CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

JOSH

Mom will never let me forget it if I’m late for my brother’s engagement party. I really don’t want to go, and if there were any way I could avoid it, I would. Thought about having my assistant call me for a work emergency, but they would all know that was a lie.

It’s not that I don’t want to be with my family. It’s the standing around making small talk I can’t stand. My family knows how I am, and they don’t pressure me into making idle chitchat. For these kinds of things, though, it’s mandatory. Can’t walk away after a few grunts.

I park my car in front of my parents’ house and go in. Guests are in the formal dining room and backyard. I didn’t expect to see so many people. Lots of kids running around. Oh, joy.

I spot my parents talking to two women I don’t recognize. All I can see are their backs. One is a curvy redhead with a knockout body. And the other one I can’t take my eyes off. Tall and slender, with long blonde hair falling to the middle of her back. Both girls are dressed in long floaty dresses that show their shape.

There’s something about the blonde.

I walk toward them, intending to let my parents know I’ve made it, and then I can sneak out without anybody noticing. I’m not staying long.

Unfortunately, on the way over there, I’m waylaid by my brothers and cousins. Haven’t stayed in contact with our New York cousins like my brothers have. I lost touch after joining the Navy and then the Seals. They all seem happily married now, though. Good for them.

I finally make it to my parents. The two women talking with them earlier have left. Dang it, I wanted to learn who the blonde was. I know better than to ask Mom. She would have me married off to her before I got a name.

There aren’t a lot of women here today. Which is unusual. Mom likes to ask all her friends’ single daughters to join her parties. She loves playing matchmaker, even though it’s never amounted to anything. My brothers, me included, can’t stand the girls who attend these things. They’re basically gold diggers. Maybe Mom understands that now.

“Mom.” I walk up and give her a kiss on the cheek.

Dad pats me on the shoulder.

“We were worried you wouldn’t come.” Mom’s tone conveys her frustration that I’m tardy. I notice the party is in full swing. I’m only thirty minutes late. What’s the problem?

Dad laughs at Mom’s tone.

“At least he showed up.”

I nod at Dad over Mom’s head, letting him know I appreciate the backup.

That’s when I catch a glimpse of blonde hair. Wonder if it’s her.

Instead of going after her right away, I keep her in my peripheral, so I don’t lose track of her. I wait until a guest distracts my mother before making a move. It takes time to make it around the pool to get close to her. Can’t just walk by people and ignore them when they call my name. But boy, would I like to.

I’m within striking distance when I get a good look at her. What a knockout. I can’t help being captivated by her beauty. Her stunning blue eyes against her creamy smooth skin make her seem almost unreal. Her smile is genuine. What an angel. I hope to God she isn’t married to one of my cousins. How would they feel when I stole her away?

She keeps edging closer to the house. I believe she’s trying to make a graceful escape. I can’t let that happen until I find out who she is. I grab two glasses off a tray while I make my way toward her. I catch up and touch her back with the glass of champagne I’m holding. She twirls around and bumps into it. The drink floods the front of her dress.

“What the ...”

I quickly put the glasses down and grab a napkin from a server. Attempt to swipe the liquid off her. Don’t realize until it’s too late that I’m rubbing her boobs. Oops.

Her face turns red as a cranberry. I feel bad. Just wanted to meet her, but not like this. I eye her dress. The top part is completely soaked. Bet it doesn’t feel very good.

“You can clean up in one of the bathrooms,” I tell her. “Let me show you the way.” I walk past her, hoping she follows me. She does.

When we get there, I open the door and she walks in. I want to follow, but I don’t think she wants my help. I’m not leaving, though, until I can talk to her and properly apologize. I’m usually a lot more graceful when meeting women. What happened here?