I loved weddings! I watched my friend, outfitted in yards of beautiful silk and lace, through misty eyes as she walked toward the man she'd chosen to join her life to. What could be better than two soulmates who'd managed to find each other in the vast sea of life?

After kissing her share of frogs, Maggie had found her prince. Derek was a great guy – calm, witty, hard-working, and best of all he adored my friend. I'd been beyond thrilled to help her plan the day of her dreams.

Maggie and I had bonded in third grade when we were both cast as mice in the fifth-grade school production of a comical, twisted retelling of Cinderella. I had three sisters whom I loved dearly, but Maggie was the same age and had the same interests. We shared clothes, played on the same teams and applied to the same colleges. We laughed and celebrated each other's accomplishments and wiped each other's tears when needed.

Some days, I wondered if this would be the only wedding I got to help plan since there was nothing nearly as romantic on my horizon. I wasn’t in a hurry, but if something drastically different didn’t happen, my future was looking pretty solo. I wasn't ready to become the crazy cat lady, but I was considering the value of investing in Purina stock.

For now, I breathed a sigh of relief that today had gone without a hitch. I settled in to enjoy the service—until the back of my neck tickled. The bride was supposed to be the center of attention, so why couldn't I shake the feeling that someone was more focused on me? I hadn’t brought a date to the event. Not that there were any prospects to bring lately. Not many men could handle the scrutiny of my dad, and those that could, well, let’s just say they didn’t have anything to lose.

Take for example, Alton Butkus (“the third,” as he pointed out to anyone willing—or unwilling—to listen to his genealogy.) Alton had been asking me out since we were in high school. He was nice enough if you didn't mind a nerdy type who had more cling than Saran Wrap. I tried to be his friend, but he took my kindness for more than it was intended. I ended up very bluntly telling him I wasn't interested in going out with him, but I guess when you grow up with kids calling you "Alton Butt Kiss," you learn to ignore what you don't want to hear. He’d even asked me to be his date for the wedding, but I politely explained my role as the maid of honor would keep me too busy. I managed to tune out the creepy sensation for a few seconds until I remembered Alton had a last-minute meeting out of town this weekend.

That meant it was probably a member of the Biddy's Auxiliary Guild, or BAG, for short. It was an appropriate acronym my sisters and I had bestowed on the nosy, old women of this church who thought it was their God-given right to advise everyone on any matter. Given who my father was, we were a particular favorite to be the recipients of their wisdom, not to mention, their judgment. I guessed that it was Mrs. Wordsworth, the worst of the bunch. She was a widow with an ironic surname who would surely talk her husband to death. It was my theory that he wore hearing aids not to hear better, but to plug his ears to tune out his windbag of a wife.

I wondered what it could be this time—my hem was too short? Heels too high? Or maybe my makeup, as neutral as it was, advertised some immorality?

Or most likely, why wasn’t my dress a jumpsuit the color of prison orange? It didn't matter that I hadn't committed a crime. My part in "the unspeakable episode," as the BAGs liked to refer to it, was enough to seal my fate in their eyes and came with a lifetime sentence of disgrace.

Just smile, Grace!

I fell back on the practice I'd mastered by the time I was a teen. Politicians had nothing on me when it came to pretending everything was perfect. Just smile, Grace, you never know who's watching. Kill 'em with kindness, Grace. Smile, you'll attract more flies with honey than with vinegar. Like who in their right mind wanted to attract flies?

I wondered if the minute hand must have been auditioning for the hour hand position as the "watched" sensation never faded. About four sentences into the homily, I couldn't take it anymore. I discretely glanced across the front pew, the only one I could see without turning my head. My eyes skimmed over the bride's family who was hanging on to every word spoken.

I pivoted a teeny bit on my toes until I could see more of the pews. My gaze slid across the aisle and boom! Dark eyes set in one of the most handsome faces I'd ever seen stared back at me. Those eyes never wavered, not the least bit ashamed at having been caught. In fact, the right one winked at me while its partner-in-crime lips quirked up in a one-sided smile that was alarmingly sexy.

This man was no Alton, not even close. No, this man produced a funny little flurry inside me that zipped right past my stomach and didn't stop until it reached a more private place below.

Startled by both his audacity as well as my reaction to it, I fought to regain my focus. The tingles lingered, however. It was thrilling and nerve-wracking. Most eligible men I encountered fell into two categories—either there was no chemistry, or they didn't have the staying power once they met my dad. It was the pitfall of living life in a fishbowl. Hardly anyone was willing to jump in and swim with my sisters or me, but there was no shortage of people staring through the glass. Some watched, if not hoped, for one of us to screw up and sink. And since I'd already done so in a most spectacular way, they all held their breath, almost salivating, for it to happen again.

I was used to it, but it didn't mean I didn't resent it.

Now, most of my dating opportunities came from men who thought I'd be so desperate I'd be willing to accept their offer. Or they came from mothers or grandmothers who were certain I'd be grateful for the opportunity to date their precious progeny. It might sound shallow, but there was a reason they were still single—they were duds. Boring. No chemistry; not even a little flame that could be kindled over time.

It wasn’t a new experience; it had been going on since my sisters and I were teens and old enough to date. Shy, pimple-faced boys would ask us out, thinking we were too nice to say “no.” We called them "sympathy dates,” and at first, they were right. We didn’t want to hurt their feelings. But as we grew older, my sisters and I made up all kinds of plausible excuses to decline or break a date. The best and most reliable was anything about our menstrual cycle or asking if they had or were willing to get a Prince Albert piercing. We could always tell the ones who had to look up what it was before they gave us a horrified "no." It was a risk for us to say such things to them, but most were too embarrassed by the topics to ever tell anyone why we "just didn't work out."

This man, however, exuded an aura of confidence that made me wonder if he would not only jump into the fishbowl, but make a big splash when he did, washing away the smirks of the onlookers. Maybe he didn't know my past. He certainly didn't seem like a dud. If nothing else, maybe he'd act as a deterrent from the sympathy date offers that were sure to come at the reception. Best of all, there wouldn't be a way for Daddy to run interference without drawing unwanted attention to the situation.

Lost in my thoughts, I was surprised when I heard the words 'man and wife' spoken by the pastor. Startled into action, I handed Maggie her bouquet and straightened the train on her dress as she turned. She grinned at me before latching onto her new husband's arm.

I had to be the worst best friend on record. I needed to keep my focus on her and not the sex-on-a-stick a few steps away. Besides, anyone that hot, that confident, was probably looking for a quick hookup in a closet somewhere. And like Alton, I suspected he only heard what he wanted to hear, although, with his looks, I doubted he heard the word “no” very often. Experience had taught me you if you gave a guy like that an ounce of interest, he'd take a chunk of your heart and leave you cold in bed. It didn't make a difference.

It was better just to not get involved. Period. Ignore him and not give the smallest suggestion I was interested.

I hadn't taken two steps down the aisle on the arm of the best man before the dark-eyed gaze of the stranger pulled me in, the steel to his magnet. Damn, that smile was even sexier up close.

Only two more steps and you'll be past him!

Then he winked. Geez, I was a sucker for winks. There was something so sexy and flirty about them.

I smiled back.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What had I done?

Now he was going to think I was interested in handing out more than little bags of birdseed to throw on the happy couple later. Maybe my dad was right about my judgment of the opposite sex. Then again, he didn't think any man was good enough for his girls.

Fortunately, I didn't have long to linger on the mystery guest. The bridal party was whisked away to a holding room until the church sanctuary cleared so we could get all the required pictures to formally document the occasion.

Three quarters of an hour and one achy smile later, we arrived at the hotel where the reception was being held. I sat to the left of Maggie at the head table situated at the front of the elegantly decorated room. To my left was one of Derek's older brothers, Paul, who was also the Best Man. We spent the majority of our meal catching up on our lives. I knew most of Derek's family since he and Maggie had been an item for coming up on three years.

When Paul turned to talk to another bridesmaid on his other side, I was able to check out the guests. At the back corner were members of the BAG. They came to every wedding, funeral, or any other social event held at the church. They thought they were the spine that held the church together. I thought they were more like the arthritic joints that always groaned and offered resistance.

The rest of the guests were the standard fare you would find at weddings. The cheapskates had their plates loaded so they wouldn't have to eat for the next twelve hours. There were the desperate girls who'd stuffed themselves into dresses that were at least a size too small, hoping to entice some poor guy with their generous 'attributes.' Their voices were always a little louder and their laughs a little too shrill and calculated. And last, there were the average Joes who were the ones who enjoyed themselves the most, laughing and catching up with friends and family.

And then there was the sexy stranger. He was in a class of his own. I was surprised to see him at one of the tables set in the front for close relatives of the bride and groom, but he didn't appear to have brought a date. Members of Derek's family surrounded him, talking animatedly with hands flying everywhere. The older woman he was sitting next to during the service was deep in conversation with Derek's mom, Julie. He, however, sported a look of boredom as he played with the stem of his wine glass until he glanced up and caught me looking at him. The corners of his mouth lifted. I tried to hold his gaze with a nonchalance I wasn't feeling, but I sucked at being something other than who I was.

Maggie grabbed my arm, saving me from whatever awkward next move I might have made. Her face was aglow, and her eyes sparkled more than the diamond earrings Derek had given her for a wedding gift.

"Grace," she squealed. "I'm married!"

I returned her smile. "You are indeed, honey, and I couldn't be more excited for you." I gave her an impulsive hug, at least my fifth of the day.

"Next wedding will be yours," she whispered in my ear before pulling back. "He's out there, sweetie. I know he is." She knew all about my dating misadventures, but she was forever the optimist.

Shrugging, I tried for my best casual voice. "Do you know who the guy is sitting close to Julie?"

Maggie shifted her glance and froze. "Oh, Grace. When I said, 'out there,' I didn't mean literally!"

I lifted my eyebrow. "So, you do know him?"

She squirmed a little in her chair, and for the first time all day, her smile slipped a fraction. "No, I don't know him know him. He's one of Derek's cousins. I've only met him in passing at a couple of family gatherings. He was polite and nice, but he came across so..."

"Arrogant? Confident?" I wasn't patient with her hesitation.

"Yes, and also maybe...detached, you know, more like emotionally unavailable, I guess?" She shrugged her shoulders.

"Oh." It figures.

"I've only met him a couple of times," Maggie continued, casting a dubious eye on the topic, who was now talking to Derek's mom. "I've never had a deep conversation with him, but he's never brought a date to any of the family events I've attended if he comes at all. From what Derek and his brothers say, he likes to play the field." Maggie must have noticed my frown. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "He is hot, but—"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by the clinking of a fork on a glass. Maggie winked at me before she turned to meet her new husband's lips as custom required. Any further questions I had for her were going to have to wait, because Paul, Derek's oldest brother and best man, stood and began the series of toasts. Knowing it would be my turn next, I took a fortifying sip of wine and collected my thoughts.

In a matter of minutes, the speeches had been delivered, and the newly married couple was celebrating with their first dance. The rest of the attendants were invited to join. As the maid of honor, I was matched with Paul, who made an excellent partner as he whisked me around the floor.

"If I missed telling you earlier, you look beautiful. Are you having fun?"

I smiled up at him. "I am. Although, without all the wedding planning with Maggie and Julie, I'm not sure I'll know what to do with myself."

He grinned as he dipped me low in his arms. "I doubt that. Maggie told me about your business and the reputation you've gained. I'm sure you have plenty of parties to keep you busy."

I laughed, knowing he was right. A thought hit me as we settled back into a slower step. "Hey, Paul..."

He quirked an eyebrow, and a grin spread across his handsome face. "Sorry, I don't need any party planning."

I ignored the sarcasm in his tone. "No, silly. That man talking to your mom, who is he?"

He glanced over my shoulder and back at me. "That's our cousin, Jax. That's my mom's sister, Aunt Carolyn, who he's sitting next to." He lost his smile. "And of course, he's alone."

"Is he not supposed to be?" I didn't understand why Paul almost sounded sad when he spoke.

He shrugged. "No, I guess not. It's just..."

I waited for him to continue, but he frowned and refocused on me again.

"Do you want me to introduce you?" He seemed reluctant to ask.

A beautiful redhead appeared at Jax's side. I watched as he focused on her finger that traced the neckline of her dress that happened to dip low across her breasts. He stood and offered her his elbow before leading her to the dance floor. He laughed at something she said as she fitted her body close to his. As they swayed together, he seemed engrossed by what she was saying. Her fingers started playing in his hair as she snuggled closer to him. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, before leading her off the dance floor.

I quit watching and refocused my attention on Paul. "No. I'm sure I'll meet him at some point. I was just curious." And maybe a bit jealous.

"You probably will. But, Grace, I recognize that look."

"What look?"

"The one that a lot of women get around him," he answered. "The one that he responds to, to a lot of women, if you catch my meaning. It's not a club you want to be part of. He doesn't do relationships, at least not the way we understand them, and that's what you deserve."

Now I was intrigued. "You mean like BDSM type of thing?"

Paul looked shocked. "What the hell do you know about that?"

"I read. I know things. I'm not that innocent."

"God, don't say anymore. But, no, that's not what I meant. I mean, he's not a long-term commitment type."

"So, a player."

"Pretty much."

"Don't worry. If that's the case, he'd never make it past Daddy, anyway."

Paul spun me out and safely back into his arms. "Someday you'll find a guy who deserves you. And, trust me, he'll be a lucky son of a bitch."

"From your lips to God's ear!" I laughed and tried to lose myself in the music and celebration, accepting a dance with Derek and then their other brothers, Troy and Brian. I quietly still hoped Jax would ask me if only because it would delay the inevitable matchmaking attempts that I knew were on the horizon. At least he knew how to move on the dance floor. Surely, I could remain immune to his charms long enough to get through the reception.

"Oh, Graaace! Over here, please. I have someone I want you to meet."

Crap. Too late. I turned to see Mrs. Oglesbee waving and poking her cane in the air, almost depriving a male guest of future children as he walked by. A wide-eyed young man was standing next to her. I could almost see him drooling as his eyes raked over me.

I sighed and took one last glance around but didn't see Jax.

I forced the requisite smile and forged my way across the room.

Smile, Grace. Just smile.