From the Start Read online

  Thankfully, backup arrived before things could get out of control. Danny and Ben strolled up, relaxed and at ease, each with a longneck in hand. “Everything okay here?” his brother asked.

  “We were just excusing ourselves for a dance,” Michael answered without ever breaking eye contact with Billy. “Isn’t that right, fellas?”

  The cowboys, quickly realizing they were outsized and outmatched, took a look at the three of them and wisely chose to walk away without saying anything more.

  Danny and Ben remained right where they stood, glancing back and forth between Michael and the bridesmaid, smug smiles on their faces as they obviously waited for thanks, introductions, something. Didn’t matter since the music had transitioned back to a classic country tune and now he only had one thing in mind. “Thanks for the backup, guys. But I do believe they’re playing our song,” he said.

  With her hand still in his, he led her toward the dance floor. But she stopped short at the edge of the parquet wood surface. “You don’t really want to dance with me.”

  “Why is that?”

  She glanced down to the strappy sandals on her feet. “Because I don’t have the right shoes.”

  So of course he looked, his gaze traveling down shapely legs to see cute little toes painted hot pink. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Okay, then.” She lifted her face to look him dead in the eye. “I have no choice but to be completely honest.” She took a deep breath and then spoke in a rush. “I have no idea how to two-step or country swing dance or whatever you want to call it.”

  It wasn’t at all what he had expected her to say, but her not knowing how to dance wouldn’t be enough to keep him from holding her in his arms.

  “Well, then, no time like the present.”

  He tugged her onto the dance floor, and once they were facing in the right direction Michael lifted her left hand and placed it on his shoulder. As a couple breezed past showing off their tight turns and fast spins, her jaw dropped slightly. With the tip of his finger, he lifted her chin so she’d look him in the eyes. “Don’t pay any attention to them. You’ll do just fine.”

  She smiled then. “Okay. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  He placed his right hand just below her shoulder blade and pulled her close. “There’s only three things you need to remember. One, relax. Two, step backward with your right foot to start. And three, the pattern is quick, quick, slow, slow. Got it?”

  She gave a curt nod, then quickly circled her neck and rolled her shoulders. This woman meant business. “Start on right. Quick, quick, slow, slow. Got it.”

  As she repeated the pattern to herself over and over again, he started guiding her across the floor, keeping to the outside and doing his best to avoid colliding with any showoffs. After a couple of minor mishaps and several turns around the dance floor, she’d relaxed her grip enough that the blood flow had returned to his thumb. Despite her earlier hesitation, she was picking it up rather quickly. But after all, if copious amounts of alcohol could improve one’s two-stepping skills it said something about the dance to begin with.

  Midway through the second song, he guided them into an easy turn, and by the end of the third she was following his lead well enough for him to spin her. Their first attempt was a bit of a fail, but the second she pulled off without a stumble. The smile on her face said everything he wanted to hear, and he’d never been so happy to spend time with a complete stranger in a country bar.

  When the lights dimmed and the music slowed, several couples began leaving the dance floor and instinctively she tried to follow. But Michael kept hold of her hand. “How about a slow one after all that racing around?”

  She glanced up at him, smiled, then lowered her eyes to the floor, hiding her expression. If the lights were up, would he see her cheeks flush pink? His hand drifted to her lower back and he pulled her even closer than before. Her hand slipped from his shoulder, coming to rest on his chest not far from his heart, and suddenly he became aware of how it raced beneath her palm.

  The attraction was undeniable. He liked the way they fit together when they danced. He liked how she held his hand tight, unwilling to leave him to fight those cowboys. He liked that she was small, almost delicate, and yet he’d already seen her strong side. And on top of all that, she was very, very beautiful.

  When she relaxed even further into his embrace, resting her head on the front of his shoulder, he knew that one dance, not even one night, with this woman would be nearly enough. Which was crazy since he didn’t even know her name.

  Fuck.

  He didn’t even know her name.

  What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t him. He wasn’t the kind of guy to fall head over heels for some random chick in a bar. That happened to other guys. Younger guys. Fools who didn’t know any better. And he definitely knew better.

  And yet . . .

  The song ended and he led her off the dance floor to the table where Danny, Bree, Ben, and Marie sat. And as timing would have it, just like a pied piper, Gibby returned with the entire bachelorette party following behind.

  Sam charged toward her, arms outstretched, tiara and veil sitting slightly askew on her head. “Kacie! I rode the bull!” Her sister grabbed hold of her and swayed back and forth, the way happy, drunk people often do.

  While she was glad her little sister was having fun, she really wanted to find out more about the mystery man who had so gallantly come to her rescue. Before she could pry herself from Sam’s grip, he politely offered to buy her another margarita, then headed back to the bar without really waiting for an answer from her.

  “So . . .” her sister said with a sly grin on her face. “He found you after all.”

  “He said you sent him looking for me. I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not. How do you know him?”

  Sam laughed. “I don’t!” She turned to point at another guy surrounded by bridesmaids. “That guy introduced me to him. Said that he’s a nice, single guy who’d be happy to entertain you.”

  “What the hell, Sam?” Kacie shook her head in disbelief. “You sent some random stranger to babysit me?”

  Her sister draped an arm around her neck and whisper-shouted in her ear. “I didn’t send just anybody. You gotta admit he’s damn good looking.” They both looked up just in time to see the tall, blond hunk returning from the bar, a margarita in hand. “And lookie there. He bought you a drink.”

  Kacie couldn’t believe it. Here she’d been thinking things were going pretty well, only to find out she’d been cast as the pity date. “Dammit, Sam. You sent the wingman after me?”

  “Lighten up. Does he look like the wingman?” Sam turned and pressed her forehead to Kacie’s, staring directly in the eyes. “I. Don’t. Think. So. Anyway, this could be your lucky night. The night to break your dry spell.”

  Before she could say anything more, her little sister pulled away and ushered the other bridesmaids back onto the dance floor. Then, as he approached, the two couples that had been sitting at the table told him they were going to ride the mechanical bull, once again leaving the two of them alone.

  “I asked for top shelf tequila. Hopefully, it tastes better than the last one.” He handed her a fresh margarita and watched her closely, as if waiting for her reaction.

  With the tip of her tongue, she quickly swiped salt from the rim and took a sip. It was definitely smoother than the others she’d had. She took another taste, all the while enjoying the view. The stranger had beautiful eyes. And a great smile, the kind that sneaks up on a person. More than once while dancing she’d caught herself smiling back at him without really knowing why. And then there was the fact that he smelled great. Not even a hint of Axe body spray or stale beer—just clean, manly man.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “What’s your name, sunshine?”

  “Kacie.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted, revealing a dimple in his cheek. “It’s a nice name. It sui
ts you. I’m Mike,” he said, extending his hand.

  Kacie felt as if she’d been smacked with a two-by-four. Of all the names in the world . . .

  It was clear she hadn’t done a very good job hiding her reaction; the guy slowly lowered his hand. “I take it you have a problem with that?”

  “Just a lot of very bad memories attached to that name.”

  He folded his arms over his chest, his head tilting to one side as if trying to puzzle out a solution. “Okay, then, how about Michael? Normally, only my family calls me that, but for you I’d make an exception.”

  “Tomayto, tomahto.” Kacie sighed in disappointment. It was just her luck that this guy shared a name with a man she’d put her life on hold for. Then there was the fact that her cousin, who had terrorized the hell out of her for years, also had the same name. Not to mention the kid down the street who’d spent his formative years in and out of jail. Almost every woman she knew had one name that sent chills down their spine, the kind that had bad juju attached to it. And for her, that name happened to be Michael. Mike. Whichever.

  But like her sister said, he seemed like a nice guy. And it was silly to write someone off simply because of their name. She ought to give him a chance.

  “What do you do, Michael?”

  “I’m stationed at Hunter Army Airfield.”

  She felt her jaw drop. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Just her damn luck. Not only did this guy share a name with her ex, but he was military, too? Could her night get any worse?

  Kacie lifted her glass to her lips and drank the entire margarita down. She placed the empty glass on the table and wiped her thumb across her lip to brush away any salt. Of course, when she glanced over at him he was looking at her like she was nuts.

  “Ex-husband?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  He leaned closer and spoke directly into her ear. “Who do I have the unfortunate distinction of sharing a name with?”

  “He was only an ex-boyfriend, thank God. But he’s a jarhead, too.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but jarheads are marines. I’m army. Big difference.”

  “Oh, sorry,” she said, raising her hands in surrender. “Civilian.”

  Thankfully, his friend picked that moment to return with a tray full of shots and lime wedges.

  “Are you the rogue bridesmaid?” asked one of the guys.

  “That would be me. Who are you?”

  He smiled and offered her a shot. “Jeff Gibson at your service. Everybody calls me Gibby.”

  “Oh,” she said with a smile. “Such a nice name.” She glanced over at Michael and was slightly amused by the peevish look on his face. “And how do you know each other?”

  “We serve together at HAAF.”

  Kacie shook her head.

  “Try not to look so sad, sunshine,” Michael said, handing her one of the drinks.

  They clinked their glasses together and tossed back their shots. Once done, she immediately reached for a lime wedge and bit into it.

  “Another?” Gibby asked.

  She hadn’t even recovered from the first when he placed a second shot of tequila on the table in front of her. Toast. Clink. Drink. The empties had barely hit the table when a waitress delivered a dozen more shots, intended for the rest of the bridesmaid group.

  “So why aren’t you out there with the rest of them?” Gibby nodded to Sam and her friends, all laughing and dancing beneath the bright club lights.

  “Not really a fan of the Snow White and the seven dwarfs schtick.”

  “I’m assuming Snow White is . . .”

  “The bride? Yes.”

  Both men laughed, then Gibby leaned toward her, pressing his shoulder into hers. “So if your sister is Snow White, what are the dwarfs’ names?” Gibby asked. “They’ve gotta have names.”

  As she licked the juice from a lime wedge, Kacie studied each bridesmaid carefully. “Ginger,” she said, beginning with the bridesmaid with long, red hair. “Sugar and Spice.” She pointed to the sisters. “They’re twins by the way. Followed by Angel, Brainy, and Texas.”

  Gibby grabbed hold of her arm. “Hang on a second. Twins?”

  Kacie laughed at the way Gibby’s eyes lit up. Silly men and their twin fantasies.

  “Whether or not you like it, you’re one of the dwarfs,” Michael said, gesturing to the shirt she wore. “So what do they call you?”

  She glanced down at her shirt, at the matching rhinestone uniform, and heaved a sigh before looking into those beautiful blue eyes.

  “They call me Bitter.”

  Chapter Three

  Kacie stepped out of the bathroom stall and went to wash her hands, enjoying the brief respite from the crowds and loud country music. As she held her hands beneath the tepid water, she studied her reflection. Reddened, tired eyes. Faint smudges of mascara and eyeliner beneath her lower lashes. The early signs of crow’s feet. She was far from old, but wasn’t young either.

  The main door to the bathroom swung open violently, hitting the wall and nearly rebounding into the person entering. And of course, the drunken fool who’d just slammed it wide open was none other than her little sister, who was still parading around with that damn veil on her head.

  “There you are!” Sam yelled. “I was wondering where you were hiding.”

  “I was hardly hiding. I was using the bathroom,” Kacie replied.

  “Well, I’m glad that I found you, because the limo is picking us up at . . .” Sam pulled her phone from her back pocket and squinted at the numbers on the screen. “One-thirty.”

  “Really?” For the first time, Kacie was hopeful this evening would end at a reasonable hour. “I’m surprised you’re ready to call it a night.”

  “Nooo, silly.” Sam pushed Kacie’s shoulder as she walked past and stepped into an empty stall. “We’re heading to the ice bar. It doesn’t close until four.”

  Kacie leaned over the bathroom counter, letting her head hang. They’d been at this bachelorette stuff for seven hours now. No way could she handle another three. She just didn’t have it in her.

  “How’s things going with you and the wingman?” her sister called from within the stall.

  “I thought you said he wasn’t the wingman?”

  “Whatever. I’ve been watching him watch you. He’s definitely into you.”

  Kacie turned and leaned against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Stop it.”

  “You’ve shot down every guy I’ve introduced you to for the past six months for one silly reason or another. Too short. Too skinny. Too pale. I’ve heard just about every excuse. This guy is tall. Good looking. Have you talked to him much? Does he have a job?”

  “He’s military.”

  “Oh. Okay. Well, it’s not ideal, but that doesn’t automatically mean he’s a douche.”

  “His name is Mike.”

  “I remember what his name was. But you made me promise to never say his name again. Remember?”

  “No. The wingman’s name is Mike. Or Michael. Same difference.”

  The toilet flushed and the stall door opened, allowing Kacie to see the amusement on her sister’s face. “Well, if you two hook up at least you won’t have to worry about accidentally yelling out the wrong name.”

  “Really, Sam?”

  “Just trying to find the positives,” Sam said matter-of-factly while squirting soap into her palm. “Come on, the guy out there looks nothing like your ex. He’s a younger version of Brad Pitt and your ex was a short, ‘roided out weasel that spent way too much time looking at himself in every reflective surface he passed by. It was obnoxious. I don’t care that he could bench nearly four hundred pounds or that his biceps measured twenty-one inches in diameter or that he had five percent body fat, or any of the other nonsense he used to brag about, because not even on his best day did he come close to looking like Brad Pitt. I’m just saying.”

  “Please. Tell me how you really feel.” />
  Sam smacked the faucet to shut it off. “Okay, then. Mike was an ass. And I’m glad you broke up with him.”

  “Technically, he dumped me.”

  “Only because you were too nice of a person and didn’t do it first.” Sam ripped off a length of paper towel from a dispenser. “Listen, I’m not suggesting you marry this guy. I’m just suggesting you have a little fun. Seize the moment. He’s got great dance moves. Aren’t you even the least bit curious as to what he’d be like in bed?”

  Kacie couldn’t deny there was a little spark of something between her and Michael, but it would be silly to get involved with the guy. She’d never had sex without being in some sort of relationship. And it would be pointless to try and start one with this Michael since she was leaving town in a matter of weeks.

  “Just consider it. It’s either him or the ice bar. You’ve got an hour to make your move.”

  Kacie followed her sister back into the bar with a sigh. As they neared the table, Michael’s eyes locked with hers and the butterflies in her stomach took a little tumble.

  True, it felt like the universe had offered her all these signs in an attempt to warn her off from making a huge mistake.

  But if he kept looking at her that way, she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to resist.

  With each additional round of drinks and shots of tequila, the merged celebrations became rowdier and more raucous. And much to everyone’s amusement, Kacie began calling him Joe—as in G.I. Joe. No big deal. He’d been called worse names over the years.

  At one point she disappeared and he began to wonder if she’d left without saying anything. A few songs later she returned, a shot of tequila in each hand.

  “I owe you a drink,” she said with a smile.

  His fingers grazed her hand as he took the glass from her. She clinked her glass to his before they both threw back their shots. He opened his eyes just in time to see Kacie laugh and wiggle as she battled through the tequila aftershocks.