AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She pressed her lips together, he assumed to hide a laugh at his over-the-top theatrics, but maintained her serious facade. He would have guessed that she’d be annoyed with his antics by now, but for whatever reason—his mentioning Ari and Ex might have helped—she’d decided to play it up as he’d requested.
“There was no maintenance person available, Mr. MacArthur.”
“Am I to believe that the staff at the highly acclaimed Texas Cattleman’s Club leaves their maintenance closet unattendedandunlocked?” he asked with a flourish.
She shot out her chin and said the very last thing he’d expected her to say. “I can pick a lock.”
Trick dropped character to grin. His audience had to be going crazy for this content. How could they not? She was gorgeous and stubborn and had confessed to a minor B&E.
Hands propped on his hips, he sort of repeated, “You picked the lock?”
Apparently she wasn’t the least bit sorry. She doubled down, stating, “It comes in handy more often than you think.”
“Remind me to call you if I need to plan a heist, Peaches. Lock-picking would come in handy for a jewelry store. Or a bank. You could do better than light bulbs.” He swept a stray blond hair behind her ear, his eyes roaming over her face. She leaned her cheek into the hand he’d raised. Realizing he didn’t have full control of his faculties and even less of his hammering heart, he blinked and stepped away from her to address the camera.
“You heard it here, folks. If a bank gets robbed in Royal...” He pointed at the beautiful amateur thief. “Rylee Meadows. More to come.Crash you later.” He tapped the red button to stop recording. The comments that scrolled by read, “Go for it, Trick!AndKiss her, Trick!” Not that he blamed his fans. Kissing Rylee had certainly crossed his mind. Which was why he’d stopped the live video.
“You called me Peaches in front of a million online viewers.”
“Just under five thousand,” he said. “I didn’t even mean to say it. It’s just—”
“Just what?” She cocked her head as he approached. When he was standing in front of her, slightly taller than she was since she’d lost the heels, he answered her.
“It’s just that I’ve imagined kissing you at least a hundred times since you took that first sip of a peach Bellini at the steakhouse. Whenever I look at your lips, I wonder if they taste like peaches.”
He realized, perhaps belatedly, that he was within slapping distance. Not only had he filmed herandouted her as a thief on a live social media feed, but now he’d admitted he wanted to kiss her. But Rylee didn’t slap him.
Her expression took on an almost angelic quality, even as challenge straightened her shoulders. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
He slid his palm from her cheek to the back of her neck. “Not a single fucking thing.”
He pressed his lips against hers, answering their prayers. Her mouth was plush and warm.God—perfect. She didn’t taste like peaches, but she did taste like a woman he’d like to taste a hell of a lot moreof.
His other arm locked around her back, he hugged her curvy body as he slid his tongue over hers. She stroked his back with her short nails, the friction causing a stir behind the fly of his pants.
Electricity skittered along his scalp and jettisoned down his spine. He was on fire for this woman, and over what? A single kiss? A kiss that came to an abrupt end when it became clear they were not alone.
“Are we...interrupting?” came an amused-sounding voice from behind them. Before he turned to look, he soaked up Rylee’s dazed expression. Definitely, they were continuing this later.
He released her neck, but kept his other hand on her back to steady her—or himself. Hard to tell.
He didn’t recognize the couple in the doorway, but as soon as the woman spoke he knew she recognized him.
“Rylee. Hi.” The woman flipped her shoulder-length, sable-colored hair and addressed Trick next. “You must be the ‘juvenile, fame-seeking prankster who crashes high-profile weddings.’ I’m paraphrasing Rylee, but that is close, isn’t it?”
“Um...” Rylee was at a loss for words, a novel concept. He didn’t take offense to the insult, but instead extended a hand to the other woman.
“Trick MacArthur.”
“Dionna Reed.” She gestured at the man who stood at her side. “This is Tripp Noble.”
“Maid of honor, and best man, respectively,” Rylee supplemented.
“Of course.” Trick had heard Rylee mention their names before. “Nice to meet you, Dionna, Tripp.”
“You can call me Dee. Apparently you are no longer the enemy.” To Rylee, she said, “Ari told me about your agreement with Trick. And then she dispatched us to check on the ‘state of affairs.’ Her words.”
“Our reporting back to Ari and Ex has no bounds.” Tripp sounded less inconvenienced than amused. He surveyed the stacks of boxes in the room. “What are we missing?”
