Page 38 of Don't Game Me
“So, when will we be doing all this for your wedding, Becca?” He couldn’t believe he’d asked that.
She stared at him in silence. He prepared to laugh it off, but then she said, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get married.” So soft he almost missed it, she muttered, “Or live that long.”
Was she sick? She didn’t act ill, but maybe that’s why she hadn’t been herself since he ran into her at the airport. “Is there something wrong?”
“What? No.”
He wanted her happy. Becca wouldn’t be happy if she were alone for the rest of her life. She needed kids and big Thanksgivings and worrying over kids’ college funds. “You’ll find the right guy someday. There’s another sci-fi geek out there who’ll rock your world.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“I’m not pitying you. It’s the truth. Why are you so upset? You’ll have all this someday. Big wedding, kids, and the whole shebang.” Why did the words feel like acid in his throat?
“Maybe you’re right. I think relatives pointing out I’m old and alone is making me nuts.”
“That’s total bullshit. You’re not even thirty. What’s really going on here? Are you okay?”
Her eyebrows rose into a quizzical frown.
“You have something wrong?” he asked.
“I’m not sick.” She moved to turn away.
He grabbed her arm and rotated her to face him. “What’s really wrong?”
Her eyes flashed fear and sheened with about-to-be-shed tears.
“Don’t cry. Please.” He ushered her out of the banquet room into a dark hallway. He brushed the hair away from her eyes. “Please tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something.”
“There’s all this crap back in California. Then you and me. Then the bouquet thing…” She gazed up as if that explained everything. “I’m fine.” She swiped at her eyes to clear residual moisture. “This is wine on an empty stomach talking. I’m sorry.”
Her gaze locked onto his lips. Her eyes rose to his, dilated and full of an emotion that shot his oh-shit meter to critical danger.
“What?” he managed to force out.
Her eyes gazed at his lips. Her tongue darted out, moistening. Preparing. The small move was all the invite he needed. “Kiss me.”
Before he could obey her command, a throat cleared nearby. “Jake, stop monopolizing Becca.”
He jerked away from Becca to find his assistant and the bride’s sister, Emma, giving him a raised eyebrowwhat the hell.
Emma reached around Jake to grab Becca’s arm. “Tori wants all of us bridesmaids together for a toast.”
Jake asked, “Enjoying your days off, Emma?”
“Apparently, I understand the concept of actually taking a day off, unlike you.” Emma’s gaze narrowed for a fraction of a moment before she smiled. She knew him too well. Any time he cornered a girl like this in the past, the woman was going home with him. But Becca wasn’t a conquest. She was Noah’s sister. He was comforting her, right?
Keep telling yourself that crap.
11
Becca joined the circle of four bridesmaids and Tori, disgruntled she couldn’t slip away to finish what almost happened with Jake.
Emma raised her glass, “To the two hottest nerds. Tori and Noah. May they be able to keep their clothes on in public but not in private, or at least until they say their vows.”
