But then he shot a glance toward Aunt Luisa and gave a subtle eye roll.
Shit.Okay, then. Maybe he had noticed me.
He arched a brow and the corner of his mouth quirked up, and it felt like we were all alone here with the gently setting sun, the towering trees, the clear June sky.
I glanced away and brushed a hand over the chiffon flowers on my shoulder. When I returned my gaze to the altar, he’d shifted his attention toward the lake.
Aunt Luisa offered some final remarks, and when she returned to her seat the relieved exhale that shook out of the best man had me holding back a giggle of my own.
The officiant stepped up to the microphone, saying, “Florrie and Mason chose to write their own vows.”
“This is going to be epic,” Meri said, leaning forward. “Which one is going to cry first? I’m calling groom. He looks like a teddy bear.”
Florrie glanced down at her notecards before beaming up at her groom. “Mason, I?—”
She choked out a pretty sob.
“And there we have it,” I said.
“Mason, I knew the minute I met you that you’d be my forever,” she said through tears.
Mason knuckled a tear from his cheek and Meri nudged me with her elbow. “Like I said.”
There was a comment on the tip of my tongue, but the best man stole my attention once again. He looked like he was in real danger of choking to death on his own tongue this time.
“Okay, what is his story?” Meri asked. “Run-of-the-mill jackass or?—”
“Conscientious objector,” I said. “He’s here for his buddy, but hates everything so hard that he’s slaphappy about it.”
“I don’t want the real answer,” she whined. “I want to believe he’s the mastermind behind some prank to release fifty piglets down the aisle right before they say ‘I do’ or he accidentally ate an entire bag of shrooms for lunch.”
I watched as he sucked in a breath and stared up at the sky for a moment, like he required the aid of divine forces to survive this ceremony. The sunlight smiled on him, setting fire to the gold and auburn highlights in his dark chestnut hair.
He was on the tall side and broad in a way that suggested he did something that risked life and limb in his spare time, likeplaying rugby or competing in lumberjack games. I’d bet he wore a lot of flannel and had a favorite pair of boots. His shoulders were like the ridgeline of the Rocky Mountains, but I was guessing his thighs were where the real trouble started. They had to be thick and powerful, the kind that would pin you to the bed and not let up until he was good and done.
I cleared my throat. “That tux does nice things for him.”
“Don’t,” Meri replied quickly. “Rule number six. The bridal party is off-limits.”
“Do not quote the rules to me, Meriweather. I was there when they were written.”
“Especially a best man,” she said. “No good could come of that.”
“He’s fun to look at,” I said. “It’s a nice tux. That’s all.”
“I can agree with you on those points and still remind you that noticing the way the tux fits is too close to the danger zone for my comfort. The last thing I want is to be perp-walked out of this place because you threw out the rule book for a dude who can’t keep his shit together for ten consecutive minutes. This dress and this bra are working too hard for it to end that way.”
I nodded as Mason started in on his vows, but I didn’t listen because the best man was staring in this direction again and I had no doubt whether his attention was on me.
Two
Whitney
Rule Number Twenty-One:
Play the whole field.
The cocktail hourfeatured three signature drinks, a mile of cheese and charcuterie, and an alt-rock tribute band that was not at all bad. We lingered on the stone patio, hammering out our game plan for the evening while the wedding party gathered for photos near the lake. I loved this part. I loved seeing all the poses and pairings and the way the families meshed.
