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“M-Malone?” the guy said, going pale. “Chandler said nothing about you being a Malone!”
“Chandler doesn’t know everything.”
“I . . . I have to go!” Turning, he ran off.
“Wow. Just when I think Chandler can’t get any worse, he goes and does something like this.” Lara stepped up beside him, resting her head on his upper arm. “Thanks for taking care of him. Chandler is going to be so mad.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Good.”
She moved in front of him, peering up at him with a grin. “Don’t fuck with a Malone, huh? Does that apply to me?”
“It’s don’t fuck with a Malone, not don’t fuck a Malone. Of course, I’m the only one you’re allowed to be with.” He cupped her face, kissing her.
Damn, she tasted delicious.
He drew back reluctantly. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s go face the vultures.”
“Urgh, if I have to.”
They had barely stepped back into the reception room before the vultures started circling. Honestly, how she’d survived living among these people and come out as sweet as she was, Butch had no idea.
But he was going to do his best to guard her against their poisonous barbs.
“Oh my God! There she is! And she’s with him. Who is he?” one woman asked loudly as they walked past.
“I don’t know. But he looks like he’s just out of jail. All those tattoos are disgraceful,” someone else added.
She stilled and turned toward the women, but he wrapped his arm around her. “Ignore them.”
“I don’t like them talking about you like that.”
“I don’t care what they think, and neither should you.”
She let out a deep breath and let him steer her further into the room toward his table. It was right at the back, as far away from the bridal party table as you could get.
Yeah, that wasn’t a coincidence.
“Where are we going?” she asked, looking around in confusion.
“To my table.”
“But I won’t be seated there. My mom will expect me to be up at the bridal table.” She frowned. “Why have you been seated so far back? I can’t believe Mom did this. This has Chandler written all over it.”
Likely.
He glanced over to where the groom looked to be two sheets to the wind while Emily was holding court with her bridesmaids. They were up on a small stage, looking down on everyone else. This whole wedding was utterly ridiculous.
“Screw what anyone else wants. I want you with me where I can keep an eye on you.”
She was his priority, not her mother. And definitely not her sister.
She stared up at him in wonder. Then she leaned further into him.
“There’s a reason I like you, Butch Malone.”
“I’m sure there are multiple reasons why you like me. It would be hard to choose just one.”
She grinned and his heart lightened. He hated when she was upset.
His gaze hit the light-blue stare of Chandler Devout. The other man was looking upset. Almost angry.
Because of him?
He sure hoped so. The more he could upset that asshole, the better.
He made a show of nodding to him and drawing Lara closer. But to his surprise, the man just gave him a slow nod back.
“But where am I going to sit?” Lara asked as they grew close to the table. They’d already served his steak. Crap, he hoped it hadn’t gone cold.
“You’ll sit with me.” He drew his chair out while everyone gave them disapproving looks.
He just stared them down. Assholes.
Then he reached for Lara, pulling her onto his lap.
There were a few gasps of horror and he rolled his eyes. These people were ridiculous.
“Butch! What are you doing?” she whispered.
“I’m about to feed you some, hopefully, still-warm steak.” He cut a piece then pressed it to his lips to check the temperature. “Barely warm. I’ll ask them for another one.”
“No, don’t! I don’t want to be a bother. Also, I can’t sit on your knee while I eat!”
“Would you rather kneel at my feet?” he asked. “I don’t mind, but I thought you might be a bit shy about doing that in front of others.”
She moved back to stare up at him with wide eyes. “I’m not doing that.”
“No? Not even in private? I could eat my dinner, and you could kneel next to me, eating from my hand while I tell you what a good girl you are.”
He spoke quietly, and he didn’t think anyone could hear him, but she still looked around, worriedly.
He should probably ease up. But it was keeping her distracted from all the whispers around her.
“Butch! You can’t say things like that!”
He brushed her hair back from her face.
“Lara, lovely to see you here, dear,” a male, nasal voice said, interrupting them.
Butch sighed. He wished they were on their own. This wedding was annoying as hell.
“Hello, Mr. Ainsley. So nice to see you.” Lara’s voice had changed from how she spoke to him. It had grown cooler. Remote. As though she was putting on a front.
