Don't Kiss the Bride

“Beautiful!” she says. “Now, maybe turn to each other and kiss. It’s so cute how shy you two are.”

Oh God.

We turn to face each other. A hint of his familiar, sexy grin is curving the corner of his mouth, and it makes me want to kiss him. He gently pushes my hair back, then palms my cheek with his huge hand, his thumb under my chin, tipping my face up.

I put my hands on his chest and slide them up to his shoulders. As he bends toward me, I close my eyes and lift one of my feet up into that flirty flamingo pose we see in movies.

Our lips touch softly, until he tilts his mouth over mine, capturing my lips with his. A barely audible gasp escapes me and he inhales it with a slow, sensual suck of breath. His hand squeezes my cheek, and then he pulls away, slowly dragging his thumb across my jawline before he turns to Carol and walks off to speak to her.

Leaving me standing there.

That second kiss may have been short, but the way he touched my face and moved his thumb across my cheek with that damn smile and those riveting eyes has my heart pounding.

Even still. Minutes later.

I’ve been kissed before. By at least six guys. I made out with a few of them pretty hot and heavy at parties and at the movies, and even went all the way with two of them. On separate occasions, of course. It’s been a year since I’ve dated, but holy shit, none of them made me feel like Jude did with two short kisses and a touch. No one has ever made my legs weak and my thighs tingle just by touching my cheek. I don’t think any guy I fooled around with touched my face at all, now that I’m thinking about it. They were too busy trying to grope my boobs and my ass.

How did I not know what a cheek caress could feel like?

Is it an older guy thing?

Or a Jude thing?

“You comin’, Sparkles?” he asks, turning to look back at me as he and Carol head toward the house.

I blink at him as he walks through the crunchy leaves. In front of him, Cassie and Gus are watching us from the sunroom of his beautiful house. I’m struck with an odd, wistful feeling. I want to hold this image in my heart forever.

“Yeah.” I take my heels off and follow them barefoot to the front porch. We sign our marriage license, Jude hands Carol a check, and we hug her thank-you before she climbs into her Volkswagen Beetle and drives away.

It all happened so fast. I think the entire thing took less than thirty minutes, and now we’re married.

Legally, anyway.

Wordlessly, we walk inside, and he goes directly upstairs. I linger in the kitchen with the pets until he comes back down a few minutes later wearing his usual black Tee and faded jeans.

“I’m heading out to play some pool,” he says, barely looking at me as he heads straight for the front door. “See ya later.”

“Okay,” I say, but he’s already out the door.

Feeling dazed, I go up to my room and flop on the bed with a sigh. Gus and Cassie join me, probably hoping I’ll take a nap so they can cuddle up against my legs. I’m tempted to crawl under the blankets for the rest of the day. At least these fur babies will chase the loneliness away.

I feel sad and jilted, like the main character in a bad romance movie, and I’m not sure why. We never made plans for after the ceremony. I guess I thought we’d spend the day together afterward. But now, I realize that was stupid. We’re just friends. The ceremony was just a formality. A legal necessity so Jude can add me to his insurance.

Nothing more.

And the kisses? The first one was a clumsy accident, and the second was just for the pictures because Carol told us to kiss.

The cheek touching… Well, that was probably some smooth move Jude puts on the ladies, and he only did it out of habit.

That’s all.

The sound of the front door wakes me, and I sit up in my dark room, confused about what day or time it is. The clock on my nightstand says 9:30 p.m.

Shit. I’ve been asleep for six hours.

Downstairs, Jude is moving around the kitchen making noise. Cassie jumps off the bed and runs out of the room, reminding me I forgot to feed her. Yawning, I slip a pair of yoga pants on under the T-shirt I napped in and quietly tread downstairs.

“Hey,” he says, glancing at me from behind the open refrigerator door. “Were you sleeping?”

“Yeah… I fell asleep reading.”

“Did you eat?” He pulls sliced cheese and butter out of the fridge. “I’m making a grilled cheese.”