The Wedding Date Disaster (Harbor City 4)

“One, who in the hell could ignore you?” He sure as fuck couldn’t. She all but haunted him no matter what he did. For the past year, she’d squeezed her way between any two thoughts in his head until she was the constant undercurrent of his day. “Two, I never insulted you. I just pointed out all the ways you were wrong about how the Holt Foundation should be awarding its grants.”

“Really?” She came in closer so their bodies were touching, from the insanely short hem of her dress to her mouth righ

t up against his neck, so every word became a touch. “So in addition to graduating at the top of your business class, having three masters, and being the CEO voted most eligible bachelor in Harbor City, you had time to double major in nonprofit management and philanthropic studies like I did, plus gain more than five years of real-world experience? Wow. Impressive.”

“So you looked into me?” Yeah, that was pretty much his big takeaway from her dressing down, and he wasn’t even sorry about it.

“Yes, I cracked open the Harbor City Post. You’re in it multiple times a week.”

He opened his mouth before he realized he didn’t have a retort for that. She wasn’t wrong. Then again, it made for a convenient cover story for why she knew so much about him and Web.

“You always make assumptions about people,” she said, sliding her truth shiv home right between his ribs. “You might want to rethink that practice.”

He gritted his teeth, annoyance at how well she thought she knew him making his muscles tense. “My gut instinct is what helped turn Holt Enterprises around.”

The entire board thought he was nuts to invest in an app that provided real-time parking information. They’d called it niche. However, unlike the rest of the board, he didn’t have a driver and had to fight for parking spots himself and knew it was a winner. Thanks to Holt Enterprises’ investment, the app changed how every driver in Harbor City thought about parking. That had been his first foray into technology but not his last. They’d picked up the dating app Bramble, invested in a few other start-ups, and were neck deep in beta testing for the next big dating app for dog lovers called Bark Up.

“It might serve you well in business, but people aren’t the same,” she said. “You have to give them a chance. Of course, you’re just going to ignore that advice, aren’t you?”

Okay, maybe she did know him a little bit. “It does seem a little biased—especially coming from someone who can’t even trust her family enough not to lie to them.”

Hadley flinched in his arms. “It’s complicated.”

“When isn’t that the case?” Which was exactly why he liked the numbers side of business—spreadsheets, actuary tables, business valuations—that were logical and followed an unbiased formula.

“It’s not complicated with us.” Hadley looked up at him, her chin set at a stubborn angle and her gaze filled with 98 percent certainty. “We don’t get along, end of story.”

It was her 2 percent of doubt, though, that grabbed his attention, promising possibilities he shouldn’t ever consider.

“Is that really all there is to it?”

Hadley lowered her gaze, suddenly seeming to find the collar of his stretched T-shirt completely fascinating. “Yes.”

“Whatever you say, Hadley.” But they both knew she was wrong, even if neither of them was going to do a damn thing about it.

Chapter Ten

Hadley lasted five dances past when she should, and every single one of them had been with Will. Now they were back in PawPaw’s apartment, and she was in the guest bathroom trying to reach the zipper tab on her dress without ripping it or popping her shoulder out of the socket. She reached behind and did a back bow deep enough to crack her spine but couldn’t reach it.

Blowing back the strands of hair that had come free from her braid during “Twist and Shout,” she changed tactics and went high, reaching over her shoulders that she’d slumped forward in an effort to reach the zipper. Still nada.

She’d worn sweaty sports bras that were easier to peel off than this dress.

Okay, there were three choices here. Sleep in the dress, ask Will for help, or gnaw off her own arm like a coyote caught in a trap. While option one was tempting, she couldn’t imagine that Alice would appreciate getting back a wrinkled, slept-in garment in the morning. That left only one realistic prospect—asking for help.

Biting back her distaste of having to ask a favor from the evil twin, she called out, “Will, can you help me with this zipper real quick?”

She barely got the words out before he was in the doorway, filling it up and making the already small bathroom seem minuscule.

“I can’t reach the zipper,” she said, trying—and failing—not to react to the fact that he’d already taken off that ridiculously small T-shirt. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d put another shirt on. He hadn’t. It was just him in a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips, showing off the tops of those vee marks on his hips that made forming words really fucking hard. “Can you just get me started?”

“Sure.” He closed the distance between them until he stood directly behind her as she faced the mirror over the bathroom sink. “Here, let me get the flowers first.”

Touch gentle, he tugged the ponytail holder from the bottom of her braid and then ran his hands through her long hair, combing out the long-stemmed daisies so they fell, landing in a circle around her bare feet. There wasn’t a sound in the room, as if the rest of the world had fallen away. His fingers combed through her hair until it was smooth and loose, then pushed it to the side, exposing the back of her neck. Watching him in the mirror, there was no missing the tension in his jaw or the way he swallowed hard before reaching for the zipper.

She held her breath as he paused, her heart hammering against her chest. Then he inched the zipper down, the fabric of the dress falling away as he did so. The muscle in his temple pulsed as he stood frozen behind her, looking down at her bare skin, want and need swirling in his green-eyed gaze.

The thrill of anticipation made her skin tingle as she watched it all play out on his face. Gone was the usual smirk, the cocky self-assurance. He was a man at a breaking point. He wasn’t alone in that.