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JAY
Dave was married.
Married. He was only twenty-three, a year older than I was. Crazy. He looked happy, though. A genuine grin was permanently stuck on his face as we posed for pictures after the ceremony. Which took for-fucking-ever. No bridal party should be big enough to get a flag for too many men on the field.
First order of business when I hit the reception was to get a beer. Easy enough, since it was cocktail hour. Once that was done, I went to the table with the name cards, found mine, and scoped out the location. One of the girls I’d been friends with for two seconds in high school was here, and as soon as she saw me after the wedding, she’d practically crawled over Dave’s grandparents to say hello.
It’d been awkward as hell watching her try to play up whatever connection she thought we’d had. I knew exactly what kind of connection she wanted to have with me now, and forget it. I didn’t have the time or the interest.
“Dude, switch with me,” I said to Dave’s college roommate, who was looking for his seating assignment as well. “See that girl in the purple dress?”
He nodded.
“Do you mind?” I said. “I need to be anywhere but with her at table six.”
There was only one spot left at table four. I closed in on the last seat at the same moment a short blonde bridesmaid turned to step away from the chair beside mine. She ran face-first into my chest.
“And there’s no gain on the play.”
At least, that was what it sounded like she said as she ricocheted off my rental tux. She stared at the line of buttons on my dress shirt and lifted her chin as her gaze traveled upward. She was so short, she had to crane her neck to meet my eyes.
Well, hello there.
What she lacked in height, she more than made up for with looks. Goddamn, she was pretty. Her big blue eyes blinked at me. What had surprised her the most? The collision, my height, or my face?
“Sorry.” Her sexy mouth turned up into a sheepish smile. Didn’t look like she recognized me, which was unlikely here in Dayton, Ohio.
“No problem. You okay?” I’d probably felt like running into a wall to her, but she seemed all right.
“Yeah, you?”
I chuckled. “I’ll survive.”
Her eyes were the same color as her bridesmaid dress. It looked good on her, better than the other bridesmaids. I’d had to skip the rehearsal last night, so I didn’t know her name yet, but I’d find time in my schedule to get to know her. I’d noticed her right away when we lined-up at the wedding. They’d gone by height, so I hadn’t been near her yet, not even during pictures.
Her body was smoking hot, and her face . . . it was even better up close.
Wait. Shit. Hadn’t Dave said most of the bridesmaids were bringing their boyfriends to the wedding? This girl was way too good-looking to be single.
An alarm sounded in my head. You’re staring and it’s getting awkward.
She beat me to it and thrust out a hand. “Kayla McCarthy. The bride and I were cheerleaders together in high school.”
I clasped my large hand around hers. “Jay.” I purposefully left off my last name. “The groom and I played ball together, also in high school.”
Marcy and Dave were already making their rounds greeting tables, and as they closed in, the bride watched us with a weird expression.
Kayla didn’t notice. She hadn’t let go of our handshake either, like I’d sparked her interest. “Oh, yeah? What position did you play?” When Marcy cleared her throat, Kayla dropped my hand abruptly. “I meant, in the wedding party.”
“What position did I play in the wedding party?” I repeated, unsure. “Groomsman?”
“Right.” Her gaze flicked to Marcy, and when the bride and groom moved on, she seemed to relax. “You’re from Indianapolis?”
“Yup.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the deejay announced over the loudspeaker, “if you’d please take your seats, the maid of honor has a few words she’d like to say about the newlyweds.”
Kayla put her hand on the back of her chair and pulled it out to sit down.
“Weren’t you going somewhere before I blocked you?”
She waved it off as she sat. “I was heading for the bar, but I’ll go later.”
I tugged out my chair, feeling lucky I’d wound up beside her, only to realize it wasn’t luck. The rest of the table was bridesmaids, paired off with guys who weren’t in tuxes, meaning they were dates. I was the only groomsman of the group, and it appeared Kayla was here like me.
Solo.
Didn’t mean for certain she was single, but it was a good sign.
During the best man’s speech, I caught her looking at me, and she glanced away quickly. Her blue eyes blinked rapidly as she stared off at nothing, embarrassed I’d caught her. Another good sign.
After the speeches were over, the first course was delivered to our table. The waiter dropped off plates of overly fancy salad topped with colorful veggies. Kayla’s salad was delivered last, and both of our gazes bounced from her plate to mine in confusion.
“Excuse me . . .” She turned to ask the waiter, but the guy was already gone.
“He forgot the rest of your salad.”
“Right?” She studied her plate of plain lettuce as she picked up her fork, and then shrugged. “Weird.”
I pushed my plate toward her. “I can take it or leave it when it comes to salad. Want to trade?”
Her expression warmed, but she shook her head. “Thanks, but it’s fine. I don’t mind.”
I took mine back, poured some dressing on top, and speared my fork into it. The rest of the table had paired off in conversations, and I glanced at her, wondering what to open with.
She beat me to it. “Did you have a long drive to come to the wedding?”
“Not too bad. I have a summer internship at ARC software, just outside Toledo. You?”
“I grew up here. I’m staying with my parents for the weekend.” She grabbed the pepper shaker and sprinkled it on her plate. “How do you like your internship?”
“It’s the best unpaid job I’ve ever had,” I said dryly, “and about as exciting as your salad.” I didn’t want to come off as a whiney bitch. “It’s not all bad. The other interns and I hang out at Biff’s after work, and that’s cool.”
“Who’s Biff?”
“Not who, what. It’s a bar. I don’t think that’s the actual name, we just call it that. We’re there for happy hour most nights. Cheap beer, and the girls are—” Shit! What was I doing? “Uh, nice. Wholesome girls.”
She snorted. “The kind you’d take home to mom, huh?”
“No,” I admitted. “Actually, hell no.” She grinned and shook her head, like she found me amusing, and her blonde hair looked glossy in the low light of the banquet room. I took another bite, chewed, and then slid the plate away. “If it makes you feel better, this kind of tastes like weeds.”
“You’re familiar with what weeds taste like?”
Unfortunately, I was. I didn’t pick up my speed until my sophomore year of high school, so up until that point, I got my facemask smashed in the grass a bunch. “The landscaping on the practice field left a lot to be desired.”
Her posture went stiff. “Football? When you said you played ball, I thought . . .” Her face skewed with a strange expression. Had she figured out who I was? It seemed unlikely as she pushed her plate away. “I’m going to get that drink. You want something?”
I hadn’t touched my beer since I sat down. Maybe I’d been too distracted by her. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”
While she was gone, the waiter cleared our plates and the second course arrived. Soup in small cups, which smelled good. Well, all except Kayla’s.
“What the heck?” she said as she set down her drink and plopped into her chair, staring at her soup.
“I didn’t realize yours was different until it was too late. Our server might be Batman. One second he’s there, and the next he’s gone.”
She stuck her spoon into her cup and stirred, scrutinizing the red broth. Then, she risked a taste, and her face said it all. Not good.
“It’s cabbage.” It was like even the words tasted awful. “What’s yours?”
“Minestrone, I think.” And it was delicious, but she didn’t need to know, unless . . . I inched the cup toward her. “We can share.”
“Spoons going from our mouths into the same bowl repeatedly?” Amusement lit her eyes. “Well, that sounds like a great way to get mono.”
“I don’t have mono.”
“I bet all the wholesome girls at Biff’s say that, too.”
I choked back a chuckle. “So, what do you do? Work? School?”
“School. I’m a journalism major at—”
I shot abruptly to my feet, latching an arm on the waiter’s shoulder. I had to grab him before he vaporized again. “Hey, man…” I gestured to Kayla. “What’s up with her food?”
The waiter’s bored gaze went from me down to her soup. “Is something wrong with it?”
“Not exactly,” Kayla said. “But it’s different than everyone else’s.”
Was he trying not to roll his eyes? “You ordered the dietary-restricted meal option.”
“No, I didn’t. I mean, I marked vegetarian, but—”
She was a vegetarian? I’d die without iron and protein.
“Same thing,” the guy said. There was a tone I didn’t care for, but I kept my mouth shut as the waiter looked down at her. “It’s easier if we only offer the two options, regular or restricted.”
“Oh.” Her gaze fell to her soup. “What are the restrictions?”
“No meat. No nuts.”
Relief streaked across her expression. “I don’t like nuts anyway—”
The waiter hadn’t finished. “No shellfish, dairy, gluten, or citrus. Would you care for more soup?”
She shuddered. “No, thanks.”
The guy took off for another table as I lowered back into my seat. Jesus. His list had ruled out pretty much everything that made food taste like food. She eyed my soup with envy, then tried to disguise it.
“Not to sound like a huge dick,” I said, “but I cannot wait to see what he brings you next.”