Grace let her gaze sweep over the landscape and behind her toward the hotel. Several sets of automatic glass doors lined the hotel halls that wrapped around to the ballrooms. Several people meandered about inside, but none seemed to have noticed her.
She was about to give up looking for the person behind the heat on her neck when she saw him.
He leaned casually against an inside pillar on the other side of a floor-to-ceiling window. He wore a suit, minus the tie. Grace tried to place him. Was he at the wedding?
No.
She would have noticed him the second he walked into the room. Tall, which considering she was as vertically challenged as they came, didn’t take much. Rugged . . . as in sharp features and shoulders that filled the suit jacket really . . . really well.
Grace realized she was staring and averted her eyes back to the fountain.
Despite the fact she could still see the vapor her breath created in the night air, she didn’t feel quite as chilled as when she walked out. That alone told her the man continued to watch.
She knelt down to adjust the strap on her shoe solely so she could confirm her suspicion.
He hadn’t budged.
In fact, she was pretty sure he smiled.
Grace stood tall to the extra three inches her heels allowed and turned away. She’d normally be a little freaked out about a man staring at her from inside a building. But she was standing out in the cold like an idiot, and if she’d seen someone doing the same thing, she’d probably stop and stare, too.
Lucky for her, the doors leading to the reception were opposite of where Mr. Stare Happy was perched.
Men in hotels were not the kind she wanted to meet. They were either there on business, visiting someone, or cheating on their significant other. Nope, nope, and nope.
She checked over her shoulder right before sliding back into the ballroom.
Stare Happy wasn’t there.
Good!
Although she had to admit, the man was good-looking. From what she could tell from her distance.
The music had switched to something fast, and the dance floor was crowded.
Erin approached, confusion on her face. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
Grace waved a hand toward the direction of the door. “I’ve been . . . I was . . . never mind. What’s up?”
“They’re about to cut the cake.”
“Right. Cake . . . got it.” There was a wedding going on, and a lively one at that. The last thing she should be doing is wallowing in self-pity about her lacking love life.
Once the cake was cut and the bouquet was tossed, her responsibilities to the bride and groom were over, and she could do what every other self-respecting bridesmaid did at a reception . . . get hammered or hook up.
Considering most of the people in attendance were family or close friends she knew too much about to consider a one-night stand, it looked like she had a date with a bottle of champagne.
But first . . . cake.
The sound of a horn blaring outside dragged Grace from the far depths of sleep.
Thick paste had taken the place of saliva in her mouth, and she heard every beat of her heart between her ears.
Sun filtered through the windows of her condo with such brilliance she knew she’d missed most of the morning.
She tested her head slowly, moving it to the side to catch the time.
Ten thirteen? How did that even happen?
Slapping her lips together, she tasted a little too much of what she’d eaten, or more importantly, drunk, the night before. And the need to pee was dire.
Moving more quickly than her brain liked, she staggered through her bedroom to the adjoining bathroom. Two minutes later she stood in front of the mirror while water rushed into the sink.
Her hair stuck out in every direction, her eyes were bloodshot, and her lips were as dry as the Mojave Desert.
“That last glass was a mistake,” she said to her reflection.
Her feet still throbbed from the dancing. She’d made sure to spend the remainder of the evening dancing with anyone with a pulse. And then, when the night came to an end, because her condo was only a few blocks from the hotel in the heart of Santa Clarita, she left her car in the parking lot and walked home.
In short, her feet hurt like hell.
So did her head.
She flipped on the hot water in the shower and let it steam the room while she