by Hayleigh Sol
It was possible, though it hadn’t felt like a throwaway when he’d said it.
He did use it in the context of saying he wasn’t hitting on you, though. Remember?
“So you don’t think I should say anything to Tracie?”
“Well, you will be around them both quite a bit since you’re in the wedding party. Maybe you should see how he interacts with other attractive single gals. Better yet, see if he talks to you the way he did Sunday when he’s in front of Tracie. And how she reacts to it.”
It was good advice, I had to admit. Gather more evidence before “j’accuse”. The engagement party I’d been dreading would provide the perfect opportunity for my reconnaissance.
Chapter 6
Sage green, short–skirted cocktail dress or the backless sapphire blue with a plunging–V front?
Tough decision. The hem of the green had a flounce that moved when I did, drawing attention to legs I’d toned with boot camps, running, and twenty million squats and lunges. Reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe’s iconic white halter dress from The Seven Year Itch, the blue covered the girls while still revealing enough skin to make an interested party take notice.
Was Noah a breast or a thigh man?
Either dress I chose was a bit of a honeytrap but, before I allowed myself to feel guilty over deliberately attempting to lure a man to his demise like a Siren, I reminded myself I might be saving a good friend from making the mistake of marrying a cheating bastard. The ends would justify the means.
Ultimately, Tracie was the impetus behind my selection, just as she was the reason for this mission in the first place. The dress I’d helped her pick for her engagement party was a blue so pale it was almost white, perfect for a bride. Slipping the green over my head, the whisper–soft chiffon against my smooth legs almost made me wish for a different end to the evening’s games. One with a man’s hand sliding up my leg and teasing the hem of my short skirt—
But I shut that shit down when ocean–blue eyes were attached to that hand. Not literally, of course. That’d be creepy.
The happy couple—we’d see how accurate that description was soon enough— had invited everyone to their shared townhouse for the evening. I was on my way out the door, intending to arrive early and help with any setup needed, when Tracie texted.
Tracie: Bailey, so sorry to ask, but is there any way you can pick up mint on the way here? Ashley insists on making us a “signature berry mojito” and the bartender we hired doesn’t have any.
Me: No problem. Anything else you need?
Tracie: You’re a lifesaver, thank you! We just need the mint and your fabulous self. =)
Ashley was Tracie’s other bridesmaid–slash–wedding coordinator, someone I was looking forward to meeting, even if I felt a splash of guilt that she’d been the one to think of a special cocktail instead of the maid of honor, me. In my defense, she did this wedding crap for a living; she probably suggested small touches like this for her clients in her sleep.
When I’d been planning my own nuptials, the signature cocktail thing hadn’t been as commonplace as it was now. It seemed like a silly addition to me. I mean, didn’t most people have their own preferences when it came to drinks? Also, I doubted that a berry mojito was going to stand out as a truly memorable part of someone’s wedding. Or, in this case, engagement party. Like disposable cameras for guests—most of which had been largely ignored or used for down–the–pants photos of drunken groomsmen—were all the rage in the pre–digital world, a signature drink seemed like a cutesy idea that’d been done to death. I blamed Pinterest.
But I wasn’t going to be my typical skeptical Bailey. Not about this, anyway. I had bigger fish to fry in determining if the groom was a rat bastard. For a frou–frou adult beverage, I could put my chirpiest self forward.
The “fresh” mint at the first store I tried was pathetically wilted, so I had to make a second stop, the heels of my sandals making a staccato report as I hustled around the place. Why was the thing you needed always the last place you looked?
By the time I found parking in busy, Saturday night San Francisco, the party was in full swing with twenty or thirty people standing in small groups. They were all holding drinks—clearly unphased by the lack of mint mojitos—laughing and chatting animatedly. Scanning the room, I spotted the bar setup in a back corner and weaved my way through the crowd toward it. I’d also been looking for Tracie and finally saw her across the room.
With her head resting on her fiancé’s shoulder. They spoke with another couple, the older woman looking so much like Tracie, except for her blonde hair and taller stature, she had to be the mother of the bride. Noah said something with a grin, Tracie laughed, and they looked so perfectly suited to one another, my step faltered.
Could I really do something that might break them up? That might wipe the contented glow off my friend’s face?
I dropped the mint off with the bartender, still casting glances at the couple of the hour. Tracie’s mom was beaming and even reached out a hand to squeeze Noah’s arm affectionately. Clearly, she was thrilled with her future son–in–law.
And why wouldn’t she be? At the moment, he was looking at Tracie like she was his favorite person in the world. I couldn’t recall a time anyone had ever looked at me like that. Plus, he was incredibly successful in his field, supportive of Tracie’s success in hers. He was double–take handsome, if that kind of thing was important to his in–laws, and a great conversationalist. I’d certainly experienced that myself.
Observing him with his future bride and her parents, I questioned my conviction that our walk had been anything more than friendly. It had been a while since I’d been on the receiving end of masculine attention; maybe my own horniness had tinted my perception of his behavior.
God, that was embarrassing.
Or—and this was difficult to admit, even in the safety of my own head—maybe I was at risk of becoming the man–hater my friends had teasingly accused me of over the years. But I’d seen very few men in my life who I would label “one of the good ones”. Given enough time—or the right stimulus—I believed the vast majority of them would reveal their true colors.
Speaking of…
Noah’s eyes suddenly locked on mine from across the room, a connection so intense it would’ve been scorching–hot. If not for the fact that he was still wrapped around the woman he was supposed to marry in less than three months.
I tilted my head—yes, I see you staring at me inappropriately at your engagement party—and saw the slow lift start at the corners of his mouth.
“Oh, excuse me!” Someone’s chest collided with my shoulder seconds before her startled exclamation. Her very ample chest, I now saw, as the strapless dress she’d chosen was being pushed down to near nip–slip level.
“No, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
She laughed, gesturing with the martini glass she was holding, which we’d managed to avoid sloshing all over each other, thankfully. The motion allowed her top to slip just a bit more and I was heroically trying not to stare at her chest. This poor gal sure could use a stylist’s helpful suggestions. Or some shoulder straps, stat.
“I wasn’t watching where I was going, either. Oh my gosh, I love your dress!”
I thanked her and introduced myself, which made her gasp. “Bailey, it’s so great to meet you! I’m Ashley, the other part of Tracie’s entourage.”
“Ah, the wedding coordinator extraordinaire. Nice to meet you, too.”
We made small talk about how we’d met Tracie, how the wedding plans were coming along, and when we should get together to discuss the bachelorette bash. I could see what Tracie liked about Ashley. She was warm, intelligent, and fun to talk to, someone who made you feel instantly relaxed, and I thought she and I might become friends, too.
What a relief. Part of me had worried she might be jealous Tracie had asked me to be her maid of honor.
“Ladies, I see the bride’s crew is well represented over here. What about the groom’s?”
The smile slid from my face as Noah sidled up next to us. I hadn’t sensed him coming but, now that he was here, every molecule of my traitorous body was aware of the man. Who wore dress pants and a button–up dress shirt like a Hugo Boss model.
“Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?” The abrupt change in Ashley’s demeanor as she purred in Noah’s general direction was incredible. I inspected her face to make sure she hadn’t been body–snatched when I’d glanced at our interloper. Nope, still her. Although, she did seem to be thrusting her boobs in the groom’s face now. Military posture had nothing on her.
“Ahh, actually, I was hoping to steal Bailey here away for a sec. Wedding stuff, y’know?” Noah seemed flustered by the D–cups he’d been presented with. How sweet.
Partially deflated, Ashley rallied with a slight pout. “Alright, I guess. Just be sure you two don’t leave me alone with all these people I don’t know for too long.” I swear on my favorite pair of strappy sandals—which I was actually wearing at the moment—she batted her lashes at him. I didn’t think women actually did that anymore. She even managed to look pretty hot in the process.
A gal who could work that move without looking foolish deserved at least some respect. Although…this was the guy who was about to marry her friend. Were they both so used to casual flirting that it didn’t register anymore?
As Noah pulled me away—and no, I did not notice the warmth of his hand as it wrapped around my upper arm—I made a subtle pull–up–your–top gesture at my new friend before turning around and extricating myself from Noah’s grasp.
He glanced back to ensure he hadn’t lost me, then guided us to the hallway leading to the bedroom and office. Two women stood outside a closed door chatting, obviously waiting for the bathroom.
Wasn’t that always the way.
“Alone at last.” He glanced at the ladies down the hall and looked back at me with a rueful smile. “Well, almost.”
My heart started pounding under the direct gaze of those turquoise eyes and I reminded myself of my mission tonight. I didn’t have Ashley’s moves but I looked good and that knowledge instilled confidence. And power.
“Was there a reason you wanted to get me alone?” So maybe my voice was huskier than I’d have liked. It certainly wasn’t because I was attracted to the man my friend was marrying, the man I suspected was miles away from being worthy of her. The sexy promise underlying my words would only benefit my cause here.
The bathroom door opened and we both looked over to see the exchange of bodies before it shut again. On her own now in the dim hallway, the remaining woman pulled out her phone and started scrolling, ignoring us completely.
In spite of our relative privacy, Noah leaned in closer to me. “I had a really great time getting to know you last weekend. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again tonight.”
Hmm, still not quite conclusive evidence of douchery.
“Me, too.” There, that could be interpreted however he chose. Seriously, though, what was with all the leaning in?
“So…maybe we could grab another drink together sometime.”
Okay, that’s heading the right way. Or the wrong way, depending on how you looked at it.
Now, just a little push. “Like a date?” I gave him the hint of a smile, one that suggested I was hoping he’d say “yes”, even though the nausea in my stomach was praying he’d say, “Of course not, I’d never do that to the woman I love.”
His gaze flicked down the hall—nervous about getting caught?—and he swallowed. He smiled at me and, had he been available, I might’ve melted on the spot.
“Yeah. I’d really like to take you out on a date.”
“Locking me in a room with you already? Shucks, buy a guy a drink or a meal first, would ya?”
Noah crossed his arms over his chest once I’d yanked him into the room across from the bathroom—it turned out to be Tracie’s office, thank God, and not the bedroom they probably boinked in all the time—and I shut the door firmly before turning to face him. The joking light in his eyes dimmed and the playful grin slid off his stupidly beautiful lips once he saw the look in my own narrow–eyed glare.
Maya had told me laughingly several times over the years that my eyes changed color with my mood. In reality, shifts in the hazel color were due to changes in lighting bringing out different pigments in the irises. If mood had played a role, I was dead certain that, at this moment, mine would’ve been the darkest green before you hit black on the color wheel.
“Bailey, what is it? Is something wrong?” He lowered his arms and took a step toward me. He looked concerned. Worried.
Well, he should be.
“Yeah, I’d say something’s wrong when a man who’s engaged to be married asks another woman out on a date.” My hands fisted on my hips, challenging him to explain his way out of this.
A crease appeared between his brows. “Wha—”
“Pretty messed up, wouldn’t you say, Noah? Or should I call you Garrett? I bet that’s part of your whole game. You use different names with different people—different women—so you can keep us all straight.” The flicker of comprehension showed me he knew exactly what I was talking about. I dared him anyway. “Go ahead, tell me I’m wrong.”
He crossed his arms again, decidedly not playful this time. “Alright. You’re wrong. Partially. I—”
“Ha! I knew it. Are you really going to try and justify your disgusting behavior right now?” His lips flattened; he looked almost as pissed as I was. But I had a storm of righteous indignation to rain down on him before we were done here. “Tracie’s my friend. She’s one of the coolest people I know. How could you do this to her?”
“You’re right, she is one of the coolest people around. I’m glad you see that in her.”
My face scrunched up in what–the–hell fury at him. “Then, why? Why would you risk your relationship with her by hitting on me?”
Sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks—nicely tailored to fit, I couldn’t prevent my professional eye from noticing, just like the cobalt button–up dress shirt he wore with sleeves cuffed to reveal his toned forearms—he rocked back on his heels. His lips twisted, almost into a smirk.
Grrr. I hated smirky guys. A woman who was reeled in by a guy who smirked, who thought that smug conceit was sexy, deserved the games that dude was sure to play with her mind and heart.
I’d know better than anyone.
“I guess I just couldn’t resist,” Smirky said.
“You couldn’t resist flirting with another woman? Not only that, but asking her out. Have you no impulse control?”
He shook his head, keeping that half–smile on his mug. “Not just any other woman. You.”
Uggh, was that supposed to be flattering?
“Gross, is that supposed to make me blush and giggle and fall into your arms? Oh, Noah” —I affected my best doe–eyed damsel expression, complete with back of hand to forehead—“cheating is wrong but, gee, since it’s me you want, I guess I can make an exception.”
I slashed a hand through the air. “You’re unbelievable. What was the play here? You and I would carry on an affair while Tracie blindly planned your wedding?” My lip curled into the sneer I felt in my soul. “You make me sick.”
One eye twitched. If mood had the ability to affect his eyes, I’d call their current appearance, hurricane’s coming.
“That’s certainly a different attitude than you were giving off last weekend. The flirtation wasn’t one–sided and we both know it.” A muscle in his jaw clenched and released. “Admit it – you were just as attracted to me as
I was to you.”
My arms folded across my chest, my own jaw feeling tight. “Fine, I was. Until you showed yourself to be the moral excrement you really are. When your character is that repugnant, so is the rest of you.”
“Well. You seem to have made up your mind about me.” My chin tilted up and he moved to leave the room. “What a shame, we could’ve had a really good time together.”
Oh no, he didn’t.
“Not so fast there, buster. Are you going to tell Tracie, or am I?”
He was less than a foot away from me and he turned those deep–freeze eyes my way. “Tell her what?”
I gave him a flinty, don’t–fuck–with–me stare.
Nodding his head, he smirked again. “Let’s go together. I’d love to hear what she says. You sure you want to do this now?” Acting the gentleman, he opened the door and gestured me out ahead of him. “After you, duchess.”
At his caustic tone, my chin notched up another inch. He hadn’t shown an ounce of remorse or even anxiousness about Tracie’s reaction. There was no reason to delay telling my friend the truth. I marched my way down the hall, into the living room where the volume had risen, likely in proportion to the amount of liquor that had been consumed in our absence.
Tracie was standing over by the bar, waiting for a drink and talking with Ashley. She turned around, smiling widely at my approach, and I nearly halted my determined march. I’d never seen her looking so beautiful, so radiantly happy.
Did I really want to do this right now?
The aftermath wasn’t something I’d considered, furious as I was at Noah. What if she burst into tears? Or screamed at him? In front of all these people, friends and family and even some work colleagues of both of theirs. Tracie was a private person, a little shy. A lot like my friends Maya and Simone. They would hate it if I broke this kind of news to them in such a public setting.
I glanced back and saw Noah right on my heels, raising his eyebrows as if saying, “Well? Go ahead.”