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“Maybe? A little?”
“God, Ivy,” I say. “You?—”
I can’t finish the sentence. You’re so hot, you’re so funny, you’re so smart, you’re so fun. “Where are you going after this?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Rehearsal. But we have cocktails tonight, right? You want to pick me up for that?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I do. I really fucking do.”
You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted in my life?—
“Just an hour to prove it, huh?” she teases.
“I’ll happily take as long as you want,” I tell her, stroking my thumb over her puffy lower lip.
She gives me one more sizzling look before she extricates herself and ducks back into the bakery.
I follow her in.
“We’ll take that one,” I say, pointing at the chocolate cake.
“You can always tell the ones who are goners,” Nan says to Hanna. “Can’t say no to anything their brides want.”
30
Shane
When I pull up in front of Ivy’s house that night, she runs out and climbs into my car. “Hey!” she says, beaming at me.
As she settles herself, she untwines her arms from around the wrap she’s wearing, and it falls open to reveal what’s underneath.
It’s a laced red-and-black corset that pushes her breasts up into gorgeous, heaping curves that I instantly want to lick.
I groan.
“Yeah?” she says.
“Fuck yeah,” I say, and that’s it. So much for self-control. We’re kissing and grappling in the front seat of my car. I duck my head, hell bent on getting my mouth on all that creamy, pale flesh and— “I’m going to leave marks,” I say and drag myself upright, stopping myself just before I suck on her skin and leave hickeys or toothmarks or I don’t fucking know what.
I sit back up.
“If we’re going to make this appointment, we should probably—go.”
“I don’t want to,” she whispers.
“I know,” I say, “but if I stand up this bartender when Hanna’s trying to get her on board to be a long-term partner? Hanna will kill me, and then everything will go to hell.”
“Okay, but will you—will you do whatever you were about to do later?”
“Yes,” I say. “I will definitely do that later. That’s a hard promise. Emphasis on the hard.”
She snickers and rests a hand on my thigh, which doesn’t help the situation.
I start the car and head into town. Growing up, this town catered to tourists who came to Rush Creek for the rodeo as well as other down-home events like quilt shows and chili competitions. The main street was lined with businesses serving family-owned ranches, circuit cowboys, and outdoorsy types.
Now it boasts stores like Girls’ Night Out Gifts and Carol’s Cake Shop and Vows Bridal Gowns.
“It’s changed a lot since I was a kid,” I say. “From cowboys to brides.”
