Do You Take This Man (37)

I shook my head.

“Well, you worry about your kid finding someone who loves ’em, really loves ’em right. Then it happens, and it’s like a piece is added to your heart . . . Well, anyway, you’ll know when you’re a father.”

I smiled automatically, schooling my expression, and reached out to shake his hand. “I’m happy to be part of their day.” His wide palm fell on my shoulder again, hard. I bit the inside of my tongue to keep from crying out. Please, for the love of God, take your hand off my shoulder.

“And that minister, well, not a minister, the lady up front, she is a straight shooter. I tell ya.” He motioned to RJ, who was talking with the couple. “I like her.”

She wore a sleeveless white shirt, and the fabric looked silky, like it would slide over her skin smoothly, with blue cigarette pants that hugged her body. She flicked her eyes up and they narrowed when she caught me looking, but her lips curled in the sexy, irresistible way I couldn’t get enough of as she gave me one of those secret smiles. It was a lot easier to focus my attention on her secret smiles than linger on what Hal had said.

I returned my attention to him. “She’s definitely something.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said, wrapping his large hand around my own. “Just wanted to say thanks and that we’re really lookin’ forward to tomorrow.” He walked back toward his wife in the late afternoon sun. I’d had a few weddings in a row where I wasn’t needed for the rehearsal dinner. Those were the best, because I got to spend time with the woman walking toward me casually, like it wasn’t all I’d been wanting all week.

I slid a hand in my pocket, knowing if I was as confident as I was pretending to be, I’d be able to do something natural with my hands, when all I wanted to do was reach for her. “Everything good with the couple?”

“They’re all set.” She looked over my shoulder at the building that housed the rain location for the manicured garden. “You have somewhere in mind?”

“Venue manager is going to be here for a while. I was thinking go back to your place—it’s close by, right?” I didn’t need to ask. I remembered everything from the night I’d driven her home after her car accident.

“Yes, but not my place.” She slid her own hand into her pocket, averting her gaze. “I need to do something later across town. Your place?”

A heat I didn’t enjoy spread up my neck, and it had nothing to do with my sunburn. While it was nicer than a supply closet, I wanted to impress her, and I was certain my place wouldn’t. “I’m staying with Penny and her wife right now. Uh, in their basement.”

A small smile quirked at the corner of her mouth.

“I’m not embarrassed about it,” I lied. Gretchen was helping me untangle things with Sarah and the small house we’d bought together outside the city in California. Until that was settled, my finances were as unimpressive as my social life.

“You shouldn’t be.” Her smile fell, some private joke with herself. “I wasn’t laughing at you. You have a bed in the basement?”

“Yes.”

She nodded toward the exit. “Sounds perfect. Your place in half an hour, then.”



* * *



? ? ?

I OPENED THE door. “Hey. Your errands go okay?”

“Sure,” she said, glancing around the entryway in a way that made me wonder if there really were errands she had to run or if she just didn’t want me in her place. The house was small and cozy, with photos of Kelly and Penny on all the walls. There was an empty frame set aside on an end table. I was pretty sure that had held a photo of Sarah and me last time I’d visited. “Are you redecorating?”

I inhaled, smelling the distinctive odor she had picked up on compared to the fresh air from outside. “We can head this way,” I said, motioning to the basement door. “I was painting,” I said unnecessarily as we walked by the stack of cleaned brushes and rollers drying on the kitchen floor.

The stairs creaked slightly as we walked into the finished basement. “What were you painting?”

“They hadn’t done the nursery yet. I didn’t want them to have to worry about it when they brought the baby home.” I led her through the small open area where I’d stacked boxes and into the bedroom. I’d told her I wasn’t embarrassed, but I noticed everything as we walked, taking it in through her eyes. There weren’t many boxes and almost no furniture. I also avoided how I’d felt painting the nursery, the unexpected flood of emotion when I rolled the pale yellow color they’d already picked out onto the walls.

I closed the door behind her and watched RJ walk around the small room. “That was nice of you to paint for them.”

I shoved my hand in my pocket again. “They’ve done a lot for me. It wasn’t a big deal. So . . .”

I’d had my mouth all over RJ’s body. We’d had quick and dirty moments in hidden spots and supply closets, but having her in my bedroom, in my life, was uncomfortable, and I felt uneasy only because I didn’t know what to expect. I’d imagined her in this bed with me a hundred times.

RJ stepped toward me and slid a hand up my chest. “You don’t want to talk about it?”

Her hip was familiar and comforting under my palm. “It’s just not that interesting.”