Marrying the Wedding Crasher by Melinda Curtis

Author:Melinda Curtis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-12-07T19:50:58+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

HARLEY WOKE TO Vince sitting on his bed, looking as if he hadn’t slept.

“If this is what being engaged does to you...” she said, pushing herself up and finger-combing her hair. Her stomach was in the neutral zone, neither friendly nor ready to make war on her equilibrium. “I say we call the whole thing off. I kept you awake all night with my snoring, didn’t I?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been wondering why a smart woman like you ended up in a situation like this.” There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin. “An architect working as a tiler.”

Harley considered his words as carefully as she considered him. “Why does it matter? You needed a wingman and I was available.”

“You distract me.” He was wearing the same T-shirt and basketball shorts he’d had on yesterday. They were rumpled. He hadn’t changed. “You didn’t used to.”

“I didn’t used to come to your rescue, either.”

“No.” He stood and reached over to brush Harley’s hair into what she hoped was some semblance of order. His fingers traced the path Harley used when she brushed her hair, over the ears, toward the crown, down the back.

It was intimate. It was loving. It made butterflies swoon. And if they’d been in Waco, Harley would have been his.

But they weren’t in Waco. They weren’t engaged. They weren’t even dating.

Vince didn’t retreat when he was done. He continued to stay next to her, staring at her as if she was a set of steps he had to build using a nonstandard angle. “Why did you quit being an architect? Tell me straight.”

The question caught her by complete surprise.

At her hesitation, he hinted at bridal-couple indulgence, “Pretend you’re telling your fiancé.”

Pretend? She’d never be able to pretend again.

“Okay,” Harley said, feeling as if her entire body was blushing.

Close. He was too close. Butterflies trembled with anticipation.

She gulped, cautioning butterflies and hearts to be realistic. “I told you, I draw buildings.” Harley reached beneath her pillow for her sketchbook. She flipped a few pages open quickly, embarrassed by all the characteristics her brother Taylor had associated with her drawings. They were loopy and unclear in form. They were cartoonish and had no basis in reality. They couldn’t be built.

“They’re unique.” Vince sat on the bed next to her. “But I wouldn’t go so far as to say they can’t be built. Think of all the impossible structures out there. The pyramids. The Taj Mahal. That ball in Epcot Center.”

Had she really whined out loud? She closed the book and dropped it in her lap. That’s where her gaze landed, too.

“And the problem that led to your quitting happened...?” he prompted softly.

Harley twisted the hair he’d combed, bringing her gaze up to his. “Architecture is stuffy for a reason. There are two branches. In the first are those who build things, anything from basic houses to tall, gloriously twisted skyscrapers.”

“And in the second?”

“Those in the second branch live in the truly creative side, the completely impractical side.

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