Once upon a time he’d said, “I do.”
But he hadn’t followed through on the promise.
Had Iris also been married before? Was that why she’d just had what could only be described as a near breakdown? That initial moment of panic, before she’d seemed to pull herself together…
Three years they’d seen each other more days than not, and not once had she hinted at any heartbreak in her life.
Nor had she ever brought a man home that he knew about. She never mentioned dating. At least not to him.
Had someone promised to love her forever and then broken her heart?
The idea brought an instant flash of anger toward the jerk.
Which quickly turned inward on himself. Molly had been a lovely, intelligent, giving woman. A friend to many. Who’d all rightfully hated him when he’d paid so little attention to his wife that he hadn’t even known she’d left him until the day after she’d moved out.
How could he be angry with an ex who broke a friend’s heart? Hewasthat guy.
As a husband, yes.
But as a friend?
On the dance floor during the maid-of-honor-and-best-man dance with the bride and groom, Scott pulled Iris’s sexy body close and teased her about the entire plate of pasta she’d consumed seated next to him at the bridal table.
And grinned when she told him he was just lucky she hadn’t dumped it in his lap.
They were good. Fine. The best.
Friendhe could do.
As best man and brother of the bride, he was there for the night.
If Iris needed a distraction to keep the stricken look off her face, he’d stick close enough to make sure he provided it.
And if she needed a shoulder to cry on?
He could be that, too. Thirty-one years connected to his twin had him well-versed in that area.
The bride was pregnant and so the bride and groom weren’t drinking, but waiters with trays of champagne were everywhere and Scott grabbed a couple of bubbling flutes as he and Iris left the dance floor after that first dance.
The liquid seemed to reflect the purple of Iris’s slim-fitting long dress as she lifted the glass he gave her up to her mouth. Took a sip.
From lips that bore the same lipstick she’d had on for the ceremony. Since photos were being taken throughout the evening, Sage had asked the wedding party to remain in ceremony dress mode. For him, that just meant keeping his shirt buttoned up and tux jacket and tie on. For Iris, the charge had meant touching up her makeup after dinner, too.
He knew all the behind-the-curtain details.
And still, those lips against the glass, the liquid passing over them…sent a wave of want down beneath his fly.
The sensation itself was commonplace enough that he didn’t instantly take a step back. Until his gaze rose to Iris’s deep green eyes.
What the hell?
Iris?
Three years and not once had that happened.
It couldn’t happen again, either.
“What?” she asked him, that gaze homing in more specifically on his features, as though she could read his thoughts.
