Sweet Addiction(6)

Smiling slightly, he leans against the bar, his tall frame towering over mine and the bartenders. “That’s Tom Petty,” he corrects me, his lips curling up in amusement.

“Oh, then I have no idea if I like any of his songs or not.” I wrap my lips around the tiny straw and his jaw tightens, a small twitch appearing at the sharp angle of it. He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair, making it even more of a perfect mess. God even his hair is sexy.

“So, bride or groom?” I ask, watching his confusion turn into realization.

He smiles behind his glass. “Bride, sort of. I don’t really know Sara but I’ve worked with her father. He invited the four of us.” His hand motions towards Ian and Trent who are sitting together at their table. I shake my head as I realize that Billy and Joey are already missing. Predictable Joey. We’ve been here for a whole five minutes. “You?”

I roll my eyes. “Groom, unfortunately.”

He steps closer, brushing his suit jacket against my bare arm and tilting his head down towards me. “Really? Why, sweet Dylan, does it sound like you really know the groom?”

Sweet Dylan? Oh my. I glance up into his eyes. “Because I really know the groom. He’s my ex.”

His eyes widen and he leans back. “Seriously?”

I nod. “Cheating ex to be specific.”

“Fuck. That sucks. I mean, isn’t this awkward for you? Why are you even here?”

I laugh slightly and point through the crowd towards the dessert table with my free hand. “Do you see that beautiful five tier deliciously constructed wedding cake?” He nods and searches my face. “I made that. That’s why I’m here.”

“No shit? So, you’re a baker?” I proudly smile as the DJ softens the music.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I ask everyone to direct their attention to the front entrance. The party has arrived!” The crowd cheers and whistles as each bridesmaid and paired groomsmen line up at the door. I feel a pair of lips brush against my ear and freeze, my pulse instantly racing.

“You interested in watching this?” His face is dangerously close to mine and I almost stumble at his scent that is now filling my lungs. He smells like citrus and I have a sudden urge to bury my face into his neck and inhale him deeply.

“Not really,” I softly reply, glancing up into this green stare. Nodding once, he grips my elbow and pulls me through the crowd, stopping in front of the dessert table.

“So, what do we have here?” He tilts his glass and takes a sip as we both admire my work. I smile and beam at my creation. It really does look fabulous.

“Well, the cake itself is an orange sponge cake with Grand Marnier whipped cream and marmalade filling---,” I gesture towards the peach colored pearls and calla lilies cascading down the side, “---and the little dots and lilies are made of sugar so it’s all edible.”

Leaning forward, he admires the flowers with a furrowed brow, studying it closely. I greatly appreciate his interest considering they were a bitch to make and can’t help but giggle quietly at his look of deep thought. I’ve never even seen a groom react this curiously to a cake I made.

“Wow. I thought the flowers were real. You can really eat those?”

I smile proudly. “Hmm mmm. They are insanely sweet and practically dissolve on your tongue once the heat of your mouth touches the sugar.”

He raises an eyebrow at me as he straightens up. “Christ. You make that sound so dirty,” he says with a low raspy voice. I shrug as if to silently portray that I always made things sound dirty which seems ridiculous even in my head. No big deal, just how I talk.

“So what do you do, Reese?” I take a generous sip of my drink and watch his eyes go to my mouth, my teeth clamping down on my straw.

After a moment’s hesitation as his eyes linger, he replies, “I’m a CPA with Walker and Associates.”

Nearly choking at his admission, I clear my throat as his eyes widen. “Get the hell out of here. You’re an accountant? You?” He must be joking. Beautiful and highly intelligent? I feel like I’ve found a unicorn.

He simply nods and studies my face with a small grin. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes. The guy that does my taxes has psoriasis and looks more like my father. There’s no way someone as hot as you is an accountant.” Jesus, Dylan. I close my eyes and shake my head, hearing a small chuckle from his direction. When I open them finally, I lock onto his curious stare, his lips slightly parted as if he’s about to speak. The DJ comes over the speaker system and halts him.

“And now it’s time for the bride and groom’s first dance.”