The Wedding Date Disaster (Harbor City 4)

It was an accident. A onetime fluke. A what-the-fuck-is-the-universe’s-problem-with-Will-anyhow fuckup. It wasn’t like he’d gone in there expecting to kiss his nemesis. Hell, he’d gone in that coat closet to get away from all the forced cheer of everyone glad-handing for donations. All he’d wanted was five minutes of peace and quiet.

Instead he’d ended up with Hadley kissing him as if he were the man she’d been dreaming about for her whole life.

Then it got worse.

Hadley had looked at him and said one word. “Web.”

Yeah. That had been a shot straight to the balls.

“Slow down, darling,” Will said when he finally caught up with Hadley near the edge of the crowd encircling the baggage carousel. “You don’t even know what my suitcase looks like.”

“I’m assuming as black as your soul.” She stopped next to a couple holding hands and glared at him. “And what’s with the ‘darling’ and the outfit? Are you making fun of people who live out here?”

He glanced down at his clothes. Jeans. Boots. Hat. He’d turned down the pearl-button Western shirt the on-call stylist at Dylan’s Department Store had offered. “Just trying to fit in.”

“Will Holt,” she said, crossing her arms and jutting out a hip. “You stand out everywhere you go, and you know it.”

He couldn’t argue. That was the curse of being one of the Holt twins. Not only were he and Web decent-looking and rich, their family had been at the top of the Harbor City society food chain since the Gilded Age. That meant his entire life since the time his and Web’s birth announcement had been splashed across a double-page, full-color spread in Harbor and Cove magazine had been lived out under a microscope. Add in the tragic backstory of their parents dying young, boarding school after boarding school, and a grandmother who had barely tolerated them before she died and left them a fortune, and it was a gossip’s dream.

He fucking hated it.

Of course, he wasn’t about to tell Hadley that. A man didn’t admit weakness to a gold digger he was planning on taking down before she could hurt his brother.

“Are you flirting with me, Hadley Donavan?” He took a step closer, using his nearness to distract her enough that she wouldn’t notice he was changing the subject.

“Why, because everyone does?” She scoffed before biting her lip and looking back up at him, concern filling her eyes. “How is Web really?”

The quick conversation switch made sense. Of course she’d want to pretend to care about how his brother was doing. “He’ll be fine. The doctor said he just needed some rest.”

She took a half step back to allow plenty of room for the woman in the wheelchair to pass by. “Is it the flu?”

“Sorta.” Will looked over at the couple holding hands as nonchalantly as possible.

“What’s that mean? Did you poison him?” she asked, her voice as sugary as her words were tart.

“Not on purpose.” He grimaced at her. “The chicken didn’t make me sick.” He left out the fact that he’d only had a few bites because he’d been too fixated on trying to figure out what to do about her.

The light blinked on top of the baggage carousel, announcing the bags were on their way, and saved him from more questions. He spotted his hard-shell suitcase—yes, it was black—and managed to squeeze through the crowd standing elbow to elbow to grab it. When he turned around, he caught Hadley averting her focus from ass level up to his face. Her jaw was clenched but her cheeks were pink.

Well, wasn’t that fascinating.

“Were you checking out my butt?” he asked, strutting over with his suitcase, ready to pounce on the opportunity to needle her.

Her brown-eyed gaze dipped down and to the left. “No.”

“Are you sure?” He stopped in front of her, just on the edge of that invisible do-not-cross edge of her personal space. “It seems like you were, and you’re definitely turning red.”

“It’s warm in here.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t blush.”

“Ever?” The question was out before he could stop himself. It wasn’t his business. He wasn’t here to find out all about the secret life of one Hadley Donavan.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Interesting.” But it wasn’t. Who cared if someone blushed a lot or a little or never? He was a guy. He didn’t give two shits about that. Still, the fact that she was getting worked up brought out the part of him that just wanted to meet the challenge in her eye. “I knew a woman once who would turn tomato red right before she came. It happened every time, no matter the position or…” He paused, letting her hang for a second as she obviously fought between telling him to fuck off and wanting to know what he’d say next. “The activity. We tested it out one long weekend. We started off with—”

“Oh my God, enough.” She pressed her palm to his chest, her eyes going wide at the physical contact before she jerked her hand away and rubbed her fingers together, as if she’d felt the same zing he had. “I don’t want to hear about how you have sex with other women.”

“Why?” He glanced down at her lips, so pink and soft and glossy, fisting his hands to keep from reaching out for her. “Do you only want to consider me having sex with you?” Watching as she snagged her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze going hazy, it took a lot to remember that kissing Hadley—again—was off-limits. “It’s totally normal and healthy to consider what people are like in other, more naked situations.”