I rake a hand through my hair. “Don’t start. Nothing’s going on.”
But he grins, clapping me on the back. “Sure, there’s not. All I’m saying is maybe it’s time to stop pining for that other girl who keeps stringing you along—what’s her name? Scarlet? Instead, look at what’s right in front of you. And I’ll remind youagainthat Morgan doesn’t live that far from OU.”
I shake my head as we slide into the truck cab. “She seemed pretty happy to get away from me. Plus, I don’t do setups, remember?”
But I hadn’t thought of Scarlet all day.
He shrugs, still smirking. Know-it-all. “Does Morgan seem like the other girls you’ve been set up with?”
I don’t answer as their cart disappears down the road. No, Morgan’s not like them at all. But she still hates me—and gets phone calls from some guy named Leo.
With a huff, I roll up the window. “What do you know about Leo?”
Did I honestly ask that?
Hudson’s smug laugh makes me want to toss him in the lake. “Now, why would myuninterestedcousin want to know about him?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MORGAN
The wind whips through my hair as Ava and I cruise along the sloping road toward town. Snippets of the sparkling lake flash through the trees. As the quaint houses come into view, the sun reflects off their metal rooftops, creating a dazzling, postcard-worthy scene that should leave me mesmerized. But instead of enjoyingthismoment, I’m enjoying another—our unexpected kiss at the jewelry shop.
What did he make of it? Does he regret it? Is he telling Hudson about it now and laughing about the awkwardness?
I fiddle with the frayed edge of my jean shorts. Maybe I need to talk it out. Should I tell Ava?
Her hair dances in the breeze, creating a wild blonde frame for the worry lines creasing her brow. I can’t bring myself to introduce more unnecessary drama to her wedding weekend. Not to mention, this is the definition of stealing someone’s thunder. I don’t want her focused on me and my problems. So I keep my secret locked away, hidden behind a forced smile.
But Ava has other ideas.
As we bump across the stone bridge, she nudges me. “You seem a bit off this afternoon. What’s going on?”
Smile, right? I paste it back in place. I’ll tell her everything later—like in a few years. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Are you mad at me for not saving you from my mom earlier?”
Whoa! I hold up both hands. “No, not at all. How could I possibly be mad at you? And like I said, I don’t mind helping.”
Her shoulders relax, and she checks her makeup in the rearview mirror. “And how was your afternoon with Will?”
“Fine.”
She raises a perfectly manicured brow. The spa must’ve been nice. “Come on. Spill. Something’s up with you two.”
I pick at my shorts again. “Nothing’s up.”
“I don’t know. I sensed some vibes earlier.”
“Nope, no vibes.” My laugh comes in a nervous jitter, and my heart somersaults over his lips on mine.
Get it together, Morgan! This weekend is complicated enough. Stop thinking about that kiss.
“We met yesterday. He’s barely more than a stranger. I’m here for your wedding. That’s all. It’s going to be amazing, by the way. Wait until you see what we’ve done to the pavilion already.” My subject change works, and we discuss the wedding and what still needs to be done.
As we stop in front of the pavilion, I twinge over not being honest.
How can I explain something I don’t understand myself? I need to put it out of my mind. From now on, I’m focusing on the task—making her wedding perfect. And if that means keeping my emotions in check and forgetting the cute and confusing groomsman, then so be it.
