To Have and to Hold (The Wedding Belles #1)(57)

Nothing. Just that we f*cked each other sideways, and then I found out the next morning that she couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

He settled on something a little vaguer. “Nothing.”

“Right,” Maya said. “So you’re telling me it’s not going to be super awkward when we see her in ten minutes?”

His head jerked back around. “You said she wasn’t going to be there.”

Maya smiled serenely. “I lied, obviously.”

His head dropped back against the headrest. He felt her studying his face. “Maya. Don’t.”

“Come on, don’t be mad,” Maya said. “I know something is going on between you two, and I was worried you’d say no if you thought she’d be there, and I really need help making this decision.”

Seth’s eyes closed and he tried to focus on something—anything—other than seeing Brooke in the immediate future. “Okay, tell me about the place.”

Maya gave the dreamy sigh he now thought of as her “bridal” sigh. It happened whenever she talked about rose petals or ribbons or potential locations.

“It’s in this old office building that they’re just now finishing renovating. The entire building’s been vacant for years, but they’re getting ready to reopen, and Brooke got the inside track, found out that the upper floors haven’t yet been outfitted as offices, so it’s just this big open space with a view of the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s prewar, and the crown molding is just . . . gah . . . you’re going to love it.”

He gave her a look. “I’m going to love the crown molding?”

“Yes. Yes you are. And the fireplaces, too. They’re not working, obviously, but Brooke has all these great ideas about how we can put up varying candle heights, create the illusion of a bursting flame—”

“Sounds like a fire hazard,” he muttered.

“Whatever, we’ll get flameless candles.” Maya pointed a finger at him. “Don’t try to take this away from me just because you have blue balls.”

“I don’t have blue balls. Also, I’m pretty sure that phrase goes against every sibling conversational code.”

She pursed her lips and sat up straighter, looking out the window. “We’re almost there. And Seth?” He looked at her, noticing the serious note in her voice. “You don’t have to love this just because I do. I want your honest opinion. But just . . . if you could try to be . . . just act, like . . .”

“Like I have a soul.”

Her nose scrunched. “I was going to say agreeable. Jesus, so morbid. Who gave you the idea you didn’t have a soul?”

Your damned wedding planner, that’s who.

Instead of answering, he jerked his chin the direction of her door. “Looks like we’re here.”

She clapped her hands in happiness as the driver opened her side. Before she got out into the frigid air, she reached across the car, touched his hand. “Thanks for doing this,” she said.

“Maya, you know I’d do anything for you,” he said quietly. “Seriously.”

“I know. Likewise, and Seth . . . don’t hate me, okay?”

He frowned. “For what?”

Maya was already out of the car, the door slamming shut on his question.

“Maya. What are you . . . damn it.” Seth snatched up his gray scarf, hurrying out into the February-evening chill as he wound it around his neck and scanned the area for his sister.

Then he spotted her blond head immediately—getting into another car, which proceeded to speed away from the curb.

“Maya!” he shouted, but it was useless. She was long gone. He threw his hands up in the air. “What the hell is this all about?” he fumed.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket. A text from his interfering little sister. Talk to her. You’re welcome! Love you.

“Damn it, Maya,” he muttered again, this time with less heat.

“I think,” said a soft voice from behind him, “that this might be sibling matchmaking at its very most devious.”

Seth froze before he very slowly forced himself to turn around to look at the face that went along with that gorgeous voice.

Brooke.





Chapter Twenty-Three





JUST AN HOUR EARLIER, Brooke had been thinking that Maya Tyler might go down as her favorite client of all time.

But with Seth Tyler bearing down on her, his expression torn between disbelief and rage, she was definitely rethinking her warm feelings toward Maya.

The woman had thrown her to the wolves.

No, wolf.

And this wolf was pissed.

Maybe he had a right to be. His sister had just dragged him downtown during rush hour under the apparently false pretense of needing his approval on a wedding space, only to disappear into the back of what must have been a preplanned escape car.

And now he was stuck here with her, the woman who’d compared him to a building.

No wonder he hadn’t responded to her emails. Not that her emails had been personal. Or even apologetic. They’d been entirely professional, more testing the waters to see if he even wanted to have contact with her.

Survey said nope. Not a single response or acknowledgment. It had now been a week since The Sex, and they hadn’t exchanged a single word.