Page 110 of Filthy Twisted Devil

“Hungover,” says Ryan.

“Big baby,” says Pippa. “My lanterns look fantastic.”

“How? How are you functional?” Ryan groans. “You were drunk as hell when we went to bed last night.”

“Because after you went to sleep, I did my patented hangover prevention routine,” Pippa says. “I ate one sleeve of Oreos and drank one pint of Gatorade. Now, I’m amazing.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the routine?” he complains.

“Because you were already snoring when I got back to our room. Just breathe through it, babe. That Advil’s going to kick in for you eventually.”

“What I want to know is how they’re all functional,” Beau says, pointing to Eden’s brothers, who are putting together tables at an alarmingly fast pace. “Reed drank more than all of us combined, and Wade and Jasper weren’t far behind.”

“It’s because they’re cowboys,” Brinley says. “They’re tough. They get run over by three bulls before noon. They eat truck tires for breakfast and spit out the bolts after.”

“Nah,” Reed says. “We just know that the animals don’t care if we’ve got the devil tap-dancing on our brains, they’re hungry, and they expect to get fed.”

“So how do you get over the hangover?” Beau asks.

“You act like a big boy and suck it up,” Wade says.

Eden points at me. “Luke, come help Ryan unfolding his lanterns, then help put them on their string. I want them at two-foot intervals.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, moving happily from chair to lantern stringing. I let myself check out Eden’s butt on the way there, because I’m only human.

“Wow,” Pippa says in a low voice. “Who knew getting bossed around would get you all hot and bothered?”

I raise my brows. “You’re talking to me?”

She shrugs. “You’re looking at Eden like you want to eat her alive, and I mean that as a compliment.”

“Yeah,” Ryan says. “You two are either the best actors I’ve ever seen or the worst liars.”

Cat shushes them. “People can hear you, you know.”

“Sorry,” he says, miming zipping his lips.

He’s not the last person to say something. Later, when I’m on a ladder hanging up twinkle lights, I find Beau staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Just watching you take a year to decide where to put the thumbtack to hang those on. You really want that to be perfect for her, don’t you?”

“Brinley’s only having one wedding, unless you mess it up.”

“Don’t think it’s Brinley you’re making that perfect for,” Beau says, winking.

Admittedly, the last comment is my fault. When I walk behind Eden arranging centerpieces, I can’t resist stopping to brush back a piece of hair that escaped her ponytail. The gesture makes Eden blush and Maura raises her brows.

“Careful, Eden,” she murmurs as I walk away. “That looked like a little more than just pretend.”

It’s enough to confirm what I already knew. Eden and I have slowly obliterated every boundary between real and fake, and we can’t keep it a secret any longer.

47

EDEN

Despite their hangovers, my crew of conscripted assistants are doing a relatively good job of transforming the barn into a real wedding venue. The furniture has started to fill the space, and if I hadn’t measured the space four times, I would be worried about fitting everything. Now, I accept that this is a step along the journey. Almost everything is unpacked, but nothing has been organized. The first step is just to get all our supplies inside. Then, I can bring order to the chaos.