Meet Me in the Middle (Wattle Valley, #2)

by Jacquie Underdown

  ‘Wil promised the speeches will be short.’

  ‘Thank god.’

  ‘What about you? Any horrible wedding stories?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Not yet. Until today I was a virgin.’

  Anders nearly choked on his champagne but managed to get it down.

  ‘Of bridal parties, that is,’ she said quickly, then almost snorted with laughter. ‘Of course I’m not a virg … I meant it’s my first time as a bridesmaid.’

  ‘Of course.’ He winked and her belly flipped because it was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. ‘I knew what you meant.’

  ‘And I promise if I start to feel sick like I might vomit, I’ll lean away from you.’

  He chuckled loudly. ‘Good to know.’

  She elbowed him lightly in the ribs. ‘And I may let you talk to me. You know, if I feel like it. I’ll see how it goes.’

  They arrived at the Parker Family Farm and met the others outside Wil and Emily’s homestead—a beautiful two-storey brick home replete with a stone chimney and a big front deck lined by colourful flowers in hanging baskets.

  The first photo session was with the private photographer. Regular group shots: standing in front of trees in linear formations; standing in front of the mountain views in an arrow formation; standing in a field of grass behind the bride and groom as they kissed; standing in a row with each person slanting to opposite sides as they smiled for the camera.

  But then the photographers and film crew for Catch Me a Cowboy arrived and much of the attention was focused on Wil and Emily. The rest of the bridal party stood together and drank champagne until each pair was taken aside one and a time to perform what was required of them.

  It wasn’t until Neve was lifted onto the back of a horse with Anders behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist and other regions determinately and solidly pressing against the small of her back, she could see how knowing him made her that little bit more comfortable.

  To be honest, to feel him so close, his big body enclosed around hers, she was burning, despite the freezing cold. Her throat was dry and her breaths were coming harder; she’s amazed the photographer didn’t ask if she was about to hyperventilate.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Anders said, trying to wiggle backwards, ‘but the saddle is slanting towards you and well …’

  ‘I’ve been in worse situations.’

  He chuckled, his warm breath on the back of her neck making tingles fan along her flesh. ‘If we hadn’t known each other before now, we sure would be well acquainted by the end of it.’

  ‘Let me know if I’m too … I don’t know … invasive of your space.’

  ‘Oh, I’d say any space between you and me is non-existent at this moment.’ Not that she minded. In fact, she was rather enjoying how it felt being wrapped in such strong, comforting arms.

  The photographer lifted the camera to his eye. He was a middle-aged man with a growing waistline and thinning hair. ‘Okay, if you could lean back against him.’ Neve did so. ‘That’s it, and relax your head on his shoulder.’ Her whole body sighed with what this was doing to her. ‘And you, sir, if you could look straight ahead. No smile, just a relaxed face.’

  Click. Click. Click.

  ‘Now, sir, if you could look down and, miss, if you could slant your head back and up to look at him.’

  The female producer who had been directing everyone the entire afternoon marched over and drew the photographer aside. An unheard conversation took place between quick glances back at Anders and Neve.

  ‘What do you think they’re talking about?’ Anders asked.

  ‘No idea.’

  Soon enough, the producer strode away and the photographer joined them again. ‘We need to do those shots again but from a different profile.’

  ‘No fuss. Either profile is fine,’ Anders said.

  ‘No, I meant, miss, maybe you’d like to get your photographs taken from a different angle?’

  Neve knew what he was saying—the side without the scar. She cast a look to the rest of the party who were thankfully talking and laughing amongst themselves that they hadn’t heard. ‘I’m happy with this side.’

  He lowered the camera and huffed. ‘I’m trying to be sensitive here. The producer insists. Believe me, once the images are out there open to public scrutiny, you’ll be glad we got the better angle.’

  All the breath rushed from Neve’s lungs and a deep flush crept up her cheeks. Her heart was racing with anger and mortification. Anders’ body tightened behind her, then he calmly slid off the horse, though his breaths were growing deeper.

  She climbed off after him and scurried to catch up as he marched to the photographer.

  Anders leant down as he stood almost nose to nose with the man. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. ‘You’re far from sensitive. In fact, you’re a right rude prick.’

  The photographer took a step back. ‘I’m just trying to do my job.’

  ‘You’re lucky I don’t want to ruin my cousin’s wedding because otherwise, you would no longer be standing. If you think either of us is going to let you take our photograph now, then you’re mistaken. Go back and tell your producer, she will not be getting anything more from us.’ Each word hissed from between his lips like venom.

  The photographer swallowed hard and nodded, though he still had the nerve to look affronted.

  Wil rushed towards them, his grin faltering and eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. ‘Everything okay?’

  Neve nodded and mustered the most convincing smile she could. ‘Everything’s fine. No problem.’

  Anders rested a hand on Wil’s shoulder and smiled, though Neve could see the tension beneath and that his chest was still rising and falling sharply. ‘All good, mate.’ Then he grabbed Neve’s hand and led her towards the rest of the party.

  Her entire body burned with embarrassment—not so much because of what the photographer and producer wanted, but whom it all happened in front of. It was shameful to have people reduce her to an imperfection in front of the man she was really starting to like.

  The fact that this reality TV crew had assumed her scar was too horrible to capture and allow the public to see, made Neve cringe.

  She could be as fine about her scars as possible, but she still lived in a world where others were judged on how they looked, particularly women.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Anders whispered.

  She waved his concern away. ‘I’m fine. A little embarrassed, but I’m sure I’ll get over it.’

  He tugged on her hand gently to stop her before they had reached the others and turned to face her. ‘Just for the record,’ he said quietly, ‘I don’t understand how anyone would want to hide any part of you.’

  Again that creeping heat flushed her cheeks. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I mean it, Neve. You are so beautiful, it does my head in to even think they could have asked that of you.’

  His eyes were full of earnestness and his tone was genuine, but her heart sped up for different reasons altogether. Of course Anders’ intentions were well-meaning, but, at that moment, she had had enough of people judging her for how she looked, whether they thought she was beautiful or ugly. How she looked was no-one else’s damned business.

  Says the woman who applies make-up for a living. Gah, she was a walking contradiction.

  ‘Thanks, but I’d rather just have the attention taken off my appearance.’

  Anders frowned. ‘Got it.’

  ‘I don’t want to make a big fuss out of it for Emily and Wil’s sake. So let’s forget it ever happened and have a good night, hey?’ She forced a smile, though she was vibrating inside.

  He nodded, still frowning. ‘Sure.’

  Chapter 8

  The shed on Wil’s property was legendary—the location of many good nights with friends and family. Tonight it looked better than Anders had ever seen it, decorated with a rustic country feel: raw timbers and native flowers. Fairy lights were strung from the rafters overhead.


  The bride and groom were announced to the hundred or so guests seated throughout the room on round tables. Progressing into the evening was dinner, speeches, the first dance and cake-cutting.

  Thankfully, the Catch Me a Cowboy crew had pissed off not long after the incident on the horse, leaving Anders space and time to slowly reduce his boiling anger to a slight simmer.

  Guests were well-doused in alcohol. Anders’ share was fizzing through his bloodstream, clouding his brain. The DJ churned out songs, the lights were dimmed and people took to the dance floor, the bride and bridesmaids included.

  Anders sat on the sidelines watching on with Alec, the best man, when Wil joined them.

  ‘How are you two holding up with groomsman duty?’ Wil asked as he took a seat beside Anders.

  ‘All good. I’m having a great time,’ Anders said.

  Alec rested his elbows on his thighs and looked across at his brother. ‘It’s been an honour. It really has. Seeing you and Emily tonight … I couldn’t wish you guys more happiness.’ He grinned. ‘And, I’m feeling pretty cocky that I was responsible for you guys hooking up.’ From what Anders had been told, it was Alec who convinced Wil to originally apply to be the cowboy on the reality dating series.

  Wil laughed. ‘Forever grateful. Even if I do have to stare at your big head until it deflates.’

  Dancing her way across the room was Alec’s wife, Sandra. She grabbed her husband by the hands. ‘Come on. You’re not getting out of sharing a dance with me.’

  ‘The boss has spoken,’ he said over his shoulder as he was dragged onto the dance floor.

  ‘Your turn next,’ Wil said, leaning back in his chair.

  ‘To dance?’

  Wil chuckled. ‘To get married.’

  He sighed. ‘Mate, I’m trying. Not quite making any inroads, though.’

  Wil slapped his back. ‘All in good time. It’ll happen when you least expect it.’

  A cheer sounded out as a new song came over the speakers stealing their attention for a moment.

  ‘I better go dance with my wife.’ Wil grinned like a man who had everything he could ever hope for. ‘I didn’t know that would feel so good to say.’

  ‘You’re a lucky man. Get out there and enjoy yourself.’

  Neve spotted Anders from the dance floor and beckoned him with a curl of her finger. He looked behind each shoulder and pointed to his chest. ‘Me?’ he mouthed.

  She strode to him, hips rocking from side to side, and grabbed his hands. The most adorable grin was curving her lips and her eyes glinted with cheekiness. He was glad she’d managed to put the photography bullshit behind her.

  ‘You’re not getting out of it that easily, mister.’ She tugged on his hands, and he rose from his seat without resistance, laughing. After all, he liked to dance it up with the best of them; it had nothing to do with the fact that the most gorgeous woman in the room had asked him to.

  He spun her under his arm when they made it onto the dance floor and Neve burst into giggles. Emily and her bridesmaids cheered.

  Neve’s face was alight with happiness—so beautiful. Eyes looking square into his, her hands rested on his shoulders while he held the soft curve of her hips. Bursts of heat shot through his body to feel her warm, soft body at the rounded juncture of her waist and hips. And when she swayed those hips from side to side, he moved a little closer, held her a little tighter.

  They swung, spun, and whirled to the music, song after song after song. Her body drifted closer until she was pressed against him, and the brush of her warmth ran all the way from his thighs up to his chest like trails of fire. He didn’t object. Couldn’t.

  He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him. Her heat was a force, her sweet perfumed scent a drug, and that way her blue eyes looked up into his, her lips gently parted, he had to kiss her.

  All it would take was for him to lower his head, close this small gap between them, and find her sweet mouth. He couldn’t look away. Every inch of him was hard and straining, resisting and willing, all at once.

  The music went dead and the MC’s voice blared from the speakers. ‘All the single ladies in the room, can you make your way to the dance floor because our beautiful bride is about to throw the bouquet.’

  Anders smiled at Neve and reluctantly untangled himself from her arms. ‘Good luck,’ he said with a wink and reclaimed his seat on the sidelines along with the other excluded guests.

  He was breathless. Aching. He had nearly kissed Neve—so close. And it would have happened in front of all these people.

  His parents were here.

  Jager. He searched the shed and came face-to-face with his friend.

  Stupid, Anders.

  He didn’t hold Jager’s gaze; instead, pretended to focus on the women gathering behind Emily on the dance floor. A flicker in his peripheral alerted him to Jager zigzagging through the many tables towards him.

  Jager took the empty seat beside him, rested his elbows on his knees and linked his fingers together. He turned the full force of his gaze upon Anders. His nose wrinkled and the shadow of a smile on his lips wavered. ‘Looked like you had a bit of a moment with my sister.’

  Anders sat up taller. ‘We were just having fun. It’s a wedding. People dance.’

  Jager was silent for a long while, his brows knitting together. ‘Do you like her or something?’

  He had never outright lied to Jager before, and it made his chest tight and sore. ‘I don’t like her that way.’ As a football player, he had learnt from a young age to be a team player—to always put his team first. And, he’d never been presented with a reason not to. Before now.

  He did like Neve, and he wanted to see if something might develop between them, and, quite obviously, he was willing to lie to his best friend in order to make that happen.

  Jager’s shoulders loosened as he blew out a long breath and nodded. The painful tightening in Anders’ chest increased.

  In his mind, all the moments of their long friendship flashed, from the first nerve-wracking day of school when Jager took him onto the school oval and taught him how to kick a football. Then when they were thirteen and walked through the high school gates together. He was eighteen and had an arm slung over Jager’s shoulders, grins broad on their faces, their graduation class behind them. He was twenty-three, the miserable day Tess left for London, and Jager was there to shout him a consoling beer at the pub and tell him everything would be okay. He was twenty-six, and he was the one shouting a defeated Jager a beer after his mother’s stroke.

  If he kept on this path, all that would end. Could he risk losing his good mate? He had invested so much into this friendship; it meant too much for him to lose it over what was, at its essence, a possibility.

  Anders shook his head and sighed. ‘I’m sorry I gave you the wrong idea. Maybe I was flirting a bit. I’ll … back off.’

  Jager tugged a hand through his hair. ‘I hate being like this, but I can’t help it. After what Joshua did to her; I will never be responsible for something like that again.’

  ‘You were hardly responsible for the car accident.’

  Jager slapped his chest. ‘He worked with me. I was the one who introduced him to Neve.’ His posture crumpled. ‘You don’t know how that feels, to have trusted someone and then learnt that they were violent ...’

  ‘What? Violent? What do you mean?’

  ‘I haven’t told you the full story.’ His words were slurring. Only now had Anders noticed that his friend was drunk. ‘I’ve been too ashamed.’

  ‘What?’ Anders’ jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. ‘What happened? What did Joshua do?’

  Jager stood, swaying slightly. ‘It’s not the place to go into this. Please, just promise me you’ll leave Neve alone.’

  Anders’ mind raced. His chest was tight and hot but, eventually, he nodded. ‘I’ll back off.’

  ‘I can’t give in on this. I’m sorry.’

  As Jager walked away, Anders turned his attention
to the rabble on the dance floor. He caught the scene as Emily was throwing the bouquet behind her to the waiting women. Arms shot up along with a chorused gasp of anticipation.

  Neve all but weaved out of the path of the bouquet as it arced towards her, allowing a taller woman behind to snatch the flowers from the air above Neve’s head.

  Anders didn’t believe in this outdated superstition, but seeing Neve dismiss the bouquet completely, struck his heart in a way he couldn’t put words to.

  The crowd of women dissipated from the dance floor, the lights were dimmed and the music resumed.

  Neve marched to where Anders sat and took the chair beside him, their thighs touching. He slowly moved his leg away, as difficult as it was, not wanting to give what had happened between them any more room to grow.

  Her smile was so wide, jovial, it crushed his heart not to get wrapped up in it. ‘Did you see the look on Macie’s boyfriend’s face when she caught the bouquet? Priceless. He was so scared.’

  Anders could never understand this fear some people had of commitment. Sure the heart needed to be ready, but why be with someone if only to have the intention of breaking their heart in the future or waiting until someone better came along? It seemed a monumental waste of time.

  ‘You didn’t seem too keen on catching it yourself,’ he said before he could stop himself.

  She grinned. ‘Marriage isn’t at the top of my priorities at the moment. If ever.’

  To hear that lit a torch in his chest, burning away at the possibility of a ‘them’. ‘I’m the opposite.’

  The smile slowly faded from her lips. As she looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

  ‘Does that surprise you?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. You seem like you’re an all or nothing guy.’

  He chuckled. ‘Uncompromising, you mean?’

  She shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘If it meant enough to me, I’d compromise.’

  She arched a brow, and he withdrew his gaze.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me earlier with the photographer. I hate that I froze like that. I was shocked and—’

  ‘It’s okay.’