May the Best Man Win Read Free Page A

mandatory wedding-party dance, she wouldn’t have nailed him. And while her misstep had, in fact, been accidental, after Jase’s little stunt with the trash bag that morning, she didn’t feel bad about it in the least.
    The guy ought to learn to lead.
    Or, better yet, take off. Get out of her hair, get out of her life—just get lost.
    â€œChrist, lady!” Jase jerked back, his face blanching as he sucked a breath through his nose.
    Oops. Now she’d nailed both feet.
    She really wasn’t a very good dancer—at least, not when it required coordinating shared floor space with another person.
    â€œOh, man up and stop being such a crybaby.”
    Jase seemed on the verge of apoplexy, so she flashed her widest smile and leaned in close—reluctantly conceding that it was nice to go onto her toes rather than lean down to whisper in a man’s ear—to murmur softly, “Or do I need to get you a tissue, princess?”
    He tensed, the air between them beginning to crackle.
    The hand that had been barely hovering above her waist through the first half of the song firmed against the small of her back as he jerked her into hard contact with the solid planes of his body, the unexpected impact pushing her breath out in a whoosh. She barely had time to tell herself to breathe when the world spun. Suddenly, Jase had tipped her back into a dip so deep that she had no choice but to cling tightly to his shoulders and meet his unyielding stare.
    His breath rushed over her jaw and neck, leaving a wash of unwelcome chills in its wake.
    â€œEmily, you’re going to apologize for stepping on not one of my feet, but both. Nicely .”
    Like he’d apologized for the vomit?
    â€œYou’re delusional.”
    â€œOh, you’ll apologize, all right, and you’d better make me believe it. Because if you don’t, in about five seconds, I’m going to dump your sweet ass on this floor.”
    The breath froze in her lungs. “You wouldn’t.”
    â€œ Test me. ”
    Her fists tightened in the fabric of his jacket as her mind latched on to one thought: in the history of truly horrible bridesmaid gifts, Jase Foster was hands-down the worst.
    Because, yeah, that’s how Lena had sold him at her New Year’s Eve engagement party eight months before. She’d been going on about how he was one of Dean’s best friends and how much she loved him and how great he and Emily would be together. And since Emily’s last interlude had been a while ago, the idea of a little masculine attention held a certain appeal. For about fifteen seconds, she’d entertained the idea of maybe . Maybe just for a few dates.
    But then Lena had said it. “Dean was agonizing over who to pick as best man—you know how close he is to all the guys—but then I thought about the pictures, and this guy is tall, Emily. Like, way taller than you, even.”
    And right there, her spidey-senses started to tingle. Because coming in at five foot eleven and a half, she knew the list of guys who were taller than her by enough to earn a “way” qualifier was quite short. Sadly, Jase was among them.
    Sure enough, when Lena had grabbed her arm and pointed to the six-foot-five stretch of broad-shouldered, lean, all taper-cut and tuxedo-fine male striding through a sea of formal wear… Ugh. Of course, it was him.
    â€œHis name’s Jase Foster. And seriously, all tuxed up tonight”—Lena’s voice had dropped to a conspiratorial whisper—“tell me he doesn’t look gift wrapped !”
    He might have, except that the bow tie dangling open at his neck, coupled with the roughed-up mess of dark-brown hair topping his ruggedly handsome face, suggested that at some point during the elegant engagement party the man had already been unwrapped and played with… extensively .
    Typical.
    â€œAny chance he comes with a gift receipt?” Emily had asked,