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He catches me and tosses the magazine onto the coffee table. “Find everything you were looking for?”
I hold up the wardrobe bag. “I’m all set.”
“Am I allowed to see your dress?”
We’re not having a traditional wedding with friends or family but I’d like to stick to some form of tradition. “You’ll see it on Friday.”
“Fair enough.” My favorite dimple makes its appearance. “So we have two more stops to make today?”
“Actually, three.”
“Your flowers. My ring.” He lifts his brows and tilts his head. He does that when asking me a question without saying a word. I love our nonverbal communication, particularly the kind we use behind closed doors.
I clear my voice. “Undergarments and wedding night attire, Breck.”
“I see.” His dimple deepens. “We will definitely make time for that stop.”
“I knew you’d be in agreement.” I’m actually a little surprised lingerie shopping wasn’t his idea.
“I want to pick what you wear on our wedding night.”
Of course he does. That’s Sin’s thing. He loves to choose my intimates. He can be somewhat of a tyrant about it. I’ve never minded but this time is different. It’s our wedding night. I should be the one to decide what I wear. I want to be a gift for my husband, wrapped in lingerie for him to unwrap. “No. I want it to be a surprise.”
The lawyer in him wants to argue. I see it in his eyes. But I give him a look that dares him to strong-arm me on this one. “I said no.”
“Can I at least make a request since it’s my wedding night too?”
“I know what you like to see me wear, Breck. I’ll make it special. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
Like any man, Sin likes to see me in sexy things but he doesn’t care for crude or explicit. There’s a line with him—he favors sensual over provocative. He says I’m his treasure and overtly sexual things devalue me because I’m better than that.
I’ve studied profiling so I’m not ignorant to what’s really going on inside his head. Sin’s been with countless women and has seen it all. He’s been desensitized by all the sex he’s had thrown at him over the years.
But I’m the exception. I made him wait. And I made him work for the pleasure of having me, something no other man had ever touched. For Sin, there was no bigger turn-on.
My husband-to-be pulls me into his arms. “You could never disappoint me.”
He kisses me far too passionately considering we’re in public. But I let him, without a single complaint. “I love you, Bonny.”
“And I love you.” I’m sure everyone in the bridal shop is staring but I don’t care. “Is this that thing people call happiness?”
“It is, Bonny. I’m certain of it. And I can’t wait to know the rest of our story because you’re my happily ever after.”
“Bleu?” I hear a familiar voice so I twist in Sin’s arms.
Oh shit. It’s Cody.
“Hey.” I straighten and step away from Sin as I clear my throat of my heart since it has just taken a leap upward.
“This makes three times in one week,” he says.
Shit. I didn’t tell Sin about Cody showing up at the hospice center.
I’m between a rock and a hard place. The rock being how to not introduce Sin and the hard place being how to avoid explaining why we’re at a bridal shop kissing like lovebirds.
Divert. Deflect. Distract. Make him do the talking so I don’t have to.
“What brings you in?”
“My buddy is getting married. I’m picking up my tux.”
Gotta keep him talking. “Anyone I know?”
“I don’t think so. He’s originally from the Vegas area. Moved here with his job.”
I can’t let him ask me what I’m doing here. “Is he a pilot?”
“Yeah. With Delta.”
“Nice.”
I’m racking my brain for what I’ll say next when Sin completely blows it for me, offering his hand to Cody. “Sinclair Breckenridge. I’m Bleu’s husband.” A devilish grin spreads. “Or at least I will be this Friday.”
Well, fuck me running.
Cody looks from Sin to me. “You didn’t mention a fiancé when we were together the other night.”
I’m under the impression Cody could be trying to provoke Sin. If so, he shouldn’t. Sin doesn’t play fair. My old friend is in a whole other league he can’t begin to understand.
Sin has created a situation I can’t explain away. That’s a problem for me. Cody will tell his mother and then she’ll tell … everyone.
Sin can be such a bastard. He’s fixed this so I have to admit I’m marrying him.
“We had a terrible lovers’ spat the night I ran into you at the bar and I called off the wedding. That’s what I meant when I said I had just gotten out of an intense situation.” I look at Sin, giving him my best stink eye. “But we’ve ironed everything out now and the wedding’s back on.” I lean into Sin and pinch the skin on the back of his arm. “Isn’t that right, honey?”
“Aye! Aye!” he yelps. “It certainly is.” He yanks his arm free, wrapping it around my shoulder so I can no longer pinch him. “I can’t wait to make this sweet lass my wife.”
Cody puts his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Your family must be very pleased.”
I’m not going there and I won’t let Sin, either.
“We’re actually in a hurry to make an appointment with our florist so we need to run,” I lie.
“Oh, sure. Wouldn’t want you to be late.” He shakes Sin’s hand again. “Congratulations. You’re getting a fine wife.”
“Thank you.” He takes my hand possessively. “Ready, love?”
I nod. “It was good seeing you again, Cody.”
I don’t say a word as we walk to the car. Once we’re inside, I’m tempted to beat the hell out of Sin. “I can not believe you just did that.”
“He tried to kiss you.”
“Unsuccessfully.”
“He’s been to the hospice center since your little reunion. I think we both know it wasn’t your father he came to see. He wants what’s mine. I had no choice but to let him know you weren’t his for the taking.”
“It doesn’t matter if he wants me.”
“I did what a husband does for his wife. I let him know you are mine. I don’t understand why you’re upset.”
“One: what you just did was unnecessary. We’ll likely never see Cody again so it doesn’t matter if he wants me or not. Two: this makes a huge problem for me. He’s going to tell his mom and then she’ll tell everyone. Word is bound to get back to my Dad and Ellison.”
“You’re going to be my wife in two days and I’m fucking thrilled about it. Forgive me if I want someone besides us to know.”
“I don’t care if the world knows—as long as Dad and Ellison don’t find out.”
“I’m sorry. I’m possessive of you and I allowed it to get the better of me. I wasn’t thinking of what you’d want.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “I’m sorry. Can you forgive me, Bonny?”
It’s hard to not forgive a man whose pet name for you means beautiful. “Maybe this time.”
I understand Sin’s drive to have Cody know I belong to him. It’s testosterone. Or nature. Call it what you like but it’s the only reason I’m able to overlook him going against my wishes.
“I’ve never allowed another man to touch me. Only you. Don’t forget it.”
Chapter Six
Sinclair Breckenridge
I’m marrying my Bonny Bleu tomorrow—without her family’s knowledge or her father’s approval. I’m not all right with that. It feels dirty—like committing a betrayal against a weak, dying man. There’s very little I find more lowdown than dishonoring a man under these conditions.
I won’t enter our marriage this way.
Harold MacAllister won’t be around to watch over and protect Bleu. I believe he’ll find comfor
t in knowing I’m pledging my life to her safety and happiness. Wouldn’t every father want a man to take that vow for his daughter?
The hall smells of that all-too-familiar odor common to medical facilities. The chemical smell of medications. Shit. Piss. Vomit. Bleach to mask the odor of the three. I remember it well. But there’s another smell here, different from what I grew accustomed to during my own recovery period.
It’s the stench of death.
I swore I’d never enter a hospital again after my amputation. I had to when I nearly died of sepsis several months ago. Now, here I am inside a hospice care center because I want to speak to the man who, in twenty-four hours, will be my father-in-law.
I stand outside Harold MacAllister’s door and catch my breath as I prepare to knock. I’m apprehensive. Nerves aren’t something I experience often and I’m a little surprised by my anxiety.
I’m confident about everything I plan to tell Bleu’s father. I practiced it in my head all night. I’m just not sure how well it will be received.
I knock and a woman’s voice tells me to enter. I open the door and find Ellison standing on one side of Harold MacAllister’s bed, a nurse on the other. “Good morning. We’re helping Mr. Mac get a little more comfortable.” They’re using a sheet to move him up toward the head of his bed. “I don’t know how you worm your way down so quickly. Seems like we just pulled you up an hour ago.”
