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“You’re good at this,” Matt said softly as he drew me across the dance floor. His hand sat at the small of my back again, hot and pressing me to him.
“Strengthen your frame,” I replied, wobbling his arm. “Lock it in. There should be a space between us.”
“Now, is that really what you want?”
“Yes,” I said stiffly.
“You need to loosen up.”
“Haven’t you listened to a thing I’ve said?”
Matt laughed, a soft noise that sent shivers over my skin. He led me, and I allowed it, only for the sake of demonstrating the correct form to the other groomsmen. The music seeped through the hall, and my heart skipped beats. It was slow and romantic, and I felt tempted to lean into his embrace.
Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with me.
“I was thinking we should catch up,” he said quietly. “About what happened.”
“I was thinking we should avoid each other. That makes more sense, don’t you think?”
“Hmm, it would if we didn’t have to spend every spare second with each other for the next week.”
“Huh?”
“The wedding party. Emmy’s got a whole itinerary lined up,” he said, pausing to twirl me in a circle then catch me again.
I lost my breath. I brought it back swiftly. Don’t let him do this to you. It was the exact same charm that had landed me in trouble in the first place. The closed-off hardness veiling the soft charm beneath. It made a girl feel special.
But I wasn’t a girl anymore, and I wasn’t falling for this.
“You’ve stopped dancing,” he said.
I picked up the step again. “You shouldn’t do anything fancy like that on the dance floor. On the wedding day. It will only mess things up. We might bump into someone.”
“I like the idea of doing this again.”
“Matt, what are you doing?”
“I believe they call it dancing,” he replied, again with that slow smile.
My heart squeezed. “You’re being nice. We shouldn’t be nice. We should ignore each other.”
“Hard to do, since we’ll be spending so much time together,” he whispered, drawing me closer, his breath brushing over my ear and heating it.
“Frame,” I said, wobbling his arm and drawing back. “Strengthen it.”
“You know, Emmy will think it’s mighty weird if we start acting like we hate each other. You’re going to have to pretend. For her sake.”
“We both will.”
Matt didn’t answer, just held my gaze. Why was he so intense? It was difficult to look away.
“There’s a party tonight,” he said. “The co-bachelor and bachelorette party. You’ll be there.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” I hinged on the brink of stepping on his toes. “Because you won’t get far with that attitude.”
He chuckled again. “We’ll all be there, Summer. And we should talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about,” I replied, and separated from him. I clapped my hands, raising my voice to the gathering of swaying men and women. Some of them hadn’t listened to a word I’d said and had lost their rhythm completely. Others, like Chastity and her partner, were pressed together, grinding instead of dancing.
“All right, everyone,” I called. “That’s it for today. Great job.”
Emilia and Scott, her groom, a guy with kind eyes and a shaved head, came over. “That was awesome, Summer. Thank you so much. I can’t wait to do this again.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I turned toward Matt to thank him—it was the civil thing to do, and he had a point about pretending for Emilia’s sake—but he was already on his way to the door, his phone out and a frown wrinkling his tan forehead.
“There goes Matt,” Emmy said, shaking her head. “He’s always on his phone.”
“Maybe he’s finally got a girlfriend.” Scott held Emilia around the waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Weren’t you saying the other day how you wanted to set him up?”
“I haven’t set him up yet,” Emmy said. “And I don’t think it would matter.”
“Why?” I asked.
“He’s like you,” Emilia replied. “Allergic to emotional relationships.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s go get brunch. Tonight’s the party! I want to get your opinion on my outfit, and after that, we’re all going to get waxed.”
“What?!” Scott let go of his fiancée.
“Not you, dingus.” Emmy pinched his cheek. “The women.”
“Thank god for that.”
I laughed along with Emilia, though I wasn’t in the slightest entertained. He’s like me. No, no, he wasn’t. The only thing that Matt and I had in common was that we’d made the same mistake twelve years ago.
Chapter Four
Matt
“Can you hear me?” I placed the phone to my ear, dipping into the short hall off the restaurant’s bar area.
The pre-drinks portion of the bachelor-bachelorette party had started, and the noise from the speakers was insane. A thumping electro-dance number that was right up Emilia’s alley.
“Melanie?”
“Yes, sir, I can hear you.” My assistant’s tone was croaky, different. “I’m sorry for calling you late, but I had to talk to you about what’s going on.”
