When Honey Got Married Read Free Page A

the drive back home, but Beau—and the things she’d said and done—kept coming back to make her cringe.
    So much for professionalism. Could you have tried a little harder to make a fool of yourself?
    Ugh. Why did seeing him make her feel fifteen again? No, not fifteen. At fifteen, she’d had the starry-eyed, wobbly-kneed crush, but while her hormones had been in adolescent overdrive, she didn’t have the experience to know exactly what two healthy people could do to and with each other.
    Now she did.
    That knowledge had hit her dormant adolescent crush feelings full-on, making her knees wobble in a whole new way. All the hurt feelings and old grudges weren’t nearly enough to fight it off.
    Frustrated, she turned up the CD of Honey’s wedding music and pictured the processional, mentally marking the entrance of each attendant. She’d need to tell the musicians to slow down or else the flower girls would be trotting down the—
    Dear Lord, he had the most amazing hands. And when she’d briefly shaken one earlier, they’d been warm and slightly rough, just enough to make the hairs on her arms stand up at the thought of them on her…
    No! Focus on the flower girls, Grace.
    By the time she made it home, her head ached from the battle. She dropped her bag and keys on the counter and went straight for the wine in the fridge. She’d sworn never to use alcohol as a crutch or an escape hatch, but there was an exception to every rule.
    Her father hadn’t been a violent or mean drunk, just a worthless parent because of his addiction, and his twenty-year bender had left its mark on her. The whispers, the pity, and the poverty had driven her out of Bellefleur and prompted her vow to never go back.
    She’d broken that vow, and not only had she survived the experience, she was pretty darn proud of how well she’d done, too. This would be a celebratory drink, not one of weakness.
    Still, the tiny pop of the cork coming out of the bottle was the sweetest sound she’d heard all day. I’ve totally earned this. Drinking straight out of the bottle was tempting, but she reached for a glass instead.
    She took a long drink and sighed, closing her eyes as the smooth pinot loosened the painful knot in her stomach. Then she kicked off her shoes, untucked her blouse, slid a CD into the player, and collapsed on the couch in a boneless heap. A second later, she sat up, unclasped the hook of her bra, and pulled it out through the armholes of her shirt. The extra padding had done its job. She’d caught Beau looking down her shirt more than once. She just hadn’t expected his actions to affect her so strongly. How embarrassing—and it didn’t matter if Beau knew it or not. She knew, and that was bad enough.
    And I have to go back there. God, she was an idiot. While Beau might not have been able to place her today, the chances of her making it through the weekend without him finding out were slim. Actually, they were more like none. Even if Honey didn’t tell God and everyone immediately, the entire population of Bellefleur would be there, and she didn’t dare hang her hopes on the possibility that the entire town had selective amnesia. The only saving grace was that both Friday and Saturday would be busy—both for her and for Beau. They’d be in the same place, but by necessity, their interactions would be brief and about business. She could hang on to that, if nothing else. Maybe she should have fessed up immediately and saved herself the trouble.
    Although it had been nice to see him without him seeing Gracie Lee…
    Ugh. If she survived this, she was never, ever going back to Bellefleur again. She’d have nothing left to prove to anyone.
    She let that thought buoy her until the second glass of wine kicked in, taking the edge off her frazzled nerves. After changing into a comfy pair of shorts and a tank top, she went to the kitchen and tossed a frozen dinner into the microwave. Looking at her almost empty wineglass, she debated