A week later, I watched as my best friend married the man of her dreams and started her happily ever after. The wedding had been beautiful and the reception first-class all the way. The day was perfect—for them. For me, it was another reminder that I was alone—more or less. Other than the sporadic attention of the lead singer in the band, who was a bigger flirt than I was, I’d spent most of the evening as a wallflower. I danced briefly with Bobby when the wedding party was introduced, but his wife, Janelle, cut in quickly. After dinner I danced with one of Diane’s cousins. George was several inches shorter than me and breathed heavily against my breasts the entire time. As soon as the song ended, I excused myself and made a mad dash for the ladies’ room, where I ran into the bride.

“How come all of my bridesmaids are wearing the exact same dress, yet you’re the only one showing cleavage?” Diane asked as we stood side by side in front of a row of sinks.

I looked down at my lavender-swathed breasts and back at my reflection. The girls did look exceptionally perky. “Lucky, I guess.”

She smirked while I dragged a wet paper towel over my neck and chest.

“Having fun?” she asked, nodding at my chest. “Other than dancing with Georgie.”

Grabbing another paper towel, I shivered. “I can still feel his breath on me. And not in a good way.”

“Aw, Rain. That’s not nice. The poor guy has asthma.”

I glared at her reflection. “Then why are you laughing?”

“Because he’s a pain in the ass, and the look on your face out there was priceless.” She gathered her full skirts in her hand and took a step toward the door. “I’ve got to get back out there. Wally’s eyeing the dessert table, and if I’m gone too long, he might start on the wedding cake without me. If my cousin asks again, just call him Georgie Porgie. I guarantee, he’ll leave you alone.”

“You should have printed that on the invitations to warn all the single ladies. I’m not the only one he’s tried to seduce with his heavy breathing tonight.”

I heard her laughter even after the door had swung shut. I tossed the paper towel in the trash, then leaned closer to the mirror and scrutinized my forehead. There had to be a big “L” stamped on there somewhere.

My loser status was confirmed a few minutes later when I stepped out of the restroom, feeling sorry for myself, and walked right smack into a broad chest in a black suit.

“Whoa!” Two strong hands wrapped around my upper arms to keep me from tipping over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. You okay?”

I knew it was him before I even looked up. That strange rush of electricity. I brushed the hair off my face and raised my chin. I’d never forget those eyes, but it was the vibration from his hands against my arms that told me I was right.

I greeted him like we were long lost friends. “Hey, it’s you.”

He arched an eyebrow and cocked his head. Guess I wasn’t as unforgettable.

“Have we met?”

I tilted my head and fluttered my lashes. “Steve, right?” Why I was lying, I had no idea.

Chuckling, he released me. The loss of his warmth on my bare arms was significant.

“Sorry, no. I’m Chase.” He held out his hand, so I took it. I was prepared for the vibration this time, which was as sharp and warm—and tingly—as it was that day at the shop. “And you must be . . . a bridesmaid?”

“Maid of honor actually.”

“There you are.” I glanced over my shoulder to see a tall, slim brunette heading toward us. “They’re getting reading to cut the cake.”

Must be the rabbit fiancée. She was speaking to him, but flashing daggers at me.

I took a step back. “Sorry for running into you like that.” Another step. “Enjoy the cake.” I pushed the bathroom door open with my back, even though I’d just come from there, and then I did something even dumber. I fucking saluted, and then let the room swallow me up. As the door swung closed, Chase looked amused. The rabbit just looked confused.

* * *

I stayed in the ladies’ room so long, I missed the cutting of the cake. The band was playing and the lights had been turned down by the time I picked my way to the bar and ordered another vodka martini—I’d lost count as to whether I’d had four or five or maybe even six—and then hung back and watched couples swaying on the dance floor, including Chase and his stunning fiancée.

Why I was feeling jealous of a woman I’d seen for mere seconds, I hadn’t a clue. Chase could be an abusive jackass for all I knew. Scratch that. I did know. I didn’t understand the vibrations coming off him, but I’d swear on a stack of Bibles that he was a good man.

Lucky rabbit.

Yep. Definitely feeling sorry for myself, and alcohol wasn’t helping. When Preston told me he couldn’t make it, I should’ve just asked someone else. It would’ve been better than hovering by the bar, trying to avoid cousin Georgie.

And to make matters worse, I had no way to get home. My only alternatives were to catch a ride with my mother and her date or go in the limo with Diane and Wally and have them drop me off on the way to their hotel.

I rubbed my forehead. Maybe the “L” was invisible.

I was about to order my fifth, sixth, or seventh martini when the bandleader called for all the single women to step out onto the floor for the bouquet toss.

Oh hell no. I grabbed my evening bag and ducked out. Diane would understand. It was an unwritten rule among besties. Act like a jerk at your BFF’s wedding, and she has to forgive you. At least that’s what I was telling myself, although with Diane, I might have to do some groveling.

I was almost to the lobby when my bag began to vibrate. I fished out my phone.

I hadn’t seen him in over a week and wasn’t sure how to answer. A smart, sober girl would have told him I couldn’t possibly see him that night, but I was neither smart nor sober. I opted to make him jealous instead.

My phone rang two seconds later.

“That’s not even funny,” he said when I answered.

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“It’s a wedding. Of course I’ve been drinking.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

He must be pretty sure of himself, expecting me to jump because he suddenly wanted to see me. It pissed me off that he was right, and that he knew damn well that in fifteen minutes, I’d be standing in front of the Marriott, holding my shoes and waiting.

I was also twirling my panties on the end of my finger when he pulled up.

Suzanne might be winning the battle, but the war wasn’t over—and I was very good in the trenches.

* * *

I woke the next morning with a hangover the size of New Jersey and Preston lying beside me. Since he rarely stayed over, I panicked, as if I were the one hiding something.

“Preston.” I shook him. “You fell asleep.”

He made a face. “And I was still asleep too.”

“It’s morning! Wake up!”

“Damn it, Rain. I know.”

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere?” I asked pointedly.

“I have nowhere else to be but here with you.” He rolled onto his back. When I didn’t respond, he peered at me through one sleepy lid.

“Seriously?” I asked.

He nodded. “It’s over. I told you it would happen. She finally gave me the boot.”

Finally. Despite my hangover, I climbed on top of him, grateful that I’d started on the pill, and showed him just how glad I was.

When the fog cleared a little later, I tried to remember if I’d misheard him. Because if he had been the one trying to break things off, why had Suzanne been the one to end it?