MADISON'S POV
Crap. It was the worst possible outcome, considering that if there's been any dark cloud on this otherwise wonderful holiday, it's him.
Calhoun is the one person I've heard so much about but somehow never got to meet until the rehearsal dinner yesterday.
He and Jordan, Ella's husband, are close friends, and in the year that I've been friends with Ella, it so happens that Ethan and I never got to meet.
To hear how Ella talks about him, you'd think he was an angel fallen from heaven with halo and wings still intact, and I'd been looking forward to finally meeting him on this trip, but I have to say, it's turning out to be the worst anticlimax of my life.
Suffice it to say that he was not as Ella had advertised.
The only angelic thing about him is his face. And perhaps his body. Otherwise, Calhoun Kennedy is the rudest, most judgmental man I've ever met.
And let's not forget, the keeper of a giant stuck up his ass.
And I can't imagine how on earth he'd think those yellow glasses are in any way flattering?
I mean, who wears yellow glasses?I'll tell you who: pimply, nerdy weirdos who fancy themselves an avatar in their favorite video game.
Only this time, nature must have lost the memo and dropped him into a ridiculously attractive body.
The moment I walked into the wedding rehearsal yesterday, the way the man's gaze had raked over me from way across the room like I was a homeless urchin had made me almost regret my choice of a tight, black leather mini dress and four-inch, thigh-high boots.
Almost.
When Ella eventually introduced us, I managed to hide my shock in discovering that the man who'd appeared to be shooting daggers at me through thoseTerminatorlenses was, in fact, the famed Calhoun Kennedy.
He, on the other hand, had his eyebrows flying up in obvious surprise before he schooled his features into polite curiosity.
What was that initial reaction supposed to mean?
Those raised brows, coupled with the fact that I couldn't see his eyes behind the reflecting lenses, irritated me to no end.
Usually, I welcome interest from men. Thrive on it, actually. But this time, I felt like a lab rat under his perusal.
His attitude rubbed me the wrong way, so I blurted the first thing that came to my mind about him being a poorly designed avatar for a Harvard professor.I knew as soon as it left my mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.
"I'm surprised you know what they'd look like in Harvard," he'd given me another slow, derisive once-over, his voice a deep baritone, smooth as velvet. "You don't seem to me like the type to have a clue about such things."
That stung.
Because I dropped out of high school. Twice.
By the time I eventually found my way into college, I was already making too much money as a hacker to take school all that seriously. So, I gave up on college, too.
Ella immediately slapped him on the arm. "Calhoun, come on, that was harsh. I'll have you know Madi is an amazing freelance cyber security expert. She helped out the gallery when we ran into major problems with our online security. And she built my website from scratch."
The fact that he couldn't hide his shock at that piece of information disgusted me. It was those damn eyebrows.
What did you think I was a paid escort?
"I see. So, you're a hacker, basically." He murmured, his voice lowered so only I heard him clearly. He might as well have said 'hooker' for the expression on his face.
"You bet, Harvard. And if you piss me off, you might wake up to find your precious Acercraft all pwned up." I replied just as softly, referring to his multi-billion-dollar online gaming company.
"I highly doubt that, sweetheart." His almost whispered tone was condescending.
It was true; I was bluffing. I wouldn't do that to Jordan, who co-manages the company with Calhoun. Besides, law enforcement would easily trace it to me after the threat I'd just made.
However, just the thought of bringing the proud man to his knees had me smirking in satisfaction.
Ella had then said something about starting the procession, and I realized Calhoun and I were engaging in a little stare off.
Well if you could call it that, since all I could stare at was my own reflection.
I felt his gaze though. Literally. It reminded me of the tingly warmth Nan's soothing menthol left on my skin those nights when I'd return home after being out for too long in the cold and rain.
If I didn't know better, I'd swear there were infra-red beams emitting from those lenses. Weird.
Weirdo.
I avoided him the rest of the evening. But I was to get another dose of Calhoun prior to the wedding ceremony.
It happened this morning when I came out of my friend's hotel room, dressed in nothing but her fluffy white robe.
I'd run smack dab into a solid wall of muscle in the darkened hallway.
Strong arms had stopped me from falling on my butt, and upon looking up, I saw it was none other than Calhoun, minus the glasses. It was too dark to see his eyes but I'd caught his scent, a delicious mix of spicy cologne and male skin, the same I recognized from the previous evening.
I hardly noticed he was still holding me against him despite having got my balance because I was busy suppressing the sudden urge to bury my nose in his broad chest.
And failing apparently because I'd just taken a nice big whiff of him.Fuck he does smell good.
I'd kill for his perfume.
Jesus Madi! It's Calhoun fucking Kennedy. Asshole. Remember?
Appalled by my insane reaction, I'd angrily shaken off his hands, suggesting that he find his eyes instead of fumbling around in the dark.
He'd cocked his head to one side, watching me for a few seconds as though trying to figure out a puzzle, then simply stepped around me, leaving me in the hallway without a word or a backward glance.
Somehow, that hurt worse than any scathing retort might have.
Like when no one else was around, Calhoun couldn't even be bothered to speak to me?
I shake off my gloomy thoughts and focus on processing what just happened over there.
The man with the disposition of a monk took a stupid piece of clothing off you, and for the first time in ten years, you got wet, is what happened.My mind unhelpfully explains.
I should really get laid. It's been a couple of months at least because I've been busy with this last project. That must be it.
Maybe I ought to lower my standards and reconsider Maxwell.
Looking around, I see the man in question currently flirting with another wedding guest, who looks at him like she might tear his clothes off in two seconds flat.
Yeah, no, girl, you can have him; you seem way thirstier than me.
I scan the room frantically, looking for Ella, who I've named the root cause of this situation. I spot her across the room, practically in Jordan's lap, his hand on her bare thigh thanks to the high slit in her dress.
Which reminds me of where
hands Calhoun's were a few minutes ago. I drown that thought with a gulp of champagne, watching as Ella reaches for the bunch of grapes on their table and slowly starts feeding them to Jordan.
Gag.
Those two can be nauseating. I know their schedules are crazy, with Ella's highly successful art gallery and Jordan straddling two multibillion dollar companies. I get that they don't see as much of each other as they would like, but still.
I decide to leave the lovebirds to fawn over each other and look around the room for my newly made, and thankfullystill single, friend Brooke.
Brooke and I met yesterday at the rehearsal dinner while Jordan, Ella, and Calhoun were busy with whatever bridesmaids and groomsmen did at wedding rehearsals.
I'd been feeling a bit left out and still smarting from the unpleasantness of meeting Calhoun when I spotted Brooke also sitting by herself.