The Wedding Dress Diaries

Chapter One

‘Can I get you a drink?’

The busty brunette behind the bar at the exclusive Manhattan restaurant was addressing the guy at the end of the counter. And, when Amber spied the man, she did a sharp double take that would surely leave her with a crick in her neck.

Parker Robinson.

Blinking, Amber adjusted to the sight as the sounds of Reese’s engagement party faded.

When Parker didn’t respond, the bartender repeated, ‘Can I get you a drink?’

Attention finally caught, Parker drew the sexy smirk like a gun from a holster. No doubt he wasn’t even aware. 

It was more like an automatic response, like most people would say please or thank you or mutter an excuse me when they accidentally stepped on someone’s toe.

‘Why, yes, you can,’ Parker said.

The brunette puffed up her chest, clearly pleased she’d finally earned an attentive smile, and Amber resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Apparently Reese hadn’t exaggerated; her half brother’s attitude toward women hadn’t changed much since adolescence. Amber had witnessed

that grin directed at girls often enough, that knowing twinkle in his eye communicating that females liked what they saw, and he knew it.

A cocky confidence that, on Parker Robinson, was more endearing than annoying.

The sun-streaked blond hair of his teens was now a light brown with leftover golden highlights, like keepsakes from his childhood. He still wore it tousled with soft spikes up front, and the little-boy, rough-and-tumble look totally suited him, hair begging to be tugged. Years ago she’d longed to do just that, to pull him in for a kiss.

Had fantasized about him teaching her how. And while his hair hadn’t changed much, his masculine features were better defined, cheekbones and jaw now sharp enough to cut cold butter. Yet he straddled youth and maturity with an ease to be envied, that cocky teen housed in the bad-boy adult making a killer combination.

His gaze collided with Amber’s and held, and a pit yawned wide beneath her stomach. The brilliant green eyes hadn’t faded with time. Pulse pounding, she realized, belatedly, that he’d caught her staring, and the shameful memory barreled into her. The day when he’d called her out on exactly that. But she wasn’t the besotted little preteen anymore, the one that had followed him around like an adoring puppy.

‘You a friend of Reese’s?’ he asked.

Amber was proud she didn’t laugh out loud. Amazing.

Ironic that the guy she’d spent every summer in the Hamptons with from the ages of seven to twelve—the guy she’d loved from the ages of eight to fifteen—didn’t even remember her.

Though, in his defense, she’d been in the sixth grade the last time he saw her.

In jeans and a leather jacket the color of burnt butter, Parker picked up his glass and came closer, moving with that easy earthy stroll that came with a confidence few could dream of. It had been captivating on Parker the teen.

On Parker the man, it was absolutely breathtaking.

He slid onto the bar stool next to hers and leaned his elbow on the counter, facing Amber. Parker cleared his throat and lowered his head a little to look up at her face—most likely a stupefied face—as if worried her lack of response meant she wasn’t completely sane.

Parker seated this close was definitely threatening her sanity.

‘Are you a friend of Reese and Dylan’s?’ he repeated.