“Nice one,” I flirted back. It had to be the wedding flowers, making me drunk on happiness. “I’m with the bride.”
“I disagree,” he said with a smile. “You’re officially with me, and now that makes you a part of the groom’s family.”
“Who the hell are you?” I whispered with a laugh.
He glanced around with that same devilish grin he left me with last night. “The man you’re desperately grateful you ran into again. Now, Miss Annie,” he arched a knowing brow at me, “you are causing a scene, and this is the bride’s day. I’ll kindly ask you again to please be seated in this row, four chairs in.”
I felt some bizarre sense of familiarity with this handsome guy. His sexy smooth voice, and those eyes that spoke to my soul somehow. What in the hell did I do to capture his attention? How in the world am I meeting him randomly for the third time? Good God, stuff like this never happened, and it sure as heck didn’t happen to me.
“Fine,” I said, my heart hammering in my chest, now caught in his seductive gaze. “You can explain your screw up to the bride later,” I said, trying to hold my own against him.
“She’ll never know.” He winked as I walked to the seat that he’d ushered me to. “I look forward to seeing you at the reception,” he said and then turned to resume his wedding duties along with the men dressed in matching million-dollar wedding tuxedos.
How wealthy was this family? I spotted Mr. Johnson. That’s all I knew him as—Mr. Johnson, the father of the bride. Was I on some kind of strange high from seeing Mr. G. again? Yes. Absolutely, and I couldn’t wait for this to be over to meet him on the dance floor. I was drawn to the guy. It could just be the fact that it was his superficial fucking hot looks and the fact that he brought my female parts back to life—but I also had my own duties to attend to with this wedding.
I had to somehow weasel my way through all of these fashionable people to find Mr. Johnson and sincerely hope he gave half a damn I was even here. I glanced around at the romantic atmosphere—Clay and Joe would’ve died just seeing this place. This was beyond even my artistic mind’s dream. I took notice of the ballroom, filling fast with guests as they quickly took their seats. I leaned over and tried my best to conceal my phone to text Clay.
Ash: This place looks like I’m at some royal ceremony. I love you for helping me with my outfit.
Clay: I told you. Now, own it like the gorgeous babe you are. Xoxo! We want pics and details when you get home, girl.
I could feel Clay’s smile through his message. I owed him and Joe dinner for this. If it were up to me, I would’ve been hiding in a corner, wearing some cotton, casual dress, but my guys weren’t having any of that once they learned I was coming to the Fairmont for the wedding.
The music changed, and I relaxed confidently into my seat and prepared to watch the ceremony begin. The groom and his groomsmen were the first to enter from a front side door and stand on a stage of flowers and sparkles.
There he was, outshining everyone on stage…the man without a name who seemed to fall out of a dream and play into the real-life situation I was forced to go through alone. He stood taller than the rest, and his eyes went directly to mine. What the hell did he think about all of this? I was still stuck on how the hell I grabbed his attention after doing the most annoying thing that could happen to anyone—spilling an iced cold drink on him.
His eyes left mine, and an odd expression fell over his face when he looked to the back of the room. Then a challenging smile fell on his lips, prompting me to turn back and see the bitchy chick who was with him at the coffee shop. The one he said owed him. Her blonde hair was pulled up elaborately in a fashionable bun, and her eyes were on Mr. G. Her cheeks flushed red, her green eyes sparkling along with her silver gown. She seemed as captivated by him as I was.
Who wouldn’t be? Who’d ever heard of a groomsman stealing the beauty from the bride? I glanced around and smiled at the realization that all the young women my age had eyes continually drifting to the Greek god who was standing, sharply dressed in a tuxedo.
I sucked in a breath of excited nerves while the bridal march started, and we all stood to turn to acknowledge the bride.
Damn it, I was always too short, and I wasn’t going to catch a hint of my cousin walking down the aisle. I turned to look over my shoulder…obviously more interested in my dream guy. My breath caught when I noticed his smile and eyes on me, not the back of the room where my cousin was heading down the aisle.
He bit back a smile, my heart trying to jump out of my chest and up to where he stood regally and sexy as hell. I was some crazed fool who was captivated by this mystery man, and now I needed to stop gawking at him. I was going to figure out who he was exactly, and I was going to follow through with whatever happened. Third time meeting him? It was definitely a charm.
Chapter Three
Ash
The wedding ceremony was sweet in an old-fashioned way, all the way down to the scripted vows. Regardless of vows and songs played and prayers said over the couple, the ceremony was beautiful, and love was in the air.
I slid into the crowd of people being guided by the organizers to another area of the grand hotel for the reception. My trepidation of going to the wedding reception alone was replaced with the excitement of engaging with Mr. G again.
I had to remain focused on priority one, though. No matter how many times my focus shifted from the beautiful bride and her groom toward the sexy man who stood with the groomsmen, I kept my mind keenly aware of why I was here. The rest could sort itself out later.
The reception hall was not the rooftop experience from the night before. It was a more elegant atmosphere—of course—with silver and black décor enhanced by the lavish florals and greenery arranged with floating iridescent lighting, spotlighting everything to add a taste of romance.
I followed the attendant, who was speaking to someone in his earpiece, to one of the many tables blanketed with a shimmering silver cloth and arranged candles in a unique rectangular glass.
Table twenty-one was written in beautiful calligraphy against a foiled paper. The flowers in crystal vases smelled delicious, and after a cursory glance, it was easy to see that each arrangement probably cost over a hundred bucks each.
My lips twisted to see if I’d be the only one at what now seemed to be the leftover guest table, and I felt a twinge of nervousness wash over me.
No. I would not let myself be guided by the insecure Ashely Taylor, who previously did everything she could to get out of coming here. That Ashley would have me rudely running up to the Johnsons, tripping over words to thank them for what they did for my family, thoroughly embarrassing myself because I genuinely did not know these people from Adam. I was three the last time I saw any of them, and I had a shitty memory to start with—why would they think I could remember a cousin from twenty-five years ago?
“I was seated here,” a young man’s voice snapped me out of my daze as I absently sipped the glass of wine poured for me once I was settled at the table alone. “I hope I’m not taking anyone’s place.”
I smiled over at a younger man, gorgeous hazel eyes to match his smoothed-back, blond hair. He had to have just past legal drinking age, and his smile was quite contagious too. Might be a good conversation buddy, I thought, swallowing my wine.