She laughed and pushed at my hands. “I’m done. I can’t. You’re too lucky, and I’ll be naked. I don’t think I can keep pretending to be nonchalant. I have no shirt and no pants on around you. I’m very much chalant.”
I tucked a wild curl behind her ear. “Go to bed, Ruby, before I decide to quit being a good guy.”
“You could never be the bad guy.” She didn’t move for a beat, then turned and left.
I didn’t have to be a prick to let her down. If there was ever a woman I didn’t want to disappoint, it was her. Good thing the wedding was next weekend, or I’d keep figuring out ways to get her naked. The lines were blurring and I’d learned that on the other side was failure and heartbreak. I didn’t want that for either of us.
So next weekend, once we put on a good show at the reception, I’d make sure Ruby got in her car and drove off. And it wouldn’t be in the direction of my home.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ruby
People milled on the lawn of the Bourbon Canyon nine-hole golf course. Women in colorful dresses dotted the crowd, along with men in slacks and sport coats, all acceptable attire for the garden wedding.
I tugged on the bodice of my pale-blue dress. The bottom of the skirt brushed my ankles, and large white lilies decorated the fabric. I would’ve gone with a solid color, but with my luck, I would’ve shown up in a dress too similar to the bridesmaids’. Cara was likely the type of bride to kick me out for the grievance. As much as I didn’t care for her, I wasn’t interested in ruining her wedding. I hadn’t needed to worry.
The four bridesmaids, two of them from high school who continued to act like I was invisible, wore tasteful, soft-yellow gowns, and the groomsmen, most of whom I had met while dating Brock, were in trendy blue suits. As far as classiness went, the wedding hit all the right notes. The ceremony had been short and sweet. Cara had grinned at Brock, and she’d had to wipe her mouth after their first kiss as man and wife.
I took a sip of my blackberry bourbon. Jenna, the girl working the wet bar, was fairly new at Bourbon Canyon. She took a few shifts at the bar each week. Tenor and I had stopped to chat with her as soon as we’d arrived. I’d taken several pictures of the setup and her preparing drinks. Then I’d done a ton of snapshots of my cocktail.
The only subject I really wanted to photograph was Tenor. He was checking on Jenna again. Teller was running stock in the background, and he’d been so stealthy I’d almost missed him. I took at least ten photos of each of them.
Tenor nodded and started for me. I inhaled a shaky breath. The nerves in my stomach took flight. The real him was much more potent without a camera lens between us. He wore a pair of black cowboy boots with his charcoal-gray slacks. Once again, he wore a shirt a size too big, but it worked for him. The top button was undone to keep the look casual enough for a golf course wedding and his gray sport coat kept his shirt from gathering around his waist. He’d gotten his hair trimmed and he kept it combed off his head.
He adjusted his glasses as he reached me. He wasn’t fading into the background today, not like he ever could. He cut a path toward me and heads turned. Most—but not all—the guests were from out of town. I recognized a few other classmates and they chose to pretend I didn’t exist, but they couldn’t miss the tall, handsome man who wasfinein a casual suit.
“I got you another drink,” he said, handing me a highball glass. “But there’s a kicker.”
“Oh?”
“I want to get a picture of you with it.”
I almost laughed him off, but he was holding his phone like he was ready to shoot. “The contract said wet bar and employees only.”
“Exactly.” He took a few pics.
“Wait!” Had my mouth been hanging open? Did I look like Snow White had gotten into the evil queen’s liquor stash?
“Payback. I saw you taking your opening.” He pocketed the phone.
“I promise I won’t post anything with you two.” But on the off chance he and Teller would change their mind, I was ready. “How’s Jenna?”
He tipped his head down. “Hanging in there. Apparently to keep from being a bridezilla, Cara assigned the job to her mom. Jenna got interrogated before the reception started about why there were no other options than bourbon.”
The wet bar was a hit and Cara’s mom could suck a lemon wedge. Teller had stocked plenty. “Good thing we told Jenna where to find a copy of the contract the new son-in-law signed. In person.”
A satisfied glint entered his eye. “Came in handy. Mom of the bride turned beet red, but Jenna made sure to gush about how thoughtful it was Teller and I had included different signature mocktails to be served too. Then she said she couldn’t wait to serve the drink Cara named.”
“Jenna’s a good one.”
His gaze stroked over my face. “We hire amazing people.”
“I have to admit, I like the name Cara came up with for the blackberry fizz.” Instead of simple syrup, Wynter had used maple syrup. It was like a pancake in a glass, which was what Cara had named it.
“That was a good idea.” Tenor put his hand on the small of my back, a move that never failed to anchor me and make me feel treasured. “Letting brides name a mocktail.”
“And those brides feel like they got a backstage pass.” I nudged him. “I promised you I’d keep you out of it.”
