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Dyllan
Skylar had been whisked away shortly after their rendezvous to help with the photographs, leaving him to watch from the background. He’d watched the way she directed family members in and out of pictures, gathering those that were busy talking rather than being where they should’ve been. She handled everyone with professionalism and grace, walking around in her black dress that she’d called a ‘sheath dress’ as she’d headed out the door earlier that day, and white pearl necklace. He adjusted himself thinking about how much he wanted to see her wearing just those as she knelt before him, red-lipped mouth open in anticipation for him.
He didn’t know what she was doing to him, but he wanted to claim her and shout to everyone that she was his. He’d never been like this with any women before, but then again, he’d never been married before either. He had a basic, primal urge to pull her to him, place his hands on her waist or even hold her hand.
He’d dutifully waited until it was his turn to be in the photographs, making sure to pull her in beside him. To anyone seeing the photos, it looked as if they were standing cordially beside each other, smiling for the happy couple in a keepsake. In reality, he was trailing his finger up the back of her leg and toying with the hem of her dress. She tried to swat his hand away casually, but he immediately replaced it, trailing up the back of her thigh further each time.
She’d been quick to shoo him off once the pictures were done, but not without a whispered promise that they’d continue what they’d started later that night.
Now that he was standing at the bar in the tasting room, he sipped his beer as he surveyed the room. The town sat at their tables laughing and enjoying appetizers as the wedding party finished up whatever the fuck they were doing. He also hadn’t seen Skylar since she’d sent him away, claiming he was too distracting. His body itched to find her and touch her again in any way he could. He felt empty without her by his side, and it bothered the fuck out of him.
“Why do you look like you’re ready to murder someone, Mayor?” Mitch, Zach’s business partner, asked from behind the bar. Skylar had roped him into bartending duty for the evening as the brewery had been closed—there was no one to frequent the Logan Creek Brewery as everyone in town was at the wedding.
Dyllan grunted in response, not turning away from scanning the room.
“She’s out back sorting out a problem with the caterers,” Mitch added, pouring wine into glasses on a tray.
“Who?” Dyllan rumbled.
“Skylar. Isn’t that who you’re looking for?” Mitch didn’t look away from his pouring.
Dyllan turned and glared at him from the side of his eye. “Why would you think I’m looking for her.”
Mitch laughed, putting the wine bottle down and steeling his gaze at him. “It’s pretty obvious, my man. You’re not fooling anyone when it comes to her.”
Dyllan’s eye twitched before turning back around with another grunt.
“She’ll be out soon,” Mitch chuckled from behind him.
Bringing his beer up to his lips, he let the crisp, light taste wash over his tongue as he swallowed. Warmth filled his belly as the alcohol took up home, fuelling the fire that was building throughout his body.
As if summoned, she appeared through the sliding door, looking like she’d just stepped off a runway. She looked sexy as fuck, but he also noticed how tired she looked. Closing her eyes, she rolled her head from side to side and arched her shoulders. Standing in place, she moved slightly from foot to foot as if she wasn’t able to get comfortable in her incredibly high heels.
“There she is, man. Go get your girl,” Mitch joked from behind him.
“Shut up,” Dyllan scolded as he downed the rest of his beer, slamming it on the bar and stalking off.
“You’ve got it bad!” Mitch ribbed from behind him.
Dyllan didn’t look, just threw up his middle finger, causing Mitch to laugh hysterically.
Brushing past tables, he nodded and mumbled hello to those he passed, hoping no one stopped him on his way to his wife. He needed to touch her and take her into his arms, and he didn’t want to wait.
“Mayor! I need a word!” Richard Rathers yelled as he weaved through the tables, wooden cane raised as he went.
“Now’s not the time, Richard. If you have an issue, make an appointment with my office.” Dyllan didn’t stop, but instead led a grumbling Mr. Rathers behind him.
“This can’t wait; it’s important!” The man yelled, tapping Dyllan on the shoulder with his cane.
I don’t think he even needs that cane; it’s probably just to whack people with.
Letting out a deep breath, Dyllan turned to the older man and crossed his arms. “What?”
“You’re very rude, you know. How the town elected you over me as mayor is beyond me,” Mr. Rathers declared, waving his cane at him.
“Me, too. What do you need?” Dyllan asked, exasperated, rubbing his hands over his face.
“The maximum occupancy for this tasting room is one hundred and eighty-seven people, correct?” the old man asked, narrowing his eyes at Dyllan.
