Tom’s grin was becoming glazed. “Twelve…” he whispered.
Mark strained his eyes for a glimpse of white behind the ranks of pink and silver. He heard Tom gasp, and there she was: Kes Langridge, the woman who’d made his cousin happier than Mark had ever seen him in his life.
She had clear, light brown skin and her brunette hair was caught up in a complicated hairdo that sent curls cascading down her back. Her dress was delicate ivory, a lacy concoction that clung to a figure that, until six months ago, had been slender and willowy.
Tom and Kes had met seven months ago, Mark knew. What would it be like to know immediately that you want to spend your life with someone? Start a family with them?
Kes walked forward, glowing with happiness. In a few months, Tom would have a child. His own family.
And it’s not even as though she’s his mate! Mark thought, and immediately hated himself for it. Many of the Visser clan were bear shifters, but for whatever reason the gene—or whatever it was—didn’t crop up in everyone. Tom wasn’t a shifter, so he wouldn’t have a mate.
Just someone he loved with all his heart, regardless.
“Look at her, Mark,” Tom murmured, tears in his eyes. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“You’re the luckiest man in the world,” Mark whispered back, clapping his cousin on the shoulder.
The ceremony went by in a whirl. Tom and Kes only had eyes for each other; as they said their vows, it was as though everyone else in the room disappeared. Even after they walked back down the aisle together, and the wedding photographer zeroed in and starting pushing people around, they seemed to be walking in their own private paradise.
“Best man at the groom’s left—no, there.”
The photographer, a gleefully autocratic woman
with a dark pixie-cut, grabbed Mark by the elbow and wheeled him into place. Mark blinked.
“Smile, everyone! Lovely! And—groomsmen only, bridesmaids, wait at the side please!”
Mark exchanged a grimace with Kieran, one of the other groomsmen, and took a step backward as the bridesmaids all flocked out of the way.
“Oof!”
Mark spun around and steadied the person he’d banged into. He had a momentary impression of red-gold hair, freckled arms and a warm, herbal scent before the photographer rattled out another order. The woman raced away, giggling. Mark stared after her.
“Best man, you’re catching flies! Smile!”
Mark tried to catch another glimpse of the redheaded bridesmaid as the photographs went on, but there was always someone in the way: another bridesmaid, a selection of the happy couple’s relatives, or the photographer herself, shepherding the guests into place like an efficient sheepdog.
After half an hour of carefully choreographed photos, the photographer relinquished control of the bridal party to the wedding planner. Mark grabbed hold of Tom as they made their way through to the dining room.
“Tom, do you have a minute—” he began, but Tom spoke over him.
“What about that photographer, huh? Kes found her, the only wedding photographer who could guarantee she wouldn’t have everyone standing around for hours and hours.”
“Do you know—” Mark tried again, but it was too late. Tom turned his head as the wedding planner called his name.
“Sorry, cuz. Duty calls!” he called over his shoulder as he walked away.
Mark stood still as the other wedding guests milled around him. His mind was on fire. The memory of the redheaded woman’s scent haunted him. It wasn’t floral, or spiced, like the other women at the wedding were wearing. It was something fresh, green. Like spring.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe if he concentrated, sifting through the various scents and perfumes…
There. He caught a hint of that fresh, herbal scent, and his eyes snapped open. Across the room, red-gold hair glinted in the light as the woman stepped through into the dining room. He started moving toward her, pulled forward as through by a river current.
“Best man!”
Mark could have screamed in frustration.
“Yes?” he said, fighting to keep a growl out of his voice.