Page 70 of That Time I Kissed The Groomsman Grump
BRADY: See you all at six.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
NATALIE
As Grant eases his beige sedan into the parking lot at The Beachfront Inn, I complete a mental checklist to be sure I’ve got everything I need for the night. In my lap is the bag I brought to the beach which still has everything in it from before—extra lip gloss, spare hair brush and ties, phone charger—although I did take out the monogrammed towel and sundress. Oh, and the rental agreement is sitting on top now.
The document is so long and detailed, I still haven’t had time to read it yet, and a twinge of guilt nags at me.
You’ll get to it, Nat. Soon.
In the large duffle bag at my feet, I have the tiaras and boas for the bridesmaids, plus butcher paper, Sharpies, two packs of mints, and gum. The breath-freshening items arenotbecause I’mexpecting to somehow end up in a dark corner enjoying a lip lock with Brady Graham. But have I mentioned lately that I sometimes sabotage myself? Yeah. Self-sabotage. It’s a whole thing, and I’m super good at it.
“Well, here we are.” Grant puts his car in park, quickly returning both hands to the steering wheel in their spots at ten and two.
“Thanks so much for the ride.” I glance at the Tupperware full of brownies in his backseat. “Sorry for the inconvenience, but at least you got some brownies out of it.”
“It was my pleasure,” he says. When he starts to lean toward me, my stomach lurches. The last thing I need is Grantly Bender going in for a kiss. So I suck in a breath, preparing to reject him as kindly as I can, but his face comes nowhere near mine. Apparently, he’s just trying to get a view of the pub from the passenger side window.
“Looks pretty crowded for a Thursday,” he says.
I exhale in relief, then follow his gaze, noting a blur of movement behind the pub’s tinted glass. “Is this place mostly empty on Thursdays?”
“Hard to tell at this hour.” Grant straightens, and his shoulders keep going right up to his ears. “But believe me, by tomorrow night—eight o’clock—the pub will be hoppin’.”
I flash back to last weekend in LA, at a much later hour than eight, waiting in line to get into a club Sloane kept raving about. My bare legs were covered in goosebumps, and not in a good way. We got in eventually, but I barely had enough cash for the cover charge. So right now, a place that’s already hoppin’ at this time on the weekend—and a lot less expensive—sounds pretty nice to me.
“Anyway…” Grant drags out the word. His smile is small and shy. I hopehe’snot hoping something might be happening between us. That wouldactuallybe the last thing I need. But Grant’s a nice guy, and he did me a favor. Plus I know the sinking sensation of feeling left out. “So I can’t invite you to the bachelor party,” I say, “because I’m not in charge of the groomsmen.” I nod at my duffle bag. “And I don’t think I have enough tiaras and boas for you to wear to the bachelorette party, but…”
“It’s all right. I understand.” He leans back in his seat. “And please don’t worry about letting me down easy, Nat. I already figured out you’re not interested.”
“What?” A hand flies to my throat. “Me? Worried?”
“Yeah.” He puffs out a laugh, glances at the brownies. “Your mom got this crazy idea in her head that I might be able to convince you to stick around town, but you are clearly not on the same page. You’re not even in the samebook, and trying to win someone over who doesn’t want to be won isn’t exactly my idea of a good case to take on.” He shrugs. “I do enough arguing of lost causes in court.”
“Oh.” I wrinkle my nose. “You know, my mom’s nottotallycrazy. I used to have a pretty big crush on you in middle school.”Great, Nat. Telling a guy you liked him more than a decade ago isn’t awkward at all.
He chuckles. “I might’ve gotten that memo. But people change, Natalie. All the time. Over time. I totally get it.”
“You’re right.”
Some people do change.
“My point is you’re off the hook.” He smiles at me. “I won’t hold you to feelings you had when you were a kid.”
He meets my gaze, and his eyes go soft. This sweet guy isn’t going to try to kiss me, or date me, or anything, which is—of course—a massive relief. So why do I feel a wave of sadness and a tug behind my ribs? Maybe because a small part of me—a very small, sneaky part—doesn’t want my mom to be the only one fighting to keep me in Abieville. Still, Grantly Bender isn’t the man I wish were fighting for me. I leftthatone back at the golf course with Molly Fitzgerald on his lap.
“Thanks for being so great, Grant.” I reach for my duffle bag. “And for the record, our group doesn’t have this place reserved tonight. It’s completely open to the public, and this isyourtown. Your local pub. So if you want to come in, please do.”
I eke out a laugh, wondering what Brady would think if I walked in with Grantly Bender tonight. Not that I’d ever use someone to make someone else jealous. I wouldn’t do that to Grant or to Brady. Those kinds of games just risk more drama, which Brady and I already agreed is the last thing we want to bring to this wedding week. Our situation is complicated enough as it is without—
Rap rap rap.
Outside the car, someone taps on the driver’s side window. All I can see is a torso in a Hawaiian shirt. Moments later, Drake Hawkins bends down, flashing his toothpaste-commercial grin at us.
“Hello!” he calls out. From behind him, Olivia appears. Her new platinum hair spills over his shoulder. She smiles and waves, just as Brady’s truck pulls into the spot on my side of Grantly’s car. He meets my gaze through two layers of glass, then Molly Fitzgerald pokes her head into view.
And this, as it turns out, is theVERY LASTthing I need.
