Falling for the Groomsman (Wedding Dare, #1)(35)

“Yeah you are. You’re just nosy, too.”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Now answer.”

“Fine.” She scooted out of the sleeping bag and hugged her knees. He sat up, unzipped the sleeping bag, and tucked their feet inside. “But if you want me to answer the question, you better hand over that bottle next to you.”

He picked up the vodka and gave it to her. “Here you go. But give it back. I might need a swig before I hear the answer.”

She took the bottle and sipped before she returned it to him, watching as he washed down the last of his protein bar with some vodka. He set it down and stretched his legs inside the sleeping bag. She rested her leg against his, soaking in his heat.

“Five.” She peeked up at him and blew out a breath. “None of them were serious.”

“Oh.” He flexed his jaw. “I see.”

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t seriously think I was a born-again virgin, did you?”

He looked back at her, his eyes flashing. “No. But I underestimated the effect that the thought of another guy touching you would have on me. I don’t like it.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the possessiveness in his voice and the way he looked at her. This wasn’t good. He couldn’t go getting all territorial. She couldn’t let herself like it, because she’d only been crossing items off her list. Nothing more. Ignoring the need swirling violently within her, she forced her mind back to the topic at hand. “My turn. How many have you been with?”

He flinched. “To be honest? I didn’t keep count.”

Jealousy ripped through her. Unwanted, harsh, hot, ugly jealousy. “That many?”

“It’s not that. I just tried not to concentrate on it or anything.” He dragged a hand through his hair and took a long pull of the vodka. “I guess…ten or fifteen? Maybe.”

“At least you didn’t say fifty,” she mumbled, wanting to punch him in his perfect face. “Or a hundred.”

Reaching out, he toyed with a piece of her hair. “Are you jealous, Red?”

“Me?” She snorted. “Jealous?” She snorted again. Okay. She was kind of starting to sound like a dying pig. “Of course not.”

He smirked. “Don’t be. They’re all faceless women to me, really. A means to an end, or a way to scratch an itch. I never wanted a relationship, or anything remotely resembling one. I’m already married to my job. Plus, none of them made my heart race and my palms sweat. None of them made me forget who I was and what I wanted out of life, or made me second-guess myself in those very things.”

“Is that the medical definition of love?” she asked. If so, she was screwed, because he did that to her. Always had. “Sweaty palms, racing hearts, and forgotten dreams?”

“I think so.” He lifted a shoulder and dropped her hair. “But who am I to say? I’m just a doctor. I don’t know anything but my job. Love? That’s for normal men. Men like me don’t get married. We’re never home.”

“That’s not true,” she said softly. She hesitated, not sure how to say what she wanted to say. So she settled for, “You can be in love and not give up your career. You can be an excellent doctor and go home to your wife and kids.” She almost choked on the words. The idea of him having a wife and kids hurt. “You can be a doctor and a man. They’re not two separate beings.”

The way he looked at her when she said that made her want to curl up in a ball and rock in the corner. He looked at her as if…

As if he wanted her to be that wife.





Chapter Twelve


Letting her words soak in, Tyler tilted his head back, staring up at the bright, shiny stars. No matter where you were in the world, the stars always looked the same. Constant and sure. What else in this life stayed so steady? Nothing. That’s what.

Jesus. He was waxing philosophical about the f*cking stars. How much had he had to drink so far? Not enough to wipe out the fact that he wanted more than a night under the stars from Christine. At some point, he’d realized how much he enjoyed being with her, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He wasn’t the “snuggling while talking about dreams, hopes, and aspirations” type of guy. He didn’t play that way. Didn’t look for love around every corner or even want it. He was married to his job. He didn’t need two wives. But with Christine in his arms…

Maybe he could see it.

She was telling him he was more than his job, that he could be the man she would need him to be and the doctor he needed to be. He wanted to believe her so f*cking bad it hurt. “You think I could find a woman who wouldn’t mind sharing me with my other wife?”

She looked up at the sky, too, then back at him. “If she loved you and you loved her? Sure. Why not?”

He let out a whoosh of air. She made it sound so easy, but he’d seen what happened to each of his buddies when they married. They got divorced. Simple as that. If he got married, he wanted it to be forever. He didn’t want to fail. He tugged on his shirt. Since when was the neck of this shirt so damn small? “I guess it’s possible. But I’m not in the market for that right now.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. He watched her closely, looking for any sign of disappointment in her eyes. Nothing. Not even a flash of uncertainty. “Me either. I’ve been trying to loosen up and…enjoy life. Stop trying to plan everything all the time.”