Page 178 of Bridesmaid Undercover
Am I dreaming?
Did someone put him up to this?
I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, and I never thought it would actually come true.
“You…you’re drunk, Hardy,” I say. “I don’t want you saying things that aren’t true.”
His expression grows stern. “Why would you think this isn’t true?”
“Because you like Maple, and you’re probably sad about that?—”
“I’m not sad about her. Nothing is going on there.”
“I saw you two,” I say. “I saw?—”
“What you saw was Maple helping me figure out a way to be with you,” he replies. “She was trying to get me out of the friend zone. And the reason I’ve been weird around you? Because I fucking like you, Everly. Ken said it twice tonight. Polly and Maple were pulling out all the stops to try to get us closer, to give me a chance.”
“A chance?” I ask as I pull away, my mind reeling. “You want a chance with me?”
“Yes,” he says, exasperated. “Fuck, Everly, you didn’t for one moment even question my intentions tonight?”
“I…I mean, I thought maybe, but it was such a far-off possibility that I didn’t think… Last week, you wanted Maple. So, I didn’t believe you would want to be with someone like me.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks, looking angry that I insulted myself.
“It’s just…you have history with Maple, and you were?—”
“I was trying to resurrect something that was never there to begin with,” he replies. “And while I was doing that, I was developing a relationship with someone else, someone I can’t stop thinking about.” He takes a step closer. “Someone I look forward to hearing from every day.” He takes my hand in his. “Someone I crave, who I want to hold…to touch…to kiss.”
I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat as he closes in on me.
“Tell me you don’t want this, Everly, and I’ll go home. I’ll call an Uber right now. Vinnie’s probably still close, anyway. Send me away if this isn’t for you.”
“I…I don’t know,” I say, confused, truly unable to process what’s happening, unable to believe this could be real.
But my response pauses him.
His hand drops, and he takes a step back, his expression concerned, not angered.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says. “I, uh…I thought that maybe there was something there, but…yeah,” he says softly as he pulls his phone from his pocket and taps his Uber app.
Panic surges through me because even though I’ve wanted this for so long, I’m still unsure I can accept that it’s happening—but I don’t want him to leave.
His hand tugs on his hair, his posture defeated and when he says, “Fuck, I’m really sorry, Everly,” I move toward him.
I place my hand on his phone to stop him from calling an Uber and then loop my hand behind his neck right before pulling him in close. He pockets his phone, places his hand on my back, and has just enough time to cup my cheek before my lips brush against his.
It’s subtle.
A whisper of a kiss.
But instead of pulling away, I remain still, our noses touching, our breath mixing.
“Please tell me you want this,” he whispers as he presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, his hand growing tight on my back. “Please tell me I’m not the only one feeling this energy between us.”
“You’re not,” I say and then I press my lips to his again, but this time, there’s no pulling away.
Instead, our lips meld together in a slow, heady way that steals all of my breath.
