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Chapter 1
Hazel
“Here come the strippers!” Carly, the bride, clapped her hands and jostled around in her seat, almost dislodging the glittery wings we’d attached to the back of her ‘Til Death Do Us Shot t-shirt before the bachelorette party.
The grand doors to the resort hall swung inward and the song Macho Man pumped through the speakers overhead. Men in all shapes and sizes, some genuinely attractive, entered, wearing fancy suits and cheesy grins.
They formed a line at the front, already tapping their feet to the rhythm.
I groaned and sank down in my seat. “No, no, no,” I whispered.
Can you say, awkward?
“Lighten up, gorgeous,” Carly said and pinched my nose. “You’re going to love it. Come on! It’s Hawaii. You’ve got to live a little. Shake the dust off your thong.”
“I love that you think I’m wearing a thong,” I replied and twinkled a smile in her direction.
This was her weekend, after all, and I wanted all the happiness in the world for her.
It was just that chiseled guys in speedos and bow ties weren’t my thing.
Sure, I liked hot guys – who didn’t, am I right? – and some would say this was the perfect way to get over an ex, but the idea of a dude waggling his junk inches from my nose didn’t do it for me.
Particularly after having my heart dragged across the jagged rocks out on the beach.
Tha-thump, tha-thump, flat line. Sleep tight, Hazel.
What kind of asshole dumped a girl in Hawaii, right before a wedding, which, ahem, may I add, we were both attending?
My ex-boyfriend, Jacob, that was who.
“I have literally never been this excited,” Carly said and lifted her mimosa. She slurped on the end of the straw and left a magenta lipstick stain behind. She tossed her long blond locks, then nudged my arm. Alcohol splashed onto my jeans, right at the crotch.
Perfection. Of course, that would happen to me.
Carly sloped her arm around my neck and hugged me close. “Drink it, don’t spill it! You need to loosen up, Hazey, darling. Things are about to get wild.” She wriggled her penciled eyebrows at me.
“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d shake you,” I said.
She threw back her head and laughed, then broke into song. “Macho, macho, man!”
The other bridesmaids sang along with her, hopping to their feet and stomping around, wiggling their hips. The strippers, dear god help me, ripped off their pants as one and revealed glitzy thongs underneath.
Hey, at least they’re not wearing speedos. Or strategically placed leis.
Thank heavens, Carly hadn’t asked me to take photos of tonight’s event.
“Get up!” Carly shrieked.
I rose to my feet, painfully aware of the stain on my jeans, and the logo on my shirt, Bad and Boozy Bridesmaid, and attempted an unenthused shimmy.
The men approached, removing their shirts, one button at a time, still grinning and humping the air in front of them. My cheeks heated, and the inside of the hall, down lights, parquet flooring and all, swam around me.
Can’t do this. Not after what happened. I sucked in a breath and let it out again. No, Hazel, get it together! This isn’t about you or your shitty ex-relationship. This is Carly’s weekend.
But it was all too much. Every single dude wore Jacob’s grin – the expression which said, “Sorry, not sorry I’m dumping you.”
I swayed and bit my lip, then spotted Carly’s empty mimosa glass. I snatched it up. “Anyone need another drink?!” I yelled.
The other bridesmaids hooted and thrust empty glasses in my direction. I swiped a silver tray off the little round table we’d been sitting at and loaded them up, along with my own. “Be right back, ladies. Have fun!”
None of them heard me, and it was a damn good thing, since I had slurred half of the words out of sheer panic.
I scurried between the tables and toward the bar at the other end of the room, gaze fixed on the bartender there – a young weasel-looking dude in a dress shirt and tie. I clattered the tray onto the bar top and exhaled a long, thin stream of relief.
Christ, this was nightmarish.
Why? Why couldn’t I keep it together? Or rather, why hadn’t Jacob broken up with me before we’d flown all the way out here?
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried stilling my mind.
“It’s okay,” I muttered under my breath.
“I’d say it’s more than okay, bad and boozy bridesmaid.” The deep rumble came from my right and set all the nerves I possessed tingling. And not the bad ones either.
I cracked one eyelid and then the other, shifted my gaze from the empty lipstick-stained glasses, to the man who leaned on the bar at my side.
His ocean-blue eyes sparkled beneath the bar’s down light, which also cast a shadow on one side of his face, right in the crook of his nose, which had been broken at some point if the kink in the bridge was anything to go by. Lips, not too full, just right – hmm, just like Goldilocks’ bed – curled back over perfectly white teeth.
