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His eyes narrowed. My stomach fluttered. I couldn’t explain why.
“Thanks,” I said tentatively.
His emerald gaze flicked to Kyle before the now-disgruntled best man disappeared out the door, then returned to me. “Try to be a little more careful.”
“Right.” I bristled slightly at the admonishment but brushed it off. I needed to leave, yet my feet remained rooted where they were. His mesmerizing gaze held me captive. I couldn’t breathe again. It took several seconds to return to myself and head to the door.
“Ari.”
His tone was low this time. Rich. Sensual. The warm timbre worked its way through my body and slid slowly, tantalizingly down my spine. Chasing away the apprehension. Making me shiver and inciting a tickle along my clit that had my inner walls clenching as my thighs pressed together.
I glanced back. “Yes?” My voice was suddenly much too soft and breathy. I was deeply aroused by the way he so intimately said my name—the fact that he’d paid close enough attention to pick up on it.
His jaw clenched briefly. Then he asked, “Are you all right?”
I stared at him for several suspended seconds. Why did it matter to him?
Given his size and agility, he probably felt duty bound to rescue girls like me, who never went looking for trouble but somehow inadvertently found it from time to time.
“Sure,” I finally said, then dragged my gaze away and forced myself to walk out.
I left the bar and directed the men to their places by Tamera, an electric current moving under my skin even though I’d broken the intense eye contact and was no longer in the riveting presence of the devilish stranger.
The changing of color overhead began. The cumulous clouds had miraculously thinned into wispier ones and they captured the light as the sun burned through them, dispersing it in all directions so that fiery blood-orange, gold, and vermillion painted the sky and cast dazzling hues over the sparkling water.
From a parquet platform set off to the side, a pianist and harpist took their cue and eased into a gorgeously haunting version of Aaliyah’s “One in a Million.” The last of the guests settled in and I signaled the bridesmaids. The adorable six-year-olds serving as ring bearer and flower girl followed.
I slipped off to get the bride, my gaze flitting toward the restaurant, my interest thoroughly piqued.
Bax. What kind of a name was that? First? Last? Short for Baxley or Baxter? I shook my head. No, he definitely did not seem like a Baxter.
Who was he and what had made him come so swiftly to my defense? Even when it had just been Kyle flirting with me, Bax had seemed disturbed by it.
Curiosity clawed at me. I was dying to figure out what the hell had happened in less than fifteen minutes that had compelled him to save me from the claim two men had instantly staked.
A rumble of thunder in the distance caught my attention, pulling me from my errant thoughts. I entered the cottage and prepped Meghan for her breath-stealing appearance. As her father escorted her down the aisle, my eyes flashed from the sky to the bridal party to the guests and back. I silently prayed the weather would hold out. I wanted everything to be perfect, but I couldn’t control the climate—nor could I keep my mind from wandering. I swore I felt his gaze again. But that was impossible. He wasn’t one of the guests.
Clearly, I wanted to feel his gaze.
Heat blazed through me at the mere thought of him, making me uncomfortable, what with the addition of the thick humidity. I wiped a bead of perspiration from my brow. I was more than intrigued, though I doubted that was wise. He wasn’t the kind of man one trifled with, and he was quite obviously out of my league. Way too potent, likely the reason for all of that forewarning in his eyes.
Unfortunately, he lingered in my thoughts.
The ceremony turned out flawless—to the casual observer. No wedding ever went off without a hitch, but it was how you smoothed the wrinkles with no one noticing there was a hiccup that made an event a true success.
During the vows, I checked in with the staff responsible for the cocktail reception and the band that would entertain the guests while the bridal party and parents posed for pictures. They were all on standby to move everything indoors at a moment’s notice.
Then I headed into the lodge to confirm the dinner preparations were all seen to. I took in the formal setting with a critical eye, ensuring the floral arrangements and intricate decorations were in their appropriate place, all of which created a no-expense-spared ambience—yet another reason I meticulously surveyed the surroundings.
Inspecting the rounds of ten filling the enormous ballroom, and the extended head table at the far end where floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the strategically lit grounds and red-rock formations, I spied a few fixables.
Lifting a tulip champagne flute, I said to the Banquet Manager following me around, “This glass has spots.” I handed it over, noting the tremble in my fingers. That was odd. I was usually a very steady person when in my element. But everything about the potentially dangerous encounter in the bar had left me a bit off-kilter.
I examined the plates and flatware to make sure they were all polished. Found two more glasses with smudges. A few napkins with slightly tattered edges. Votives that needed to be replaced. The staff rushed about, adjusting everything to my specifications.
I wasn’t obnoxiously OCD. People paid me good money to ensure every little detail was taken care of and that their event was extraordinary and memorable. I owed it to them to have the food and wine served on time. To make sure no one waited for plates to be cleared from in front of them. To keep servers on their toes so they delivered another fork to a guest before the first one even hit the floor.
My painstaking attention to all facets of the process from start to finish was also born of the incessant need to occupy every waking second of my day and keep my mind on all things fresh and new and awe-inspiring—like the symbolism that weddings and other events evoked. I put substantial effort into stepping away from the pain wrapped around my parents’ hostile, failed marriage and the inevitable suffering that came from being an only child caught in the cross fire.
