Don't Kiss the Bride

I thought things would be weird after the kiss, but we’re right back to how we were before… like it never happened. It’s driving me crazy wondering if he felt anything kissing me. Some deep part of me hopes he did, because I did.

But what would that even mean?

It’s not like we’re going to fool around or date.

He watches me eat another piece with a crooked smile on his face. “I know what you’re thinking about,” he says.

“Oh, really? What am I thinking about?” I challenge, knowing he has no idea what’s going through my mind.

He pins me with his eyes and cocks his head to the side. “The kiss.”

My breath hitches. Keeping my gaze on his, I take a sip of water, wondering how he can tell.

“What makes you think that?” I throw back casually.

“Am I wrong?”

“Just answer.”

Reaching back, he pulls the black rubber band from his hair, and shakes his head. His long hair whips around his face like something out of a rock music video.

“Because I was thinking about it, too.”

“And?” I prod.

“And I shoulda let you wear the sneakers,” he says, picking up our plates and taking them over to the sink.

“See?” I play into the teasing banter. “I put on the adult shoes and I ended up falling into your face.”

He turns around and shoots me a grin. “Don’t worry, babe. You ain’t the first.”

Damn him.

“I’m sure I’m not,” I say playfully as I cover the last two cookies with foil. “But, I am the first wife to.”

“You got a point.”

“I’ll make a note to not wear heels around you anymore.”

He nods. “Good. I don’t want any more accidental kisses.”

“Ditto.”

We stare at each other, the space between us charged with more chemistry than a science lab. His jaw muscle is twitching. My heart is fluttering.

So this is how it’s going to be. We’re going to joke our way out of it.

“The cookies were sweet. Thanks,” he says, reaching his hand out to me.

My breath catches when I realize he’s going to touch my cheek again… Pull my face into his for another kiss.

I close my eyes, waiting for it.

He ruffles my hair. “G’nite, Sparkles. Happy wedding day.”

When I open my eyes, he’s gone.

Chapter 16

Jude

Happy wedding day?

Did I really just say that shit—after I ruffled her hair?

Dude, you just married her. She’s not five years old.

Fuck me. Today went all kinds of sideways.

You couldn’t pay me to kiss an eighteen-year-old girl. I’m not the type to lust after younger women.

Weddings are poison.

Marriage is a curse.

I’ve heard it before, and this proves it. Not twenty-four hours in, and we’re doing things we shouldn’t be doing.

But Skylar is like a magnet. All night, I felt pulled to come back home to be with her. I felt it when I kissed her, and I feel it now.

Fuck, I’ve felt it since the first time I saw her in the parking lot. I should’ve run then, instead of allowing myself to get closer and closer. Now, I’m legally married to her, and she’s living in my house. I can’t escape.

And let’s not forget—I kissed her. Twice. After I promised her—and myself—that I’d never, ever, cross that line.

But nope. My dumb ass put my lips right on hers.

Never again.

I’ve never felt sparks from kissing a chick before, but fuck, I felt it with her and it’s got me rattled.

A few minutes ago, I heard her running the water in the bathroom down the hall, and now I can hear Dark Side of the Moon drifting from her room. I’m worried. I didn’t miss all the signs earlier in the kitchen. How she peeked up at me with her big, sparkling eyes. The way she kept glancing at my ring finger. The bride and groom cookies. Which were fuckin’ amazing, by the way.

She’s got a crush on me. And that’s fine, and cute, and not totally unreciprocated. But innocent feelings can turn into heartbreak. That’s the last thing we—she—needs. Her therapy is going great, and I’m not about to let anything, especially me, set her back.

I have a little gift for her, which I forgot to give her earlier because she distracted me with cookies. I kick off my boots and walk down the hall to her room. The door is open a few inches, the bedside lamp casting a dim, amber light. As I raise my hand to knock, I see her standing in front of her dresser, her back to me. She’s staring at the wedding band on her finger, turning her hand so the gems glint under the light.

My heart hiccups.

The ring is the first piece of jewelry I’ve ever given a woman. I went to four jewelry stores trying to find one that looked like what I knew she wanted. Turns out, a rose-gold band with little almond-shaped diamonds isn’t easy to find, or cheap.