The sky over Ruby Lake was a clear and perfect blue the morning of the Westwood wedding. “The most perfect day of the week,” the DJ on RL 99.9 announced.
Nick Taylor, best man to the groom Jackson O’Connell, thought that ironic given the unsettled nature of the weather leading up to today’s nuptials and the fact that it was anyone’s guess whether there was even going to be a wedding. He and Jackson had drunk themselves into a stupor last night. And every time he’d asked his best friend what he was going to do, Jackson had mumbled, “I don’t know,” and kept staring into the fire with that deep, contemplative look that was driving Nick slowly stark, raving mad.
Someone had to talk some sense into him… Good thing Nick happened to be the biggest cynic on the face of the earth.
He picked up the coffee pot, poured himself a large mug of the lethally strong java Jackson had apparently needed to function this morning and walked down to the dock. The lake lay silent, not a ripple on it. Jackson sat, feet dangling over the edge, another of those pathetic, philosophical looks on his face.
“All right,” Nick said, kicking off his shoes and sitting down beside him. “Enough’s enough. You can’t marry her, bud. You and Ariana are two times perfect and you know what that equals?” He made a circle with his fingers. “Nothing. Zero. A big fat black hole.”
Jackson actually smiled. “ You’re saying this? The man with the first-date qualifying list? Hell, Nick, if a woman eats her peas the wrong way she loses five points. If she doesn’t use her fork and knife, she’s dead in the water. And God forbid she bites her nails.”
Nick shrugged. “It’s a bad habit. Somebody needs to point it out.”
Silence fell. Jackson looked out over the lake. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“No, I don’t.” Nick shot him a sideways look. “That’s called hormones, my friend.”
Jackson assumed the contemplative look again. Nick swore under his breath.
“You didn’t fall head over heels for Ariana the first time you met her.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Nick braced his hands on the edge of the dock. “Okay, so tell me one thing. Do I put on my monkey suit today? Are you marrying this girl? Because I really, really hate wearing a tux.”
His friend got to his feet. “Put your monkey suit on,” he confirmed, a genuine, bona fide Jackson smile curving his lips. “We have a wedding to go to.”
Nick watched his best friend walk up to the cottage. A curse split his lips. The damn fool was going to do it.
***
This was getting ridiculous. Two hours before the wedding and not only was Ariana still missing, but now he couldn’t find Jackson.
Nick headed outside, looking for Tyra. Halfway around the tent he saw the cute-looking member of the catering staff he’d been chatting up at the rehearsal dinner standing precariously close to the lake edge, hanging candles in the trees. It gave him the willies because his brother Tom had almost drowned in the lake as a kid. But Miss Cut-You-Off-At-The-Knees-With-A-Look could fall in for all he cared. He’d never been so effortlessly rebuffed in his entire life.
Splash.
A piercing scream sent him running for the shore. Her flailing movements had him ripping off his jacket and diving in.
The lake was deep and murky and it took him a few seconds to find her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her to shore. When he reached shallow water, he swung her up in his arms and carried her to solid ground.
“Good Lord, put me down,” she protested, pushing her hands against his chest. “What did you do that for?”
He lowered her to the ground, staring uncomprehendingly at her as his heart pounded out of his chest. “You can’t swim. I was rescuing you.”
“Of course I can swim. I just—” she shoved a hand against her heaving chest “—panicked for a minute there.”
His mouth compressed. The woman could not swim.
She groaned, her eyes moving over him. “You’ve ruined your suit.”
He looked down. The several-thousand-dollar Armani he’d bought to match Jackson’s did not look as though it liked water. He grimaced. “Please tell me I did just rescue you.”
She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. “I don’t swim well. I’m so sorry about that. I thought I was fine, but I—I just lost my footing.”
Water dripped from her dark hair, from the long lashes shading her hazel eyes and a T-shirt that was doing its best to show off a figure that wouldn’t quit.
Her cheeks turned pink at his blatant perusal. She pulled ineffectually at the soaked material but the current zigzagging between them turned the pink into fire-engine red. Nick told himself not to do it, but the question tumbled out of his mouth anyway. “You blew me off at the party. Why?”
She pushed her hair out of her face, a wry smile curving her mouth. “What’s the matter, Mr. Taylor? Not used to getting the brush-off?”
“No,” he said honestly. “I’m not.”
She tipped her head to one side. “I’m sure flashing your gold card tends to work. If not that, then the cocky attitude.”
The insult bounced off his Teflon coating. “What does work for you then?”
She smiled. “Nothing, Mr. Taylor. I’m a med student. If my nose isn’t buried in books, I’m trying to keep my part-time job, which by the way, is why I would never, ever flirt with the best man.”
“Even when he jumps in a lake fully clothed for you…?”
“Even then.”
“Too bad,” he drawled. “I’d be willing to prove you wrong about me.”
Tyra appeared on the bank above them. Her eyes widened as she took in their soaked state. “What in the world happened? Are you guys okay?”
Nick waved a hand at her. “Yes. And don’t ask.”
She blinked. “Okay, well Jackson’s looking for you. He’s up at the restaurant. Emily, grab your uniform. We apparently have a wedding to put on.”
She disappeared before Nick could ask her whose wedding that would be. He levelled an even look at the girl he now knew was named Emily. “So?”
She lifted her chin. “Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Taylor. I’m thankful for the rescue. And flattered by the attention. Just not tempted.”
His jaw was somewhere near the ground when she turned and hiked up the hill, her soaking-wet, tight-fitting jeans making him groan out loud. He watched her go, replaying the conversation in his head. Recalling the slight flicker of indecision in those hazel eyes. Then he threw back his head and laughed.
He might just believe in love at first sight after all.