To Have And To Hold: The Wedding Belles Book 1

by Lauren Layne

  “Where the hell are you going?” Seth asked.

  “Got a date,” Grant said, pulling out his wallet and extracting enough bills to cover all of their drinks plus tip.

  “With whom?” Seth challenged.

  Grant ignored this, instead reaching down for Brooke’s hand and raising it up to his lips as he bent, kissing the back of it in a gentlemanly gesture that Brooke found oddly charming. “Ms. Baldwin, you are beyond lovely. It was a pleasure.”

  Seth rolled his eyes, and Grant gave Brooke a sly wink before stepping back, clamping his friend on the shoulder in farewell, and strolling out of the hotel bar without a backward glance.

  “Do you think he really has a date?” Brooke asked.

  Seth shrugged. “I doubt it.”

  “Why, because he’s in love with your sister?” Brooke asked sympathetically.

  Seth’s face went blank in stunned confusion. “What?”

  Brooke froze. Was this not common knowledge? It had taken her exactly five minutes of being in Grant Miller’s company to figure out that he had it bad for Maya, but judging from the stricken look on Seth’s face, he had no clue.

  “He’s like her brother,” Seth said.

  “Like her brother, but not,” Brooke said, keeping her voice gentle. “But you would know better than me. Maybe I read the whole situation wrong.”

  “I’d like to think that you did.” Seth dragged a hand over his face. “But . . . Grant didn’t handle it well when I told him about Maya’s engagement. I didn’t think a thing of it, because I didn’t handle it well, either. I assumed his motives were protective. Brotherly.” His eyes widened as he registered the full implication of what Brooke was insinuating. “Holy shit.”

  “Maybe they were,” Brooke rushed to interject. “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything, really. It’s the dang martini, loosening my tongue. It’s why I don’t usually drink with clients.”

  Seth’s smile was slow and dangerous as he leaned forward. “Don’t drink with clients, huh? And yet here you are.”

  “I’m here because Grant asked me to drinks, and Grant is not my client.”

  “Huh,” he said. “But you could have told Grant you wanted to grab a drink elsewhere. And yet you came right back into the hotel where you knew I’d be.”

  “Because I wanted to talk to you. About the wedding, and us working something out so your sister can actually enjoy her wedding planning,” she added quickly.

  “And we’ve come to a mutually satisfactory agreement,” he pointed out.

  She hesitated, feeling like it was a trick statement somehow. “Yes.”

  His smile was slow and confident. “Yet, you’re still here.”

  She opened her mouth to retort, but . . . he was right. She was still sitting here, and even stranger, she didn’t want to leave. A part of her didn’t want this moment to end, even though she wasn’t sure if it was actually pleasant.

  He gave her a knowing smile. “Rethinking your strategy?”

  She finished the rest of her drink. Sure. They could go with that. “Let’s just say that willingly putting myself in your company on a regular basis brings a whole new level of meaning to ‘taking one for the team.’ ”

  His smile dropped, and for a second, Brooke could have sworn he looked almost hurt. Which made no sense, because the man didn’t even pretend to like her. He might want her, yes—Brooke wasn’t stupid—but he’d made it clear he didn’t want to want her.

  And yet the expression on his face right now looked suddenly, horribly, lonely, and for the life of her, Brooke couldn’t figure out how she felt about that.

  Seth gave a curt nod and finished the rest of his own drink. “So we’re done here, then.”

  “Mr. Tyler.”

  His eyes flicked up, cold and ice-blue as always, and yet . . . maybe they weren’t cold so much as wary. And perhaps she could understand that. Just a little.

  “Do you want—” Brooke licked her lips and tried again. “Do you want to have another drink with me?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Here? Now?”

  She nodded.

  Seth studied her in that cool, assessing way he had so perfected. Then he stood, and Brooke’s heart sank—both from the disappointment of having taken a risk that hadn’t paid off and from the strange pang she had at the thought of watching him walk away.

  But he didn’t walk away.

  Without so much as a hesitation, he rounded the small cocktail table to sit beside her, settling into the seat Grant had vacated just a few minutes earlier.

  His distance was perfectly respectable. He didn’t crowd her, didn’t touch her, and yet somehow he seemed so much closer than Grant had been.

  “This okay?” he asked quietly, suddenly looking adorably unsure of himself.

  Brooke smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, this is just fine.”

  Seth held her gaze until the arrival of the waitress ended the moment.

  “Martini?” he asked, jerking his chin at her empty glass.

  “Yes, same thing, please,” Brooke said, smiling up at the waitress. “Belvedere, slightly dirty.”

  “I’ll take another Manhattan,” Seth said.

  When Brooke turned back to him, he looked amused.

  “What?” she asked.

  “A dirty vodka martini . . . somehow that seems to be exactly the perfect drink for you.”

  Brooke tilted her head. “Do you always mean for things to sound the way they do when they come out of your mouth?”

  “How’s that?”

  “Provocative.”

  “What’s provocative about repeating your drink order?”

  “The dirty part,” she muttered, looking away.

  His laugh was low and sexy. “Ms. Baldwin, I assure you that I didn’t mean it inappropriately, but I’m intrigued that you took it as such.”

  She ignored this, deciding that if she was going to survive this—whatever “this” was—she’d need to get the upper hand.

  “So tell me about this woman,” she said, keeping her voice light. “For someone who’s so anti-wedding, it sounds like you came rather close. Grant seemed to agree.”

  “Grant’s delusional. Although, I never said I was anti-wedding.”

  She snorted. “You don’t have to. You wear your skepticism like a scarf.”

  His expression turned considering. “I think marriages can work, absolutely. I just don’t think they work for the lovey-dovey reason you see in the movies.”

  “Lovey-dovey? Really?” Brooke asked. “Also, could you be any more cliché right now?”

  He gave a little laugh. “You get that a lot, huh?”

  “Let’s just say the whole ‘true love is a fantasy’ routine is a bit tired.”

  “And what would you have us all subscribing to?” he asked as the server approached with their two cocktails balanced perfectly on a tray. “That we’re all just waiting to be tamed by the right woman?”

  Brooke waited until the server had placed their drinks down and moved away, buying herself some time.

  “Not tamed,” she responded finally. “We women just want—we hope . . .”

  Brooke trailed off, and Seth shifted his body to face her more fully, his expression turning earnest. “What? What do you hope?”

  “That someone good will love us,” she said quietly.

  He blinked in surprise, and she gave a little sigh as she picked up her drink. “I know. It’s sad, really, how simple it is. But the truth is, I don’t think any of us women really want or need the roses and the fancy dinners or even the poetry so much as we just want the love.”

  Seth said nothing as he watched her take a sip of her martini. She should watch herself. Martinis packed a punch, and the glasses at this bar were large. And yet, while she certainly felt the buzz from her last one, she also wasn’t entirely sure that it was just the alcohol at work.

  She was pretty sure the man next to her was every bit as intoxicating as the vodka. Maybe more so.

  “Okay, so
what’s your take on it?” she said, embarrassed by how vulnerable she felt after her overshare. “You said that marriages could work, but not for the ‘lovey-dovey’ reasons. Why do you think some of them last, then?”

  “For the same reason any merger works. When both parties stand to benefit equally, there’s no reason it shouldn’t work.”

  Brooke stared at him. “That’s . . . that’s . . . hideous.”

  “How so? Everybody wants something, Ms. Baldwin. It’s just a matter of ensuring each side can offer the other what they want.”

  “All right,” Brooke said, turning toward him and matching his posture. “I’ll play along. What is it that your ex wanted that you couldn’t offer?”

  His head snapped back a little, and Brooke gave him a victory smile. He hadn’t seen that one coming, and that was exactly her point. It drove her crazy when people talked about relationships in that cool, emotionless tone right up until the point you talked about their relationship.

  “Nadia . . .” His gaze drifted to somewhere over her shoulder as he considered. “I don’t know what Nadia wanted. I’m not sure that Nadia knew what Nadia wanted. Maybe that was the problem.”

  “What about you? What did you want that she wasn’t offering?”

  His eyes came back to her, and Brooke suddenly felt just a tiny bit breathless. No, it definitely wasn’t the vodka that was her main problem. It was him.

  “I want stability,” he said quietly. “I want someone who won’t offer up any surprises. Not that Nadia was volatile; I just didn’t know what she was thinking. I like to know. Everything.”

  “So, your ideal mate is a robot,” Brooke said.

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Believe it or not, I do understand just how unreasonable I must sound. It’s why I’m not exactly holding my breath to get married anytime soon. Or ever.”

  “At least until they come out with an attractive cyborg model,” she said with a little wink.

  They were sitting closer now. Just inches separating them. When had that happened? How had that happened?

  And yet Brooke didn’t move away. Neither did he.

  Belatedly, she realized they were steering into personal territory. She had to think of this as a business meeting between two associates, that was all. So she had to get back to the business at hand.

  She cleared her throat. “So where does Maya fit into all of this? What if Neil can give her what she wants?” she asked. “What if she and Neil both benefit from the marriage? Excuse me, merger.”

  He gave her a ha-ha look, but he answered her question seriously. “Maya wants what any woman with no parents and a crusty brother wants. A companion. My sister is . . . she’s lonely.”

  “Not a word I’d use to describe her,” Brooke said slowly. “But I suppose you’d know better.”

  He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “She has plenty of friends. And me, of course. But even when she was young, Maya was always one of those people who flocks to others. Not because she needs them; she just likes them. She gets her energy from those around her—specifically, from people who love her.”

  “And you don’t think Neil Garrett is that guy?”

  “Honestly?” he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’m not even sure Neil Garrett is Neil Garrett.”

  Brooke stiffened. Seth meant his comment off-the-cuff. As far as she knew, he didn’t have a clue about her history with Clay beyond what she’d told him.

  But his words brought up bitter memories, memories of a man who wasn’t who she thought he was. Not in person, not in intentions . . . not even in name.

  “Since I’m going to be practically spying on the poor guy, I need to know—what makes you think that about Neil? Why don’t you trust him?” she asked Seth, keeping her voice calm.

  He picked up his drink, studied the dark cherries before taking a thoughtful sip. “I don’t know. Hunch, mostly. Everything about him is so vague. His family. His job. His past. All of his social media profiles were created at the exact same time, about a year ago.”

  “Plenty of people were late to the social media game,” she said. “Including yourself.”

  He gave her a curious look, and she blushed as she realized what she’d just given away.

  Seth leaned toward her slightly, his smile devilish. “Why, Ms. Baldwin. Have you been researching me?”

  “I research all my clients,” she answered in a clipped voice.

  His smile only widened. “What is it that you wanted to know?”

  She didn’t look away. “What made you tick. What your angle was.”

  “My angle?”

  “That first day,” she said, not breaking his gaze, “you were so reserved and yet so forward. The contradiction was puzzling, and I wanted to know what you wanted.”

  “I think you know exactly what I wanted, Ms. Baldwin.” Very slowly, Seth’s hand extended toward her, his large finger gently touching her jaw. “What I still want. And perhaps more to the point . . . I think you want it, too.”

  Chapter Eleven

  SETH HAD PUSHED HER too hard.

  Too fast.

  The entire ride back to Brooke’s apartment, he kicked himself for misgauging the situation.

  It was rare for Seth to make a misstep, but he’d definitely made one tonight, and Brooke was making him pay for it with the silent treatment.

  The second he’d touched her and pushed her to admit she wanted him, she’d turned skittish on him and clammed up, offering only a tight little smile that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes before she abruptly changed the subject. They’d stayed at the bar long enough to finish their drinks, but the mood had been deliberately impersonal on her part as she’d rambled on about flowers and bows and canapés, in what he knew was a deliberate attempt to keep him at bay.

  Which was fine.

  He didn’t have time for a dalliance with anyone, much less his sister’s ditzy wedding planner.

  But then she wasn’t ditzy, now was she? Behind those practiced smiles and guarded eyes, Brooke Baldwin was . . .

  Well, she was a surprise.

  She was a romantic, sure, but she was also deliberate in her romanticism. As though her unshakable belief in happily ever after was a conscious decision rather than a default fantasy born out of naïveté.

  And even more puzzling was her admission that what she wanted—all she wanted—was someone good to love her.

  The simplicity and earnestness behind her words had nearly taken his breath away, and now as she sat stiffly beside him, keeping her face pointed resolutely away from him, he wanted very much to pull her toward him and beg her to explain what she’d meant.

  To figure out how to be the kind of good that she wanted.

  He supposed he could find out. He could research her in the same way he was researching Neil. Find out what made her tick. What secrets she held. But he was realizing he didn’t want to find out that way. He wanted her to tell him. Wanted her to confide in him.

  Why he wanted that, he didn’t know. He didn’t want a relationship. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he wanted a friendship.

  And yet, neither was he ready for her to get out of the car. To walk away from him with all this strange tension lingering between them.

  “When will I see you again?” he blurted out.

  She looked at him in surprise.

  “For our deal, I mean. To discuss the wedding.”

  “Oh. Right.” She dug around in her bag and pulled out her planner. “Um, Maya and I are doing an initial consultation at a couple of dress shops on Friday, but you won’t want to know about any of that, so . . .”

  “Friday is perfect.”

  She glanced up. “What?”

  “What time is your appointment?” he asked, ignoring her surprise. The car had just pulled up outside her building, which meant he had to act fast.

  “Two,” she said begrudgingly.

  “And it’ll last how long?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “There are a coupl
e of shops I want to take her by, see what sort of vibe she likes. Factoring in traffic, we should be wrapped up by five or so.”

  “Five. Done.”

  “No, not done. I’m not seeing you on Friday.”

  “You said that if I butted out of the wedding planning, you’d keep me apprised.”

  “Sure, of the stuff that’s relevant to you and that has to do with Neil. Neil won’t even be there. Maya’s dress is completely irrelevant.”

  “And going to be terribly expensive.”

  Her mouth snapped shut, her teeth making an irritated little clicking noise. “Yes, I suppose it’s likely to be expensive, depending what she’s looking for.”

  “And I’ll be paying for it,” he said with finality. “So let’s make it five thirty on Friday.”

  He pulled out his phone to schedule it in, refusing to look Brooke in the eye for the irritation he knew he’d see there. Yes, he was controlling the situation, pushing her too hard. But Seth didn’t back down. He didn’t know why, but making time for Brooke Baldwin in his life felt necessary somehow, and he didn’t much care whether she liked it or not.

  “Fine,” she snapped. “Five thirty. I can come by your office, we can review whether or not your sister wants a sweetheart or halter neckline—”

  “And then I’ll take you to dinner.”

  Her hand was on the door handle, and she shoved the door open, likely catching Dex by surprise.

  Seth leaned over and caught her arm before she could go storming out of the car. “Ms. Baldwin.”

  She shot him an angry glare. “Do you realize how many times you just interrupted me? How pushy you are at trying to achieve your agenda?”

  He opened his mouth, and then shut it as he realized he had been horribly high-handed with her. “I’m sorry.”

  Her mouth opened to retort, but then she shut it and gave him a suspicious look as she jerked her arm free from his grasp.

  His fingers itched to touch her again, but he clenched his fist instead and took a steadying breath and forced himself to make the request of her. “Ms. Baldwin. Will you have dinner with me on Friday? Please?”

  “To discuss Maya’s wedding dress?” she asked warily.