in a tight, intimate circle, he asked, “How you holding up?”
“Not nauseous...yet.”
“No driving desire to curl your ankle around the back of mine and push?”
“I’ll keep you informed.”
He surrendered a grin. He just bet she would.
“Where’s your mother tonight?”
Her cheeky smile faded. “Staying with my grandmother. She hasn’t been well.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Pining. My grandfather passed away not long ago. He was Nan’s rock.” Her look softened more. “I remember my parents going to your mother’s funeral a few years back.”
His stomach gave a kick. Even now, memories of his father failing due to lack of sleep from his immeasurable loss left a lump in Wynn’s throat the size of an egg. The word saint had been tailor-made for his mom. She would never be forgotten. Would always be missed.
But life had gone on.
“My father married again.”
She nodded, and he remembered her parents had attended the wedding. “Is he happy?”
“I suppose.”
A frown pinched her brow as she searched his eyes. “You’re not convinced.”
“My stepmother was one of my mother’s best friend’s daughters.”
“Wow. Sounds complicated.”
That was one way to put it.
Cole and Dex, Guthrie’s second-oldest son, had labeled their father’s second wife a gold digger, and worse. Wynn’s motto had always been Right Is Right. But not everything about Eloise Hunter was black or white. Eloise was, after all, his youngest brother Tate’s mom. With his father’s stalker still on the loose, little Tate didn’t need one ounce more trouble in his life, particularly not nasty gossip concerning one of his parents running around.
Out of all his siblings, Wynn loved Tate the best. There was a time when he’d imagined having a kid just like him one day.
Not anymore.
Wynn felt a tap on his shoulder. A shorter man stood waiting, straightening his bow tie, wearing a stupid grin.
“Mind if I cut in?” the man asked.
Wynn gave a curt smile. “Yeah, I do.”
With pinpricks of light falling over the dance floor in slow motion, Grace tsked as he moved them along. “That wasn’t polite.”
Wynn only smiled.
“He’s a friend,” she explained.
What could he say? Too bad.
She looked at him more closely. “I’m confused. From what I’ve heard, Cole was the workaholic, Dex, the playboy. Aren’t you supposed to be the Hunter brother with a conscience?”
“I grew up.”
“Hardened up.”
“And yet you’re captivated by my charm.”
Her lips twitched. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“So I dreamed that you came home with me three nights ago?”
She didn’t blush. Not even close.
“I was feeling self-indulgent. Guess we connected.”
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” his head angled closer, “we still do.”
Her hand on his shoulder tightened even as she averted her gaze. “I’ve never been in that kind of situation before.”
He admitted, “Neither have I.”
“I can’t regret the other night.” She let out a breath. “But, I’m not interested in pursuing anything...rekindling any flames. It’s not a good time.”
He felt his smile waver before firming back up.
“I don’t recall asking.”
“So, that hand sliding toward my behind, pressing me in against the ridge in your pants... I kind of took that as a hint.” Her smile was thin. “I’m not after a relationship, Wynn. Not right now. Not of any kind.”
He’d asked her to dance to prove, well, something. Now he wasn’t sure what. Three nights ago, he’d been attracted by her looks. Intrigued by her wit. Drawn by her touch. Frankly, she was right. The way he felt this minute wasn’t a whole lot different from that.
However, Grace Munroe had made her wishes known. On a less primal level, he agreed. At the edge of the dance floor, he released her and stepped away.
“I’ll let you get back to your party.”
A look—was it respect?—faded up in her eyes. “Say hi to Teagan and your brothers for me.”
“Will do.”
Although these days the siblings rarely saw each other. But Cole was set to tie the knot soon with Australian television producer Taryn Quinn, which meant a family gathering complete with wily stepmother, stalked father and, inevitably, questions surrounding the altered state of Wynn’s own personal life.
Until recently, he—not Cole or Dex—had been the brother destined for marriage. Of course, that was before the former love of his life, Heather Matthews, had informed the world that actually, she’d made other plans. When the bomb had hit, he’d slogged through the devastated stage, the angry phase. Now, he was comfortable just cruising along. So comfortable, in fact, he had no desire to ever lay open his heart to anyone again for any reason, sexy Grace Munroe included.
Wynn found the bride and groom, did the right thing and wished them nothing but happiness. On his way out of the room, which was thumping with music now, he bumped into Brock again. Wynn had a feeling it wasn’t by accident.
“I see you shared a dance with my daughter,” Brock said.
“For old time’s sake.”
“She might have told you...Grace left New York twelve months ago. She’s staying on in Manhattan for a few days, getting together with friends.” He mentioned the name of the prestigious hotel. “If you wanted to call in, see how she’s doing... Well, I’d appreciate it. Might help keep some bad memories at bay.” Brock lowered his voice. “She lost someone close to her recently.”
“She mentioned her grandfather—”
“This was a person around her age.” The older man’s mouth twisted. “He was a firefighter. A good man. They were set to announce their engagement before the accident.”
The floor tilted beneath Wynn’s feet.
