And two: He’d recently confessed to her that he didn’t want to get married. Ever. And she’d promised herself a long time ago that if she was going to do the whole relationship thing—which she wasn’t anymore; she’d sworn off men six months ago—but if she wanted a relationship, she would do it all in the right order. Dating, engagement, wedding, honeymoon, then maybe a kid or two a few years down the road, once they were settled. Exactly the opposite of what every woman in her family had done. She’d seen her mother and sister both go through enough men to start their own football teams, and she wanted no part in that. It was either the whole shebang or nothing at all.
So, yeah, Preston had been right to end things. It still stung, but he’d been right.
She sighed and shook off his grasp. “Okay, Preston. I’m sorry for being bitchy. You know how I get when I’m forced to wear a dress and be social.”
He gave a slight wince at the swear word and glanced around. Hah. Some things never change. She rolled her eyes, pretending that his distaste for cursing wasn’t somewhat adorable. She always used to tease him about it.
“It’s a nice dress,” he offered. “Let me guess, Shelby bought it?”
She nodded and picked up her beer. “When I told her I’d been invited to a wedding here, she went all fashionista on me. Even forced me to go shopping and try shit on. I barely managed to talk her out of buying me a sequined prom-bomb in feisty fuchsia.”
This time he did a better job at hiding his wince with a smile. “Wedding? Me, too. Well, in a way. I’m vacationing with a friend who’s in wedding a party. Popular destination isn’t it? I’ve seen several brides since I got here. Anyone I know?”
“Cam’s brother got hitched.”
His smile didn’t slip, but his face tightened the way it always had whenever Cam came up in conversation. “And how is Camden? I heard through the grapevine that he left MPD to become a private investigator.”
The way he said “private investigator” suggested he thought about as highly of the profession as he did a wad of chewed gum on the bottom of his loafer. Not that she could really blame him for his disdain. She’d had a similar reaction when Cam first told her his plans to leave their tight-knit homicide squad. Still, she felt the need to defend Cam and his brothers.
“Wilde Security is actually doing quite well.”
“So I’ve heard,” Preston said. “The Pruitts are old money. I’m sure they paid the Wilde brothers handsomely for clearing up that whole stalker incident earlier this year.”
“And they ended up with a son-in-law in Jude Wilde,” she pointed out.
“Which I’m sure Colonel Pruitt was absolutely thrilled about.” The sarcasm in his statement was thick enough to cut with a chainsaw, suggesting Colonel Elliot Pruitt was not a-okay with the marriage, although he seemed happy enough when he walked his daughter down the aisle. But even if he’d been putting on a front for the benefit of the wedding guests, what did it matter? Eva liked Libby well enough and Jude was like a little brother to her, but their family drama was none of her—or anyone else’s—business. Between her mother and Shelby, she had enough of her own drama, thanks.
Time for a subject change. “So where’s your friend?”
“Doing the wedding thing. I flew down on a whim yesterday without RSVPing, so I’m left to entertain myself for the evening. Shouldn’t you be at your wedding?”
“Cam had to leave for a few minutes. I’ll go back when he returns. Until then…” She lifted her drink in a silent toast. “Bottoms up.”
“You always could put away alcohol like no woman I’ve ever met.”
Part of her wished that had been a dig at her lack of femininity so she’d have an excuse to be snotty and dismiss him, but his tone of voice painted it as a compliment.
“Thanks.” She scanned the bar, mentally urging Cam to hurry up. She was over making polite conversation. Of course, once he got back, she’d have to go make polite conversation with the wedding guests, so it was really a lose-lose kind of night.
She knocked back the rest of her Guinness and caught the bartender’s attention for another. She slid Cam’s drink in front of her and decided to put the fresh one in its place.
Christ, where was Cam?
As if her thoughts conjured him, he appeared in the doorway, holding the door open for one of Libby’s bridesmaids—the one he’d escorted down the aisle after the ceremony. With streaky brown hair and big blue eyes, she was the kind of gorgeous woman who made beauty look effortless. Her blue wrap dress accentuated a body that probably made men drop to their knees in front of her and pledge their undying devotion. Cam was certainly falling all over himself to help her through the door. Because, God forbid, she might break a nail if she had to open the damn thing herself.
Whoa.
Eva shifted her gaze away from them and stared into her pint, watching the foam slide down the side of the glass. Where had those bitter thoughts come from? So what if Cam wanted to hold the door for the woman. So what if he flirted a bit. So what if he wanted to fuck her. As a matter of fact, good for him if he did. Eva couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on a date and the hand and lotion routine was probably getting as old for him as her vibrator was for her.
Heat flushed under her skin at a vivid mental image of Cam naked, splayed out on a bed with his head thrown back against a pillow, his chest heaving with each breath, his skin sweat-slicked, his hand closed around his cock, sliding up and down…