Chapter 2

"Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?" I ask, tilting my head just enough to sell the innocent act. “I mean, I don’t want to derail your night with all my emotional fireworks. Unless, of course, you’re into drama queens in bridesmaid dresses.”

“Hey, not at all,” Colton says with a warm smile, those deep dimples making a surprise cameo and sending my ovaries into a standing ovation. “We’re old friends, Margo. If you’re in trouble, I want to help. Consider it part of the job description as Trent’s best man.”

Old friends.

Oof. Right in the girlhood crush.

The word hits like a Nerf dart dipped in rejection and launched straight at my heart. So much for that little fantasy where he suddenly realizes I’m not a kid anymore and declares his undying lust. Apparently, I’m still wearing the invisible sign that says Property of Big Brother. Look but do not touch.

Still, I rally. Because if there’s one thing I do well, it’s fake cool confidence.

“Well, I hope that adorable bridesmaid you were just charming doesn’t come after me with her stilettos,” I tease, flashing a sly grin as I nod toward Mindy, who’s currently shooting daggers my way like she moonlights as a Bond villain.

Colton glances over and shrugs like he’s shaking off lint. “Had to walk her down the aisle. Doesn’t mean I have to walk her to brunch.” He offers me his arm like a true Southern gentleman dipped in sin. “I’m at your service.”

Oh, I’ll take that service and a side of whatever that cologne is.

I loop my arm through his, feeling the solid strength beneath his tux sleeve. This man is all broad shoulders and bad decisions waiting to happen.

As we stroll back into the reception hall, I catch Preston watching us like someone just served him a cold plate of not getting his way. His face is red, his jaw tight, and honestly, he looks one minor inconvenience away from a full tantrum.

My pace falters.

Colton feels it instantly. His hand slides to the small of my back, warm and firm. The kind of touch that says, Relax. I’ve got this. Also, I lift heavy things and have feelings.

“Ignore him,” he murmurs in my ear, his breath brushing my skin like a dare. “He can’t touch you. Not while I’m here.”

Be still, my overdramatic heart.

I straighten my spine like I’ve just been knighted and let Colton guide me onto the dance floor. A slow song begins, and without hesitation, he pulls me close—one hand at my waist, the other cradling mine.

We sway, perfectly in sync, as if our bodies have been waiting for this moment to sync up like some kind of hot, rhythm-driven fate.

Yes, yes. He dropped the “friend” bomb earlier—but the way he’s holding me now? Friends don’t press that close. Friends don’t breathe your name like it’s the first line of a confession.

I rest my head on his shoulder and inhale him. It’s not just cologne—it’s something deeper. Something… Colton. And for a heartbeat, I let myself pretend this isn’t just a charade.

That I’m not the girl who once had braces and an unfortunate obsession with glitter eyeliner.

That he isn’t just playing a role to help me fend off my lunatic ex.

That I’m not already halfway in love with him.

The song fades. Reality slams back in when Trent suddenly appears like an overprotective pop-up ad.

“Hey, you two,” he says, squinting suspiciously. “Having fun?”

Colton and I spring apart like we’ve been caught doing something much more illegal than slow dancing. The heat of his body vanishes, but the tingle he left behind? Yeah. That’s staying.

“Hey, buddy,” Colton says, voice about a pitch higher than normal. It’s giving guilty golden retriever. His face is flushed, and I silently high-five myself for that little victory.

Time to redirect the brother radar.

“Where’s Jenna?” I ask quickly. “Seriously, Trent. She looks like a Disney princess and a P*******t board had a baby. She’s glowing. You sure she’s not secretly royalty?”

It works. Trent’s chest puffs with pride like he won the jackpot—which, in fairness, he did.

“She doesn’t know exactly where we’re going for the honeymoon,” he says, eyes twinkling. “Just that it’s one of the three she picked.”

“Mysterious and romantic,” I say, clutching my hands to my chest with dramatic flair. “No wonder she married you. That and your weird obsession with sock drawer organization.”

“Nothing but the best for my Jenna,” he declares, grinning like the lovesick fool he is.

“You’re a lucky man,” Colton adds smoothly, all cool and composed now. “Though how she puts up with your face every morning is a mystery we may never solve.”

“You’re one to talk,” Trent fires back, giving Colton a playful punch on the arm.

I watch them banter, both of them all easy smiles and old stories. There’s something beautiful in their friendship—loyal, weathered, real.

And yet I’m standing here wondering if I’ll ever get that with Colton. Or if I’ll always be the side character in his life. The untouchable sister of his best friend.

But not tonight.

No. Tonight, I am not that girl.

Tonight, I’m the woman on his arm. The woman he kissed. The woman who made his voice crack and his heartbeat stumble.

And by the time this wedding is over, Colton Stone is going to stop seeing me as Trent’s little sister... and start seeing me as the woman who just might wreck him.

Just then, my Apple Watch buzzes—a tiny, innocent tap against my wrist that manages to hijack my pulse. I discreetly tilt my arm while Colton and my brother Trenton carry on about his new job, something involving contracts and a tragic lack of emotional availability.

One glance at the screen, and my stomach does a full Olympic somersault.

Preston.

Of course it’s Preston. Because nothing says romantic evening like a message from your unhinged ex-fiancé with stalker tendencies and all the emotional range of a soggy napkin.

I scan the room, half-expecting him to be lurking behind the flower arrangements like some low-budget Scooby Doo villain. But he’s not by the bar. Not near the band. Not even creepily hovering by the restroom like he did at my cousin’s baby shower.

Then I read the text—and the blood drains from my face faster than my will to stay calm.

He touched what’s mine tonight.

Smile all you want, baby—your body remembers who you belong to.

Before the night’s over… I’ll be deep inside you.

Oh.

Oh hell no.

Every hair on my body stands at full attention while a violent shudder ripples through me. I feel like I’ve just been slimed by the world’s most revolting ghost.

“Nope. Nope. No thank you,” I whisper silently to the universe, as if it’ll carry the message back to him.

Panic threatens to creep in, cold and prickly at the edges of my thoughts. But I push it down. Hard. I will not let Preston ruin this night. Again. I’m not the scared girl who used to make excuses for his temper and flinch when he raised his voice. Not anymore.

I turn slowly toward Colton.

And there he is—laughing at something Trenton said, the corners of his mouth curved up, his eyes crinkled in that way that makes women forget their last names. He looks relaxed. Safe. Steady.

A walking fortress with dimples.

He doesn’t even know it yet, but he’s my way out. My emergency exit. My human security detail in a tux.

Colton Stone doesn’t just make me feel butterflies. He makes me feel bulletproof.

And tonight? That’s exactly what I need.