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Really? Today?You couldn’t be a normal person and go downstairs, marry a handsome man with loads of money, and be happy about it?
I scrub harder at the stain, but it only blurs wider.
“You okay?”
I stop moving. I’ve heard that voice before. It’s deep and graveled, the kind that sticks with you long after you’ve heard it. Stepping from the bathroom and into the main space, I hold my breath as a man I once loved more than anything stands before me.
He’s older now with salt and pepper hair, and his beard is longer… but for the most part, he’s unchanged. An inked giant with a cowboy hat, tight jeans, and so much confidence it makes everyone else around him uncomfortable,including me.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is so small I have to clear my throat.
He grins. “Here, here? Orhereas in the wedding?”
I stare ahead, unsure of what words are anymore. How has age made himmorehandsome? “Both.”
“Well,” he clears his throat and steps forward, searching the fridge until he finally pulls out the bottle of champagne, “I’m here because my brother is getting married and, typically speaking, family is obligated to attend these sorts of events.”
My brows wrinkle as he pops the bubbly and takes a swig. He then grabs a cloth from behind the sink and makes his way back toward me.
I swallow hard, avoiding eye contact. Maybe that wine was poisoned and now I’m having some sort of hallucination on my way to the hospital. “Yeah, but you haven’t spoken to anyone here in years. You swore everyone off before you deemed the Death Rangers your family.” I cock my hip upward. “How’s that working out for you, Tex? That’s your stupid MC name, right?”
He laughs, dotting the champagne with the towel before leaning into me. His big, rough hand grips the breast of my dress as though he’s touched me a million times before and we’re not at my wedding. The wedding where I’m marrying his brother.
What’s happening?
“I have to say I was surprised to see you two got together.” He glances at me. His big dark eyes land on me like a memory I keep tucked away for private viewing only. “He’s not really your type.”
I huff out a sigh and stare down at the stain that’s lifting. “Please! You don’t get to disappear, then show up years later, and question my decisions. And if bytype,you mean a man that takes responsibility seriously and loves me, yeah… he’s my type.”
He leans in, tipping his head onto the breast of my dress, though his eyes stay on mine. Like an animal, he slurps up the bubbles he’s poured.
I try to look away, but I’m stuck like a revolving door with a rock in the center. Looking is my only option.
I could, however, choose not to be into it, but that’s a fool’s errand.
My clit throbs and a pang of guilt rushes over me. I’m in my wedding dress. I shouldn’t be having clitoral anything for anyone but my soon to be husband.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I stare down at the stain that’s lifted and try to ignore the lingering scent of a man who shouldn’t be here. Pine, cedar, sandalwood. It’s different. Nothing like the whiskey and cigars he used to smell like.
He leans back. “So, if my brother is a man worthy of your love, why aren’t you running through that courtyard to make this shit official?”
I roll my eyes and turn away, attempting to slow my heart rate. “Well, obviously, I’m making a mess.” I glance down at the dress. “So, there’s that.”
He reels his heels back and leans against the wall, staring toward me as though I owe him something. “You have made a mess. I agree with that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His big, inked arms fold over one another as he stares toward me. “It means what I said. You’re making a mess.”
“Yeah, I heard you, but you’re not talking about my dress.”
“You’ve always been smart, little mama. So why are you pretending to love him?”
Mama.The word hits me in the heart like a dagger. No one has called melittle mamasince Tex. Even if they did, no one could say it like he does, so deep and possessive.
Everything about this man is like a spell. Voodoo magic. A Pagan ritual. A prayer I didn’t know I was sending.
