2. Julianna

Sometimes the bad things that happen in our lives put us directly on the path to the best things that will ever happen to us. —Unknown

I shouldn’t be here.

I had been telling myself variations of that very sentiment all day, starting with I shouldn’t go as I’d dressed for the wedding all the way to What the hell am I doing? as I’d entered the church. And here I was now, still filled with a torturous regret as I sat alone at a round table during the reception and watched a bunch of white people trying to dance to the “Cha Cha Slide.”

That was just plain painful all by itself.

Except for the groom. He looked adorable attempting to perfect the Charlie Brown. I could tell he was only on the dance floor to entertain his bride, who sat in her wheelchair a few feet in front of him and covered her mouth with her hands as tears streamed down her cheeks from laughing so hard.

A reluctant smile tugged at my own lips. Yeah, he was pretty damn cute with the way he so enthusiastically got into the song, shaking his ass at her. And that tux fit him like sin on an ice cream cone. Made a girl just want to lick—

Not that I’d ever licked that.

I was probably the only woman in attendance—aside from the bride herself—who’d gone on a date with him, though. Well, half a date. It had been kind of interrupted by, what do you know, the bride herself, and we’d never gotten a redo before he realized where his heart truly lay.

I didn’t blame the new Mrs. Gamble for ruining my date and crushing what might’ve been a grand, passionate romance. Not really.

But being passed over for someone else had been a bitter pill to swallow because I had liked Brandt Gamble. I’d liked him a lot, like enough to maybe even break my five-date rule of going all the way if that first one had ever made it to completion. Yet I’d never even gotten a kiss from him. I bet he was a good kisser too. His lips looked like the soft kind that made your toes curl as soon as they were within a foot of you.

He was damn-near perfect all the way around. Gorgeous, good humored, kind, compassionate, easy to talk to, and just rough enough around the edges to be a wholly and appealingly, hard-working guy.

Glancing away as the song ended and he swept forward to press his soft-looking lips against his wife’s, I cleared my throat, feeling vile for even thinking what I was thinking.

Who in their right mind attended a wedding to watch their old crush marry someone else?

Me, apparently.

I was such an idiot. I should just grab my purse, get up and leave already. I was better than this. If I put my heart into it, I could probably get any man I wanted. I didn’t need to mope over some unavailable—

Across the table from me, a guy in a tux slumped into a seat in a sloppy, drunken manner, saying, “Hey, sexy.”

I jerked my gaze up to the man’s face only to groan.

Not a man. Just a boy. Just a cocky, way-too-attractive for his mere eighteen years, boy.

The best man, aka Brandt’s annoying little brother, wiggled his eyebrows amorously. “You look good enough to have for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And that slit in your skirt, running halfway up your thigh...mmm, baby doll, that’s been driving me crazy all night.”

God, strike me dead now. If there was anything worse than watching the guy you were pining after marry another woman, it had to be spending any time in the company of Colton Gamble.

“Why...?” I demanded, glaring enough that hopefully he’d get the hint and behave for once in his life. “Couldn’t you have just been decent for once in your life, dropped all that annoying shit, and merely said I looked nice?”

“Nice?” He snorted, his brown eyes sparkling with delight. “The bride looks nice. My sisters and little nieces look nice. You...no, you don’t look nice. You look fucking delicious.”

Against my will, heat coiled in my stomach. That’s what I hated most about Colton. His pesky annoyances I could handle and swat aside without another thought. It was the way his stare could make my thighs quiver and breasts go all heavy that made me boil and stew.

He was the complete antithesis of his brother. Where Brandt was humble about his appearance, Colton knew how hot he was and liked to play it up. Brandt seemed to work for everything he had while Colton had a laziness about him as if he just sat back and let the world come to him. His personality was so loud and domineering, I wasn’t sure what was important to him, except maybe himself, while Brandt wore his feelings for others right there on his sleeve for the world to see. Brandt’s presence was soothing and put me at ease. He was a nice, safe guy to crush on. Being near Colton always made everything inside me twist and tighten with...I don’t even know. Annoyance? Dread? Awareness? Excitement?

Whatever it was, I hated it. And worse yet, I swear, he knew how much he affected me. His grin always bore that smug, arrogant smirk, as if he could read every dirty thought in my head. I hated that too...almost as much as I hated him.

Okay, maybe I didn’t hate him per se—I didn’t even really know him—but I could definitely do without all that freaking mess he caused inside me. Messes were just...messy. And I did hate messes. I was the kind of girl who thrived off order and control. It only took one glance at Colton to know those things did not exist in his wheelhouse.

Propping his elbows onto the table, he rested his chin in one hand as he regarded me thoughtfully. “You looked lonely sitting over here all by your sexy self. I decided I just couldn’t allow that.”

I ignored how sweet it was that he’d been concerned about my well-being at all, and I sent him a dismissive glance. “I’m fine.”

He lifted an eyebrow, spearing me with an intense stare that made me squirm inside as if I could feel him poking through all my innermost thoughts. “Are you?”

Drawing in a breath, I tore my gaze from him and scanned the room, needing something else to focus on. When I spotted Brandt leading his bride toward the cake and punch, I blinked rapidly.

No. No, I wasn’t fine. Not at all. I was a freaking lonely mess inside, and I hated that too.

Messy, messy Juli. We couldn’t have that.

Across the table, Colton leaned toward me. “Tell me something, Julianna. What’re you doing here?”

His question made me squint. Veering my attention back to him, I shook my head, confused. “What do you mean? This is where my place card was.” I lifted my card to show him the name Julianna Radcliffe printed neatly on the folded piece of cardstock. “Where else would I sit?”

But he shook his head. “No. Not at this table, here. What are you doing at this wedding, here?”

My lips parted. Feeling suddenly unwelcome and small, I narrowed my eyes at the source of this crappy feeling. “I was invited,” I bit back.

Colton sighed and glanced momentarily toward the ceiling before meeting my gaze and murmuring, “Didn’t mean you had to come.”

“What?” Back straightening and chin lifting, I said, “Do you have some kind of problem with me, Little Gamble?”

He laughed. The bastard was half a second from making me cry and slink away from this stupid reception with my tail tucked between my legs, and he had the audacity to laugh in my face. Jerk. I should claw his motherfucking eyes out. And all this time, I’d thought he liked me when he flirted mercilessly. Every time he saw me, in fact, he made some comment about wanting to get into my pants.

Knowing he didn’t want me here made me feel betrayed by all his previous false acts of seduction. It made me feel as if no one wanted me, anywhere.

As if no one would ever want me.

But then he said, “Hell no, I don’t have a problem with you.”

Confused, I frowned.

Colton only smiled and tipped his head to the side. “What? Have I not made that clear enough every single second I’ve ever spent in your company? Because, you know, I could try harder.”

“Dear God, no!” Against my will, my body settled with relief to learn he didn’t dislike me after all, except the relief pissed me off, because I didn’t want to care what he thought of me. “Then what the fuck is your deal?” I demanded, cursing myself because I cared a hell of a lot more than I wanted to.

I didn’t want to like him; it drove me crazy that once I realized he was in a room he was the only thing I could focus on or think about. It’s like the bastard stole my attention against my will, and I hated that. But I couldn’t seem to stop it.

“I don’t have a deal,” he answered flippantly, making me rumble out my aggravation. “I’m just curious why you decided to torture yourself and attend this wedding only to watch the guy you’re crazy about marry someone else.”

I froze.

Praying he hadn’t just said what I knew he’d just said, I slid my gaze toward Brandt, only to guiltily slice it right back to Colton, who lifted his eyebrows and waited for my answer like a smug know-it-all.

So I took a long, slow drink from my champagne glass, nearly draining it, and then I set it back on the table before returning my attention to him.

Affecting an amused laugh, I asked, “What makes you think I’m crazy about Brandt?”

Colton laughed too, like threw back his head and bellowed the sound, making people at other tables glance our way. I ground my teeth, trying not to sink through the floor from mortification as he slowly settled down enough to say, “Not have feelings for Brandt? Good one.” Wiping a tear from his eye, he flicked it from his fingers. “Damn, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all night. But seriously, you don’t have to play dumb with me. I know you like him. I watched you stare at him for a good ten minutes straight before I came over here to rescue you.”

“I was not—” Oh, shit. I had been staring, hadn’t I? “He’s one of the only people here I know,” I bit out defensively. “And he’s the groom. Who was I supposed to watch?”

Colton grinned. “You could watch me.”

“Oh, Jesus. Really?” I rolled my eyes and reached for my purse from the middle of the table to leave. It was humiliating enough to get caught staring, but Colton’s pathetic flirting on top of that made my night complete. This evening was just too sucky to continue.

“Hey, wait.” Colton flashed forward, snatching my purse before I could get my hand on it.

I glowered. “Dammit, Colton. Give me my purse back.”

He didn’t. Grinning, he clutched it to his chest before holding up a finger. “Just give me a second here. I have an idea. What if I knew how to help you get over him?”

His words caused half a second of pause because of the enchanting temptation they roused. I would love nothing else in the world than to stop wondering what-if every time I was around Brandt.

Sitting back, I crossed my arms over my chest, acting as if I didn’t care and was just playing along to recover my possessions. “Oh, really? And how do you suggest I do that?”

With a shrug, he said, “Same way any woman gets over a guy she likes. By settling for some other lucky schmuck to get your mind off him, of course.” Grinning, he lifted his hand. “In fact, I volunteer as consolation prize.”