to discourage you from pressing charges.”

Easton scanned the faces of the friends he’d had for so long that he couldn’t remember a time they weren’t in each other’s lives. Several of them had found love these last couple of years—in the case of Murph and Crawford, with each other—and turned their group of five to seven. Odd numbers meant someone was third wheeling it, and lately, that’d been him. “We’re talking fines with lots of zeros and up to ten years in prison.”

Murph snuggled closer to Tucker and placed a smacking kiss on his cheek. “Not if you’ve got a sexy lawyer who always gets you off.”

“Not only is it an honor, Mrs. Crawford”—Tucker brushed his mouth over Addie’s—“it’s a real pleasure.”

Everyone else rolled their eyes, and Ford sighed, nice and loud. “Way to make the rest of us feel weird about retaining Crawford as our lawyer. Just a quick FYI, Murph’s gonna cover my bill, too.”

Addie leaned over the side of the couch and slugged Ford’s shoulder with her football-throwing arm. “Don’t be jealous. We’re the ones who’ll have to post bail after Easton throws you in the slammer. Plus, you’ve got Violet when it comes to special perks. Where is she anyway?”

“Photo shoot.” Ford laced his fingers behind his head and reclined farther, testing the bounds of the recliner’s springs. “Meant we weretwopeople short for poker the other night.”

Six pairs of eyes narrowed on him, demanding an explanation. He got it—poker nights were sacred. When Crawford finally moved back to town a little over a year ago, only to look at Murph a little too long and a lot too longingly during their card games, Easton had confronted him. He’d warned him not to mess with the group dynamic, and added that if things went south, she wouldn’t be the one from the group to go.

“Holy shit.” Ford lunged across Addie and Tucker and had hold of Easton’s ear in the next instant. “Guys, it’s worse than we thought. He pierced his ear.” Ford twisted the lobe, not bothering to be gentle about it. “If he starts wearin’ a hoop… There’s no going back after that.”

“Sure sign of a mid-life crisis if I’ve ever seen one,” Shep chimed from the loveseat he and his wife, Lexi, occupied, going so far as to dramatically throw a hand over his heart. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

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