Page 9

DIESEL

G od, it’s fun making this woman uncomfortable.

And so easy.

The salad course drags, but at least the music starts by the time the Beef Wellington comes out.

I haven’t eaten like this in a while. There’s not a lot of fine cuisine in rural Florida. Just diners and Dairy Queens.

I’m tempted to stab the meat with my knife and eat it like Symphony probably expects, straight off the blade.

But I don’t, mainly because she’s avoiding looking at me, like a mere glance might make her clothes fall off. They better.

The newlyweds leave their table to wander the crowd. What does Bailey know? And what information is she going to spill? The location of my bar has been a prized secret. Merrick and I formed a private company through a lawyer to keep our names off the public records.

And one shitty rideshare driver wrecked it all by dumping them into my parking lot.

If it were a coincidence. I’m not convinced.

“Where were you all actually headed when you ended up at the Leaky Skull?” I ask.

All three women turn to me. The other two glance at Symphony as if they need her permission to answer.

“A wine bar,” Symphony says. “We’d just had dinner.”

“Where’s there a wine bar in the middle of nowhere?” I don’t know of one.

“I have it in my phone,” Jenna says. “I was the one who called for the ride.” She looks down as if it’s by her. “Oh, we left our phones in the dressing room to avoid them going off during the ceremony.”

“Where were you coming from? ” This is making less sense by the minute.

But Bailey herself swoops up. “What are you all talking about?”

I’m about to ask her myself when Symphony smacks my leg. Right. I promised to avoid upsetting her. Today, anyway. Fine. “We’re trying to guess what song you’re dancing to,” I say easily. “My money’s on Ed Sheeran or Lewis Capaldi.”

Bailey laughs. “Maybe it’s ‘All My Ex’s Live in Texas.’”

Marietta tilts her head. “Have you ever even been to Texas?”

Jenna pushes Marietta’s shoulder. “Girl.”

“What!” Marietta rubs her arm. “I don’t think she has! She never told us.”

Symphony turns to me. “They’re actually dancing to Mozart. The quartet practiced a number just for them.”

Of course, they did. “Classy,” I say.

Rhett catches up to Bailey. “Dean. I didn’t realize you were coming.” He glances at his wife. “I thought we didn’t know where he was.”

Bailey smiles evasively. “But he’s here!” She tugs on Rhett’s hand. “Come along. We should make the rounds.”

Rhett glances at me once more, then he’s hurried off.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Symphony asks. She seems chagrined that I’ve been accosted by family. She knows I would never have wanted to be here.

I stand. “I’ll get it. Anything for you ladies?”

“More champagne!” Marietta calls. “ All the champagne!”

I head for the bar. The women already have glasses, so while the bartender pours me a bourbon, I steal an entire bottle out of the ice.

The man turns and notices, but my scowl keeps him from saying anything.

Marietta whoops at my return. “You are the best! Symphony, he’s a keeper!”

Right. The man who brings the booze is the clear winner.

I pop the top off the bottle and fill Symphony’s glass. The others move theirs closer.

“Thanks,” Symphony says. “It’s going to be an epic night.”

It better be.

Flashes pop as Bailey and Rhett move behind the wedding cake.

“We better get over there,” Marietta says.

“I think I’ll stay here with Diesel,” Symphony says.

Interesting.

Jenna nods. “Yeah. Bailey got you into this. She’ll understand.”

The two of them take off.

The wedding crowd drifts toward the tower of frosted flowers.

“Maybe we could take a walk?” Symphony suggests. “Now that the reception is getting looser, more of your family is probably going to come over here and piss you off.”

“Probably.”

“Come on.” She drains her champagne glass and picks up the bottle. “I’m not needed for anything. I’m sure as hell not going to try to catch the bouquet.”

I wonder why that is.

“All right.” I down the bourbon and scoot back from the table.

We walk along the back trellis, which glows white as the light fades.

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves. It’s nice, not too muggy. The band starts playing, a melancholy refrain among the bustle behind us.

“Who is this Merrick person Rhett mentioned a minute ago?” Symphony asks.

Small talk. I have better uses for her mouth.

“Well?” She doesn’t like silence.

Fine. “My brother. We’re only a year apart but the same grade, so we graduated together and joined the Army at the same time.”

“And running a bar now. That’s nice.”

“It’s been good.”

“You and him against the Pickle world.”

I huff a laugh. “Something like that.”

“You said you’re ex-military,” Symphony says. “Where were you stationed?”

“We did two tours in Afghanistan.”

“Oof.” She takes a swig from the champagne bottle. “You okay after all that? Must have been hard.”

I have no easy answer for that. “The bar was a good change.” I’m done talking about me. “So, what’s the deal with you and Bailey?”

“We started our Political Science Master’s program together. Been study partners.”

“I guess you’re pretty tight.”

“She’s my best friend.”

“But not tight enough to let you in on her plan at my bar?” I’m pushing it, and I know it.

Symphony takes another swig. “Nope.”

I’m not totally sure if it’s the truth or a lie. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

We reach the end of the fence. “We probably shouldn’t go too far afield of the crowd,” I tell her.

She laughs. “Yeah. People will talk.”

“Oh, I intend for them to.”

She stops to look up at me. “You don’t care what people think, do you?”

“I don’t give a single fuck.”

We’re standing close, the sunset turning her skin golden. She glances over at the reception. Everyone is settling in chairs with slices of cake.

“Come on,” she says. “I know where we can go.”

“Am I getting that fucking kiss?”

Her answer is a wicked grin, and my dick is back in the picture after this two-week wait.

When she grabs my hand to lead me toward the mansion, I know I’m following wherever she leads.