I rushed around the room, pulling on the maxi dress I’d borrowed from Kirby. The fabric was light and flowy, the empire waist making the V-neckline feel a bit more modest. My favorite part about it was the ombre design, the cream color darkening to pinkie-peach and then a dusty purple. It reminded me of a sunset on the beach, so that had automatically made it an appropriate choice.

I twisted my hair into a sleek, low side bun, and I did my best to put on enough makeup to look a bit more formal. I sucked at being a girl.

When Taylor had said to take the stairs around the corner and down to the beach, I hadn’t realized there would be a hundred of them. I took my skirt in my fists and tried not to let my sandals slap against the smooth rock with every step. A small lizard scurried just in front of my feet, and I yelped.

A hotel employee chuckled at me as he passed me, going in the opposite direction. I was glad he was the only witness.

Finally reaching the walkway below, I caught a glimpse of white muslin blowing in the ocean breeze, and I headed in that direction. A handful of white chairs were positioned in front of a white gazebo, white fabric was draped around the pillars, and dozens of roses in muted tones covered the tie-downs.

Jim sat alone in the front row, in the chair closest to the aisle, and I lumbered down the white-sand walkway, navigating it poorly in my shoes. When I finally reached him, he looked up at me with a warm expression.

“You made it,” he said, patting the empty chair on his right.

“I did. You’re probably surprised, huh?”

“I was hoping.”

I grinned, leaning away from him to see his expression. I didn’t know him well enough to be certain that he wasn’t being a smart-ass. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

“Hi! I’m here!” a woman said, stumbling past Jim and me before falling into the chair next to me. “Whew!” she said, brushing her long dark curls behind her bare shoulders. She was wearing a white tank top with a long floral skirt. Her big ice-blue eyes overshadowed the intermittent batting of her lashes. She looked like a supermodel, but she moved like an overgrown teenager.

“Yes, you are,” Jim said, chuckling. “Rough morning, Ellie?”

“Always. I’ve been in Shep’s room, taking pictures. Hi,” she said, one hand letting go of her very expensive camera long enough to greet me. “I’m Ellison, Tyler’s friend. Date. Whatever.”

“Oh,” I said, my body jerking with her firm handshake.

A wry smile sharpened her beautifully bronzed features. “He’s a good kisser, isn’t he?”

I blinked, completely taken aback by her mention of the mistake-slash-misunderstanding-slash-clusterfuck at Cowboys so many months before.

“That was a long time ago. And an accident.”