Page 49 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
“Well, who knows what the future has in store,” he says. “No one can ever tell for sure.” He beams at me, then glances at Brady. “For instance, I had no plans for this weekend, and now I’ll be attending a wedding.”
“Quite the turn of events,” Brady says.
“Yes, quite the turn,” I say. “So, it was great to see you, Grant. Too bad we can’t chat more.” I set the pizza box on the coffee table and grab one of his elbows to gently urge him across the lobby.
“So we’ll catch up on Saturday?” he asks. “Maybe have a dance or two?”
I move him toward the open door. “Well, somebody once told me no one can ever tell for sure what the future has in store.”
“I said that!” he points out gleefully.
“And it was an excellent, excellent thought.” I walk him all the way out onto the sidewalk. Then I step backward into the clinic. “Thanks so much for delivering the pizza!”
“You’re very wel—”
The bell jingles as Brady shuts the door.
For a moment, Grantly stands there frozen, staring at us through the glass. Then he waves, turns, and walks away. After a beat of silence, Brady blows out a breath.
“What was that?”
“Thatwas Betty Slater.” I cross the lobby, shaking my head. “I told you she’s a master at ambushing. Now poor Grantly’s going to be at the wedding, possibly thinking he has a chance with me.”
Brady smirks. “And here I thought I had my hands full keeping Drake Hawkins off of you. Now I’ve gotta worry about Bender too?”
“You donothave to worry about Grantly.”
“He prefers Grant,” Brady says. “And hedefinitelywants to be in your legions of men.”
“I think you meandroves,” I say. “And I’m not taking on any new members.”
Brady swallows, and as I trace the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple, my insides heat up again. I chew my lip, and his eyes dip to my mouth. “Natalie.”
“Brady.” I draw in a breath and exhale. “We shouldn’t do this.”
“We shouldn’t do what?” He takes a small step toward me.
I wave a hand between us. “This.”
He takes another small step. “Okay.”
“We need to focus on the wedding,” I say.
“Right.” Step.
“This week is all about Beau and Kasey.”
“Of course.” Step.
“And then I’ll be leaving anyway.”
“I know.” Step.
“And if we keep doing this”—I motion between the two of us again—“things could get really uncomfortable for both our families.”
Step. He tips his chin. “You’ve really given this a lot of thought.”
“Notthatmuch thought.”
