No Weddings (No Weddings #1)(42)

She looked beautiful. Dark eyes sparkling. Waves of hair tumbling down one shoulder. The barest fabric teasing across a body meant to be…

I took another cleansing breath. Then I gripped the cork steady in my left hand, grabbed the base of the bottle with my right, and slowly twisted the bottle. The cork gave way with a pop! and frothy foam poured out as I tilted it away.

She smiled.

I swallowed hard.

On another breath, I wiped my mind clear and focused on the beautiful woman looking up at me expectantly. I raised the bottle. “To a Julie Andrews musical and childhood memories.”

She reached up, placing her hands over mine. “To new memories. And musicals.”

I pulled the bottle down. “Oh, no. I don’t do musicals.”

She bit her lip, then smiled wide. “Oh, yes. You do.”

I shook my head. “No.”

She nodded, grinning wider. “Yes. It’s a nonnegotiable point.”

I sighed, lowering the Champagne bottle. “One.”

“I can live with that. One.”

I angled my head, glaring at her. “But not on the first date.”

She burst out laughing. “Seriously? Okay. We should make a rule, though.”

“Date rules? Like how far we can go without seeing a musical? Fine. Fifth.” If I had to attend a cheesy musical, it would be at the last possible moment.

“Fourth. And since we’re paralleling date rules? I also mean sex.”

Fuck. “Third.”

“Done.” Her eyes gleamed with humor.

In the history of dating, I’d be willing to bet no man has ever made an appointment for sex and a musical on the third date. I raised the bottle and took a healthy swig, then passed it to her, casting her a sidelong glance. “Shrewd. I’m impressed.”

Then she wrapped those full lips around the bottle opening.

I blinked.

The third date? I didn’t know how I would make it that long.





The day had finally arrived for our first official date.

After another week of dinners at my place that Hannah had insisted upon, and with her teasing me mercilessly at every stolen opportunity, my nerves were fried. I’d become one snarling, horny bastard.

However, Ben stood in the entrance to my bedroom and had dropped the worst possible bomb. “Sorry, man. I know you had plans with Hannah tonight, but I can’t get out of this.”

“It’s a wedding.” I cringed as the word left my lips. Leave it to another celebration of the death of two more singletons to ruin the lives of the rest of us.

Ben glared at me. “It’s my brother’s wedding. I’m the best man. Don’t be an idiot. Reschedule Hannah. She’ll understand.”

I sighed, unable to tell him why I didn’t understand. The guys knew I had plans with Hannah, but they didn’t know the extent of my feelings for her, nor did they know tonight was supposed to be our first date. Hannah and I kept things completely cool in front of the guys. But if they knew, I think they’d each give their left nut to trade places with me. This was Hannah. Their Hannah too.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Seriously, the flu?”

“No shit. Cherise and Kyle. Scott is on vacation. We only have Lisa. And you know the bar can’t run on one bartender on a Friday night.”

“Tell those two to stop swapping spit. And licking shopping carts.” I sighed. “Fuck.”

“I know, man. Listen, I gotta go. We’re flying down in two hours. I’ll be back Sunday.”

I groaned as he closed my bedroom door. Face-planted on the bed, I reached for my phone, sliding my hand blindly on the nightstand. When I pulled it under the covers, the light glared painfully bright under the sheets.

I squinted until I found Hannah’s number. “Hey.”

A pause stretched on the other end, then a soft, “Hey.”

“Sorry to bother you so early.”

“It’s almost noon, Cade.”

“Mmm-hmm. Early.”

“Get out of bed, lazy ass. You’ve got a date to take me on tonight.”

“Yeah, about that. I’ve got to reschedule.”

At her silence, I wasted no time in explaining. Including blaming Ben. And spit swapping. And shopping carts.

She laughed. “It’s okay. We’ll make it for next weekend.”

“Can’t. That night is McGinty’s.” We had an event for St. Patrick’s Day at a local bar.

“Oh, I forgot.”

I stared at the ceiling, thinking about my calendar. “How about the following Friday night?”

“Not Saturday?”

I groaned. “Can’t wait that long.”

A soft laugh. “Not one more day to Saturday?”

“No. I will die if it’s not Friday night.”

I should cancel one of the weekday dinners; it would serve Ben right for having his family’s wedding be the reason my sex life got postponed. Mase would get over it. But Hannah looked forward to dinners at my place. I’d begun to think she needed the adoptive family contact. And with three siblings of my own, I related.

“Well, okay. I wouldn’t want you to die. I’m going to miss you, though.”

I sighed. This day sucked ass already. “I’m going to miss you too.”