She was hesitating outside of the RV when a large, man-shaped shadow fell over her. Startled, she did a little jump turn thing while letting out a high-pitched squeak.

What she saw didn’t make her panicked pulse slow down, though. It sped up. No man should look that good in a tan tux with a powder blue ruffled tuxedo shirt.

He was tall enough that she had to take a step back to get a look at his face, but it was worth it. He had tropical paradise blue eyes, a square jaw covered in salt-and-pepper scruff that managed to look accidental and deliberate at the same time, and a nose with a bump that told tales about it being broken at least once but probably more. It was enough to make her breath catch. Then one side of his mouth went up in a crooked smile and her matching pink panties embroidered with Always The Bridesmaid—thank you, Jackie—went up in flames.

“If you don’t laugh at what I’m wearing, I’ll share my flask.” He unscrewed the top and held it out. “You look like you need it.”

“It’s that obvious?” she asked as she accepted the offering, a sizzle of awareness zinging up her arm when their fingers brushed.

He chuckled, a deep rumbly sound. “Only to anyone with eyes.”

Bracing for whatever was about to burn all the way down her throat to her empty belly, she took a swig from the flask. Lemon. Lime. Bubbles. The shock of soda when she’d been expecting whiskey or gin or even straight-up lighter fluid sent the liquid down the wrong pipe as she spluttered and gasped for air.

“That,” she said, using the back of her finger to dab at her watery eyes, “was not what I expected.”

He gave her an intense look, as if he needed to check for himself that she was okay, then gave her a lazy smile. “The best things in life rarely are.”

“Sorta like this wedding?” The words—which were the very opposite of reality considering the air around them reeked of rotten eggs—tumbled out of her.

“This,” he said, leaning over and lowering his voice, “is exactly the nightmare I expected.”

Eyes wide with shock at someone actually saying it out loud, she stared up at him and a laugh—her real one that was loud, nasally, and gave off more than a little hint of woodpecker—burst out. “It is.”

She slapped her hand over her mouth and stifled the last of her chuckles while they shared a knowing glance.

“With the exception of getting to meet you, of course,” he said, watching her as she started to take another drink from his flask. “You have to be the one person in the world who could make that outfit look good.”