Falling for the Groomsman (Wedding Dare, #1)(38)

All dangerous thoughts when paired with Tyler Dresco.

She peeked at Tyler from under her lashes. His own eyes were closed, and in sleep he looked softer. More open to the possibilities that life might throw at him. It was hard to believe that he was the same man who threw her against a tree and whispered naughty things in her ear. The same man who was going to steal her heart…

Even if he wasn’t trying.

This wasn’t okay. She didn’t want this confused tangle of emotions he’d given her. She needed to distance herself before it was too late. She’d made a huge freaking mess of her sex list. Heck, if she was honest with herself, she’d admit she lost hold long ago. Probably ever since she’d kissed him.

But no more. She would find a way to still walk away from this with her heart intact, and she would still be free of his hold. It was time to go back to avoiding him. Because that would be so easy, what with them both being in the wedding party and all. She might as well put Fly to the moon on a cow on the list while she was at it. Then she could add with Tyler after it, because he’d totally taken over her list. Make out in an elevator…with Tyler. Have sex in public…with Tyler. Kiss a stranger…with Tyler.

Maybe the list wasn’t even hers anymore.

She stared up at the sky, silently cursing her stupidity. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but the slightest traces of dawn touched the horizon, painting tendrils of pink across the inky blackness. She shifted her weight, gingerly testing out her ankle. It still hurt, but it didn’t hurt quite as much. She rolled it in a circle and stiffened.

Okay. Never mind. That hurt.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Tyler said, his voice gruff.

Christine jumped slightly and peeked at him. With all traces of sleep gone from his eyes, he looked like the Tyler she was used to. Slightly hardened, yet kind to everyone around him. She forced her tone to remain cool and impassionate. “Why not?”

“You’ll injure it worse.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes before focusing on her. “You need to rest it, or you’ll be getting carried down the aisle.”

Hell no. She would walk down the aisle on her own two feet, thank you very much. “Not happening. I’m not ruining Kady’s wedding because I’m an idiot who couldn’t watch where I was going.”

He slid out of the sleeping bag and stretched his hands high up over his head. His shirt rode up, baring those fabulous abs of his she loved so much, and her fingers twitched with the desire to stroke his skin. To further explore the vee shape of his hip bones that led down to his cock, perhaps with her tongue…

No. She needed to remember that she was done crossing items off with him.

Before it was too late.

“Your ankle is more important than appearances,” he pointed out, eyeing her closely. Could he tell she was keeping her behavior polite, but not personal? “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I just want to walk down the aisle on my own two feet.”

His brow furrowed. “But you could prolong your recovery period by pushing it too fast,” he said, his voice hard. He didn’t look confused anymore. He looked pissed. “Instead of a few days, you’ll be flat on your ass for over a week. How is that a better option than taking it easy?”

“I’m not getting carried down the aisle,” she said, fisting the sleeping bag. It was getting a lot harder to keep her tone even. “And that’s that. It’s not up for discussion.”

“Why do you care so damned much?”

She raised a brow, looking him up and down. “One could ask the same of you.”

He stepped into his shoes, his eyes on her. “Why are you acting like we’re strangers again?”

“I’m not. I’m just talking,” she said, keeping her tone even. “Am I supposed to act as if we’re more than what we are?”

The pain that flashed in his eyes was undeniable. An answering pain slashed through her. Wrong, wrong, wrong. “And what are we, exactly?”

“Do you really want to have that talk in the woods, when I have a hangover?”

He slammed his foot into his second shoe. “You know what? Never mind.”

“Good.” She swallowed past her aching throat. “I’m glad we agree on that, at least.”

“On avoiding that particular conversation? Sure.” He shot her a hard look. “But you’re not walking down the damn aisle. I’ll carry you.”

No way. His romantically carrying her down the aisle in his strong arms was not a good idea. “No. I don’t want to be carried by you—or anyone. Got it?”

“I can’t help but notice that you mentioned me first,” he pointed out, bending over and grabbing her shoes. He shoved them in his bag without even asking her whether or not she could walk, and started gathering more items, including the almost-empty vodka bottle. “That’s quite telling if you ask me. There something you want to tell me, Red? Did I snore and keep you up last night?”

“Uh, no.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes. “I just don’t want your help. I don’t need to be saved by you. I’m not one of your helpless patients.”

He snorted, but didn’t say anything. But his jerky motions said it all. He was pissed off, hurt, and maybe a little bit confused. He’d get over it. It was better this way.