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She began her vows, and Owen’s attention locked onto her. Mick’s slid to Zeta. He tried to stop it, but it just…did.
What did her skin smell like right now? Was she wearing perfume? Would her hair tickle his cheek if he pressed his lips to the subtle curve where her neck became her shoulder?
Stop it.
Yeah, stop it. What was going on with his brain? Maybe he needed to get a CAT scan? Maybe he was having a stroke? No, not possible. He wasn’t smelling burnt toast. And he was only in his thirties and healthy and fit and—
A raucous cheer jerked Mick back to the here and now. Bria and Owen were kissing. Seriously kissing. Serious-public-display-of-affection kissing.
He caught himself before he could check Zeta’s reaction. Instead, he clapped a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “Alright, alright, big brother,” he admonished loudly, grin wide. “Save it for later.”
Owen and Bria pulled apart, both tossing him a smirk. “Spoil sport,” Bria laughed.
And just like that, his gaze locked with Zeta’s again.
She studied him, bottom lip bit by her white, even teeth, a frown pulling at her forehead. She was always frowning at him. Why didn’t she like him? Everyone liked him.
Why are you worried?
He didn’t know. But it irked him. He was awesome. Sheshouldlike him.
Holy shit, Mick. Check your ego at the door, mate.
Still… Maybe he couldmakeher like—
“Mick?” Angus nudged him with an elbow. “You’re needed.”
He blinked.
“Signing time,” Angus muttered, indicating toward the small table to the side of the arbor draped in a white cloth and adorned with white roses and gum leaves. Bria was lowering herself into the seat as the celebrant pointed something out on the table in front of her. Owen was standing behind her, and beside him was Zeta.
Watching him.
Before he knew what he was doing, he smiled. For the briefest of seconds, the softest of smiles curled her lips, and everything in Mick’s world imploded.
Oh shit.
He had the hots for Zeta De Luca.
3
Zeta had never eaten a meal like the one served at the wedding reception.
“Angus,” she said, leaning forward over her plate full of crisp pork belly, corn puree, and almond croquet to look down the table at the chef. “This is incredible.”
Angus dipped his head. “Of course it is.”
She laughed, settling back into her seat to continue the first course of the wedding feast—all prepared by the staff of Angus’s restaurant. Her gaze found Mick’s, and for a heartbeat, they just stared at each other. Then he smiled, and a liquid shard of something intense and terrifying shot through her. Lust.
“I’m getting a drink,” she muttered, jolting to her feet.
If anyone at the table responded, she didn’t hear. She was already hurrying away across the empty dance floor—the one she was meant to be on in Mick’s arms soon.
What was going on with her?
The bar was devoid of guests when she got there. Phew, thank fucking God for that. She needed a drink to clear her head. “A gin and tonic, please.” The barkeeper, a very cute guy she would normally flirt with, nodded and turned away to start her order.
“No, wait,” she almost shouted. The barkeeper turned back. “Ice water.”
