How to Lose a Groom in 10 Days
Page 4
“Fundraiser for the children’s hospital.” She peered out the back window, probably to make sure no one was behind them since he’d stopped in the middle of the road.
But it was a quiet area outside the state park. Or maybe everyone else just had enough sense not to drive in a downpour. He wondered if she knew she still had her hand on him. He liked that she touched him when she wasn’t thinking about it—that her hands went to him if only in a subconscious way.
“It’s your call.” He put the power in her hands, knowing that she liked weighing in on things and he was trying to be the kind of guy she wanted. Needed. “Should I try going through or do we wait out the storm?”
Her eyes met his in the dim car interior, the tiny compact putting them so close their breath mingled just sitting next to each other. Awareness spiked along with his temperature. She must have felt it too because her hand fell away from his arm, her eyes going wide for an instant before she looked anywhere but at him.
“Might as well try to get through it. We’re almost to the campground.”
Where they’d have to hike a trail to get back to their tent. It hardly seemed fair to Polly, let alone to the two of them, but he’d be damned if he’d state the obvious.
Gritting his teeth, he nailed the accelerator. Water splashed high on the doors and he gunned it harder to get through the puddle fast. Just as his foot pressed more, however, the ignition sputtered. And died.
Leaving them stranded in a miniature lake.
He turned to check Melanie’s reaction. She chewed her lower lip and stared out the window. He’d done his damnedest to do things her way. Now? They were going with his plan. It was his wedding night, after all.
Tugging his phone out of his pocket, he switched on the screen.
“What was that website you mentioned again? BringFido.com, right?”
Chapter Four
‡
Melanie cinched the hotel robe tighter on her waist, the thick cotton chasing away any remaining chill from her dash through the rain from the car. Grady had braved the downpour to dry out the distributor cap and—miraculously—was able to restart the Honda. He’d insisted on a hotel though, and she’d agreed as much for Polly’s sake as for her own. Their campsite would be washed out even though the rain had slowed in the last hour.
Now, checked into the luxury accommodations that gladly gave Polly her own bed, Melanie couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that this was her wedding night. A strange wedding night, of course. And one that they wouldn’t celebrate in the er—usual way—since she’d declared the whole thing a mistake. But as she stepped out of the bedroom and into the living area to see Grady balancing a room service menu on one knee, she couldn’t help but fixate on how things could have been so much different right now if only she’d been willing to accept a part time husband. A man who would be out of her life for two thirds of each year.
A man who’d genuinely wanted to marry her.
Her heart squeezed at the thought.
“So you won. We’re in a luxurious hotel.” She snapped at him to keep herself from thinking about how at home he looked here in his snug-fitting cotton tee and a pair of running shorts.
The man had the best thighs on the planet. Best butt, too. That’s where the power came from in his lethal swing, she knew. Those amazing glutes. She didn’t even want to think about what those same good glutes had done for her sex life.
“A luxurious hotel that accepts dogs,” he clarified, setting aside the menu while his eyes roamed over her. “I think I should get kudos for that. Especially given I’m spending my wedding night in a suite with two beds and a dog.”
He’d gotten them a two-bedroom suite and she’d been grateful he hadn’t pushed the issue at check-in. But obviously, the choice didn’t make him happy.
“Sharing a bed would only make things more complicated when we get an annulment,” she pointed out, her gaze falling to Polly where she gnawed on one of Grady’s discarded running shoes.
She bent to retrieve the sneaker before the puppy put a hole in it.
“I’m definitely not talking about annulments on my wedding night.” Grady glared at her. “What do you want from room service?”
“I don’t care.” She tossed the shoe in his bedroom and then shut the door to keep the pup out. It wouldn’t be fair to teach Polly she could chew on whatever she liked—even though Grady’s seemingly endless cash flow could replace just about anything. Even, probably, a wife. “Order whatever you want.”
“Okay then, I’m ordering all your favorites.” He reached for the TV remote, muscles on mouthwatering display as he stretched.
“You know my favorites?” She couldn’t remember ever telling him something like that.
He set the remote on the arm of his chair and used it to scroll to a room service menu on the television screen.
“I know more about you than you give me credit for.” He kept his voice even but something about that carefully controlled tone told her she’d touched a nerve.
He jabbed buttons harder as he input their room number.
“We’ve spent so little time together—”
“So you say. But I think ten weeks is plenty of time to get to know someone if you’re paying attention the way I have been. Contrary to what you might think, I’ve been taking this relationship damn seriously.” He clicked to the appetizers and checked off the fruit platter, hot spinach and cheese dip with an extra baguette, and a bowl of wonton soup—definitely the same three items she would have narrowed into her top choices. Except for the bonus baguette, which she would have craved but not ordered.
“Wow.” Absently, she bent to scratch Polly’s ears while the pup wrestled with a stuffed animal Grady had picked up in the hotel gift shop. “How did you know?”
Without answering, he jumped to the dinner screen and requested a small pizza—cheese only. The second meal included enough meat for a linebacker, and she knew that was meant for him. He consumed protein like breathing air.
At the end of the order, in the “additional comments or requests” section he used the keypad to highlight letters for “marshmallows and sticks.”
She had to laugh. “They’ll never stock sticks in the kitchen.”
“It’s a good hotel. They’ll think of something.” Tossing aside the remote, he met her gaze. Warm brown eyes teased over her body with ill-disguised heat. “You deserve a picnic since you lost your night of camping.”
Touched that he would think of something so sweet, her eyes burned. Damn it, was it any wonder he’d persuaded her to marry him even though they didn’t know each other? Even though she’d carefully hidden her mess of a past from him?
She’d wanted to buy into the fairy tale. To make the dream of them last for as long as possible, which was how she’d ended up breaking out in hives in a wedding dress that morning.
“Well. Thank you.” She cleared her throat, determined not to send him mixed signals. “I. Um. How did you know I liked all of those things you ordered for dinner?”
“Easy.” He sat forward in his seat and tugged the stuffed gator from Polly’s mouth. Shaking off a little puppy drool, he tossed the green stuffed toy a few feet away and they watched her chase the prize and tumble over it. “You debate out loud what you want to eat when you’re looking at a menu,” he informed her. “So I know the kinds of things you choose, plus the runners-up.”
She couldn’t recall meeting anyone who’d observed her so closely. Her parents had always been too consumed by their own drama to take an interest in her life. How much more did Grady know about her than she realized?
All day she’d been convinced he didn’t know her well enough to marry her. That he’d been impulsive and hadn’t thought out what married life would really be like. But now, she had to wonder…
Maybe she was the one who didn’t know him.
*
“I can’t believe they found marshmallow roasting sticks.” Melanie shifted beside him on the blanket he’
d spread out in front of the fireplace for their makeshift picnic.
She still wore a white hotel spa robe, the fabric covering her from neck to toe, but she’d belted the thing so tight it accentuated her generous curves in a way that made him crazy. And when she leaned forward to find the hottest spot for her marshmallow… he didn’t dare savor the view when the neckline gapped or she’d be back on the other side of the blanket in a heartbeat.
His wedding night was going to kill him.
“The tougher part was finding a property with a wood burning fireplace.” He’d had to search fast, but he’d found just what he’d been looking for. And yeah, it helped that he had the money to pay for this place. He’d worked hard and made sacrifices for his career. Why shouldn’t he enjoy the rewards? “I’m hoping I can convince you that camping in a luxury hotel can be all kinds of fun.”
“You’re making a heck of a case.” She turned her marshmallow after one side charred dark brown, her cheeks pink from the warmth of the blaze. “I like the ant-free picnic.”
Score. He needed to start wooing her. Winning her back. He had three days before the regular season started, and he couldn’t afford to chase her around central Florida for too long. As much as he wanted to smooth aside the terry cloth robe to bare her knee and kiss his way up her thigh, he needed to focus. Show her he understood what she liked—outside the bedroom—and prove they had what it took to stay together forever.
With an effort, he redirected his thoughts away from her body wrapped in just a robe.
“I’m glad you’re having fun.” He could see the other side of her marshmallow was about to catch flame and reached for her stick. “Can I get that for you?”
At her nod, he took the long metal fork with a wood handle on the end, the prong looking like something out of a fondue set. Carefully, he eased it away from the flames.
“Watch out for Polly,” she reminded him.
The pup had fallen asleep with her furry chin on a dog biscuit—mid gnaw. Now, she snoozed on the far corner of the picnic blanket.
“I see her.” Still, he was careful about where he laid aside the hot metal fork after he slid the gooey marshmallow onto a plate to cool. “Do you mind if I ask you a question about your family?”
“A question?” Melanie’s eyes shot to his. She shifted from her spot on the leather ottoman to a seat beside him on the quilt.
Putting her in touchable range, even though she looked a little freaked out at the idea of talking about her family.
“I’m camping and testing out life as a pet owner, right? I’m trying to compromise. So it’s your turn. Share some of your secrets that you think are going to keep us apart.”
“I didn’t mean to keep them a secret—”
“Yes you did.” He watched the flames glow blue at the base of the blaze, figuring it was safer to keep an eye on the flames than her.
“Okay, maybe I did. But you know I work in my father’s restaurant a lot of nights.”
“I know it’s on the other side of town from the ball field and that you discouraged me from stopping by.”
“Dad’s sort of a local legend. A minor league journeyman who hit a lot of homeruns but never went back to the majors after a shoulder injury prevented him from being as good as he once was.”
He could sense a whole lot of subtext there, but wasn’t quite sure how to pull it free.
“No wonder you know your baseball.” He’d been impressed at her knowledge of the game more than once—from situational pitching to batter’s box strategy. But she’d written it off as stuff she’d picked up on her temp jobs at the training facility.
“Baseball and broken dreams. They’re the language of the household.” The bitterness in her voice was something he’d never heard.
“Your dad took it hard?” He wanted to understand her better. Wished he’d worked harder to figure her out sooner.
“Not as hard as Mom did. Her disappointment in him drove her to drink. For a long time, I thought he was crazy to stay with her. But as I get older, I think it’s how he punishes himself.”
“That’s so—”
“Dysfunctional? Messed up? Yeah. I know.”
He shook his head. “I was going to say, that’s sort of like my father. He was an angry man and he took it out in the boxing ring as a small-time fighter. He always wanted his sons to do better. Be more than the old man. So he drilled us relentlessly on our chosen sports. Baseball for me. Golf for Seth. Hit two hundred balls before dinner. Two hundred more before bed.”
“Yet you always credit your father with your success as a player.” She frowned, her eyes full of tender concern.
“I wouldn’t be where I am without him. Although if I had it to do over, I’d be a golfer like Seth.”
“He’s on the PGA tour, isn’t he?”
“Yes, but I don’t envy his success as much as the fact that he always got to hit his two hundred balls off the tee. Whereas I got the old man pitching to me for most of those swings. Which meant I doubled up on the father-son time.” He shook off the old ghosts. “But if you’re thinking I’m some kind of sports fanatic, I can tell you nothing could be further from the truth. When my career is over, I move on—no regrets.”
Her eyes darted away.
“However long the success lasts, you pay a high price for it.” She picked up her marshmallow now that it had cooled, balancing it on her fingertips while she seemed to debate how to eat it.
“Damn straight. And I’d never want to be with a woman who didn’t understand that.” He savored the sight of her tongue testing the gooey warmth.
Her eyes closed for a moment as she sampled the treat.
And just like that, the temperature in the room spiked. The dynamic between them shifted. He’d known her long enough to feel the sexual hum of awareness, and he felt his restraint slide away. He’d missed her so much the night before. Had dreamed of being with her today—as husband and wife.
He must have made a sound. Or moved toward her. Because suddenly her eyes locked with his. Awareness sparked. Flamed.
“Want some?” She held out half the marshmallow to him, sticky white liquid encased in a flaky dark shell.
“I think you know I do.” His eyes never left hers as he braced himself for a retreat.
“I don’t like denying myself any more than you do,” she confessed unhappily.
“So why do it?” He shoved aside leftover dishes. Tossed a towel next to Polly to keep her feeling safe. “I don’t see how not touching each other is going to suddenly help us think more clearly. If anything, the wanting is a distraction that’s tough to see past.”
He kept his hands to himself, not making his case in the most convincing manner, but he was trying to be fair. Let her decide.
For a long moment, they stared at each other over the marshmallow, flames crackling in the fireplace beside them. And then, slowly, she nodded.
Only then did he take Melanie’s hand and bring her fingers to his mouth, white sugar coating two of them. He heard her breathing quicken. Felt her pulse race under his thumb where he held her wrist.
She watched him, her lips parted, as he cleaned her fingers with his tongue. Slowly. Thoroughly. All the while, she breathed harder. Faster. Until her tongue darted out to trace along her upper lip and nearly undid him.
“I could eat you up.” He spoke into her ear, his mouth grazing the impossible softness of her neck, then skimmed her lips. “But only if you want me to.”
At the words, he felt Melanie turn rigid. The progress he thought they had been making was quickly fading.
“I…I can’t, Grady.” Her words were soft, barely spoken above a whisper against his mouth before she eased back out of his arms.
Her unmistakable conviction slammed into him. One kiss hadn’t gained him anything more than to send her running again. Faster. She gathered Polly in her arms, shot to her feet, and retreated into the smaller bedroom. Leaving him alone. On his wedding night.
Damn it. This was
not how he wanted things to be between them. He had to convince her that this was right. That they were right. If he could only just get her to talk to him. To trust him.
He fought the urge to charge after her. Moving too fast was what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. He would let her sort through her feelings tonight. The day had been taxing on both of them. But tomorrow…tomorrow he would resume his campaign to win her over.
*
Once the door was closed and locked behind her, she slumped onto the hotel bed, the plush duvet poofing underneath her. With a wet nose, Polly nudged her hand. Absently, Melanie scratched the puppy’s head, finding calming and comfort in the animal’s soft fur.
Of all the ways she had pictured her wedding night, this scenario had never entered her mind. There was a door between her and her husband. A door she had put there. To protect herself. To protect him.
But that didn’t make it any easier.
She hugged Polly closer as sobs clogged her throat and her nose burned with the tears building up inside her. She blinked hard to hold them back. But no luck. Tears mixed with the remainder of her eye shadow and mascara streaming down her cheeks. She slumped back into the pile of pillows, so much softer than a tent floor.
Good. She felt like she deserved it for causing the hurt to darken Grady’s normally warm cinnamon eyes. He was so kind, so generous. But she was all wrong for him. She couldn’t be the one to tie this man down to a future he didn’t want. Melanie wouldn’t do that.
She refused to continue to cause him pain. It was too cruel, too selfish to hang onto this marriage they’d jumped into so fast. Which is why he needed to leave now before she caused him any more damage.
But what about her pain? This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. Weddings were happy occasions. And she had made such a grand mess out of it all.
Another sob caused her to shudder. Polly whimpered, then licked Melanie’s arm. Through her blurry vision, she could make out the puppy’s sympathetic eyes. The tears eased, the puppy’s comfort bolstering her enough to regain some control.