Page 27 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
HONK! HONK! HONK!
The three loud blares from a nearby boat are so startling, I fumble my plate. A mess of shrimp rains down. Cheese and grapes thud to the floor. Worst of all, a splatter of cocktail sauce lands on my yellow wrap dress.
HOOOONK!
A speedboat, kicking up water, pulls alongside the barge, leaving a small wake behind it. In the driver’s seat is Cubby Lansing, waving and grinning at us. Cubby is Ford and Lettie’s father. He’s also Kasey and Brady’s uncle. Brady’s with him now, with a JanSport backpack on one shoulder. His windswept hair flops over his sunglasses like he’s a celebrity on a movie set.
Why does Brady have to look so good while I’m standing here smelling like shrimp?
“I got the best man to you as soon as I could,” Cubby calls out from his speedboat. Ford cuts the engine of the barge—not that we were cruising at a furious pace—but we’ll need to stop completely so Brady can climb aboard.
“The best man, hmm?” Hawk squares his shoulders. “That must be Brady Graham, then.”
“It is.” My voice sounds wobbly, so I clear my throat. “You two haven’t met yet?”
“No, but I’ve heard a lot about him.” Hawk winks at me, and I feel my skin flush. I am not prepared for … winking. What Iamis a mess, and probably blotchy now. So I bend down to scoop the cheese and shrimp back onto my plate. I’m not exactly hiding from Brady, but I’m also not dying for him to see me covered in cocktail sauce. Meanwhile, Hawk hovers over me, so close his cologne makes me choke.
“May I be of any assistance?” he says into my ear.
“No, I’m good, thanks!”
“Youreallyshould address that stain before it sets.”
I flinch. “So it’s noticeable?”
“Very.”
When I glance up, Hawk is already collecting napkins from the table. He wets the stack with water from the pitcher. Okay, so he’s a conscientious guy. One who possibly wears too much cologne.
“Allow me,” he offers, and I reluctantly stand. Then he starts wiping the sauce off of my dress. And bymy dress, I mean the FRONT OF MY DRESS. Like where the wrap overlaps.
Like my cleavage.
“I’ve got this!” I snatch the napkins from him and hand over my plate. And now I can’t help glancing at the back of the barge, where Ford and Three are helping Brady onboard. He grasps the ladder with one hand, then leaps onto the deck like some kind of muscle-bound gazelle. I dab at the stretchy material, but it’s too late.
I look like a murder victim.
Kasey and Beau cross the barge, and my brother claps Brady on the back. My stomach lurches, torn between relief that Brady actually made it, and regret that we’re once again in close proximity. As if reading my mind, Brady turns, and his eyes lock on mine. Heat crests in my throat.
Probably from the horseradish.
Brady looks away and gives Kasey a hug, then he says something to her I can’t make out. She points at the food table. Or maybe she’s pointing at Hawk and me. Either way, Ford gets the barge cruising toward the bridge again, and Brady ambles our way. His gaze slowly scrapes from me over to Hawk. I drop the pile of napkins on the plate Hawk’s still holding. When Brady reaches us, Hawk sticks out his free hand to pump Brady’s.
“Drake Hawkins.” His smile flashes like a neon sign. “But my friends call me Hawk.”
“Brady Graham.”
“Yes. Natalie was just telling me that.” Hawk aims a bright grin in my direction, then sweeps it back over to Brady. “Of course, Beau has already spoken a lot about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the best man.”
Brady nods. “Same.”
“But I’m not the best man now, am I?” Hawk splays his hands. “So it isn’tquitethe same, is it?”
Brady takes a beat, a vein at his temple pulsing. “I guess I’ll choose my words more carefully next time.”
“Oh, no need for all that.” Laughter ripples out of Hawk, extra loud. “What matters isyou’rethe one who’s been such a good friend to Beau for so many years.” He leans in close, a glint in his eye. “Although, I suppose I’ve had to take over some of the heavy lifting lately.”
Brady hoists the backpack higher. “I suppose.”
