Page 60 of The Backup Groom
Her mouth dropped open. “What? You can’t change your mind! That topic is closed, and I won.”
I grinned. “Sorry. I watched it again last night, and it occurred to me for the first time that they never actually kissed in the movie. Not even once.”
“A kiss doesn’t make it a romance,” Amber insisted.
“Yes, it does,” I said.
“What do you know about romance, Mr. Sci-Fi?” she asked playfully. “You probably have a poster of Captain Kirk on your bedroom wall.”
“Nice try.It’s in the garage now.” I winked. “Anyway, my point is, you can have chemistry with someone, you can be attracted to them, you can really like a person, but the truth is revealed in the kiss. That’s what makes it real. When you see the fireworks, when your knees get weak, when you just can’t get enough, when you’re breathless, when you smile after the kiss. That’s when you know you have something meaningful.” I planted both palms on the table and leaned closer. “The kiss iseverything.”
She glanced at my lips for a split second, enough to make my heart gallop like a racing stallion. Was she pondering my point of view on the subject, or was she wondering what it would be like to kiss me? I was hoping for the latter.
And if I wasn’t mistaken, she was blushing now.
It looked like my argument had rendered her speechless.
“We’ll see about that,” she finally said.
“I guess we will,” I said, a little confused.
What exactly were we talking about?
Was that a hint of a potential kiss, or was I imagining it?
Whatever it was, I needed to leave it where it was because Dean was waiting.
On the verge of giddiness from the thought of a date with Amber, I spun around to leave and slammed into what must have been a newly constructed brick wall in the middle of the restaurant. I winced and steadied myself, waiting for the stars to clear from my head.
“Sorry about that,” said the booming male voice.
I was obviously dreaming.
The brick wall could talk.
I glanced up at a man towering over me. In fact, I had to take a step back to see above his neck that was possibly the size of my waist. He was built like a freight train, his ripped muscles looking like they could easily snap the seams of his Lacoste polo like an old rubber band if and when he decided to flex them.
Mr. Universe, obviously.
Or maybe he was some celebrity’s bodyguard or a linebacker for the NFL.
It really didn’t matter.
The guy was obviously eye candy for the ladies, and judging by the look on Amber’s face, she had a sweet tooth. Even the women at other tables were looking over, gawking, acting like they had never seen a man before. Okay, I admit even I was having a difficult time taking my eyes off him, but that was beside the point.
I had a code-red situation here.
If this man was Ryan Scott, my life was over.
How the hell was I supposed to compete with that?
Things looked grim, but I wasn’t going to give up yet.
“Ryan Scott?” I asked, crossing my fingers he wasn’t.
“Yes!” he said. “Are you one of my patients?” He leaned to the side to check out my backside. “Sorry, I don’t recognize you.” He poked me on the shoulder with his index finger and almost knocked me over. “Ha! Joke of the trade. I’m a proctologist.”
“I guess that makes me the butt of your joke,” I said with no enthusiasm.
