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He chuckles, and starts getting dressed while I touch up my makeup in my compact mirror.
“Now remember,” Charlie calls. I can hear the swoosh of fabric, the clank of a belt. “Before you saw this outfit, you wanted to sleep with me. Try to hold on to that feeling.”
Ha. As if I could let it go.
I look over my shoulder, then burst out laughing. Charlie is standing there like the hero on the cover of one of my mom’s old romance novels: a billowy white shirt open to his waist, super-tight breeches, and low, leather boots. “I mean, now I want you more,” I tease.
He points at me. “That’s enough.”
“I’m serious!” I insist, laughing. “It’s like a sexy pirate meets Fabio.”
I spin fully so he can see the view of my dress. The neckline is square-cut and low, showcasing way more of my breasts than I usually would.
“I take it back,” Charlie says, eyes skimming downward. “We have time. We do.”
“Too late,” I singsong, traipsing toward the exit.
As I move the curtain aside, Charlie mutters from behind me, “This had better be a quick ceremony.”
* * *
The ceremony is beautiful,even if Charlie’s thigh grazing mine makes heat shoot down my spine. I have to shift away, afraid I’ll straddle him right here in the wooden folding chair rows.
And that might not go down too well with the bride, I’m guessing.
The bride comes down the aisle on a white horse with ribbons in its hair, like a storybook illustration come to life. Yes, the groom has tights on, and may I just say: Good for him, and for her. But, for all its medieval pomp, the wedding is so delightful, so personal. My cheeks begin to ache from smiling so much. Charlie reaches for my hand, which I take as a good sign. Being amidst someone else’s lifelong commitment isn’t sending him into a tizzy.
As they start the vows, I feel the back of my neck prickle. I turn, and find Charlie’s friend, Dash, seated way in the back, watching us. And he’s not the only one. He’s flanked by two more guys, all studying us curiously: an athletic-looking guy with a buzz cut, and a more rugged man, with a beard and tousled brown hair.
Dash sees me and flashes a thumbs up.
I turn back around, feeling weirdly exposed. “You didn’t mention your friends were coming,” I murmur to Charlie.
He glances back, and then curses under his breath. “I didn’t know.”
The minute the couple are done with their ‘I dos’ and back down the aisle, Charlie’s buddies make their way through the crowd to us.
“Well, don’t you look lovely.” Dash greets us with a grin.
“Thank you,” I reply.
“I was talking to Charlie, but you’re great, too.” He winks, then introduces me to the other men: Austin, and Flynn, two more of the partners in Mavericks bar. Their Ren Faire looks are clearly pulled together on the fly—jeans, with some leather vests, and outlandish hats—but still, there’s no hiding that this is a parade of stone-cold hotties.
“I thought you guys wouldn’t be seen dead in a jerkin,” Charlie cracks, as we make our way to the reception area.
“Last-minute invitation,” Austin replies. “Some girls I know needed strong, brave knights for the evening.” He sends a wave across the room, to where a cluster of women are laced into the tightest corsets I’ve ever seen. They wave back, fluttering.
“And they had to settle for you?” Charlie jokes.
“More like counting their lucky stars.”
The guys joke around, and I watch, curious. These are some of Charlie’s closest friends, and I can see the difference in his demeanor right away. He’s more relaxed, that charming smoothness nowhere to be seen, and I’m glad.
Peeling back the layers, I like him more with every new depth that I discover.
“So, Grace…” Flynn and Austin fall into step, flanking me. “How’s Charlie treating you. A perfect gentleman, I hope?”
“Of course.” I smile, thinking back to our pre-wedding romp.Perfectly delicious. “He’s been very attentive to my needs.”
