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2
Siobhan
Sitting at the table, I swirl the alcohol in my glass and watch Mark as he chats with a few people I don't know. He's hotter than I would expect for a country boy. Tall, dark, and handsome don't even sum him up. He has broad shoulders, a sharp jaw that's covered in a thick, well-groomed beard, and dark brown eyes. His arms are thick, his hands strong. His voice heavy and deep, but smooth as cognac.
Butterflies swarm my stomach as I watch him grin, tipping his head back and laughing with the small group he's standing with. Running my finger around the rim of the glass, I sit back, enjoying the view.
I don't know what I really expected with this wedding, but I didn't think I could have ever envisioned this. In New York City everything is all glitz and glam. Go big or don't go at all, that's basically the rule. Crystal glasses, giant venues with hundreds of people. Ice sculptures, gold flakes in your champagne, that's the type of wedding I'm used to seeing.
But here, in the barn at Ryder's farm, I can't lie, I like how this feels. It's small, quaint, and has so many personal touches that speak to who the bride and groom are. There are no big and flashy chandeliers or servers walking around with caviar.
Bales of hay rest against the back wall, decorated with white lights. The tables have small glass vases with floating candles and flower petals. The food is buffet style, hometown barbecue with ribs and baked beans, corn bread, and prime rib. Food I don't typically eat in New York, and it's delicious.
This isn't a wedding to impress people, it's a wedding of love. Simple, homey, and still extremely beautiful. I thought I was going to feel awkward and out of place, but I don't. Everyone is friendly, smiling and laughing, striking up conversations so easily.
This is worlds away from the city.
Taking a sip of my drink, I let my eyes drift back to Mark. He happens to glance over at me at the same time, giving me a smile as he lifts his drink in the air. Lifting mine back, we both take a sip at the same time.
Turning his attention back to the guy he's talking to, he keeps looking over at me from the corner of his eyes. Smiling into my glass, I suck the rest of my drink down. I feel giddy every time he glances my way, like a schoolgirl with a crush.
I'm trying to not get overly emotional tonight. I'm about to lose one of my best friends. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy for Jenna. I am. But this changes everything.
She's not coming back to the city with me. She won't be a block away anymore. I'm not going to be able to call her up to grab lunch or coffee out of the blue whenever the mood strikes anymore. And it sucks.
Jenna is one of the only people that I've met whose personality goes deeper than the surface. I can talk to her about anything. And she's interested in more than just designer clothing and what fashion trend is coming next.
I'm going to miss her.
Getting up, I walk to the drink table and grab another glass of wine. I don't even bother going back to my table because I've already decided that I'm getting drunk tonight. If I keep thinking about not having my best friend by my side, I'm going to spend the rest of the night crying.
I don't want to cry selfishly on her wedding night, so getting drunk makes sense right now.
“Did you taste that at all?” His voice comes in over my shoulder, low and heavy.
Laughing, I set down my empty glass and pick up another. “Nope, and I'm not trying to. Want to get drunk with me?” I ask, lifting up a second glass and passing it to him.
“How drunk?” he asks with a smirk as he takes the glass from my hand, letting his fingers brush mine gently.
Tingles rush up my arm, sweeping through my chest, and seizing my lungs. I hold my breath for a second, trying to not visibly shiver.
“Very drunk.” Flashing him a big grin, I lift my glass, tapping it against his.
“Count me in,” he says.
His eyes move all over my face. They trace my cheeks, moving down slowly, and lingering on my lips. My heart starts to race, the blood rushing so forcefully it pounds in my ears, silencing everything else around me.
The way he looks at me makes my body come alive. His eyes pierce me where I stand, forcing my heart to speed up. I can't breathe. I forget how as his eyes start to travel over my breasts, working their way down over my hips, and moving all the way to my feet.
God damn, he's gorgeous.
His hair is styled with just enough mess my fingers itch to slip through it. The suit he's wearing barely contains his thick muscled body. He flexes his arm as he lifts the glass to his lips, and I swear the threads at the seams are straining.
The tips of my fingers reach for my neck as I swallow the lump forming in my throat. I can feel every inch of my body prickling with desire, begging for this man to just grab me with his bear sized hands and take me however he wants.
“Having a good time?” he asks, turning around to face the small crowd on the dance floor.
“I am, actually.” Leaning back against the table, I hold the glass close to my lips, but don't take a sip. I let it rest there, cooling my skin.
