Three Simple Rules (The Blindfold Club #1) (20 page)

He looked gorgeous, even when he was visibly confused and conflicted. “Evie.”

“I’m not saying I want it like that every time, but I love never knowing how you’re going to come at me,” I said. “You’re kind of an adventure, boss.”

He came up off of the bed and put his hands on my waist, drawing me to him and kissing me chastely on my forehead. “Are you ready to go?”

“As soon as you go back to treating me like you were before, asshole,” I said with a wide smile I hoped reached all the way to my eyes.

He took a breath. “All right.” His face softened and turned playful. “I want to take off your clothes and taste that pussy.”

My mouth fell open. “Do we have time?” I asked, hopeful.

“No, I’ll take a raincheck though.”

Having a steering wheel under my hands was foreign. It had been ages since I’d driven. Because I was nervous about traffic, and driving Logan’s car, and the whole meeting-his-entire-family thing, I left with plenty of time. For once in my life, I wasn’t late. I parked behind the church with an enormous white steeple and did a final check of my makeup. I hadn’t seen Logan since I dropped him at his brother’s hotel room this morning.

There were friendly smiles when I joined people heading into the church, but no faces I recognized until I spotted him. He was huddled up with the other groomsmen by the interior doors. Holy mother of god, he looked amazing. A black tux with a simple black bow tie, James Bond style. He must have sensed my arrival because his head turned toward me.

Logan’s gaze started at my rhinestone strapped sandals and worked its way up, lingering on the royal blue, one-shoulder dress that matched my eyes. He spent an indecent amount of time staring at my chest. He liked what he saw. I understood. It took an iron grip on my self-control to keep my indecent thoughts from seeping onto my face, or out of my mouth, as he approached me.

“You look amazing.” He kissed my cheek.

“I believe that’s my line.”

“Come on, I’ve got a seat for you beside Chelsea.”

Chelsea.
That was the friendly cousin’s name I had chatted with during the rehearsal. I slipped my arm into Logan’s, and just as we crossed through the interior, Garrett passed me a ceremony program. It was beautifully understated in design, and Logan to a tee.

“Don’t critique me too hard,” he said. “Hilary was rather specific.”

“No promises.”

As stated, Chelsea had an open spot beside her that I slid into, giving her a smile. She looked nervous, rereading the weathered piece of paper in her hand that had notes written in the margin. I admired the program while the string quartet began the processional.

Sometimes weddings seem to last a lifetime, and others seem impossibly short, and this one fell into the latter category. Hilary looked stunning in her antique lace dress. Her wild mane of hair had been styled back into a soft up-do with a cathedral veil pinned beneath. And while Nick was a handsome groom, my eyes were glued to the man on his left.

Despite her notes, Chelsea zipped through the reading in less than a minute. It was a big wedding, and I could understand why she’d been nervous. The kiss at the end was just like Nick and Hilary – adorable. He kissed her much too quickly, so she went back for seconds, drawing chuckles from the guests. Logan found me after the recessional, introducing me to some aunts and uncles, and nice people I had absolutely no hope of remembering.

“We’ve got pictures now,” he said. “I’ll come find you as soon as I can when we’re done.”

“I’m fine. I’ve got Chelsea to latch onto,” I joked. Although, not really.

I waited until the parking lot drained of cars and then drove the ten minutes to the country club. Cocktail hour had already begun in the garden behind the ballroom. Servers with silver trays offered various hors d’oeuvres, and a line had formed at the open bar. Chelsea spotted me and waved me over.

More family to meet, and the questions began now.
How did you two meet? How long have you been together?
And my personal favorite,
How do you feel about kids?
Yikes. I had to remind myself of the lie since it had been an actual week. Even with the lie, two months dating seemed a bit soon to be prying into that.

I worked my way through the line beside Chelsea to get a rum and Diet Coke.

“It was a disaster,” she said about her reading. “Did you understand a single word?”

“You enunciated really well.”

“Aw, you’re sweet, but you’re not a convincing liar.” Chelsea laughed and swirled her drink.

We stood off to one side of the garden where the perfume from the rose bushes clung heavy in the air. It was a beautiful day, although hot. Logan must be sweating up a storm in that tux, which of course made me think about when he’d appeared shirtless and drenched in sweat this morning.

“What the hell?” Chelsea muttered under her breath. She turned to me, panic streaking her face. “Um, maybe you should—”

A woman approached us, staying on the path so she wouldn’t sink into the soft grass, her slender legs extending above stiletto-clad feet. She was oblivious to the effects of the sun, not a perfectly-styled hair out of place. It was like looking in the mirror, only one that reflected back the complete opposite of what I was. For instance, I was an inch shorter than average with thick thighs, whereas she was tall and rail-thin. Blonde, with a model pouty face that men seem to find so appealing. She looked like she was maybe thirty. Picture-perfect.

She gave Chelsea a smile, but it was cold and unfeeling.

“Wow, it’s been a while.” I’d known Chelsea all of three hours, and I could tell this was strained.

“Yeah,” the blonde said. I don’t think she was capable of sweating. Like it was beneath her. “How have you been?”

“Good. And yourself?”

The blonde’s flat smile continued. “I’ve been great.”

“Good for you. I’m a little surprised to see you here.” Chelsea’s voice was uneven. “And I can think of some other people who might be surprised, too.”

The blonde gave a tinny laugh. “Susan invited my parents, but my dad’s sick. Nick’s practically family to me, so, here I am.” Her dusty green eyes turned to me. “I don’t believe we’ve met, you must be from Hilary’s side.”

She held a manicured hand out to me for a handshake, which I took. Her cold hand was soft like silk. How the hell was she cold in this heat?

“Actually,” I answered, “I’m Logan’s girlfriend. Evelyn Russell.”

The hand froze, tightened on mine while her gaze flew to Chelsea as if demanding confirmation. All Chelsea did was take a long sip of her drink, and the blonde’s eyes returned to me, narrow and assessing. She let out a strange noise, a bitter laugh like she’d just heard the most ridiculous thing in her life.

“Nice to meet you.” It sounded like pure bullshit. “I’m April Kelley.” Those words came out weighted. It was revealed as a seemingly recognizable name, although I hadn’t a clue.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, giving her a blank look that wiped the smile from her face.

“How long have you and Logan been seeing each other?”

“A couple of months.”

April had a bizarre expression. “I hadn’t heard he’d started dating again.” Her voice fell down an octave. “But it’s not like we talk these days.”

Every cell in my brain screamed that she was one of Logan’s ex-girlfriends. It wasn’t surprising, her cold and distant personality was similar to his at times, although I think she was at level: expert. She was stunningly beautiful. They must have made a gorgeous couple.

Chelsea’s reaction told me I had to tread lightly. The break-up between them hadn’t gone well. I wondered immediately who had ended it. In my experience, you can come out just as wounded when you’re the one who breaks it off, so it was too hard to know from her thinly-veiled contempt if it was his doing.

“Well,” Chelsea said, “I’m glad to hear you’re doing good, April. We should probably go mingle with my family. Some of them came up from Florida, and I don’t get to see them often.” Chelsea gestured back toward the swarm of people by the bar. “Evelyn?”

“Okay,” April said. She smiled like the Cheshire cat, as if aware she’d sent Chelsea running. “Nice meeting you.”

“You, too,” I responded, hurrying to keep up with Chelsea.

I waited until we were well out of earshot, but Chelsea beat me to it. “I’m so sorry about that,” she said. “That had to be really awkward.”

“Yeah, probably, except I still don’t know who she is. She’s one of Logan’s exes?”

Chelsea’s mouth dropped open. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No, tell me what?”

“She’s not one of his exes, she’s his
only
ex. They were together for twelve years.”

chapter

FOURTEEN

Twelve freaking years. That’s not a relationship, that’s a marriage. He spent twelve years with that calculating woman. Was that why he was the way he was? Had she trained him to be such a tidy, neat freak?

Oh, god.

Was that why he was obsessed with controlling me in the bedroom?

I finished my drink and snatched a bottle of water off one of the trays of a server who passed by. It solved the problem of my cottonmouth.

“No,” I said. “He’s never mentioned her.”

“I cannot believe she came, she’s got some balls on her. Logan never told us what happened between them. But whatever it was, it was bad because suddenly April’s name was like Voldemort’s – she who shall not be named.”

“When was this?”

“I dunno, a while. Maybe three years ago.”

Things came into focus. If I’d invested twelve years in another person, only to have it fall apart, I’d be hesitant to get back into a relationship too.

“He’s not going to like that she’s here,” Chelsea added.

“Well, what’s a wedding without a little drama?” I responded in a humorless joke.

A text message came from him a few minutes later, telling me pictures had run long, but they were in the limo and on their way. I was composing a response to warn him about April, when an elderly couple approached. Logan’s cute grandparents wanted to meet his new girlfriend. Knowing what I did now, his earlier comments made more sense. Was I really only his second girlfriend? I pocketed my phone out of courtesy and beamed a smile to them.

Was his family as confused as I was about Logan choosing me as a girlfriend? I don’t think April and I could be more different if I tried. Two minutes into the conversation, I felt a warm hand on my hip and Logan appeared on the other side.

“Hi,” he said. “Evie, do you mind?” He pointed at the water bottle in my hand. I passed it to him and watched him finish it. He chatted with his grandparents for another minute, and then the staff was asking for the wedding party to line up for announcements.

“I’ll see you inside,” he said, giving me a squeeze and following the rest of the bridal party toward the entrance.

I wanted to tell him, but really, what good would that do right now? I followed the herd of people moving into the elaborate banquet room, picking up my seating card. Thank god Nick and Hilary had opted for a sweetheart table so I could sit beside Logan.

The bridal party’s announcement was thankfully short and our table filled, first with his mother and stepfather, then Garrett, and finally Logan. The maid-of-honor didn’t sit, she went straight to the microphone and began her toast, which meant Logan would be up right after.

“Are you nervous?” I asked him. I had forgotten about this duty, and hadn’t seen him practice. He didn’t reach into his jacket to pull out notes.

“I’m fine,” he whispered back, cool as a cucumber.

The maid-of-honor gave a toast that was more of a roast of her sister, throwing out comments about how thrilled their parents were to have Hilary off the payroll. Hilary was a good sport about it, and Nick seemed to think it was hilarious. The sister ended it on a sweet note, and we were clinking glasses. Logan kept hold of his champagne and stood, moving to take the offered microphone from her.

“Some of you might not know the real story on how Hilary and Nick met, and if you two don’t mind, I’d like to share it now.”