Page 54 of Rebel Bride
My body sizzled at his nickname for me. I stuffed my mouth with a slice of brie and a cracker, and said with my mouth half-full, “God, you’re obsessed with my lack of curves.”
He merely frowned at that, then poured a glass of wine and passed it over. After we’d taken sips and filled our plates, he took another look at me.
“What I said about you being a skeleton bride, that wasn’t very nice.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
His eyes appeared troubled. “I was angry because of the kiss and because you look like you’ve been dieting. Putting all this effort into this wedding when it seemed to be really weighing on you. Sometimes I’d see you at various gatherings over the last year and you didn’t look happy. I wish I’d been a better friend to you.”
My heart expanded at his generosity. A better friend. I had needed that, but I would never have expected it from this corner.
“Apology accepted.”
I was still curious as to why he’d been so cold to me while I was with Dash. Was it really because I was someone else’s girlfriend? Since we’d been more open with each other, he had been a completely different person. Friendly, charming, sexy.
Well, he’d always been sexy. I wasn’t kidding when I said I had a crush on him. It hadn’t gone very far—the cold shoulder tended to douse the embers of desire—but it had existed, a dangerous tremor under the surface that threatened to erupt each time we met. If he’d given any indication he was interested, I might have parted ways with Dash and shot my shot.
No “might” about it.
Even thinking that raised a million red flags for my relationship with my ex. I would have happily thrown him over if Hatch Kershaw had deigned to smile at me.
“That kiss,” I said.
“What about it?” He turned to me, not just his head but his entire body. He wanted to give me his full attention. It had been a long time, and I soaked it up, my shriveled raisin of a heart craving the sunlight of his gaze.
“We joked about it earlier, but it was no joke, really,” I said. “It was … amazing.”
“Because we’re both such great kissers.”
“The chemistry was there,” I observed. “Is there.”
He waited a moment. Inhaled. “But it’s complicated.”
“It is.” This made him uncomfortable, so I backtracked. “You still think I’m too thin?”
“A little,” he said candidly. “But you don’t look as gaunt as you did when you flattened me outside that church.”
“According to you, this skeleton is too light to have done any damage!”
He arched an eyebrow. “I never said that. If anything, your bony knees almost ended my genetic line.”
I stood and waved my wine glass at him in mock drunkenness. “You haven’t seen what my bony knees can do, Dino Boy.”
He stood and gathered me in his arms. His skin was warm from the sun, his body solid from hard work, and let’s face it, winning the genetic lottery. This man was perfect in every way.
“Right this minute, I only care what this mouth can do.” And then he kissed me, complications be damned. The taste of wine and him brought my nipples to sharp points and dampened my panties.
“Watch you don’t get hurt,” I murmured into his mouth.
“I’ll be careful.”
I was kidding around, referring to my bag of antlers slenderness, but the way he responded—he actually worried I would hurt him. And not just physically.
I’d already hurt one man. I couldn’t do it to another.
Assuming this man cared enough about you to get hurt, Summer.
It could happen, Shelby Mae.
