What I Like About You

Chapter 1-2

Laurel was so late.

She had reasonable faith that her big brother wouldn’t excommunicate her from the wedding party and, from what she could tell, neither would his bride-to-be. But she knew perfectly well her mother would be having a hissy fit right about now, and nobody wanted to deal with that.

She’d been all set to get out the door of her Nashville apartment on time for the four-hour drive. But then The Call had come. The official job offer from Carson, Danvers, Herbert, and Pike up in New York. Roger Pike had called her himself to say how excited they all were to have her—as if it was a foregone conclusion that she’d accept the job, pending her upcoming graduation and the passing of the bar exam. It should have been. Newly-minted attorneys were not supposed to turn down offers from a top-five firm in the nation. Especially one with a starting salary like the one Pike had thrown at her. It had taken all of Laurel’s considerable skill with words to navigate the conversation without giving an actual answer. Then another loss of precious time to come down from the post-call spaz so she was safe to drive.

She’d already been wound up about seeing her parents this weekend without having the spectre of this job hanging over the proceedings. She couldn’t tell them. Wouldn’t, even if she’d accepted. This weekend was about Logan and Athena, not her latest effort to please her father. But with every mile into the mountains, her shoulders tightened and her stomach churned.

What if Pike had told Dad himself? They’d clerked together once upon a time, long before Laurel’s father had opened his own firm. She didn’t think the job had been a result of nepotism—her class ranking at Vanderbilt spoke for itself. But she knew connections mattered. And she knew if she said no, the shock waves would have far-reaching repercussions. So, priority one was keeping the news under wraps so Logan and Athena had a drama-free wedding. If Dad already knew about the offer—well, she’d find a way to talk him down so it didn’t turn the weekend into a s**t show.

In the end, she pulled into the lot of the First Methodist Church, in tiny Eden’s Ridge, Tennessee, a whopping forty-five minutes late. Whipping her Mini Cooper into a space, Laurel took a few seconds to run a brush through her hair and thumb two antacids off the roll in her purse before sprinting in her sensible heels to the front doors. In the vestibule, she paused to bring her breathing under control. Rosalind Maxwell would consider gasping for breath an unseemly insult to Laurel’s already unforgivable tardiness.

Beyond the double doors leading into the sanctuary, she could hear the murmur of voices. Crap, they were probably wrapping up already. It wasn’t like it took that long to practice walking down the aisle. When she thought she could speak without wheezing—really, she needed to carve out time to get back into the gym next semester—Laurel stepped inside. The voices stopped and all eyes turned to her. She resisted the urge to hunch her shoulders, instead pausing in the doorway, spine straight, shoulders back, all her debutante training coming to her aid.

If you’re going to make an entrance, make an entrance.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. There was a pile-up on the I-40 on my way out of town.” The lie rolled easily off her tongue. Traffic accidents fell under the heading of excuses her parents would accept. She could see them twisted around in a pew up front. Ignoring the moue of disappointment pinching her mother’s pretty face, Laurel deliberately blanked her expression and strode down the red-carpeted aisle toward the assembled wedding party.

Grinning, Logan broke free of his position at the altar, long legs eating up the last several feet, so he could wrap her in a solid hug. “Good to see you, Pip.”

She didn’t bother rolling her eyes at the old nickname—short for Pipsqueak. Even in her heels, her brother towered over her. Instead, she burrowed in for a long moment, absorbing his natural calm. “Back atcha, big brother.”

Hooking his arm around her shoulders, he led her the rest of the way to the front. “Everybody, I want y’all to meet my sister, Laurel.”

She gave a little wave. As Logan began introductions to the rest of the wedding party, she was aware of her parents’ disapproving glares.

“—remember Athena, and these are her sisters, Maggie, Kennedy, and Pru. And this young lady with the sappy, romantic grin is Pru’s daughter Ari. She likes to matchmake. Consider yourself warned.”

Ari snorted. “Whatever. You’re here, aren’t you? That’s a three-for-three success rate.”

“I’m not sure you can claim credit for all of those,” Kennedy pointed out.

The girl crossed her arms. “Who was it who gave you all a stern talking to when you were being idiots?”

Pru shot her daughter a look of affectionate reproof. “What she means is she’s an incurably nosy and interfering romantic.”

“I regret nothing,” the teenager insisted.

Logan ruffled her hair. “Noted, Nosy. Moving on. This is our wedding planner, Cayla Black; my friend, Porter Ingram; and you remember Xander.”

Did she ever. Her brother’s former college roommate was still hot. He was also very married. To Kennedy, if she wasn’t mistaken. They’d been high school sweethearts, once upon a time, and life had given them a second chance.

“Good to see you again, Xander. Congrats on your own nuptials.”

He wrapped her in a quick hug. “Thanks. You grew up.”

“Yeah, that happens. I’m all set to become a productive member of society and everything.”

“So I hear. Never pegged you for law school as a kid.”

Laurel’s face felt stiff as she forced it into a smile. “It takes all kinds.”

Logan continued with the introductions. “And this is Pru’s husband, Flynn.”

Flynn nodded with an expression every bit as impish as his daughter’s. “A pleasure, to be sure.” The greeting fell off his tongue with an unmistakable Irish brogue.

“This here is Master of Carbs, Athena’s pal, Moses Lindsey. Moses is the genius behind our cake.”

“I’m pretty sure that makes you the most popular guy at the wedding,” Laurel told him.

His teeth flashed white against the burnished bronze of his face. “I aim to please.”

“Please tell me there’s chocolate.” She folded her hands in supplication.

Moses jerked his head in Ari’s direction. “Tiny over there already put in her order. There will be chocolate,” he confirmed.

Laurel mimed a small fist pump. “You are a god among men.” Chocolate cake would go a long way toward making up for the stress she’d endured this semester.

“And last but certainly not least, your escort, Sebastian Donnelly.”

Laurel turned to the last groomsman and felt the faux, flirty smile slide right off her face. She froze there, hand partly outstretched as her gaze locked with a pair of deep, brown eyes. Her breath backed up in her lungs, and her heart slowed to a crawl.

His thick, dark hair was nearly black and just a little mussed, as if he’d combed it with his fingers straight from the shower. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and long, long legs. His button-down shirt clung to his arms in a way that told her he had plenty of muscle under the Oxford cloth, and she’d bet money there was a solid six-pack under there, too.

He stepped forward, taking her hand in his. “Hi.”

As his long, callused fingers closed around hers, she could breathe again. A stillness seemed to flow out of him and into her, and all the running and the stressing and the anxiety that was her constant companion went quiet. Her breath came out on something very close to a sigh, the tension in her shoulders leeching out. In its absence, the pulse that had turned sluggish began to gallop. All the prospective polite banter evaporated from her brain, leaving her with only one thought: Holy s**t, you’re gorgeous.

She couldn’t very well say that, though.

Words. I need words. I’m supposed to be good at those. Casting around for something to say, she blurted, “What happened to Nick?” Goofy, bespectacled Nick, who used to give her noogies and didn’t leave her a tongue-tied mess of attraction.

“His dad had a heart attack, so Sebastian is standing in,” Logan explained.

“Is his dad okay?” The question came automatically. Thank God, she sounded normal at least.

“Yeah, he came through surgery and woke up a few hours ago.”

“Good,” she murmured.

Sebastian still had her hand, still hadn’t looked away. Why hadn’t he moved? Why hadn’t she? It seemed as if heat built between their palms, and Laurel wanted to bask in it.

She wasn’t broken. After the last couple of years, she’d begun to think that Devon had been right. The last guy she’d tried dating, back in her first year of law school, he’d accused her of being a robot. She was driven and focused. In the grand scheme of trying to maintain her position at the top of her class through that brutal, first year of academic hazing, dating and s*x hadn’t been a priority. She hadn’t been interested in anyone since. But standing here, palm-to-palm, with Sebastian Donnelly, she felt that interest roar to life like a furnace re-stoked. Heat rolled over her, and she could only pray she wasn’t blushing.

One corner of his mouth quirked, as if he knew her brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Christ, how was it legal for a man to have lips that sensual? The contrast to the neat, close-cropped beard did something to her long-dormant lady parts, and she couldn’t help wondering what that beard would feel like on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

“—done with introductions, how about we do one last run through, so Laurel is up to speed, then we’ll break for the rehearsal dinner. Okay?”

Jerking her attention to Cayla, Laurel pulled her hand free, resisting the urge to tuck it under her arm to savor the tingles from where he’d touched it. Her cheeks bloomed with warmth.

Good God, when was the last time she’d felt an attraction like this?

Pretty sure that would be never, she thought as she followed the other bridesmaids to the vestibule.

With half an ear, Laurel listened to the wedding planner reel off instructions. The rest of her was still back in the sanctuary, reliving the touch of Sebastian’s hand. It wasn’t the heat that drew her—though that had rocked her back plenty—it was the stillness. The same kind of calmness her brother had always exuded but…more, somehow. Rare and precious, that feeling called her more effectively than any siren. Taking her place in the line-up to walk down the aisle, she wondered what she had to do to get another hit.