I was loading plates into the dishwasher when Delaney appeared beside me.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Really. You have no idea what a relief this is.”
“I’m glad I can help.”
“I don’t want to feel obliged though. You don’t have to do this as some sort of way to buy yourself into the family. We love that you’re…”
“I promise, it’s not like that. I feel more comfortable when I have a camera in my hand. Honestly, this will probably make everything easier for me. Consider it a selfish gift,” I joked. Well, mostly joked.
She softly smiled in understanding, and then squeezed my arm and moved away, leaving me alone with the dishes and my thoughts.
Through the window above the sink, I could see Dex outside. He was standing by his truck, just like before dinner, but this time he looked up at the house.
Right at me.
Even from this distance, I could feel the weight of his gaze. The intensity. The same way he’d looked at me at the bar before everything went wrong.
My breath caught.
Then he was getting in his truck, the taillights disappearing down the drive, and I was left standing at the sink with my hands in soapy water and my heart beating too fast.
Eight weeks.
I’d committed to eight weeks of this.
“What did I just do?” I whispered to the empty kitchen.
No answer came. Only the sound of laughter from the other room, and the knowledge that I’d just made my summer infinitely more complicated.
Chapter 8
DEX
Imade it exactly three miles from the farm before I had to pull over.
My hands were shaking on the steering wheel. My chest felt too tight. My mind was racing with the reality of what had just happened.
Eight weeks.
Eight weeks of wedding planning. Eight weeks of events where I’d have to see her, be near her, pretend I didn’t remember every second of that night at the bar.
Eight weeks of torture.
Why hadn’t I considered this before? She was here for the entire summer, and even if she hadn’t been involved inevery aspect of the wedding planning, it still would have been impossible to avoid her.
And like an idiot I’d told Trace months ago that I’d help him. Booker was his best man but he was busy with the rehabilitation centre at the ranch getting busy so I’d offered to step in. To pick up the slack when Booker couldn’t be available. And there was nothing in Booker’s personality that said he was the kind of person that would be happy to go and agonise over six different flavours of cake for an hour. Cake was cake to Booker. Well, cake was cake to most people, but never to a bride.
I sat on the side of the road, head tilted back against the seat, trying to breathe normally.
Leigh had looked beautiful tonight. Not that she hadn’t been beautiful before, but tonight there’d been something different. A softness. She’d been laughing at something Blake said when I walked in, and the sound had hit me like a physical blow.
And then she’d offered to photograph the wedding, and I’d watched my only escape route disappear.
My phone buzzed in the cup holder. Unknown number. My heart stopped.
Unknown:This is Leigh. Blake gave me your number. We need to talk.
I stared at the text for a long moment. I could ignore it. Pretend I never saw it. Drive home and deal with this later.
