The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) (13 page)

She glanced quickly in Ryan’s direction and felt her face heat when he caught her checking him out.

“Fuck the past Samantha Evers. You’re a big girl now, and nothing is stopping you from having a little fun. You never know where it’ll lead, right?” Andi cheerfully said as she squeezed her hand real quick.

“What are you two girls plotting?” Kyle snickered as he overtook them and gathered Andi into a front to back bear hug.

Two pairs of eyes stared at her with expectant and blatantly meddling gleams. They meant well but damn them!

Andi relaxed against Kyle and hugged his arms where they wrapped around her waist. “She’s trying to act like that expensive new dress isn’t an invitation.”

Kyle laughed. “Well, newsflash, ladies. It’s working. Poor Ryan. His eyes are gonna start to bleed if he doesn’t blink soon.”

“Andrea,” a voice called out. Sam shivered. It was Dolores. She’d know that frigid yelp anywhere.

“Fuck,” Andi murmured quietly.

They looked at each other for a minute. Sam hated the shadows in her friend’s eyes whenever her snotbag mother was on the scene. Time for her to shift gears into crisis control and shield Andi from everything and anything threatening to cast a pall over the happy occasion.

“Mrs. C!” Sam exclaimed as the woman drew near. She hoped her smile seemed genuine. “Help me with something, would you?”

She heard Kyle’s faint chuckle. Taking a deep breath, Sam stepped into the fray, determined to give the spotlight couple all the duck and cover she could.

D
inner was a smashing success. Andi’s wedding planner hit a hole in one with the family event. Instead of one long table, smaller tables were clustered together in a private room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a lagoon. It was cozy and simple. Just what the bridal couple wanted.

They weren’t a small group. With the wedding party and so much of the Sommerfield family gathered, they numbered almost twenty. Sam was relieved it hadn’t turned into a pre-wedding spectacle due in no small part to the brilliant planner. She’d cleverly arranged for the wives of the groomsmen along with Kyle’s publicist and Alianna’s assistant to join a festive luau far from this intimate gathering.

She’d been concerned when Andi’s stepdad, Steve, hadn’t appeared, but the planner whispered an explanation. He’d be along later to meet the family, but he felt it best if he avoided being around Dolores. The planner wisely figured out that where this estranged wife was concerned, there would be no making nice.

Probably a smart move on Steve’s part but it still sucked that he felt apart from the festivities. After all, Andi made a special point of asking him to give her away—an arrangement that infuriated Dolores.

Playing with the bright green straw sticking out of her yummy drink, Sam’s mouth quivered from the need to smile. She could learn a thing or two from the event planner. As far as she was concerned, the woman was a genius.

Knowing how worried Andi was that the Sommerfields and their huge, boisterous family would overpower her side of things, the planner employed the strategic genius of a battlefield commander in the seating arrangement.

At one table, Kyle’s parents were seated with Dolores. If it had just been those three, the tension at the table would be unbearable. But the careful placement of Dolores’s niece Julie and Julie’s husband, Joe, provided the perfect moderation for the small group.

Nearby, Ryan’s parents held court along with Tara and Stan. Another odd pairing until Sam figured out it was intentional. Ted and Hannah Sommerfield weren’t clueless. Tara was obviously the lone shark swimming in a sea of happy otters. Andi told her they’d made Stan her escort because the guy was an enormous prick. He was also happily married and an unabashed critic of star-fuckers. So three against one. What better way to keep Tara in check? Genius.

Ali was the ringleader at the table next to where Sam sat. Kelly and Lisa were avidly egging the famous writer on to the eye-rolling amusement of Kyle’s other groomsmen, Chuck and Miguel. There had been endless laughs and excitement coming from that table.

But the best table in the house?

She trembled from the tingles of fiery delight dancing along her spine as she glanced around while taking timid sips of the coconut mojito their server insisted was tropically infused heaven.

At the head of the room, their table sat next to tall palms growing from lush grassy landscaping complete with a modest water feature. Andi and Kyle sat on one side of the table, and she and Ryan sat across from them instead of one person on each side of the square. That way, nobody sat with his or her back to the beautiful tropical ambiance.

Or so Andi insisted when she had the table settings rearranged. This way, she’d cooed, would be much cozier.

And oh my goodness. Had it ever!

Was it overblown to feel like she’d never had more fun at a dinner? She didn’t think so, although, Sam did concede the amount of alcohol she’d had might be clouding her opinion somewhat.

A playfully chiding voice in her conscience scolded
party pooper
.

Snorting with laughter, Sam set the drink down and grabbed a napkin to cover her mouth. Next to her, she felt Ryan shift in his chair, his presence, so close she could taste his cologne. There was no denying that something about him drew her in and made her feel. . .like she was free falling.

He was fun to be around and an attentive companion. Each time her glass neared empty, Ryan made sure it was filled. Eating with him at the table was like dining with a seasoned food critic. She was impressed by how easily he used words to create a verbal picture of the things he saw in his artist’s mind.

She and Andi laughed their way through Kyle and Ryan’s endless stories about growing up together. A couple of times, she’d noticed poor Julie looking their way. When their eyes connected, Andi’s cousin hilariously mouthed ‘Help me,’ a plea that was met with a twinkle-kiss. A signature move employed countless times over the years by Julie, Andi, and Lisa too, it was their snarky hand salute that said, ‘Ha-ha, sucker!’

But for Sam, the thing that stood out the most all evening was the unexpected weight of Ryan’s focused attention. Their chairs were pushed close. He watched her. He stood if she or Andi left the table. Waited on her. Smiled. Teased and looked at her with such smoldering awareness, she was afraid her ovaries would catch on fire.

And through it all, he was the perfect gentleman. No line was crossed. A fact that annoyed the crap out of Sam with each coconut mojito she drained.

The evening was slowly winding down. Dessert nearly pushed her over the edge of indulgence, but how could anyone refuse fresh coconut ice cream?

“I’m not going to fit in my dress if I keep this up,” she heard Andi mutter.

“Babe,” Kyle assured his petulant bride, “it’s cool with me if you show up at the altar naked.”

Sam snickered-giggled at the thought, and Ryan barked out a good-natured laugh.

“Dude! Seriously? I didn’t think you liked sharing.”

“What?” Kyle demanded—his head snapping up as he fixed his cousin with a fierce scowl. His eyes blazed with possessive anger.

“I’m all for the natural look,” Ryan continued to tease, “but I think your folks would have a stroke.”

For the longest moment, Kyle looked like he was going to freak the hell out, and then Ryan smacked his big hand on the table, making the silverware and glasses jump. In a choked laugh, he drawled, “Man, you should see your face! Samantha,” he wheezed with a throaty laugh, “where’s your phone? Quick! Take a picture. This shit is Instagram crack!”

They must have all had an alcohol jolt at the exact same time because next thing she knew, their table was howling with laughter.

Wiping his hand under an eye, Kyle made short work of the tears a good laugh brought. “Fuck you, Ry.” Then he fixed her with a long, assessing look. Sam felt like an animal on a dark country road frozen in a car’s headlights. “Would serve your moldy ass right if you ended up with some polyamorous chick who liked the occasional strange.”

Ryan stiffened at her side. All hints of amusement vanished, and a weird tension filled the air.

A bunch of things happened all at once.

First, she felt a fierce urge to slap the shit out of someone. Anyone. Especially anyone female who got close to Ryan.

As Kyle sneered, Andi murmured to him to, “Play nice.”

She was powerfully aware when Ryan shifted, and his leg rested against hers. The move closer felt oddly territorial. She’d never been the subject of anyone else’s boundaries before and found the whole thing intoxicating.

And then, well. . .and then the shark swam into their midst, and she had to hang on tight or else drown in some surprisingly turbulent waters.

“My, my. Isn’t this cozy?”

Fuck my life
, Sam thought. With her lips pressed together to stop from sneering, she fixed a bland expression on her face. She didn’t know what Tara was up to, but she recognized the battle-cry tone and knew some kind of shit was about to go down.

Did everyone at the table recognize the warning in Andi’s tone when she replied? “Tara. What’s up?”

“Hey, Tara,” Kyle added. “What’d you think of dinner? It was great, huh?”

Andi didn’t move a muscle as her fiancé tried to be friendly. All of Sam’s antennae went on high alert. She’d never seen the two business partners be anything except polite and supportive of each other. Almost to a fault. Ever. This was new, and she hoped it was her mojito-swollen imagination overreacting to what Sam sensed was blood in the water.

Something brushed against her arm. She looked down.

Warmth spread across her shoulders as Ryan’s arm slid behind her and rested on the back of her chair. His fingertips moved softly on her bare skin, making a riot of goose bumps bloom on both arms.

The gangly, unsophisticated, braces-wearing fourteen-year-old of her youth, who was sometimes the voice of Sam’s inner dialogue, chose that moment to giggle. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Tara gave her a look that would liquefy metal. Doing a double take, Sam frowned at the obvious intimidation tactic. What the hell had she done to deserve such scorn? Geez. With all she had on her maid-of-honor plate at the moment, she really didn’t need whatever Tara was serving up.

Ryan’s fingers moved again. Tara’s expression turned to ice.

In a practiced move that made Sam grind her teeth, Tara smoothed her hands down the sides of her hips, drawing everyone’s attention to her rail-thin figure in the obnoxiously vibrant, flamingo pink wrap dress she wore.

Once assured all eyes were on her, she launched a shark attack. Sam was waiting for it. Only, to her shock and bewilderment, it was directed at Ryan. What the hell did Kyle’s cousin have to do with Tara?

“Ryan,” Tara cooed in an unctuous tone.

Right away, Sam knew something was up.

“You never told me how delightful your folks are! I didn’t know your mother collected teapots. What a charming quirk. She told me all about the antique Limoges tea service you found for her.”

Ryan’s fingers never stopped stroking her skin. She was beginning to put two and two together. Tara saw Kyle’s cousin as much more than Andi’s family by marriage.

The revelation did not sit well with her. Who the hell did Tara think she was? Why she oughta. . .

And then Ryan spoke, and Sam stopped breathing.

“My mother is the friendly sort, Tara. And you and I both know there’s no reason why I would have told you anything at all about my parents.”

Oh, shit. These two have a prior history. Fan-fucking-tastic. She balled her fists in her lap and glanced at Andi, but before they made eye contact, Kyle moved and sat forward. He reached for Andi’s hand and held on. His touch broke the spell of Andi’s focused stare, which left Sam still trying to figure out what was happening.

Tara smirked slightly but ignored Ryan’s brush-off. She saw the other woman’s eyes flash with something that made Sam’s stomach dip.

“Don’t growl, Ry. You can be such a bear at times.”

The suggestion of familiarity in Tara’s voice finally stopped Ryan’s fingers. His hand closed over her shoulder and ever so slightly pulled her closer. Her legs were awkwardly crossed so when his grip insisted she move, Sam had to reach out quickly to stop from falling over. What she gripped to keep from toppling off her chair? His thigh.

Tara’s sudden trills of laughter made the hair stand up on the back of Sam’s neck. It had a creepy, cackling quality to it.

“Weddings are all about the schmooze. And your parents are delightful. Lighten up.” Tara snorted as her bony hand reached out and touched the side of Ryan’s face.

It got so quiet Sam coughed slightly just to be sure she hadn’t suddenly gone deaf.

“Are you trying to fuck with me, Tara?”

Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Sam reached for her mojito. This was getting uncomfortable. She blinked, and in that instant, Stan materialized out of thin air.

“Tara,” he murmured. There was an edge of menace in the way he said her name.

With the green straw between her teeth, Sam took hefty sips of her drink and watched the scene play out.