Wedding Date with the Best Man

Rich nodded and tossed the ball back. “She’s a dental hygienist and totally hot. Smokin’.”

“So is Jayne.” Okay, maybe Tristan shouldn’t have said that about his best friend’s bride to be, but Rich didn’t appear to notice. He was still going on about this other girl. Deidre Something.

Annoyance flared.

Cold feet or not, Rich was being an idiot. Time to call him on it.

“You can’t drill your dentist, bud.” Tristan dribbled the basketball. The sound echoed through empty gymnasium. “What did she do? Put the moves on you in the chair?”

“She was in a car accident we responded to.” Rich glanced around the empty court again like a man being watched. Or one who didn’t want to get caught. “A few days later she brought brownies to the station and invited me to dinner. I couldn’t say no.”

Rich could have said no, but he hadn’t wanted to. Not good.

Tristan spun the ball in his hands. “So you screwed up one time? You’re engaged. Just tell her.”

“It was more than once,” Rich admitted. “And I’m not telling her about Jayne. Deidre wouldn’t see me anymore.”

“She’s not going to see you anymore anyway, bonehead. You’re getting married in a week.”

“I know, but…Hell, I think I’m in love with her. Deidre,” Rich clarified.

Tristan dropped the ball. “What? Are you kidding? What about the wedding?”

“I’m sick of thinking about the wedding. That’s all Jayne can talk about. All she sees. Deidre treats me like I’m the best thing that ever happened to her. The most important thing in her life.”

“Probably because you saved her life,” Tristan countered, wanting, needing to say something. Anything. An image of Jayne, bright-eyed and smiling, flashed in his mind. He couldn’t believe Rich was doing this to her. “It’s a crush. Deidre will get over it.”

“Maybe I don’t want her to get over it. Maybe I like being somebody’s hero.”

Damn. Tristan thought for a minute. “How long has this been going on?”

“Not long,” Rich admitted. “A couple of weeks, maybe.”

“You’ve got to talk to Jayne.”

Rich stared at Tristan as if he’d grown antennae and a third eye. “Why?”

“You can’t get married if you’re in love with someone else.”

“I’m not canceling the wedding.” Rich set his jaw. “I asked Jayne to marry me, and I will marry her.”

Uh-oh. Tristan knew that mulish tone of Rich’s all too well. “What about Deidre?”

“I’m trying to figure that out.”

“Better figure it out fast, because you can’t have both.”

“I know.” Rich looked miserable. “Look, just don’t…Don’t say anything to Jayne. Promise me you won’t.”

Tristan had kept his mouth shut. But his guilt over knowing the truth had made it difficult for him to face Jayne the next time he saw her, and each time after that. He’d thought by ignoring her he would buy Rich the time he needed to make the right decision.

Wrong.

Rich had ignored the matter, forcing Tristan to keep his best friend and Jayne from getting married. He didn’t regret his actions one bit. But dragging up the past and telling Jayne what he’d done to engineer her discovering Rich’s cheating now wouldn’t help anyone. She’d admitted she wouldn’t have wanted to marry Rich. She was moving on. Rich was getting married. Tristan was finally getting to spend time with Jayne. It was better to bury the past.

“It wasn’t you,” Tristan said finally.

The doubt in her big blue eyes hit him right in the gut.

You don’t like me.

The problem was he did like her.

He’d always liked her.

Too much.

And for that reason he’d kept his distance from her and limited his contact with her. Even after the breakup. For all their sakes.

Yet he was here now, and he wouldn’t want to be any-where else.

“It was me,” he finished.

She smiled crookedly. “Yeah, that’s what the guy always says.”

He winced. “I’m…sorry.”

“Hey,” she said. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like this.”

“No worries.”

Her closed-mouth smile turned into a wide grin. His pulse kicked up.

Man, she really had a great smile. He took another picture of her.

“Knock it off,” she said, but her eyes gleamed with laughter.

“Professional photographer, remember?” A gull flew overhead, its sharp white wings contrasting with the cloudless blue sky. He turned his camera from her to the bird. “It’s an occupational hazard.”

“I’d say it’s more a hazard for anyone who happens to be around you.”

“Having your photograph taken isn’t a hazard.”

“Some cultures believe being photographed steals a part of your soul.”

“I’m not a soul-stealer,” he said. “I’m only after the image. The best photographs tell a story, and can often be described by a single verb.”

She took another slug from her water bottle. “Well, as long as you aren’t stealing souls, I suppose it’s okay, but please don’t go overboard.”