Abby Gaines - Her Best Friend's Wedding

Meg hugged her, and Daniel planted one of those kisses on Sadie’s hair. Much to Trey’s irritation, Sadie noted with satisfaction.

Still, his nutty story had taken the heat off her. As people headed toward the food, she murmured a grudging “Thanks. Sort of.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said with unaccustomed grace. Then, “Now, how about you do me a favor?”

She gritted her teeth. “I already did. I let you live.”

Humor flashed in his eyes, then disappeared. “Stay away from my sister’s boyfriend.”

Typical. For as long as Sadie could remember, Trey had moaned about Meg’s inability to “stand on her own two feet.” But he could never resist butting in when he thought his sister needed help.

As if Meg needed protection from her best friend!

Before she could tell Trey to mind his own business, her father handed her a plate piled with food. Then Daniel arrived back with his meal. “This looks great.” He sounded his normal self, not as if he believed she was secretly in love with him.

“Dad’s the best barbecue chef, so long as you don’t count the calories.” Sadie struck a casual, friendly tone, aware of Trey’s close scrutiny. Did he expect her to obey him?

“Want to go for a run in the morning?” she asked Daniel. “That way I get two helpings of dessert. You should come too, Meg.” Smart strategy, she congratulated herself. By acting natural and casual with Daniel, she would deflect any lingering suspicion of past feelings for him. Trey’s sharp, disapproving intake of breath was icing on the cake.

“You guys go for it,” Meg said. She hated running, and when she wasn’t flying liked to sleep in until nine. “I’ll catch up on some z’s.”

“So, 7:00 a.m.?” Sadie asked Daniel. “That’ll give us time for a decent run before the day gets busy.”

Daniel picked up a piece of garlic bread. “You’re on.”

Sadie smiled at him. And ignored Trey’s thunderous expression.

SADIE STEPPED OUT ONTO her parents’ porch at six fifty-five on Sunday morning and took a deep breath of fresh air scented with grass, her mom’s lemon trees and Nancy’s gardenias. In the jacaranda tree that grew on the Kincaid side of the fence but spread most of its shade over the Beechams’ yard, a mockingbird had burst out with its early-morning song. As she laced up her running shoes, it moved from a series of whistles to smoochy, kissing sounds.

Sadie stood on one leg to begin her quad stretches. Or what she hoped were quad stretches. When she’d fallen in love with Daniel practically at first sight and he’d asked if she ran, she’d said yes. Which was the right thing to do because he’d asked her to go running with him, and hadn’t minded that she was a beginner. And that was the start of their…friendship.

“This’ll be good for you,” she reminded her reluctant left quad. Her stomach growled, but she’d learned the hard way that if she ate now she wouldn’t be able to run more than a hundred yards without developing a stitch.

As the Kincaids’ front door opened she hopped a little, pulling her left foot closer to her butt to lengthen the stretch.

Trey stepped onto the next-door porch.

Wearing shorts and a T-shirt. And running shoes.

He waved. “Morning.”

Sadie’s foot thudded to the floorboards. “What are you doing here?”

“I stayed the night—didn’t want to drive after all that drinking.”

As she recalled, he’d had maybe two beers over four hours. Nowhere near the limit. Not that she’d been watching.

He strolled down the steps to the sidewalk. “Thought I’d join you on your run.” He patted his flat stomach. “Anything to counter the effects of age.”

She didn’t give him the satisfaction of admiring his physique. “I guess it’s a free country—I can’t stop you running with us.” She jogged to the sidewalk, trying to look fit.

“Us?” His forehead creased. “Did I forget to say Daniel’s not coming?”

“Excuse me?”

“I told him I’d turn a blind eye if he wanted to sneak coffee into Meg’s room,” he said smugly.

Sadie banished the image from her mind.

“But Daniel was worried about you having no one to run with,” Trey continued, “so I offered to stand in.”

She clenched her fists at her sides. “I don’t want to run with you.” She might as well go back to bed with a bowl of granola.

“Like you said, you need to work off last night’s calories,” he said. She sucked in her stomach out of reflex, and glared when he chuckled. “Don’t you think it’ll look suspicious if you cancel out because Daniel’s not coming?” he continued.

“I’ll be canceling because I don’t want to run with you.” But he had a point, dammit.

And he knew it. “Where are we going?” he asked.

Sadie looked past him. “I’m heading down Arlington and around the reserve.”

“Works for me,” he said. “Maybe we should come back along the Parkway.”

That would add another twenty minutes; she’d be unlikely to survive. “I don’t have time. Mom has me down to peel about a thousand potatoes for the potato salad.” She clasped her hands behind her head and twisted from side to side.

“Okay, Arlington is fine by me. It overlooks the lagoon and I like a nice view when I run.” His gaze took in her curves, accentuated by the exercise.

“Don’t you have stretches to do?” she snapped.

“I’m stretching my imagination.” He lingered on her legs.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll take your suggestive remarks too seriously? I seem to recall you warning me off you.”

“I’m not worried after last night,” he said. “It’s obvious I’m not the one you’re interested in.”

Her face on fire, she bent to adjust her shoelace. Then without another word, she started running. A purely symbolic gesture, since Trey caught her up in a few easy strides.

Her burst of speed lasted all of a hundred yards.

“Something wrong?” he asked when she slowed.

“You go on ahead. I’m taking it easy today.”

He matched her pace. “I can do easy.” As they passed a wrought-iron fence, he pointed at the lawn beyond. “One of my teams laid that a few weeks ago.”

“Very nice,” she panted insincerely.

“Not the best time for sowing grass, but the Colberts were adamant they want the best lawn on the street for the Fourth. Of course, so were the McIntoshes down the way. Who am I to deny anyone the lawn of their dreams?”

“You’re…a prince,” she managed to say.

He turned around and jogged backward while he surveyed her. “Pooped already?”

She shook her head.

He shrugged and turned the right way around. “I’d better call Mrs. Colbert this morning, tell her to get some water on that grass,” he mused, his tone as even and unhurried as if he was standing still.

“Why are you being so chatty?” Sadie snatched a breath before she continued. “You haven’t said this much to me ever.”

“I’m lulling you into a false sense of security before I start grilling you about Daniel.”

She grunted and put on a spurt of speed.

Trey waited until Sadie slowed down again—about half a minute—before he launched into the conversation he really wanted to have.

“So, you were dating the doctor.”

She stared straight ahead, mouth grim, cheeks flushed pink with exertion. They’d been running—if you could call it that—for about three minutes.

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook it again. “I thought we were dating,” she said. “Turns out we were just seeing each other.”

He scratched his head. “I’ve never understood how women can get that so wrong.”

She glared at him.

“Did you sleep with him?” Trey asked.