by Rachel Grant
18
Cressida looked stunning in her simple, elegant gown, holding her handpicked wildflowers. The emotion on Ian’s face as he said his vows was as romantic as anything Hazel had ever witnessed.
And then there was Sean, who looked so damn handsome in his tux. Something had shifted this week—probably after he held her all night long—and this was no longer simple lust. Her feelings had gotten much more complex, and his rejection hurt that much more because of it.
The way he’d touched her by the campfire, she’d been sure they were about to take the next step, but instead, he claimed his acting had gotten out of hand.
She got it. The man didn’t want her. She was done throwing herself at him and wouldn’t make this weekend any more awkward than it had to be.
Goddamn Alec and his stupid need for secrecy. She didn’t need a damn bodyguard.
Thankfully, the ceremony only lasted about fifteen minutes—it only felt like an eternity, with Sean up there, looking so hot, he should be a fire-code violation—and then the party began.
Much as she wanted to, she couldn’t escape into their hotel room when the ceremony ended. As the best man’s date, she would be dining with the bride and groom at a table that faced the rest of the guests. Her absence would be noted, and there was no way in hell she’d allow her heartache to be felt by the couple on their day. Or even Sean, for that matter. This wasn’t his fault.
She didn’t even blame him for teasing her by the fire. He’d been turned on by female proximity and was playing a role. It happened. She would let him have this day without making it about her. But come tomorrow when they left the inn, there would be strict no-touching rules. Her emotions were being jerked around like a yo-yo, and she would break if it continued beyond today.
Seated at the end of the table as she was, there wasn’t anyone for her to talk to as Sean laughed and chatted with the groom and bride to his left. She stared at the guests, who were sorted into neat tables. NHHC employees here, Raptor operatives there. Bored, the anthropologist in her began to categorize the living guests in the same way she did bones: age, gender, and race.
At least fifty people were in attendance, and more than a third were Raptor operatives who worked either at the Virginia compound or the DC office. As Sean had said, this group was much more diverse. She estimated that nearly forty percent of the Raptor operatives present were Black, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, or East Indian. And she knew from meeting many of Alec’s employees over the years they were gay, straight, trans, and one was gender nonconforming.
After the meal, the band began to play, and Ian and Cressida had their first dance, followed by Curt claiming a dance with Cressida as the stand-in for father of the bride, while Ian danced with Cressida’s mom.
Hazel toyed with the idea of asking Sean to dance, but if he didn’t want to, that would be awkward. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since Ian and Cressida left the table to dance, his attention on his conversation with Trina and Keith, who were seated on the other side of the bride and groom.
“Hazel!”
She turned to see JT Talon approaching her. “I wanted to thank you for saving T&D’s ass this week.”
She smiled at the engineering firm’s CEO and stood to hug him. “Hey, JT, I was hoping you’d be here.”
He kissed her cheek. “When Isabel told me you were on the job, I was relieved. We’re in the middle of negotiating an on-call engineering contract for FERC relicensing projects. It’s worth big bucks, and delays in the current projects will have a negative impact, even when it’s not our fault. So basically, I owe you. Big.”
“Good to know,” she said, once again glad she hadn’t let little things like mental health issues stop her from answering Isabel’s cry for help. “If I end up hanging out a shingle and starting my own forensic consulting business, I could use a glowing endorsement.”
“Done,” JT said. He then turned to Sean, who’d stood to greet JT when she did. “Didn’t know you and Hazel were a thing.” He clapped Sean on the back. “Smart move.”
“I have my moments,” Sean said, shaking JT’s hand. He leaned closer to Hazel but didn’t touch her. Yesterday he’d have put his hand on the small of her back, but today, he’d kept his distance. It might be because her dress was backless, and the skin-to-skin touch would be intimate. Or he was done playing the boyfriend game and was phoning it in.
The reason didn’t really matter. She wasn’t going to ruin this for him because she was upset he’d rejected her again. That would be a crappy thing to do when he’d agreed to this assignment even knowing it would interfere with his ability to enjoy this party.
JT stayed and chatted for a bit, then he wandered off after extracting a promise from Hazel to visit the Bethesda office next week while he was in town. They’d just settled back into their seats when Ian and Cressida returned from the dance floor, faces flushed and happy.
The band’s lead singer announced it was time for the garter and bouquet tossing, and Hazel groaned. As a single woman, she hated bouquet tosses with a passion, hated the idea that she was supposed to want to catch the bouquet. It always felt like her denials were assumed to be a lie.
It was one of the reasons she’d been thankful Ivy had eloped with Matt while Hazel was in Croatia. Otherwise, she’d probably have been maid of honor again, and there was no ducking the toss when you were in the wedding party.
Beside her, Sean let out his own groan. “You aren’t really going to toss the garter, are you?” he asked Ian.
“I think it’s a state law or something,” Ian said. “But we’re skipping the raunchy ungartering ceremony. I refuse to undress Cressida in front of an audience.” He pulled the frilly white garter from his pocket. “Ready to fly. Let’s go, best man. I’ll fling it at you.”
“No, thank you. Toss it to JT.”
“JT’s a no-go unless I want my ass kicked at our next sparring session. Shit, did you hear Alexandra has a baby? JT…he isn’t dealing well.”
Sean frowned. “Is Alexandra…with anyone?”
Ian shrugged. “Not really sure. Last I heard, she was in Europe on some sort of research grant. But Erica said she has a kid and is coming back to be near family. No word on if the dad is coming with her.”
“Fine, toss the garter to Chase, then. I’ll stay here and guard your drinks, like any good best man.”
“No way. State law also requires single best men participate in the garter toss.”
Hazel couldn’t help but snicker.
“Just you wait, the bouquet toss is next,” Sean said, rising from his seat.
“State law doesn’t cover the date of the best man,” she said.
Ian didn’t even bother to turn his back before the toss. He pointed the elastic garter and shot it right at Sean’s chest. Sean didn’t catch it, but when it landed at his feet, he grudgingly picked it up to peals of laughter from all the married people in the room.
Married people thought this shit was hilarious. They should try being in their midthirties and being single at a wedding. It wasn’t the least bit funny when the smell-of-desperation jokes started flying.
Hazel stayed firmly in her seat as the unmarried women assembled for Cressida’s toss of her wildflower bouquet handpicked by the groom. That gave Hazel a moment of pause. If she caught the bouquet, she could’ve given it back to Cressida so she could dry and keep the flowers.
But wouldn’t you know it, Sean’s real date for the wedding caught the flowers. Tricia laughed when the flowers landed in her hand, but her smile in the joint photo with Sean was something of a grimace, and Hazel felt guilty once again for stealing the woman’s date, even though it hadn’t been her fault.
The band started playing again, and Sean and Tricia, being at the center of the dance floor for their photo, started dancing.
Shit. If she’d caught the bouquet, that could be her dancing with Sean instead of her having this unsettling feeling that he belonged with the beautiful operative and not her. Tric
ia worked in the same field. She probably didn’t have nightmares about murdered babies. She was athletic and smart and was probably everything Sean was looking for in a woman.
Ivy dropped into the empty seat beside her. “It’s just a dance, Haze. He’s here with you.”
Oh hell, did her face show everything she was feeling? Had anyone other than Ivy noticed?
“I’m fine,” she lied. “You having fun?”
Ivy nodded. “I am. But this is also making me so glad Matt and I eloped.” She leaned in and whispered, “Erica dragged Cressida’s mom up to a hotel room because she was getting ready to go full-on narcissist and cause a scene.”
Hazel watched the bride, who beamed as she danced with her husband. “Does Cress know?”
“Nope, and we’ll keep it that way.”
She leaned on her sister. “I love how all of you take care of one another.”
Ivy put her arm around Hazel. “Who would have thought the dorky MacLeod sisters would end up with such a cool group of friends?”
Hazel watched Sean dance with Tricia and knew her spot in this group would expire soon, but still, she’d enjoy the feeling of belonging, even if she was jealous of the beautiful operative.
Her gaze scanned the room, and she noticed a white man staring at the dancing couple, his eyes narrowed.
Was his problem with Sean, Tricia, or both?
He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with long, sun-streaked hair pulled back in a ponytail. He didn’t look like a Raptor operative, but he was certainly buff like one. She leaned toward her sister and whispered, “Who’s the guy in the burgundy shirt to the right? Long hair.”
Ivy followed her gaze. “That’s Liam Gibson. He’s the new underwater archaeologist at UAB.”
“They finally replaced Undine?”
“I’m irreplaceable,” Undine said, dropping into Ian’s vacated seat. “My position is still open. Liam replaced Erica around the time you left for Croatia. They’ve been filling in my spot with short-term interns. Greg is being really weird about the whole thing—but then, it took him nearly a year to replace Erica.”
Dr. Greg Mulholland was the underwater archaeologist for the US Navy and the head of the Underwater Archaeology Branch within Naval History and Heritage Command. He was noticeably absent from the gathering, even though he was Cressida’s direct supervisor.
Mara was head of NHHC, while Greg ran UAB. Ivy had told her that during Mara’s maternity leave, Greg had gotten a little too comfortable as acting head of NHHC.
“Liam’s hot,” Hazel said. Then she remembered she was supposedly in a relationship. But then, that didn’t mean she couldn’t notice when other men were good-looking. She was in a fake relationship, not fake dead. “What’s his issue with Sean and Tricia?”
Ivy frowned. “No clue.”
As if he sensed their scrutiny, Liam turned and met Hazel’s stare. Her instinct was to look away, but something about the way he cocked his head kept her gaze locked with his. A slow smile spread across his face, and he rose from his seat and made a beeline for her.
“Well, this should be interesting,” Undine whispered.
He nodded to Ivy and Undine, then reached out a hand to Hazel. “I’m Liam, and given the family resemblance, I’m guessing you’re Ivy’s sister.”
She took his hand as she nodded. “Hazel MacLeod.”
A corner of his mouth quirked. “Hazel and Ivy. Is your other sister Heather? Willow? Myrtle?”
She laughed as he released her hand. “Nah, you’re way off. Laurel.”
He chuckled. “What was I thinking?” He nodded toward the dance floor and raised a brow. “Would you like to dance?”
She considered saying no—it was a slow song, which could be awkward considering her fake boyfriend and the fact Liam was a complete stranger—but Sean was dancing with someone else, and Ivy worked with Liam, plus he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t a friend of Cressida’s. After all, not even Cressida’s boss was here.
“Sure,” she said, rising to her feet. With a nod to Undine and Ivy, she followed Liam to the dance floor.
He took her hips in his hands, pulling her an inch closer than necessary for the dance, but not so close as to be inappropriate for complete strangers. “Ivy said you’re a forensic anthropologist.”
“And she said you’re an underwater archaeologist.”
He smiled. “I am. Usually that’s how I impress women, but not with this crowd.”
She laughed. “Yeah. You’re a dime a dozen here. Who do you want to impress?”
He looked down at her with a curious expression. His hands slid from her hips to the small of her back, pulling her a half inch closer. “I thought that was obvious when I asked you to dance.”
“Well, this is awkward, then, because I’m here with another man.”
“Here, maybe. But not with him. He’s dancing with another woman and hasn’t so much as looked your way since you sat down to dinner.”
Was Sean’s distance that obvious? How embarrassing. She couldn’t even keep the interest of a fake boyfriend.
“He’s busy best-manning,” she said in Sean’s defense.
“That’s fine, but while he’s busy being best man, I’m doing my best to steal his date.”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
“I’m familiar with the work you did for the Navy to identify the Wrasse seven, and Ivy has told me a lot about you. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Her role in identifying the remains of the sailors who died on Wrasse in 1962 hadn’t been in the documentary, but it wasn’t a secret either. Plus he worked for UAB, so he’d know more details than most.
“Well, I hope I live up to your expectations.”
He smiled, and his dark eyes crinkled at the corners. He really was handsome. Deep creases lined his face—the product of a life spent on the water, most likely—and gray peppered his long hair. She wouldn’t do anything to embarrass Sean, but part of her wished she could lean into this moment. It was a heady feeling to have a mature, handsome man look at her that way.
It was a shame it was the wrong man.
The moment the asshole’s hands landed on Hazel’s bare back, Sean lost the ability to think. The guy was holding her too close, and if his fingers slipped a few millimeters lower, they’d be touching her ass. “Who’s that guy dancing with Hazel?” he asked Tricia.
She narrowed her gaze. “I guess it was too much to hope I’d have your undivided attention for an entire song.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I—”
Tricia laughed. “I’m kidding! Mostly. Jeez, Sean, if you have it so bad for Hazel, why have you been avoiding looking at her all night? I figured you two’d been in a fight.”
He frowned at her, utterly confused. “What?”
She raised a brow. “You can’t be that clueless.”
“I guess I must be. What are you talking about?”
“Wow. You’ve just made me very happy I’m not your date if you’ve no idea how you’ve been acting.”
He furrowed his brow. “How have I been acting?”
“During dinner. You spent the entire time chatting with Ian. You practically had your back to Hazel. The first time you glanced in her direction was when JT Talon was talking to her. I figured there was trouble in paradise.”
“I haven’t—” He stopped himself, thinking back over dinner, trying to remember his conversation with Hazel, but all he remembered was talking to Ian and Cressida. They’d chatted about a few of Ian’s Army buddies who couldn’t make it, and Cressida’s friend Suzanne, who was running a project on the other side of the world but had watched the ceremony in live stream.
Hazel hadn’t been part of that conversation.
Had he really ignored her the entire meal? The small wedding party had been seated on one side of a banquet table that faced the rest of the guests. Hazel had been on the end, just as Keith had been seated to Trina’s left on the other end of the table. If he’d ignored her
with his back to her through the entire meal, she’d been forced to sit and stare at the assembled guests, saying nothing for…twenty, thirty minutes?
He was a complete asshole, and now everyone here knew it. Worse, Hazel had to be embarrassed and hurt.
He turned Tricia so he was facing Hazel and her dance partner. She laughed at something the guy said, and her smile was genuine. His gut clenched. He didn’t like seeing her with another man. Especially when the guy was looking at her like he hoped she’d be his dessert.
The song ended, and he thanked Tricia for the dance and debated what to do. The next song was a faster number, and Hazel and the guy broke apart as Ivy, Matt, and Julian joined them on the dance floor. Hazel took Julian’s hands and began to dance with the boy. She laughed as they twirled, and Sean went back to his seat, not wanting to interrupt her happy moment.
Seeing her dancing with such exuberance, as she had in Grand Cayman, made his heart feel lighter. She suffered from nightmares and feared losing the career that meant everything to her, but right at this moment, he could see the flush of joy on her skin and the light of pleasure in her eyes.
He’d seen her as a party girl without understanding her flip side, the intensely serious forensic anthropologist. Now this joyful woman made sense, and had far more depth than he’d ever given her credit for.
She danced with all of her body, unselfconsciously. She wasn’t shy and danced with everyone—men, women, children, and gender nonconforming alike. The guy who’d danced with her for the slow dance remained in her orbit, but she didn’t show him more or less attention than the others.
Most of the guests were on the dance floor. The energy of the room was electric, the bride and groom in the center of the happy dancing mass. But his eyes were fixed on his beautiful date. He’d lusted after her for years, and now, when he could finally have her, he was sitting on the sidelines.
She must’ve felt his stare because she turned and met his gaze. She stopped moving, then slowly, she smiled. A broad, happy, warm smile. Beckoning, even.