I gasp, leaning away from the three-tiered wedding cake. “I was just looking at it,” I say quickly, spinning around. When I turn, I’m face-to-face with Ryan Langley. His blond curls are slicked back, tucked behind his ears, and those pretty green eyes carry a hint of a laugh.
“Hey, Tess,” he says, his All-American smile warming my insides. He looks delectable in that navy suit. He lost the tie ages ago. I can see the tail of it poking out of his pocket.
I ignore the stupid fluttering of my heart. I knew he was here. Of course, I knew. I felt his eyes on me the moment I walked down that aisle. And he kept his eyes on me.
And I ate it up…because I’m a terrible friend who wants things she can’t have…like sweet, young puppy-faced hockey boys with abs for days and a megawatt smile.
Seriously, someone get this boy in a toothpaste commercial already.
“Hi, Ryan,” I say, leaning my hip against the table. I’m going for calm and collected. “I saw you earlier.”
“And I saw you,” he replies, taking a sip of what I think is an Old Fashioned.
The last time he saw me, I was wearing decidedly less in the way of clothing. Nothing at all, in fact. I can’t help but feel like this dress is armor…or more like a shield against doing something foolish like kiss him again. With the way he’s looking at me right now, I have a feeling I’ll need it.
I set down the glass of water I’m holding. “I was wondering when you might come talk to me.”
“Right now,” he replies. He glances from me to the cake. “Were you trying to steal a bite?”
I shrug. “Rachel doesn’t really like cake. And I’m sure you guys are all on your crazy hockey diets. And we all know Hollywood types don’t eat cake,” I add. “This will likely just get thrown out with the morning trash.”
“I never say no to cake,” he replies. “I’ll just add five miles to my morning run.”
“Five miles for a slice of cake? That doesn’t sound like a very even trade.”
“There are other ways to burn off the calories,” he teases, and that twinkle in his eye works its way right through to my lady bits.
I feign a gasp. “Ryan Langley, are you trying to proposition me for sex?”
“Get your head out of the gutter, Owens,” he replies. Setting down his Old Fashioned, he holds out his hand. “I was talking about dancing.”
I glance down at his offered hand, stupid heart fluttering again. “Don’t we have to eat the cake first? Otherwise, what calories are we trying to burn off by dancing?”
He drops his hand, realizing his mistake. “Oh…right.” Then he glances over his shoulder, looking to see if anyone is close by. Moving quick, he snatches up the long cake knife.
I gasp for real. “Ryan Langley, don’t you dare.” I grab at his wrist as he laughs, trying to wrestle the knife from him. “You can’t cut their cake—”
“You just said no one was gonna eat it,” he teases, gently pulling away from me. “You said it would sit here all night before it ends up in the trash. We’re saving it, Tess. A wedding cake deserves to be eaten. We’re helping it fulfill its wedding destiny.”
“You can’t just cut into it,” I cry. “Only crazy drunk uncles and psycho ex-girlfriends cut into a wedding cake before the bride and groom.”
He stills, glancing down at me. “What kind of weddings do you go to?”
“Knife down, Ryan.”
With a smirk, he sets the knife down, and I drop my hand away from him. In our tussle, I didn’t even realize I’ve pressed myself up against him. I can smell his crisp, sporty cologne. Fuck, he smells good. I stifle my groan as I lean away.
“No one will miss a little frosting,” he reasons. “And then we’ll dance off the calories. It’s the perfect crime.”
“Ryan—”
“Oh, look at that,” he says, swiping his finger over a rosette at the bottom of the cake. “I slipped. Clumsy me.” He holds up a finger thick with white buttercream frosting. “You gonna make me stand here holding the smoking gun? Come on, Thelma, this was your idea.”
I cross my arms. “Thelma? Does that make you Louise?”
He just shrugs, still smiling.
“I think you’re a J.D. at best,” I tease.
“Ouch. You know what, for that—” Lightning fast, he moves his hand, smearing the frosting against my lips.
I gasp again, one hand rising up to ghost over my mouth. “Ryan—”