Twice Smitten (A Modern Fairy Tale) (2 page)

Greg would have been the last guy she’d ever have sex with. The guy she woke up to in the morning. The father of their two little perfect kids. They would have been the perfect couple, in the perfect house living a
Leave It to Beaver
life. Nothing wrong with that, except for the little detail of Abigail having to be perfect.

Drew saw perfection and did his damnedest to sully it up, which is why she gave his retreating back a side eye. He hadn’t come to her rescue out of kindness. No, Drew would ride up on a white stallion sans saddle just so he could make a crude joke about going bareback.

“He’ll be back. I’m sure of it,” Abigail muttered.

“Who is he anyway?” Emma stretched out her legs, slipping her feet out of the heels.

“You don’t remember her complaining about him all the time?” Sasha flicked a springy, red curl away from her fair and crossed her legs. She looked pliant and siren-like without attempting to. At a glance, no one would guess she held a position as an art professor at the local university and that in her spare time she had an obsession with painting.

If Abigail didn’t love the woman, she could hate Sasha a little. “I didn’t complain about him that much.”

“He’s a man-whoring lush. Direct quote.” Sasha tilted her head, eyes squinted at him. “He doesn’t look like a lush.”

“Trust me, he has a flask on his person.” Abigail frowned at the band in front. They were playing the greatest love ballads in a soft melody. The music echoed off the high cathedral ceilings. Didn’t stop people on the groom’s side from doing a double take at her in the back.

“Explain then, the slithering all over him.” Emma snorted when Abigail lightly punched her in the shoulder.

“I was promising retribution,” Abigail explained.

“With your tongue in his ear,” Sasha added.

“Tobias is such a bad influence on both of you.” Abigail slouched on the pew and hoped to change the focus of the conversation. Drew disappeared into a room and good riddance. “Considering the amount of conversations going on behind hands, I’d say people are surprised to see me here.”

“This is why ex-girlfriends don’t come to these things.” Emma leaned to the side. “Speaking of the devil…”

The same door Drew had gone into opened, and Greg stepped out. Handsome wasn’t a fair description. He had the kind of looks that made women stop mid-step, especially when he smiled. Like he was doing now, head turned in a side profile. Regret filled her mouth like bile.

“Huh,” she murmured. “This was a bad idea.”

Outside of Drew, two other men wore duck-tailed suits and filed out of the back room.

“How does that make you feel?” Sasha tried to joke, but it fell flat given the mood.

Abigail turned her gaze to the sign showing the church’s statistics, but that didn’t help because she started to wonder if Bride-to-be was a member. If Greg had finally found what he’d been searching for in religion and started to go himself.

There was no faux calm left in her voice. “It sucks, because even though I know in my gut he isn’t the one, my head says he should have been. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“He didn’t lie. Didn’t cheat,” Emma added into the hat.

Sasha pursed her lips. “He treated you like a queen.”

The ache in Abigail’s chest started again. “He loved me.”

“You loved him back.” Emma squeezed her hand.

“And still something was missing. If only I knew what the heck it was. That’s why I’m here. I want to know what it is.” She squeezed Emma’s hand back. “I see it with you and Tobias, but for the life of me I can’t put my finger on it.”

“You crashed his wedding,” Sasha said. “It might be safe to say the answer to the question is making you crazy.”

This time Abigail could laugh. Heads turned at the sudden sound from the back pew, and then it was only Greg’s gaze that mattered. Surprise came first, but it was the genuine happiness that tied her stomach into knots. Nadine stood at the same time Greg made his way down the aisle. His mother caught him by the third pew. Greg bent down to her ear. The older woman nodded but got in one last good I-will-bury-you-where-no-one-will-find-you glare at Abigail and sat down.

He slid onto the pew in front of them, facing her completely, smiling the smile that had made her wish for the missing
it
factor. The one that made Abigail wish her heart skipped because oh, my God he was smiling at her like
that
. Her heart only warmed because he looked so happy.

“You came,” he said simply, his voice husky and familiar. “You brought the gang as I hoped.” He nodded to Sasha and Emma. The smile went lopsided with good ol’ boy charm. “Wearing black and broken hearts. Good friends as usual.”

“You would notice.” Abigail smiled back at him. “Congratulations. Can’t wait to meet the lucky woman.”

“You’d rather get your toenails pulled out with pliers.” He chuckled. “I can promise you’ll hate her down to her Chanel pearls, but I love her, Abby. I adore her down to her Chanel pearls.”

There
it
is
. The knot eased in her gut. Maybe guilt played a little part in her coming to the wedding. When you break someone’s heart into a million unidentifiable pieces, you worry about them. One might even feel like crap, too, for having done the breaking. One might think, maybe, I’ll be the one who screws him up for the rest of the world.

So, Abigail might have skewed him. She had that effect on men, but he was fine. She let out a quiet breath. “She put that look on your face. I like her already,” and the words were sincere.

The music grew louder and he turned his head to the front. Drew met his cousin’s gaze and tapped his watch. Greg stood. “That’s my cue.” He started to leave and stopped to lean over the pew. In a whisper, he added, “Watch out for my mom.”

“Already alert.” He raised one hand in good-bye and then walked away without turning around. “That was so adult of me,” she said to her friends.

“It was,” Emma agreed.

Abigail nodded. “So you know what that means?”

“You have to get incredibly drunk at the reception?” Sasha asked.

“It’s the only way to balance the scales.” The hairs along Abigail’s arms stood up.

Her gaze went straight to the front of the church. Instead of latching onto Greg, her gaze went to Drew. A slow smile started at the corner of his mouth. It seemed to promise debauchery and many, many sinful things she should not be thinking about her ex-fiancé’s cousin. Her heart skipped at the silent promise. He winked as the smile widened.

Abigail blinked. “Bad idea.”

“But we’re professionals at those,” Sasha said.

Abigail tore her gaze from the smile. One bad idea she wouldn’t try a
veni vedi vici
method. Not even she was that masochistic.

*****

The male maturity noose was the first to go. Drew hated the things. He set the tie down next to the silver charger plate that held barely palatable breaded chicken. Yvonne, the bride, belted it down, but the reason could be how much the food cost and how long she’d probably went without eating to fit into the wedding gown.

The designer’s name had been bandied about like she was an actual relative coming to the wedding. Yvonne’s usually coiffed ebony hair was curled in tight spiral loops around her face. A grimace marred her beautiful face when she noticed his stare. Drew could feel the threat of polite conversation. He cleared his throat, about to speak, when a crush of people stood and headed to the back of the rented hall.

“The wet bar is open,” he said in relief.

Greg swallowed his champagne before he spoke, “Go for it, man. You still have to be eloquent and poignant for the speech.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Look at it this way, I’ll never disown you if you screw it up.”

Drew took in the room, half filled with their relatives who considered him the family fuck up. He wasn’t a doctor or a lawyer. Most didn’t know what he did. With his background, they probably assumed he made money through crime.

The last thought made him smile. In a way he was a con man. He sold advice to advertisement companies. Probably, indirectly, even had sold ice to an Eskimo. He was the black sheep, but everyone dressed in formal wear, degrees lining the walls of their corner offices and initials added to their names, were herding like sheep to the wet bar. Like he was about to. Life always came down to common denominators.

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one worth the trouble,” Drew said.

The champagne glass stopped at Greg’s lips. “Are we having a Kodak moment?”

“You wish, you softie.”

Drew kept back the questions about Abby. He’d seen the exchange before the ceremony. There hadn’t been tears. Abigail wouldn’t make a spectacle of herself to begin with, but he’d expected a lot more emotion from the woman facing the man she walked away from. Instead, she’d looked happy. When their gazes met she looked disturbed and a little irritated. Without meaning to, he searched for her in the crowd. He found her halfway from the front of the line.

“Duty calls.” Drew shed his jacket.

The sudden freedom had his limbs loose and made it child’s play for the smile to charm his way right behind Abby, but then an idea took hold. Direct contact was too easy to get a rise out of her.

He slid behind the redhead and whispered in her ear, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Drew,” the redhead said. “Right?”

A man had to be dead in order to not feel a punch to his gut when in this woman’s sights. “Right. So, what are you drinking?”

“Nothing you have to offer. You cut in line,” Abigail stated the obvious.

Drew tsked. “I’m speaking to her.” He placed himself between them and put his back to Abby, which wasn’t the smartest thing to do when she had murder in mind. “And you are?”

The woman’s hazel eyes sparkled up at him. “It’s Sasha.”

“Oh. Russian origin and usually reserved for a man’s nickname.” He sucked in a telling breath. “But, you are definitely not a man.”

Crooking her finger, she motioned for him to lean down. Kissable lips fluttered against his ear. “She’s going to gut you for that.”

Drew laughed as he pulled back. “Hoping for it.”

“Really?” Her brows arched in interest.

“How long do you think it’s going to take?”

Ruby-red stained lips pursed. “You might have a minute.” She placed a hand on his chest. “Get me a bourbon.” She moved her warm hand and pointed to a table where the other friend sat. “Bring it there.” Leaning forward again, she whispered, “I’m getting the hell out of dodge.”

“You so much as watch her walk away I will poke your eyes out,” Abigail said behind him.

To add fuel to the fire, Drew cupped his hands in front of his chest when he faced her. “She’s a grown woman.”

The line moved forward and he went with it. Abigail snatched his wrist and yanked down his hand. “That’s my friend. She’s nice. She’s smart. She’s not your type.”

He covered the scowl with a smile. “And what is my type, Abby?”

She blew out a puff of air and started to scout the room. The wedding colors of burnt-orange and silver decorated the walls. Some of the orchid arrangements placed in the middle of the tables made conversations hard unless you were willing to lean to the side and chat. There were more people at the reception than the ceremony, at least three hundred. Still, it took her a full five seconds to find what she believed was his type.

“There,” she said.

Drew already knew which woman she’d point at before Abby’s head notched to the front of the bar. If it were possible to wear less clothes and still be decent, Drew couldn’t imagine it.

“Cute,” he bit out.

“I know, she is. Not bad, Carter.”

“No, your choice is cute.” A thread of tension leaked out in his words. “I wouldn’t date her in a million years.”

“No one said anything about dating.”

He snorted. “Doesn’t change the fact I wouldn’t.”

She crossed her arms. “So, what’s your type?”

He met her gaze and said without any hesitation, “Smart. Sexy and knows it and flaunts it tastefully.”

“You think G-strings are tasteful. Surprising.”

He let it slide, because the coup de grace was next. “I have a thing for short women with sharp chins and chocolate-brown eyes. It’s my weakness.”

“Oh.” She scouted the room again, and from the way Abby said the single word, the connection was lost on her.

Of course, them, together would never cross her mind. If for whatever reason his cousin wasn’t the perfect man, Drew damn sure wouldn’t make the ticket. And from the type of woman she’d picked, his former reputation preceded him. The notion dug under his skin and turned his mouth sour. He placed his hands on her shoulder and turned Abigail to the table where the friends sat, watching.

“There. The one with the broken-heart necklace. Sharp chin. She’s smart. Sexy as hell and she whispered in my ear.” He groaned softly. “And I liked it.”

As though trying to feed an infant vegetable goo from a jar, Abby shook her head adamantly. “Sasha’s off limits.”

“Ok.” He forced an affable tone into his voice. “The one next to her. The women that look sweet and quiet are—”

“I will rip out your tongue if you finish that sentence.”

“Such violence.” His cock tightened at the passion in her voice. “One would think you like me.”

“I love my friends.”

And there was his in. “You will do anything for them?”

“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation. “And the sweet, quiet one is engaged to a former cop.”

A laugh burst from him. She thought he was a criminal. His reputation rolled out a red carpet of misinformation. Absolutely wonderful. “Definitely not my type then.” He made a sound of disappointment and met her gaze. She probably had no idea how much desire filled her brown irises when she looked at him like that. “What exactly do you think I do for money?”

“You’re rolling in it, so nothing honest, I’m sure.” She shrugged one shoulder, but kept her body turned toward him.

“Define honest.” He stepped forward and she moved too, without noticing the telling action.

“Something your family knows you do.” She ticked off a finger. “Something that requires you to file your taxes. Something that isn’t a sales pitch that ruins people’s lives.”