Heat of the Night by Elle Kennedy

slightly. He’d barely said a word since his talk with her dad, and she could tell he felt like an outsider as the guests chatted with her parents at the dinner table. He’d only raised his head a few times since sitting down, each time to send a scowl in Bryce’s direction.
    Annabelle wanted to scowl too. Bryce had strolled into the dining room with her father, pulling her into his arms for a warm hug as if nothing had happened between them. She had to admit, he did look good in his pin-striped black suit, with his blond hair perfectly cut. His chiseled features focused on her every few seconds, and he kept shooting her endearing little smiles. She had no idea what he was up to, but she didn’t like it, whatever it was.
    “So, are you enjoying your vacation, Annabelle?” Bryce asked pleasantly, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a long sip.
    “Yes, San Diego is beautiful,” she replied in a polite voice.
    “Not as beautiful as you look tonight, I’m sure,” he teased.
    She noticed her parents exchange a pleased look. She stifled a sigh. Why was Bryce acting like Mr.
    Charming all of a sudden? He’d dumped her, for Pete’s sake.
    The dinner dragged on. Bryce continued to flirt with her, Ryan continued to sulk, and Annabelle’s parents chatted with the Worthingtons and Kildaires as if nothing was out of sorts. By the time the small catering staff Sandra Holmes had hired cleared the dinner plates and brought dessert out, Annabelle was ready to tear her hair out. She tried to draw Ryan out of his shell, but he barely paid any attention to her.
    His blue eyes became instantly alert, though, when Bryce suddenly cleared his throat and stood up.
    “All right, I think it’s time to put an end to all the tension,” he said cheerfully, holding the stem of his wine glass.
    The adults at the table looked intrigued.
    “Sandra, Greg, I know you were both upset to hear that Annabelle and I broke up,” he said to her parents, “but I want you both to know that Annabelle and I have seen the error of our ways.”
    Huh?
    Beaming, Bryce went on. “I’m happy to announce that the wedding is back on.”

    Heat of the Night
    As Annabelle’s mother clapped her hands together in delight, Bryce walked around the table to where Annabelle was sitting and reached for her hand. A sick feeling rose up her chest, settling into a lump in the back of her throat. What the hell was he doing?
    “Stand up, sweetheart,” Bryce urged. “Let’s toast to our happiness.”
    “What? No, Bryce, this is not—”
    Without letting her finish, he took her arm and pretty much forced her to her feet. Annabelle’s gaze sought out Ryan’s, but he refused to meet her eyes. His broad shoulders were as stiff as a board and she noticed a muscle in his jaw twitching. Oh God. This was a disaster.
    She opened her mouth to object again, but Bryce broke out in a long, bullshit toast about happiness and marriage, and everyone at the table raised their glasses, clinking them together in celebration.
    Annabelle had never seen her parents look happier, and she could have sworn she saw a flicker of satisfaction in her father’s eyes, as if he had known this was coming. Bryce’s parents got up and hugged her, expressing their joy that the two “children” were still getting married.
    Bryce smiled warmly, then whispered close to her ear. “You forgive me for all those things I said, right, sweetheart? You know I didn’t mean them.”
    Her lips tightened. Trying to control her anger, she whispered back, “I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, Bryce, but I am not going to—”
    The words died in her throat when she heard Ryan’s chair scrape against the parquet floor. Without a word or a look in her direction, he walked out of the dining room.
    Panic filled her body. “Ryan—” she called, but Bryce tightened his grip on her hand.
    “Let him go. This is obviously very awkward for him, us getting back together,” Bryce said