After twenty minutes of painfully awkward small talk, Ava decided they weren’t even in the pepper family; they were more like cauliflower or broccoli, both of which she detested equally.
—:—
Penelope leaned over and motioned for him to get closer. “You’re a dick,” she whispered.
“Not the first time somebody’s called me that.”
“Her ex used to pull shit like this, and even he wouldn’t have humiliated her at a wedding.”
“Humiliated her? What the—”
“You know what? Just shut up.”
Razor didn’t bother looking in Tara’s direction to see if she was judging him equally harshly. Fortunately, Gunner was keeping her busy, talking about God knew what. He was grateful, though, especially knowing how much his friend detested small talk.
Without leaning forward in an overly obvious way, Razor couldn’t see Ava, but what the hell was the big deal? Did it really matter where anyone sat?
Shortly after they’d finished eating, the bride and groom made the rounds of tables, thanking their guests, and Razor stood to go talk to Ava.
He sat back down when he saw her engaged in conversation with both of Mercer’s brothers. She was talking in an animated way and smiling, seemingly enjoying herself.
“I thought you were switching with me, not Hudson,” Razor said when Tara and Penelope stood and walked in Ava’s direction.
“Changed my mind. I wanted a better vantage point. Plus, I’m thinkin’ of havin’ a little party of my own with those two.”
“Who two?”
“The bridesmaids.”
Razor rolled his eyes. It was hard to know whether Gunner was serious or not. If he was, Razor hoped the women were smart enough to shut him down.
“She looked pretty upset that you switched seats. I think you hurt her feelings,” said Gunner.
“Me? You’re the one that moved the place cards.”
“Yeah, but you wanted me to.”
Had he? Shit, even he wasn’t sure.
“Want another drink?” Razor asked. He sure as hell needed one, and wasn’t interested in another person telling him he’d hurt Ava’s feelings, particularly his own best friend.
“I’m good,” Gunner answered.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me,” Penelope said a little while later when they watched Mercer’s youngest brother escort Ava to the dance floor, while his older brother danced with her twin.
“Should I cut in?” Razor asked.
Penelope laughed. “Tara already dislikes you. Ava’s pissed, which means Aine is too. I’m the only one of the tribe—other than Quinn—who’s still speaking to you. I wouldn’t advise alienating me too.”
“Tara dislikes me?”
“That was all you got out of what I said? How about, ‘how can I make it up to Ava?’”
“Let’s dance,” he said, grasping her hand so they could join the rest of the wedding party.
Dancing was something Razor knew how to do. Foxtrot, waltz, two-stepping, line-dancing, even tango—it didn’t matter what type of music played, he was in his element.
He held Penelope in his arms, all the while, trying his hardest not to watch Mercer’s little brother put the moves on Ava.