Do You Take This Man (22)
RJ: Maybe.
Lear: Is this your way of telling me you feel threatened by the idea of my dance moves?
I laughed, taking another bite of the Danish.
RJ: You know, I’m honestly not.
Lear: A little though, huh?
RJ: Not in the slightest.
Lear: Just threatened by my rougeish good looks, I guess.
RJ: Are you wearing rouge? I never would have guessed—you’re an artful blender.
Lear: It’s considered uncouth to make fun of typos.
RJ: All is fair in the wedding game.
Lear: Okay. Hey, have you been practicing?
He sent a GIF of New Kids on the Block performing their signature Right Stuff dance, and I snorted, the sound ricocheting off the walls.
RJ: You’re not as funny as you think you are.
Lear: Yes I am.
RJ: Good night, Lear.
Lear: Good night, RJ.
I set my phone aside, taking another bite. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, because I was still acting foolish and smiling from the stupid text exchange. I shook my head again and got back to work, determined to figure out how Dina Mayfield could walk away from this marriage with everything she wanted.
Chapter 12
Lear
I STARED AT my watch pointedly before shifting my gaze to my phone, where the bride’s text from twenty minutes earlier sat unchanged. I hadn’t had anything major go wrong at a wedding since the funeral flowers, and even though I kept telling Penny to trust me, I also didn’t want to disappoint her. The sun beat down, and the breeze I kept hoping for was shy at best or vindictive at worst. Either way, it was nowhere to be found. Nothing else to do, I tapped on the text thread with RJ from a couple days before. After I’d had the pastries delivered, I’d been surprised she messaged. The delivery I’d intended to be a dig seemed to open something between us.
Lear: You’ll be pleased to know the couple changed their minds on the dancing.
RJ: Disappointed?
Lear: I was looking forward to making you eat your words even though you were still going to fake disdain.
RJ: You don’t need to concern yourself with what I fake.
Lear: Would you ever fake it?
RJ: With you? Never.
Lear: I promise you’d never have to. I’m just that . . .
RJ: Annoying? Disdain-inspiring?
Lear: I was going to say irresistible.
She hadn’t responded, but now RJ strode toward me, a furrow between her brows. Texting with her had felt flirtatious. In texts, I was the guy she thought I was, so it was safe and like a game.
“What is going on?” RJ yanked on my arm, pulling me aside. She looked pointedly around the courtyard filled with two hundred of the couple’s closest friends and family, the same two hundred people who had been waiting for them to arrive for forty-five minutes.
“What do you think?” I lowered my voice. “They’re late.”
“People are getting restless.”
I glanced over her shoulder and watched the flower girl rolling on the floor and two ushers trying to slap each other’s nuts. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. We hadn’t seated anyone formally, but at a certain point, with nowhere else to go, people started finding the chairs. I shifted my gaze back to RJ. “I’m aware people are getting restless. What do you think I can do? She keeps telling me they’re almost here.”
“Have the caterers open the bar so these people have something to do.” She pointed to the reception area nearby.
I’d rolled with the flow in terms of other people my entire adult life, and the old me would have smiled, looked for a compromise, and made sure she still liked me when she walked away.
I shook my head. “No way. That would take too long, and the bride wants to start as soon as they arrive.”
RJ narrowed her dark brown eyes, motioning to the crowd. Her voice was more a hiss than a whisper, but it still made parts of me take notice. “All well and good, except she left two hundred people waiting for an hour.” She pulled at the neck of her simple black dress. Not that it did anything except make me want to follow her hand more than I wanted to take my next breath. The fabric clung to her skin, and a thin sheen of sweat made her chest glisten in the sunlight. “It’s hot out here.”
I stifled the urge to pull at my shirt because, yes, it was fucking hot, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “I’m not opening the bar. They’ll be here soon.”
She growled, stepping closer. “You’re being impossible. Just open the damn bar.”
A few people sitting in the back row of chairs turned to stare at us, and I rolled my eyes. “Will you keep your voice down?” I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into the shaded breezeway leading to where the reception would be held. On three sides, we were closed in, away from the eyes and ears of the guests.
“What the hell, Lear?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you intending to have this conversation with the entire crowd?”
“Of course not.”
“You could have fooled me with your volume.”
“Are you saying I’m too loud?”
My eyes fell to her full mouth on instinct. “What?”