Best Man for the Bridesmaid

Maybe opening up to him hadn’t been the wisest move. She’d have to be careful going forward and keep a safe distance. Because his kiss was much too tempting, and she might just forget that she wasn’t interested in starting up anything with him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, Lizzie canceled?”

Stefano’s irritated tone echoed through the car, catching Jules’s full attention.

She turned in her seat, noticing the distinct frown lines marring his face as he skillfully maneuvered them through the busy streets of Rome. Why in the world was he so upset about Lizzie’s change of plans? Or was something else bothering him? Something to do with the kiss that neither dared to mention?

It didn’t matter. She refused to let Lizzie’s call or Stefano’s gloomy mood ruin this day. This was the very best part of planning a wedding—picking out the cake.

“Lizzie mentioned that there is a special party in the dining room tonight and it’s all hands on deck. You should be happy. Your grandfather’s restaurant is thriving again.”

“I am.” Stefano sighed as he slowed to a stop for a red light. “I’ll find a place to turn around and we’ll head back to the vineyard.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Why not? The only reason we were heading into the city was to help the bride pick out a cake.”

“And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“What?” He chanced a quick glance her way. “You’ve got to be kidding, right?”

“No. I’m quite serious.”

He’d barely spoken to her since they’d kissed two days ago. Was it because she’d pushed him away? Or was it something more? Maybe he wasn’t over the loss of his wife. Jules had spied a snapshot of him and his wife in a collage in Massimo’s room. When she’d mentioned the particular photo, Massimo would only say that Gianna had died a couple of years ago. It made Jules wonder if there was more to the story—more behind Stefano’s hesitation to let himself live again.

From the photo, she gathered that Stefano’s wife had been nothing like her. Or perhaps it’d be better to say that Jules was nothing like his wife. Gianna had worn her long hair pulled back into a conservative braid, her face had been devoid of makeup and her clothes were quite modest and not the least bit showy. She was the quintessential wholesome, modest wife—something Jules would never be.

For the first time ever, Jules wanted to change. She wanted to be the woman who could make a simple dress look amazing. She wanted to be comfortable in her own skin and not feel the need to hide behind a wall of makeup. But more than anything she wanted a man to look at her with love and desire like Stefano had been looking at his wife in the photo. Correction: she wanted Stefano to look at her that way. But that was never going to happen.

Now he barely glanced her way—not since she’d lost her head and let things go too far. She missed the friendship they’d been building. If only she could undo that moment.

She couldn’t let that stand between them doing their duty as maid of honor and best man. She was a grown-up, and so was he. They could move past this. Somehow.

She swallowed her uneasiness and hoped her voice would sound more confident than she felt inside. “We promised to do everything we could to make this wedding a success. Can you still do that?”

“But it’s their wedding, not ours.”

Jules’s mouth opened but nothing came out. Him mentioning them and a wedding all in the same sentence caught her off guard. She wondered if it was unintentional, or if his thoughts had been straying back to the brief but heated kiss they’d shared.

His knuckles gleamed white as he gripped the steering wheel. “You know what I mean.” His body visibly stiffened. “Not that you and I are getting married—I mean not that we’re even involved—”

“It’s okay. I know what you mean.” She watched as the tension eased out of his shoulders. “But that doesn’t change things. We still have to do this for Lizzie and Dante.”

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Trust me. I do.” She grabbed her wedding planner from her purse and perused the photos of cakes that Lizzie preferred. “I know what she likes. Trust me.”

“You keep saying that, but I just don’t know.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Lizzie picked out photos of cakes. We weren’t sure what the baker could produce on such short notice, so I had her line up her choices in order of what she liked best.” Jules flipped to the section where she’d taped the pictures of the cakes. “None of these look too elaborate.”