Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Thank you, Callie. I really appreciate it,” Sadie says when she opens her door. “Oh, hi, Max. Did you have fun at the whiskey tasting today?”
“Yeah, it was a good time.”
She arches a brow. “Definitely seemed to be, based on how some of the groomsmen were weaving around at the rehearsal.”
Max gives her one of his gorgeous grins. “There was a lot of whiskey to sample.”
As I hand over the spa bag and confirm that I got all she needed, I peer into her room. “Is Adam here?”
Sadie shakes her head. “Not right now, and he needs to hurry so we can put the gifts together. Why?”
“A few minutes ago, I passed his father talking to someone that I hadn’t seen before. A tall, really thin man with longish, slicked-back hair.” I gesture as I’m talking. “Do you know anyone who looks like that?”
My sister frowns and shakes her head. “No, but there were several people on Adam’s guest list that I haven’t met yet, and a lot of people are arriving today to stay the night before the ceremony.”
“Makes sense. Is there anything else you need before I go get ready for dinner?”
“No, thank you, sister dear.” She pulls me in for a hug. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
After Max and I leave, I say, “She’s sure in a good mood.”
He takes my hand and swings it between us as we walk. “Either she’s excited about the wedding, or Adam brought back some whiskey for her.”
CHAPTER 41
CALLIE
If my sister is getting more excited as her wedding approaches, our mom is getting more manic.
Everyone else seems to be enjoying their food at the rehearsal dinner, but Mom is constantly fussing over details, questioning the staff, and reminding the bridal party about whatever random thing pops into her head. I kind of feel sorry for her, and wish she could relax.
Right now, she has Mr. Hargrove cornered by the bar, and based on previous encounters I’ve seen, I imagine she’s trying to impress him by reviewing many of the finer details of tomorrow’s events.
Miles and I are seated at one end of a long banquet table, and thankfully, we’re at the opposite end from Alexis and Rick.
“Do you see the strange man here that you told Max about?” Miles asks in a whisper I can barely hear. The men must have compared notes while I was in the bathroom getting ready.
“No, he’s not here. Maybe he’s a work associate of Mr. Hargrove.”
Miles’s mouth is drawn in a thin straight line. “Maybe, but if you see him again, keep your distance.”
I squint at him. “Really? I’m sure I was just being paranoid.”
“Maybe, but it can’t hurt to trust your gut feelings. They’re usually there for a reason.”
After the way Rick tricked me, I have no reason to trust my instincts. I’m not certain I truly have any. Obviously, not the kind that protect me.
When people near us make conversation, Miles turns on his good social graces and joins in, but when it’s just the two of us, he seems distracted and borderline grumpy. He reminds me of the Miles I first met in yoga class.
I wonder if he’s having second thoughts about offering to share my bed tonight. Maybe he’s been worrying about my admission that our fake dating is starting to seem real, and he’s trying to take a step back.
When I catch him frowning as he cuts into his chicken, I lean in. “Are you okay? Is this—” I gesture to encompass the dinner, my mom, this whole multi-day event. “…getting to be too much?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you getting … bored?”
His brows lift, giving me the idea that he’s surprised by my question, and then he frowns. “No, I’m enjoying myself—when I’m with you, that is.”
His eyes hold me for a long moment, my belly doing a funny little flip-flop as I notice flecks of gold in the warm brown of his irises. My cheeks heat, and I break our gaze to get a drink of water.
Under the table, his hand comes to my knee, grasping it gently. When I meet his eyes again, his focus drops to my lips, and then he leans in to give me a brief kiss, the kind that’s perfectly suited to public occasions in front of family.
His affection feels genuine, but is he just playing his role incredibly well? Did my comment spur him back into fake-boyfriend action?
“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” he asks as we resume eating.
My first thought is that I’m looking forward to tonight, to hopefully being in his arms, and I’d say that if I felt certain he was feeling the same way.
Instead, I keep my answer focused on the wedding. “Yeah, I think it’ll be a great day.”
“I’m glad you’re looking forward to it, not just looking to get it over with, like you were before.” He bends next to my ear to say this, the heat of him lighting a fire inside me. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”