He raises both hands. The woman beside him tilts her head against Dash’s shoulder.
“I’m Sunshine,” she says, cutting through the awkward silence. “Dash’s date.”
“Logan.” I extend my hand and she shakes it.
“Pearl’s been calling her the evil stepsister all week.” Her accent is sweet, slow, and southern. “Sounds like she’s not so evil after all.”
“Not so evil, no.” If there wasn’t something so disarming about Sunshine, I might put more effort into defending Rose, but something tells me she gets it. “They’re not even stepsisters. They’re half-siblings. Roger is her father.”
“Mm.” She nods slowly. “Interesting.” Then, brightening, “See you at dinner, darlin’. Nice to meet you. And glad that plane didn’t kill you.”
I let out a low laugh. “Yeah, me too. See you in a bit.”
Dash pats my arm as we pass, and I take the stairs back up to my room. I pass a few guests dressed for dinner but no one I know, which is a relief.
I’m down to twenty-two minutes. I think about showering and decide against it. I don’t want to wash Rose off me. I change into a white oxford and dark navy suit, swap my belt, pocket my room key, and head back down with time to spare.
I’d sent my gift for Roger and Johanna ahead of time. Pearl once told me bringing gifts to a wedding was tacky, and since I’d been to so few of them, I’d taken her word for it. None of my friends are married—Dash’s thing with Sunshine is new, and whatever Pearl and Tommy have going on sounds like a disaster.
I come in through the reception hall and take the corridor toward Rose’s and the restaurant. I’d offered to walk her over before I left her room, but she told me she’d meet me there.
I don’t know when it happened—when barely tolerating her became needing her close—but it has, and I feel nearly anxious without having her near.
My friends are already at the bar. I make my way over, nodding to Dash and Sunshine. Sunshine pulls me in and kisses my cheek before I can offer a hand. She’s warm in a way that seems to catch people off guard, especially standing next to Dash, who looks like he was assembled by a robot, with a pocket square and a scowl. That’s the Dash I know. Though when he glances at Sunshine, something in him loosens in a way I’ve never seen before.
“We stopped by your room,” Harlow says, hugging me. “Even on vacation, you’re impossible to pin down.”
“Sorry about that. What are you drinking?”
“Oh. A champagne would be lovely.”
I flag down the bartender and order for her, then a whiskey for myself. Griffin shoulders into the space beside me and drums his fingers on the bar.
“You coming off a bender?” I side-eye him.
He snorts and elbows me. “No. Ass. I’m just…” He exhales and turns, leaning back against the bar, surveying the room. “Bored.”
“Hmm. You want anything?” I ask while I’m ordering.
“Order me an old-fashioned, would you?”
I do, and when I hand it to him, I notice his eyes moving across the room. “Who are you looking for?”
He shrugs innocently. “Nothing.”
“You’re on the prowl, aren’t you?” I grab my drink and Harlow’s champagne, and we rejoin our friends.
“It’s a wedding,” he shoots back. “You’re supposed to be on the prowl. Desperate, lonely women, open bar.”
“You’re such a cliché,” Harlow says flatly. “If you spent half as much time working on your abrasive personality as you did sleeping around, you’d have a girlfriend by now.”
“I don’t want a girlfriend.” Griffin shudders. “I actuallywantto get laid.”
Sunshine grins. “Honey, those aren’t mutually exclusive. Unless you’re terrible in the sack, in which case, you’re better off playin’ leap frog.”
Harlow laughs into her champagne. I’m smiling when movement at the edge of the room pulls my attention.
“Damn. Baby sis is fucking fine tonight. Maybe I will get laid,” Griffin whistles.
