Countdown to the Perfect Wedding. Teresa Hill

leaning back against the cabinets, eyes half shut, head tilted up toward the ceiling, a dreamy look on her pretty, young face.

      “She’s thinking…it’s been a long time since she’s been anywhere near a man—any man—let alone one so gorgeous.”

      “You got all that from one look?” Eleanor asked.

      “No,” Gladdy admitted. “I know that from talking to her. Believe me, it’s been a ridiculously long time, but she’s had Max to take care of all on her own and work that barely pays their bills, and there just hasn’t been time for herself or anyone else. I doubt she’s had so much as a date in the last year.”

      “Gladdy and I used to beg to be able to babysit for her while she went out,” Kathleen explained. “And the poor thing just wouldn’t do it. Said she’s sworn off men or some ridiculous thing like that.”

      “Sworn off men? You brought someone here to lure my godson away from his fiancée within four days’ time, and she’s sworn off men? You didn’t tell me that,” Eleanor complained.

      “Well, Amy obviously knows that was a mistake right now. Remember the way she looked when Tate took off his shirt? Or when she brushed sugar from his hair?”

      “Yes.” Kathleen sighed, looking wistful. “Nothing like the sight of a beautiful man or the feel of running your fingers through his hair, that delicious feeling of anticipation of so much more.”

      “It’s a beautiful thing,” Gladdy said.

      Eleanor had to admit, “I don’t think Tate’s ever looked at Victoria like that.”

      “Like he wants to drag her off into some dark corner and have his way with her?” Gladdy offered.

      “Yes. Although, I’m sure he’s not a drag-her-off-into-a-dark-corner-and-have-his-way-with-her kind of man,” Eleanor admitted.

      “What a pity.”

      “Maybe we can change his mind,” Gladdy said. “Or maybe Amy can.”

      Later that night, Tate sat outside on the patio, talking to one of his oldest and best friends. He still felt befuddled and was determined to lay out his supposed crimes in the most straightforward way possible in order to evaluate the seriousness of his offenses.

      “So,” he concluded his scary tale of sugar-filled bliss in the kitchen that had turned to near-disaster in the blink of an eye, “let me have it. How bad do you think it was?”

      “You got sugar all over you, took off a lot of your clothes, helped her get her kid in the shower and moaned and groaned while eating her lemon bars as Victoria walked in?” Rick asked, leaning back in the wicker patio chair.

      Tate nodded. “That was it.”

      “This other woman…she didn’t touch you?”

      He frowned. “She brushed some sugar off me. Off my hair and my clothes.”

      “And you didn’t touch her?”

      “No,” Tate said quickly, then had to backtrack. “Wait. I did. I helped brush powdered sugar out of her hair. And off her neck. Maybe…yeah, her collarbone, I’m afraid.”

      Rick frowned. “And you liked it, right?”

      “I did.” Tate shook his head, the point where he crossed the line, right there. The neck. The collarbone. “That’s when I knew I was in trouble, when I knew I was doing something I probably shouldn’t have, as a man who’s engaged and getting married in four days.”

      “Yeah, I’d say that’s where you messed up,” said Rick, who’d been married all of a year. “Tate, it’s not like you suddenly don’t notice other women or like you’re just…dead inside. It’s just that, you don’t get yourself into that kind of situation with another woman—”

      “I didn’t think I was. I mean, those things she baked just smelled so good. That’s all it was. I swear. I couldn’t ignore that smell, and when I went into the kitchen, it was just the kid there, and I talked to the kid. Funny little kid—”

      “Who told you about the whole sugar daddy thing?”

      “Yeah.” Tate shook his head. Weird. Very weird. “And then, she came walking into the kitchen and poof! Before I even said anything to her or sensed any kind of impropriety in the situation, we’re enveloped in this cloud of powdered sugar.”

      Rick shook his head. “That’s a story I haven’t ever heard before. Attacked by sugar. I had to take my clothes off, honest—”

      “It’s not a story. It’s what happened. I swear,” Tate claimed, still feeling confused and fuzzy-headed from all the champagne. How had this happened to him?

      “Were you drunk?” Rick tried. “Because, hey, it happens. We get drunk, we do things we wouldn’t normally do….”

      “No, I wasn’t drunk. I was…just a little loose and happy. You know. Everything was good. I’m just going along living my life. Victoria’s father and all those guys from work keep making toasts to me and Victoria, and when your future father-in-law is making the toasts, you drink. You know?”

      Rick nodded.

      “And then…it’s like…I don’t know. It just happened.”

      Rick leaned closer, whispering in case anyone else might be listening, because a dozen people had descended on the house. “You didn’t kiss her?”

      “No! Nothing like that—”

      “But you wanted to.”

      Tate winced, not wanting to even think about that. “I…like—”

      “Yeah, you wanted to,” Rick concluded, shaking his head like it wasn’t even a question.

      “She had really nice hair,” Tate said. “It was reddish, and she had it in this braid. The sugar got in it, and I liked…trying to brush the sugar out of it. And then, her neck was right there. These little tiny curls that had escaped from her braid, right there against her neck, and she smelled so good. Like sugar and those damned lemon bars, and it’s been a long time since I kissed another woman. A long time. And all of a sudden, I’m thinking…I won’t ever kiss another woman again. I mean, not really kiss one. I mean, I shouldn’t. I don’t intend to….”

      “But you wanted to,” Rick said again.

      “Yeah, okay. For a second, I did. And then I thought…” Wait a minute. Stop. Back up. Trouble here. Get out. Get out right now. You are not this guy. You are not going to be this guy.

      “So, you’re thinking…for old times’ sake? Last chance as a single man and all that?” Rick said.

      “No. Really, no. It just kind of freaked me out that I wanted to. That I was curious about…what it would be like, and that…you know? I’m going along living my life, about to get married, and poof! Cloud of sugar, and I’ve got my hands in this woman’s hair, wanting to kiss her neck, even if it was just for a second or two. So, come on, tell me. How big of a jerk am I?”

      “I don’t know. You’re in a gray area here,” Rick concluded. “It sounds like you really didn’t do anything awful—”

      “I didn’t. I swear.”

      “And we’re all human. From time to time…you know. You’re going to want to do things like that, but the key is that you don’t actually do it, and the way to do that is not to put yourself in the position to want to do it. So you don’t turn into that guy.”

      “Right,” Tate said, taking some comfort in that. “Don’t get in that spot. Don’t be that guy. I should have just walked away.”

      “Yes, you should have.”

      “It was those damned lemon bars,” Tate said.

      “Oh,