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Some Asshole
He’s also really good friends with Ethan and is married to one of my sister’s best friends.
Some Asshole
Stop drooling.
I dug my fingernail into Dean’s thigh, and he hissed. “Jesus. Put the claws away.”
The salad course was served, and I mostly kept to myself, though Gem, Bronte, and Sam pulled me into their conversations about Gem and her children with her husband, Jason. Sam talked about the backpacking trip she’d taken with her husband, Mike. And Bronte and CJ were in the middle of some story about their dog when the DJ’s voice came over the microphone, inviting Justin to deliver his best man’s speech.
Ethan’s brother looked nothing like him, and Dean filled in the gaps for me, explaining that they were both adopted, and Marcela, the woman who’d read during the ceremony, was Ethan’s birth mom. Justin’s speech was short and a bit halting because of his Huntington’s disease, and when he finished, both Ethan and Laney gave him teary-eyed hugs. Then it was Dean’s turn.
He strolled over to the DJ’s booth, where he’d hidden his guitar. He settled the strap over his shoulder and stood at the microphone with a smile. “Hello, I’m Dean, Delaney’s brother and one of Ethan’s best friends. I’ve had the distinguished pleasure of seeing two of my favorite people grow from idiot kids in love into…relatively smarter adults in love.”
That earned laughs from the crowd, and I leaned my elbows on the table, sinking into this drunken feeling like I could listen to him forever.
“In lieu of a speech and in place of a toaster oven, I have something else for you,” he told the bride and groom. He plucked a few chords on his guitar, and Ethan held out his hand to Laney, guiding her back out to the middle of the dance floor once again. Dean sang in a surprisingly smooth voice “You Can’t Hurry Love” as they swayed.
I found myself grinning like an idiot kid in love, even when Dean’s eyes met mine over the expanse of the dance floor. His smile grew as his hands continued playing that sweet song about being patient to find love, and it felt like he was singing directly to me.
With the last notes of the song, Ethan dipped Laney back and kissed her throat to raucous applause, for not only the couple but for Dean, too. He lifted his hand in recognition, set his guitar back down, and made his way back to the table. He was greeted by backslaps and fist bumps, but when he sank down into his chair, he wrapped his hand around my neck again, asking softly, “So, how’d I do?”
My attention slipped to his lips for a moment before I forced it back to his eyes. “I think you need to be very careful who you point that guitar and charisma at, Hargrove.”
He grinned and squeezed my neck then let his hand drift down my back.
I didn’t know what I was more afraid of. The way he had looked at me just then, like what I thought about him really mattered. Or the way he touched me, like he already owned me and he’d have me, no matter what.
Either way, I was pretty sure I lost the game.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Taylor
We ate and danced and drank to our heart’s content. As Dean had promised, there was no “YMCA” or “Cupid Shuffle,” but there was quite an assorted playlist. Some for the older crowd, some classic rock sing-alongs, and some that had me clinging close to Dean, his hands branding my back with his fingerprints. I didn’t know if I could ever wear this dress again.
If I did, it would only remind me of the night I learned Dean Hargrove was heart-wrenchingly sentimental with his friends and family and also quite territorial with me. After a few rounds of shots with his high school buddies, he’d found me chatting with a man named Declan, who was one of Ethan’s cousins…I thought.
But with the way Dean’s eyes narrowed on us, he might as well have been an interloper stealing the wedding gifts. Dean slid his hand around my waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Yeah? Not real hard, then.” I gestured to the space around me. “I’ve been right here.”
Declan chuckled, but Dean silenced him with a glare then looked back to me. “Making friends?”
“We were just chatting,” Declan offered.
“Yeah, I had to keep myself occupied.”
Dean’s brow rose. “You ever hear the phrase, you dance with the guy who brung ya?”
“No, and as I’ve repeatedly informed you, you need to work on your grammar. It’s atrocious.”
Declan snickered, and Dean aimed another scowl his way. “Excuse us.”
With his palm between my shoulder blades, he steered me away from Declan and to the dance floor, where I let him lead me in a slow dance even as I said, “That was rude.”
“I don’t care. I know for a fact that guy has so much sex I’m surprised he doesn’t have the clap.”
