Falling for the Groomsman - Page 24

That decided, he called room service on his cell and ordered her some food. He also ordered himself some, but in his own room. As he filled the ice bucket, it occurred to him he didn’t have any Ziplocs, so he spent another ten minutes hunting one down. By the time he returned to Christine’s room, he half expected her to have fallen asleep.

But when he opened the door, she sat up and smoothed the blanket over her lap. Her wet hair was pulled back in a flawless ponytail, and all the traces of dirt were gone from her face. She’d showered. Just the thought of her standing under a stream of water was enough to make his mouth go dry, so he forced himself to focus on the other aspect of her showering. “You should have waited for me to help you.”

“For what? A shower?” She arched a brow. “I think I can handle it myself. I’ve been doing it on my own since I was five.”

He gritted his teeth, his exhaustion heightening his frustration. “You could’ve slipped.”

“But I didn’t.” She tilted her chin up in the air, her nostrils flaring. “Stop worrying about me so freaking much. I’m not your problem, Tyler.”

He set the ice down hard. “Yeah, you’ve made that clear. But it doesn’t stop me from worrying about your well-being. I care.” Yep. He totally threw her words from last night back in her face. “And you can’t make me stop.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t,” she said, her voice so soft he barely heard it.

Ignoring her, he peeled the blanket off of her, grabbed an extra pillow, and gently lifted her leg. After putting the pillow under her ankle, he laid the ice over her swollen ankle. Probing it a little bit, he nodded in satisfaction. It already looked better than it had last night. The swelling had gone down. “Make sure you keep it elevated, okay?”

She squirmed under his touch. “I will.”

“Good.” He ran his fingers over the swollen ankle and lifted the blanket back over her. “And no dancing tonight.”

She sighed. “Yes, Doc.”

He grabbed a bottle of water off the table next to the bed. After opening it, he handed it to her. “And you should hydrate, too. It was a long night.”

“On it.” She lifted the bottle up and raised it to her lips. Her hand trembled as she drank. She was worn out and needed rest. It was time to go before he said something he regretted. At the doorway, he hesitated, one foot in and one foot out. “I ordered you some food. I’ll leave the door open so they can get in without you getting up. After you eat, get some sleep.”

“Thanks for ordering the food. That was…” She hesitated, as if unsure what to say, and settled on, “Sweet.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be okay.”

He nodded and opened the door, making sure to slide the metal lock in between the door and the jamb so it wouldn’t latch. And then? He went against every instinct inside him and left her alone.

Just like she so obviously wanted.

Chapter Fifteen

A few hours later, Tyler stood in the crowded ballroom and rubbed his eyes. The orchestra performed quietly, and he could barely manage to keep his eyes open thanks to the lullaby tune they played. Would it be so much to ask for an upbeat salsa or the fucking Macarena? Maybe something that didn’t make him want to find the nearest bed and sleep for the rest of the week.

He scanned the room and hid a yawn behind his hand. Everyone looked like they were either bored, tired, drunk, or all three. The only person who looked like they even cared about this damn thing was Julie, and even she looked as if she were forcing the never-ending enthusiasm she always sported. Hell, even Kady wasn’t there yet—and neither was Colt. If the bride and groom couldn’t bother to show up on time, why should they?

Brock elbowed him in the ribs. “If you yawn one more time, I might forget my good manners and punch you right in the teeth. I’m exhausted enough as it is without you trying to catch flies over there.”

Tyler snapped his mouth shut on another yawn. “I can’t seem to control it.” As if on cue, he yawned again, earning another scowl from Brock. “Sorry.”

“You’re not the only one.” Brock inclined his head toward Christine, who yawned and covered her mouth. “She looks as if she’s about to tip out of her chair,” Brock said. “She better not fall asleep in that thing, or she might hurt an elbow, too.”

Tyler’s gaze stayed on Christine. He kept trying not to look at her, but he’d have better luck ripping his eyeballs out. She drew his eye like a moth to a flame, and there was no possible way for him not to look at her when they were in the same room. She sat in the corner, her fingers tapping on her thighs in tune to the soft music. Her soft blue dress made her eyes appear bluer, and he wanted nothing more than to cross the room, pick her up, and kiss her in front of everyone.

She was so…so…infuriating, stubborn, beautiful…perfect.

Okay, that might be a stretch. He knew her flaws, but he liked her because of them, not in spite of them. Did that even make sense? Shit if he knew. Lately, he wasn’t making any sense at all, and he knew it. That was the worst part. He knew how much of an idiot he was being around her, but he didn’t give a damn.

But he had to tell her he wanted to be more than a memory.

His gaze strayed down her long, lean legs to her feet. She wore a pair of silver flats—which looked new—and a brace on her ankle. Had someone bought it for her, along with the shoes, or had Julie managed to find it for her? Even with the addition to her apparel, she was the most beautiful woman in the room.

He took a step in her direction, but a man Tyler didn’t recognize beat him to her. The jerk talked to her, his attention on her leg as he gestured with his hands. When Christine laughed and pointed down at it, her cheeks pink, he could practically hear their conversation even though he was across the room. “Yes, I hurt it. I was all alone in the woods and fell,” she’d say.

At this point, the jerk would be planning how best to get up her skirt. “Oh, let me rub it for you.”

“Oh, dickwad, I couldn’t.”

Insert a long, meaningful stare here. “Sure you could. After, we’ll go to my room.”

“Well, okay. At least you’re not Tyler.”

Christine looked over at him as she spoke, seemingly in time with his thoughts. When she saw him watching her, her eyes went all wide. After the way she’d acted earlier in the morning, he half expected her to glance away. To ignore him, maybe. But she stared right back at him before turning away to bestow the fool at her side with another smile.

She hadn’t smiled at him, damn it.

He took a step toward her without even realizing it, his fists clenched. No way he was going to stand here and watch her pick up another man right in front of him.

Hell, no. She was his.

“Uh, Tyler?” Brock grabbed his elbow. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Tyler looked at Brock’s hand pointedly. “To check on Christine. Let go.”

Brock clucked his tongue, but didn’t release him. “I think you need to wait a second and cool down. You look like you’re ready to kill that guy for talking to her.”

That’s because he was ready to kill that guy for talking to her. “Who the fuck is he?”

Brock didn’t even pretend to misunderstand. “I don’t know, but even I can see his ring from here. He’s married. Relax, man.”

Tyler flexed his fists and forced his eyes off of Christine and the mystery dude. What the hell had gotten into him? She was allowed to talk to other men. He didn’t own her, for Christ’s sakes. Damn it, he didn’t like the churning jealousy eating him alive. Not one little bit. After taking a calming breath, he turned back to Brock. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes across the room. Logan and Regan were on the dance floor, and Brock flexed his fingers before looking back at Tyler. “Love sucks, doesn’t it?”

Tyler stiffened. Why would Brock of all people mention him being in love with Christine? “I don’t…we’re not…” He clamped his jaw tight. ?

??Shit.”

“Yeah.” He clapped Tyler on the shoulder. “That about sums it up.”

“How did you know?” That’s not something the laid-back Southern charmer should have been able to piece together all on his own. Tyler hadn’t even realized that was what he was feeling. Not really. “I didn’t even know.”

“I can see it in the way you’re watching her.” Brock lifted a shoulder. “I’m not blind, you know. You love her, but you’re not sure what to do about it yet.”

A part of Tyler wanted to deny his feelings, but what was the point? He rubbed his aching temples. “What should I do?”

“I’m observant, not a therapist,” Brock said. “That’s for you to figure out.”

Tyler was saved from answering when Kady walked up to his side. “What are you two up to over here?”

“Just chatting,” Brock said, his eyes on Regan again. Logan was still dancing with her, but he kept looking toward the door impatiently. Who was he waiting for? Sophie? Jesus. What a mess they’d all become. “You look ravishing tonight.”

“Thank you. But I came to steal my brother away,” she said, reaching out and holding Tyler’s arm close to her side. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not.” Brock bowed. “He’s all yours.”

Kady led him away, her hand on his arm loose yet firm. “You doing okay?”

“Of course I am.” He smiled at her. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She gave him a weird look, but smiled back at him. She looked so gorgeous in her soft pink gown, her hair piled on top of her head. He couldn’t believe his baby sister was getting married. Fucking married. Unbelievable. “You know how much I love you, right?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice coming out a little bit gruff. “Why? What did you do this time?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head and laughed. “Just because I say I love you doesn’t mean I have bad news.”

“It always has before,” he reminded her.

“Not this time.” She sighed, the smile slipping away. “I want you to be as happy as I am with Colt.”

“Colt’s nice and all, but I doubt I’ll ever feel the same way about him as you do,” he said lightly. “He’s not my type.”

“I’m serious,” Kady said, laughing and nudging him with her elbow. “I want you to be happy.”

He cocked his head. “I am happy. Why would you think otherwise?”

Tags: Diane Alberts Erotic
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