As if his thoughts had been broadcast aloud, Bethany straightened from her lean across the long banquet table and pinned him with a look that could only be described as haughty—and Wes barely knew what the hell that word meant.
We can still pretend to hate each other, if it makes you feel better about accepting my help. Hadn’t Wes given her that assurance?
Looked like she’d taken it to heart.
Bethany turned fully and cocked a hip, sweeping him with a concerned glance. “Wow, get a load of you. Did you get lost on the way to a cattle auction or something?”
Wes’s lips tried their damndest to curl into a smile, but sheer will and a lot of practice kept his expression bland. “Nope, I’m in the right place,” Wes said, sauntering toward Bethany. “The directions said if I passed Resting Bitch Face, I’ve gone too far.”
Her smile was sweet. “Feel free to keep going until you fall off a cliff.”
He tucked his tongue into his cheek and leaned in to speak near her ear—and if she thought he didn’t notice the goosebumps that appeared on her neck, she was sorely mistaken. “You smell different. Where’ve you been all day?”
Her quick intake of breath turned into a scoff. “None of your business, knockoff Lone Ranger.” With a single finger planted in the center of his chest, she pushed him back several inches. “But if you must know, we’ve been at the spa. Massages, facials, and waxing.” She used that same finger to tap his upper lip. “Someday when you’re old enough to grow facial hair, I’ll make you an appointment.”
Wes could only laugh at the ridiculousness of that insult. “And I’ll book a specialist to saw down your cloven hooves.”
“I like them sharp.”
“Yeah?” He stepped back into her personal space, just enough to feel the tips of her breasts against his chest. “Well, come on, then, darlin’. Dig them in.”
Pink coasted over her complexion and satisfaction fisted in his gut. Sparring with Bethany was better than sex. What was it about this woman that made him feel like his skin was elastic? He could still remember the first time she’d stepped out of her Mercedes on the construction site, all sleek composure, gorgeous legs, and attitude. Before she’d taken two steps, he’d made up his mind to sleep with her. She’d had other ideas.
“I thought we only hired college kids in the summertime,” she’d said to her brother, eyeing Wes with distaste.
Wes had crossed his arms. “That must be hard, considering you probably create winter wherever you go.”
She’d gasped. “Are you calling me an ice princess?”
“If the tiara fits.”
“I’ll take a tiara over your Clint Eastwood hand-me-downs.”
“Remind me who that is? He might be better known among your generation.”
Funny, the memory didn’t give him the same kick of satisfaction it used to. Maybe it had something to do with that peek beneath her perfect top coat when he’d quit Brick & Morty to help her on the Doomsday Flip? Was a glimpse underneath her exterior his objective all along, with all the teasing and name-calling? Now that he’d gotten that preview of the real Bethany Castle, he surely wouldn’t mind seeing more.
Although, had he already screwed himself by becoming the man who bit back?
Wes stepped back. “Where is everyone?”
“I dropped the ladies off at my place to change. My parents are picking them up on the way.” She straightened a napkin, but he noticed her flush was still intact. “I came early to make sure everything was just right.”
Although his knowledge was slim to none when it came to tabletop design—or design of any kind, really—Wes had to admit she’d killed it. There were little fresh white flowers cut short and arranged in mason jars filled with fairy lights. Tasteful stands spaced evenly apart on the table held candid pictures of Georgie and Travis. Notecards with everyone’s names written on them in script sat in the center of each plate. He didn’t have to do any sleuthing to know she’d placed him as far away from her as possible.
He pointed toward the far end of the table. “That wine glass has a smudge.”
“What?”
As soon as Bethany turned to handle the phantom smudge, Wes pilfered Stephen’s name card and switched it with his, putting him on Bethany’s right.
“I don’t see anything,” Bethany said, lifting the glass to inspect it. Their eyes met through the goblet, magnifying her sexy pout. “Very funny.”
“No one would have noticed a smudge.”
“I would have.”
“You notice everything.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Wes smiled.
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but he was saved from her finding out about the name-card switch when the rest of their party appeared at the restaurant’s entrance.
Wes saluted the new arrivals. Dominic kept his head down and stuck to the sidelines, scouting for Rosie. Stephen rolled in like a ball of nervous energy and Travis strutted through the awestruck patrons like the goddamn mayor. If Wes didn’t like the son of a bitch so much, he’d hate him.
The Castle parents walked in behind Travis, their entrance causing a ripple of comforting energy in the small room. Everyone in town revered Morty and adored Vivian. In the short time he’d lived in Port Jefferson, he’d learned they were an institution. Half the town had either sold their homes to the Castles or purchased one from them—and the rest would get there all in good time.
Wes hung back and watched Bethany, as was becoming his unbreakable habit. How she kissed her parents, guiding her father to his seat with one hand, taking her mother’s coat with the other. She nailed Travis with a well-placed quip, softening it with a grudging smile. Then she mouthed Dominic his wife’s ETA.
Bethany was a graceful, flawless one-woman welcoming committee, and she was ridiculously out of Wes’s league. That unfortunate fact didn’t keep him from thinking about her nonstop, now, did it?
She turned and caught his eye over her shoulder, the candlelight giving her complexion a rosy glow, and something heavy clenched in his gut. Not sure if he wanted to explore the growing frequency of that reaction, Wes pulled out his chair and sat down. Bethany’s mouth formed an O, her attention dropping to the swapped name card. “Wes,” she said through her teeth.
He winked. “Howdy, neighbor.”
Lucky for Wes, the female contingency joined the party at that moment, or Bethany might have stabbed him with a butter knife. Instead, she was rendered speechless by her little sister. Georgie was dressed in an off-white, form-fitting dress with long sleeves and an abbreviated hem and her legs looked about fifteen miles long in the silver pumps she’d borrowed from Bethany’s closet. How could this be the same person who’d once gotten her braces stuck to a radiator valve?
Bethany had almost missed the chance to know Georgie better. What if they hadn’t ended up in that stupid Zumba class all those months ago? They’d opened up to each other by accident that night, sprawled on the floor in their workout gear. Sure, Bethany would still have planned this party. They would still be sisters, break bread on the occasional Sunday, buy each other Christmas presents. But they were friends now, too.
God, she was so grateful for that. And now, in just two short days, the scruffy tomboy was getting married. Bethany’s sight started to blur and, with visions of running mascara in mind, she tipped her face up toward the ceiling, begging the tears to ebb. She couldn’t very well host this dinner with raccoon eyes. Pull it together.