Priceless (Forbidden Men 8)

My lips parted. Feeling suddenly unwelcome and small, I narrowed my eyes at the source of this crappy feeling. “I was invited,” I bit back.

Colton sighed and glanced momentarily toward the ceiling before meeting my gaze and murmuring, “Didn’t mean you had to come.”

“What?” Back straightening and chin lifting, I said, “Do you have some kind of problem with me, Little Gamble?”

He laughed. The bastard was half a second from making me cry and slink away from this stupid reception with my tail tucked between my legs, and he had the audacity to laugh in my face. Jerk. I should claw his mother-fucking eyes out. And all this time, I’d thought he liked me when he flirted mercilessly. Every time he saw me, in fact, he made some comment about wanting to get into my pants. It made me feel betrayed by all his previous false acts of seduction.

But then he said, “Hell, no, I don’t have a problem with you,” making me frown in confusion. He tipped his head to the side. “What? Have I not made that clear enough every single second I’ve ever spent in your company? Because, you know, I can try harder.”

“Dear God, no!” Against my will, my body settled with relief, learning he didn’t hate me, which pissed me off, because I didn’t want to care what he thought of me at all. “Then what the fuck is your deal?” I demanded, gritting my teeth because I cared a hell of a lot more than I wanted to.

“I don’t have a deal,” he answered flippantly, making me growl out my aggravation. “I’m just curious why you decided to torture yourself and attend this wedding only to watch the guy you’re crazy about marry someone else.”

I froze.

Praying he hadn’t just said what I knew he’d just said, I slid my gaze toward Brandt, only to guiltily slice it right back to Colton, who lifted a knowing eyebrow, waiting for my answer.

So I took a long, slow drink from my champagne glass, nearly draining it, and then I set it back on the table before returning my attention to him.

Affecting an amused laugh, I asked, “What makes you think I’m crazy about Brandt?”

Colton laughed too, like threw back his head and bellowed the sound, making people at other tables glance our way. I ground my teeth some more, trying not to sink through the floor from embarrassment as he slowly settled down enough to say, “Good one.” Wipin

g a tear from his eye, he flicked it from his fingers. “Not have feelings for Brandt. Damn, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all night. But seriously, you don’t have to play dumb with me. I know you like him. I watched you stare at him for a good ten minutes straight before I came over here to rescue you.”

“I was not—” Oh, shit. I had been staring, hadn’t I? “He’s one of the only people here I know,” I bit out defensively. “And he’s the groom. Who was I supposed to watch?”

Colton grinned. “You could watch me.”

“Oh, Jesus. Really?” I rolled my eyes and reached for my purse from the middle of the table to leave. It was humiliating enough to get caught staring, but Colton’s pathetic flirting on top of that made my night complete. This evening was just too sucky to continue.

“Hey, wait.” Colton flashed forward, snatching my purse before I could get my hand on it.

I glowered. “Damn it, Colton. Give me my purse back.”

He didn’t. Grinning, he clutched it to his chest before holding up a finger. “Just give me a second here. I have an idea. What if I knew how to help you get over him?”

His words gave me half a second of pause, a hope I couldn’t ignore. But more importantly, I just wanted to escape this asshole.

Sitting back, I crossed my arms over my chest, playing along in an attempt to recover my possessions. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

With a shrug, he said, “Same way any woman gets over a guy she likes. By settling for some other lucky schmuck to get your mind off him, of course.” Grinning, he lifted his hand. “In fact, I volunteer as consolation prize.”