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Jamie lifted his hand, kissing their knuckles. “I’m ready, Irish.”
NIC
Vows and rings exchanged, the terrace room doors were thrown open, and wedding guests migrated between the tables and food inside to the bar and dancing outside. Down a few steps from the main lawn, Nic stood by one of the fire pits, nursing a bottle of his brewery’s Imperial Stout. He watched Cam, jacket and ascot long gone, dance with Nic’s “date,” Katie wobbling on top of the ASAC’s feet. During the ceremony, she had run to Nic after her ring-bearing duties were done, but once the dancing started, and he’d told her he didn’t dance, she’d abandoned him for her “other uncles.” Cam had pulled out all his Mr. Potato Head faces, interacting with her as naturally as he did with adults, not a care in the world if Katie’s icing-covered fingers marred his suit pants or if her shoes scuffed his Oxfords.
At forty-five, Nic could tear apart a witness in court or have them eating out of his hand, depending on which he needed for his case, but around kids he was clueless. Katie had been the first to bully past his awkwardness and force him to like her. At the moment, though, he felt a little green toward the giggling tyke. She was dancing with the man Nic would admit only to himself that he’d wanted for a while now. To the point he had shuttered the rest of his dalliances, Aidan the last man he’d dated over a year ago. But Nic hadn’t made a move on Cam yet either, even if his gut burned every time he saw Cam flirting with another person. Getting involved with the ASAC of the Bureau office his US Attorney’s Office worked with daily wasn’t smart.
A waft of tequila on the sea breeze cut through the smell of beer and smoke, as did theclick-clackof heels over the crackling fire. Glancing left, Nic spotted Mel, in her long green gown and death-defying heels, descending the stairs on the other side of the firepit. “We missed you at the rehearsal dinner,” she said, circling to stand next to him.
Had they really? Or would his presence have made everything awkward, like he’d felt most of today? He also hadn’t lied about being busy with work. “I heard the food was excellent,” he said, then took another swig. “Sorry I missed it.”
“Thank you,” Mel replied, to his confusion, before clarifying, “for covering the case you’re working with Aidan so he could enjoy this weekend.”
Of course she knew. The woman had been out of the Bureau almost a year now, but Nic suspected she was more connected than ever, officially and otherwise.
“You didn’t want a big party like this?” Nic asked, deflecting.
“Everyone keeps asking me that, and the answer is still no. You think I’d want to deal withthattwice?” She tilted her glass toward the piano Danny and Cam had commandeered—one playing the high notes, the other low—with stout-and-whiskey-fueled gusto. “World of no.”
Nic almost lost his drink, spluttering around a gulp of beer. “Point taken.”
“I just hope today smooths things over with Danny’s mother. Not sure she’ll ever forgive me for eloping with her baby.”
The Talley matriarch stood across the lawn with Jamie and Aidan, fingering her son’s red hair, now closer to her own gray-streaked auburn.
Nic had heard talk of how Aidan had once reverted from his usual dyed blond to his natural red for an undercover case, but Nic hadn’t seen the red until today. The change was startling and attractive. As was the smile splitting Aidan’s face, which didn’t falter as he looked up and spotted him and Mel.
The smile on the face of the other groom beside him seemed to though, just a bit, reminding Nic again that maybe he shouldn’t be here. Granted, he and Aidan had never fucked, but that detail hadn’t mattered much to Jamie, who at the time had been battling Aidan for more than casual. Jamie had obviously won, blowing through Aidan’s defenses, and the past was supposedly behind them all, enough life-and-death close calls over the past year to wipe the slate clean.
Supposedly.
For Mel, though, Nic figured today put her firmly in the clear. “I think she’s forgiven you.” Nic tilted his beer bottle, and Mel clinked her glass against it.
“Hey, no toasting without us!” Cam jumped over the ledge on the other side of the firepit, skipping the stairs altogether. “And why the fuck is the beer not green? It’s fucking St. Patrick’s Day.”
The comment, in Cam’s whiskey-soaked accent, should have been amusing, but it landed like a punch to Nic’s gut. “Boston, you ever do that to perfectly good beer,mybeer, and you’re dead to me.”
“I’m guessing Mr. Beer Snob didn’t bring any cans then either?”
“No,” Nic answered straight-faced, for about a second, until Cam’s surly expression almost made him lose his drink again. “I did, however, bring some empty metal growlers.”
“Fuck yeah,” Danny said as he jumped over the ledge behind Cam. “Together with the soda cans and Oreo wrappers I collected last night, we can make a right mess of this.” He rubbed his hands together with devilish glee. “I think we’re set for our date with a certain lady.”
“Are you two sure about this?” Mel asked. “That car is their baby.”
Cam tossed a set of keys in the air. “No permanent damage, I swear.”
Mel turned to Nic, brow raised. “Should we supervise?”
“I think that would be wise. And I think we’re gonna need refills.”
He was at the bar, getting another round of beers and a cocktail for Mel, when the groom he least expected appeared at his side.
“Walker,” Nic greeted.
“Meant to thank you earlier for the beach house and the beer,” Jamie said. “Both were big hits.”
“Glad to hear it.”
