“Who is she?” I ask.
“Party planner,” Jules replies. “I found her when I hosted Nat’s baby shower a few months ago. She’s also doing the wedding. She’s a genius.”
“She’s my fucking hero,” Will grumbles and follows after Alecia. “I’m starving.”
“You’re always starving!” Jules yells after him and laughs.
*
How I ended up at Will’s table is a mystery to me. In fact, I’m sitting with all of Jules’ impossibly handsome brothers, a sweet woman named Brynna, and Jules’ sister-in-law, Stacy, who is lovely and very pregnant. Like, pop any day pregnant.
Everyone is laughing, joking with each other, and they all look incredible.
Why the hell didn’t I bring a date? Most likely because the last time I went out on a date a tsunami hit Japan.
Pathetic.
“So, Megan, what do you do?” Jules’ brother Matt asks me.
“I’m a charge nurse at Seattle Children’s Hospital.”
“What department?” he asks and cuts into his steak.
“I work with teens on the cancer care floor.” I take a bite of roasted potato and a sip of wine. I’m going to need more of this.
“How long have you done that?” Matt asks and I notice Will scowl. What the hell is his problem?
“I’ve been a nurse for about six years, in this position for two.”
Matt fills my wine glass and offers me a kind smile and I find myself returning it.
“You’re young to have such an important job,” Will comments kindly, but I roll my eyes and ignore him, earning another glare from him.
“So, if Stacy goes into labor, you can save the day,” Caleb suggests and we all giggle.
“No, I’m not an O.B. nurse. But I can call an ambulance,” I respond.
Stacy rubs her belly and grins. “It’s okay, guys, we still have about a month to go.”
Isaac leans down and kisses his wife’s cheek and whispers something in her ear, making her grin.
These men are all seriously charming. Jules and her family’s gene pool is impressive.
Matt pours me another glass of wine and I immediately sip it, pushing my plate aside. I’m too nervous to eat anyway.
In the middle of a conversation with Stacy I realize I’m beginning to feel a bit light headed, so I excuse myself and head to the bathroom to press a cold cloth on my forehead and refresh my lip gloss.
“Meg, wait up.”
Shit.
I try to make it into the ladies room ahead of him, but Will just follows me in and locks the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask him with an eyebrow raised.
“You don’t like me very much, do you?” He leans his tall, six foot four frame against the door and crosses his arms over his chest. He took his suit jacket off long ago, leaving him in a pink – pink – dress shirt that looks surprisingly hot on him, with no tie and black slacks. The sleeves are rolled up, showing off muscular forearms. His dark blonde hair is overlong and messy, and his blue eyes are running up and down my body before landing on mine.
“I don’t know you well enough to like or dislike you.”
“I call bullshit,” he says calmly.
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug and turn to the sink to wash my hands and apply my lip gloss, while Will’s eyes never leave me.
“What?” I ask and turn around.
“Why don’t you just tell me what I did to piss you off so I can go ahead and hit on you?”
I burst out laughing, making him scowl, which makes me laugh even harder.
“You really are an arrogant asshole, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not.” He’s dead serious, not finding this situation funny at all.
“Yeah, you are. I don’t want you to hit on me.”
He shrugs as if what I want is of no consequence. “I’m not an asshole, Meg. What did I do to offend you so much?”
I stop laughing and clear my throat, and take a moment to just really look at him. He looks sincere. But I will never get the looks of disappointment in my patients’ eyes out of my head.
“It doesn’t matter,” I repeat.
Will pushes himself off the door and crosses to me, pinning me against the bathroom counter, his hands resting on the granite on either side of me at my hip. He doesn’t touch me, but leans in so his nose is just about twelve inches from mine.
“It does matter,” he murmurs.
“Why?” My heartbeat has just gone into overdrive and oh, God, he smells so good. I’m blaming my fuzzy head on the over-abundance of wine I’ve consumed with very little food.
“I need you to tell me what I did to piss you off so I can apologize.” He leans back, just a few inches, and his eyes travel down my body leisurely. I can feel the heat from his gaze and I feel my skin warm. His eyes travel back up to my face and he pins me with his hot blue gaze. “You look amazing in this little dress with your heels and your auburn hair all curly and messy around your sweet face.”
“Um…” What was the question?
“Tell me.” He insists.
“Tell you what?” I whisper.