Burned Deep (Burned 1)

As she regaled me with details of the trip in her dreamy voice and showed me pictures, Kyle joined us and handed me a glass of champagne. I smiled my gratitude. He wore his dark-gray suit as well as he had the tux at the wedding, the deep blue in his silk tie bringing out the color of his eyes, which glowed warmly.

He had an easy grin, still infectious, reminding me that if I was going to date someone it should probably be him—someone a bit closer to my level who wasn’t shrouded in mystery and oozing an edgy vibe and raw sensuality.

Speaking of Dane … I couldn’t help but steal glances around the room, wondering if he’d arrived yet.

At the end of Meghan’s recap, Sean collected her to entertain more people, leaving me with Kyle. I wondered if that had been planned.

“You look great,” he said as his gaze slid over me.

“Thank you. I’ve recently developed an appreciation for green.” I fought to keep my tone even, not provocative, because I was thinking of Dane. I added, “You certainly do that suit justice.”

“College graduation duds,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “My keeping up with the Joneses is basically keeping up with Sean now that he runs with the Forbes crowd, and Meghan is snap happy with the camera. I look like a slug in my T-shirts and jeans when that girl’s around.”

“Hardly.” I’d seen him in casual attire—and I’d caught the collective, not so subtle adoration of the bridesmaids during the wedding planning. In fact, as I scanned the crowd once more—anxiously seeking out Dane—I noted the women from the bridal party hovering close by as though keeping tabs on Kyle. Perhaps waiting for that perfect moment when I stepped aside so they could swoop in?

He didn’t lack for admirers, that was for sure.

Which prompted me to ask, “Did you bring a date? If not, I think there’s a line about to form.”

He chuckled. “I can’t afford Meg’s friends. Their fathers have private jets and islands, and they’re all obsessed over the perfect mani-pedi. What the—?”

I laughed. “Never underestimate the value of a good manicure and pedicure.”

With a roll of his eyes, he lamented, “See? Was that really so difficult? They can’t even throw in a little guy-speak to help a dude along?”

I sipped my champagne, then said, “You’d do just fine with them. Meghan mentioned that you took the summer off to travel Europe. That makes you worldly, you know?”

His grin could light the entire room, without a doubt. “Right. Me and my backpack stuffed with just three changes of clothes, a translator because I only know a little Spanish and was on the wrong continent for that, and a list of hostels where I could crash—and share a bathroom with a half dozen other students. That’d impress the ladies who prefer the Ritz-Carlton and spa days.”

“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “Sounds adventurous. Totally off the beaten path. If I were at the Ritz, I’d spend all my time poolside and never actually see the sights.”

“You would have liked my itinerary then. I skipped all the major cities and stuck to the villages and wine country. Although, I had to make a stop in Monte Carlo for the casinos. Just ’cause, you know?”

“That does sound intriguing. I suppose I’d have to hit Casablanca, since it’s my favorite movie.”

He looked taken aback. “You seem more like the Princess Bride type. You know, weddings and romance and happily ever afters. All that stuff.”

“Every fiber of my being swears my brides and grooms are the happiest people on the planet. But something about torn endings calls to me—like an untold story awaits a rainbow. Rhett walking out on Scarlett, or Nick Nolte going back to his wife even though he was totally hooked on Barbra Streisand in Prince of Tides. Rick Blaine sacrificing everything for Ilsa Lund, so she could leave Casablanca with Victor Laszlo. It’s tragic, sure. But we only see that part of the love story. Maybe a silver lining is right around the corner.…”

I likely felt this way because I privately wanted my dad to bounce back from his disastrous marriage and find someone new—someone worthy of him.

Kyle’s brow lifted in a speculative way. “So,” he mused with interest in his voice. “Ari has a dark side mixed with eternal optimism. Very deep.”

Since I hadn’t weirded him out, I said, “It’s all about the potential, you know?” I conspiratorially added, “And yes, I ate up the whole Princess Bride ‘true love’ theory.”

It wasn’t anything I subscribed to in my own life, obviously. But that Emerald City of mine would always exist, keeping up my high hopes for wedding couples.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He seemed to give more thought to my contradictory view of love and romance—embracing the bad because I knew it existed but still hoping for good to win over, no matter what the situation. I liked that he put so much thought into my personal views. Though my stomach plummeted when he grimaced.

“What?” I asked, trepid. “You think I’m a nut job, right?’

“No. I’m just wondering … what is he doing here?”

I was about to ask, He who? but somehow already knew to whom Kyle referred. I felt Dane’s burning gaze on me.

Uh-oh.

Tossing a cautious look over my shoulder, I found him staring at us, his brow crooked.