Last Groom Standing. Kimberly Lang
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a nice way to start the day, except for the nagging feeling that this was wrong. Really, really wrong. Which was very confusing because it felt really good at the same time.
Of the million men in New York that she could have chosen for a drunken hookup, why had she picked Dylan?
Beyond the obvious, of course. The chest under her cheek was sculpted and tanned, the muscles defined without being bulky and bulging. That had been a pleasant surprise to find under Dylan’s conservative gray suit. And that chest hadn’t been the only surprise waiting for her...
The want had kicked up out of nowhere last night, slamming into her with an unexpected force that got completely out of hand. Fast. She could try to blame it on the tequila, but she doubted even tequila could explain the overwhelming feeling of yes, now, please that had taken over her body last night.
It made no sense. She wasn’t attracted to men like Dylan, damn it. She craved artists, musicians, activists...interesting men who carried their hearts and their passions on their sleeves. Not disinterested, distant, society types. Not the Dylans of the world.
Just the thought caused her to feel the cage bars close in on her.
She wasn’t sure how it had happened, what threw the switch. One minute she’d been lecturing Dylan on finding his passion, and while she hadn’t quite meant for it to take the turn it did, the next thing she knew, he’d not only shown her he had it, but she’d been caught hard and unexpectedly by that very thing.
She’d been overwhelmed, to say the least.
Oh, she had a solid set of reasons to explain how she ended up here, but none of them erased that wrong feeling. Because one tiny fact outweighed them all:
Dylan was Reese’s.
They’re over. She’s moved on. And as of last night, so has he.
That doesn’t make this okay. You know that.
She’d made some questionable decisions in her life, but this was definitely a first simply because the repercussions were potentially huge.
She could tell herself that Reese and Dylan were over, but she still felt like she’d crossed a line.
Not that she knew where that line actually was...
Was there a proper waiting period? A statute of limitations? At what point did a friend’s ex become fair game? And was it different when the ex was an ex-fiancé? Surely that was a bigger deal than just a random ex-boyfriend.
Some friend she was. A nasty feeling of déjà vu settled in her chest. No. This was not the same thing at all. Dylan and Reese were over.
But still... How was she going to face Reese? For that matter, how was she going to face Dylan?
She vaguely remembered saying that being friends might be awkward. That would be a piece of cake compared to this.
Oh, God. What if he started...comparing. Ugh. She felt something nasty coil in her stomach.
Dylan shifted underneath her. Somehow, he knew she was awake, as there were no surreptitious, try-not-to-wake-her moves. “Morning,” he said, his voice gruff and husky from sleep.
Marnie peeked up at him and her breath caught. Suave, debonair Dylan was totally gone. His hair stuck up at crazy angles from sleep, and a dark shadow covered his jaw. There was something raw and yummy about him that sent sparks through her nervous system before she remembered that more sparks would just bring more wrongness to the situation.
Damn it.
She was going to have to get through this the best she could, regardless. She really could have used a few more minutes to think this through and formulate a plan before he woke up. Pretend this isn’t a big deal. Act normally.
But she had no idea what normal should be. “Morning. I—”
She was saved by the phone. Somewhere, under the pile of clothing, she heard the vibration against the wood floor. A second later, the ringtone kicked in, and adrenaline rushed through her veins.
That was Reese’s ringtone.
It was a slap in the face, a condemnation set to Reese’s favorite song, and guilt that had been tiptoeing across her mind landed on her conscience with a heavy thud.
She could ignore it, let it go to voicemail, but that just seemed worse somehow. It would be a cowardly admission of wrongdoing flavored with the attitude that it just didn’t matter anyway.
She scrambled over the edge of the bed head first, ignoring the “oof” from Dylan as her foot landed on his stomach, and dug through the pile until she found her phone.
“Reese! Good morning! How are you!” She cringed at the over-perky sound of her voice.
There was a soft chuckle from the other end. “And good morning to you. You seem to be in a very good mood today.”
Marnie struggled upright, pulling the sheet up to cover herself, and kept her back to Dylan. If she looked at him now, Reese would know somehow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I was expecting you to be a little hungover. You were certainly pounding the wine last night—”
“No. Nope. I feel fine.”
“I was just a little worried, but I certainly understand the need. You had a lot land on you yesterday—”
She could hear Dylan moving around behind her. “And I appreciate it, but I’m good. So what’s up?”
“Is everything okay? You sound funny.”
A short hysterical laugh burst out before she could stop it. Clearing her throat, Marnie tried for a less insane-sounding level of perkiness. “I’m great. Just...um—”
“Wait... Did I interrupt something?”
Guilt slammed into her. “What? No! What could you possibly be interrupting?”
“Marnie...” Reese’s voice dropped a notch. “Is there someone else there?”
Oh, God. “Of course not.”
Disbelief and amusement crept into Reese’s voice. “Did you go home with someone last night?”
Nausea rolled through her belly. She was such a bad liar, and she was about to be busted, big time. “N-no, I— I—”
“You did. Let me guess. That cute bartender?”
“No! No hooking up. What kind of girl do you think I am? I finished my wine and went straight to Sven’s to crash. There’s nobody here except me.” She heard Dylan snort and without looking, waved her hand at him to shut up.
“Pity.”
I should have let her call go to voicemail. “Reese, honey, if you’re just wanting to chat, can I call you back—”
Reese turned serious. “I actually did have a reason for calling.”
Oh. “Okay.” She brushed her hair out of her face and tried to focus. “What’s up?”
“I had the most brilliant idea late last night. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before.”
Something about the way she said “brilliant” put Marnie on alert. “And?”
“And then I saw you talking to Dylan, and you seemed to be getting along okay—”
Marnie nearly choked. Careful, now. She tried for a nonchalant tone. “What does he have to do with anything?”
“I’m getting there. You need a job, right?”
“Yeah, and...?”
“As much as I’d love to ask you to come on board at Second Chance, First Response, it’s going to be a while before we’re up and running.”
“I know that—”
“Well,