Lovely Trigger (Tristan & Danika #3)(24)

“What girl?” he finally asked.

I made a dismissive motion with my hand.  I knew her name, but I already regretted even asking.  “No one.  It was a very silly question.”

“No, tell me.  What girl?”

“That blonde one you’re always with.  Your girlfriend.”

“That’s not my girlfriend.  It’s weird to bring a girl that’s not your girlfriend to a wedding.  Your turn.  Where’s that guy?”

He had this perfectly even scruff on his jaw.  It was distracting.

“Andrew couldn’t make it.”  That was a lie.  He’d wanted to come, but we were on a break, a very long break, due to the fact that he’d proposed several months ago, and I’d put him off again, and to say he’d been unhappy about it was a gross understatement.  These days we were strictly friends, but Tristan did not need an update on my love life, or lack thereof.

“Oh, well that’s too bad.”  His statement was so unconvincing that I had to make an effort not to laugh.

“Not an Andrew fan?”

He gave me a rueful smile, his brown eyes so endearing.  I could tell he was about to say something funny.  I just knew him that well.  “That’s like asking if I’m a fan of cancer.  I f**king hate it, but do I know how to get rid of it?  Not f**king likely.”

That surprised one small giggle out of me.  “Oh my God.  Stop it.  You’re impossible.”

His focus shifted to something behind me, and I turned to look.  In an almost comical manner, everyone seemed to be staring in our direction, all gone quiet.  No one was used to seeing us interact with each other like normal human beings.

“We should really blow their minds and start making out,” he whispered.

I laughed again and had to check the urge to give his arm a playful punch.  “You’re an ass.  Shut up,” I told him.

His smile grew and his eyes shone in pleasure, like I’d just given him a gift.

CHAPTER NINE

THE WEDDING RECEPTION OF JAMES AND BIANCA CAVENDISH

“That motherf*cker is even bigger than you,” shot out of my mouth as Tristan took his seat beside me.

He gave me one quick look and then looked at Akira, but that look told me plenty of things that I’d rather not have known.  For starters, my statement came out sassier than I’d intended, and Tristan still loved my sassy.   In fact, he ate it up.  His gaze had been hot and…something else that I didn’t want to name.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said idly, taking a sip of water.  “That giant bastard is taken.”

My eyes narrowed on him.  “I know that.  He’s married to a supermodel.  I was just saying…it must be weird for you, usually the biggest guy in the room, having to look up at somebody.  And his biceps are even a bit wider than yours…”

His breath whooshed out in a surprised laugh.  “You and your big arm fetish.  Mine are still bigger than your waist.  They haven’t gotten any smaller.”

I didn’t let myself look at them, but it was a struggle.  And I’d looked enough already to know that he was right.

Absently, I rubbed at my bad knee under the table.

I felt him staring at me.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly, as though he couldn’t help himself.

I made my face into a very careful mask.  “It’s fine, just a bit stiff.  Nothing to concern yourself with.”

Nothing on earth could have shocked me more than when his hand touched my leg, sliding under my hand to rub at my knee, somehow knowing just where to touch to ease the ache.  He’d always had a special talent for that.

“What are you doing?” I asked through my teeth.  We’d been getting along for days, but this was too much, too far.

He didn’t even flinch away from the look of murder I sent him, the bold bastard.  “I’m just trying to help,” he said, deadly earnest.

“I don’t need your help.”  My tone was venomous.

He didn’t stop rubbing, still didn’t flinch away.  Over the last six years, it had been way too easy to get him to back off, and I found that I had no clue what to do when my venom didn’t push him away.

“I know that.  Believe me, I know it.  But what if I need to give it?”

“We’re at the wedding of two people I adore, so I will be civil for about ten more seconds, but you had better believe that—”

“What about friendship?  Can we just try that?  No funny business, I swear.”

I felt so stiff, and I knew hostility was radiating off me in waves.

Frankie caught my eye, her arm around her girl.  This was a wedding, a joyous occasion, and her concerned look swayed me.  She was worried I’d cause a scene, and it hurt me that she was right to be worried.

I’m more mature than this, I told myself.  And hell, why couldn’t we be friends?  I didn’t think he was attracted to me anymore.  I knew that what he wanted really was just friendship and forgiveness, so why couldn’t I just give that to him?  Why did I feel the need to shut him out completely?

I knew the answer.  I was like a wounded animal, lashing out at his indifference, which had become the cause of my pain.