by Shayla Black
But your wedding isn’t?
It’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. “If you give me five minutes, sure.”
It shouldn’t take me that long to figure out why Perrie said yes to this asswipe, but I’m giving myself extra time in case he proves to be as slimy as I suspect.
From what I’ve seen, he’s done nothing but put her last. He’s a younger, shinier version of Dan. But if Derek bailing on her—yet again—convinces Perrie not to marry him, I’m happy to pass the message along.
“All right. What do you need?” Derek looks ready to dive back into work now that he’s found an errand boy to blow off his fiancée for him.
I’ve gone from wanting to punch him to wondering what’s the worst that can happen if I do.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, would you stop looking at me like that?” Derek snarls.
“Like what?”
“You’re judging me. It’s not as if I wanted work to explode the week Perrie needs me most.”
“I’m sure she understands.” But I don’t. It’s a matter of priorities.
“Look, if this deal goes through, it will solidify our future. I don’t owe you an explanation, and Perrie knows what’s up. But I’m filling you in so you’ll lighten up.”
Derek’s tone says he isn’t fond of me—and he knows the feeling is mutual. Did Perrie tell him that she once had a thing for me? Or has he sensed the undercurrent of attraction still between us?
“Tell me what you love most about her.”
“Everything. She’s beautiful, man.” He shrugs. “Sweet, kind, funny, wicked smart. Everything I could have dreamed of…almost.” He sends me a speculative glance. “But sometimes she’s distant.”
I sense Derek trying to turn the tables. I’m curious; I’ll bite. “Yeah?”
Her fiancé nods. “I worry she’s not as emotionally invested in our relationship as I am.”
Is he kidding me right now? In the last forty-eight hours, she’s waited on him hand and foot while singlehandedly planning their small wedding. And don’t get me started on what I imagine she’s letting him do to her in her childhood bedroom where I kissed her first.
“Why would you say that?” I finally ask.
“A couple of weeks after we met, she opened up to me about once having been in love with this guy back home. She said they used to be close. But apparently, he didn’t want her. I’ve been wondering all this time who it could be. I didn’t really think I’d meet him on this trip since he rebuffed her and all. But here you are, right under her nose, putting off the hey, baby vibes while looking at me like you’d love to rip me in two.” Derek leans closer and sends me a sharp, narrow-eyed stare that proves he’s a good salesman because he can read people. “Let me tell you something. You had your chance to make her happy. Now it’s mine.”
He wants to measure dicks? Totally not interested. What’s fascinating, though, is Derek’s admission that Perrie can be distant. If she felt the need to tell her boy toy about me four years after I let her down, then it’s entirely possible she still has feelings for me.
If that’s true, why is she engaged to this corporate drone?
Because you rejected her, dipshit. She’s marrying this dude because of you.
Fuck. I have to stop her.
“I don’t think you can make her happy,” I say finally.
Derek scowls. “I don’t care what you think.”
“That’s the first thing we’ve agreed on,” I remark. “I don’t care what you think, either.”
“You turned Perrie down, old man. She’s no longer your concern. So why don’t you get out of my face?”
“I turned her down then because she was too young. But you know what that means? I was her first choice.”
“Fuck you.”
And fuck you, too, pal. “Did you know Perrie hates the rain? Or that she’s ambitious as hell? Did you consider any of that before you decided on this grand move to Seattle, apparently without consulting her?”
“Back off. You don’t get to play the I-don’t-want-her-but-you-can’t-have-her game. She’s not a trophy you win if you run me off. She’s a woman who wants a man to love her. You’ve already proven that’s not you. So in four days, she’ll be Mrs. Kingston, and you’ll be a memory.”
He’s dead fucking wrong, and continuing this conversation is a waste of both my breath and time. “If thinking that helps you sleep better, have fun.” I turn to leave.
He leaps out of his chair. “Where are you going?”
“To find Perrie.”
“Don’t you dare fuck with her.”
Derek looks worried. He should be.
I flash him a satisfied smirk and a mocking wave. “Enjoy your conference call.”
With a whistle, I leave. I’ve got a girl to win back and only a few days to do it. The good news is, I know exactly where to start…
Perrie
On the back patio, I try to absorb the blinding blue October day. I sandwich my phone between my ear and my shoulder, half listening to the caterer’s quote. “Uh-huh. I like that idea.”
I really have no idea what I’m agreeing with. I’m way too focused on what Hayden will do next.
During dessert the other night, he “accidentally” brushed against me a hundred times, until my body was aching, every nerve ending on fire.
When Derek and I retired to my childhood bedroom afterward, he wanted to talk about the move to Seattle and the future. I pleaded a headache, hopped into the shower, and masturbated through a trio of orgasms that left me wrung out and teary but distinctly unsatisfied.
Yesterday, I tried to focus on the details for this admittedly small but important event. The flowers were easy since I really only need a bouquet to carry and a few arrangements to line the trellised arch that will serve as the makeshift altar. I rented tables and chairs for roughly twenty-five people. I texted a few friends from both high school and college to invite them. But I still don’t have a dress, an officiant, a photographer, or a cake. I’ve got at least a hundred other details that need addressing. Derek is god knows where in the house, so it’s up to me to finish them, but I’m way too distracted to check anything off my list.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
“What?” I say to the caterer because I totally lost my train of thought to Hayden.
It happens a lot.
Thankfully, she offers to email her food suggestions and her quote, then we hang up. I’ll read everything when I’m more focused.
“Hi, princess.” Hayden strolls up in ripped denim shorts and a tight tank that shows off the fact he works with his body for a living. The sun loves this man. The skin over his bulging muscles is a rich golden brown that reminds me exactly why I always looked forward to our days at the water park. Hayden in a bathing suit is a work of art.
I try not to drool. “Hey. You’re not working today?”
“I’d rather spend time with you. How’s the wedding planning?”
He knows exactly how to make me melt. “Slow.”
“Need help?”
I shoot him a suspicious glance. “Why? Two days ago, you told me I was marrying the wrong man. Changed your mind?”
“No. I just had a chat with Dipshit—I mean, Derek. I’m more convinced than ever that I’m right. By the way, he told me to tell you he can’t come with you to test cakes.”
I sigh. “We both worried this week would get crazy. He and his business partner are trying to wrap up a big negotiation before the move.”
“Business comes first. Got it.” Hayden shoots me a stare full of mock confusion. “I thought you didn’t want to marry someone like your father.”
He’s not wrong, but I don’t dare validate him now. “Did you come to pass judgment or to help?”
“To help. I’m all yours…”
The way he smiles tells me he doesn’t just mean to assist me in wedding planning, but anything else I want. I’d love to ask him about his relationships and sex life…but I can’t say in
one breath that I’m not interested and get personal in the next.
“Thanks. Know a good photographer or officiant?”
That perks him up. “Actually, yeah. My sister moved here last year. I don’t know if Dan told you…”
“No, but I doubt she wants to shoot my wedding pictures. That’s way below her pay grade.”
Hannah is a fashion photographer—one of the best in the business. Her pictures are stunning. She’s great at capturing both striking angles and emotion with every shot.
“She’ll do it. Promise.” He winks. “So cross that off your list.”
“That’s amazing. I really appreciate it. But why would she move here?” She’s lived in New York forever and constantly traveled the world. “Phoenix is hardly a fashion mecca.”
“She gave me a lot of mumbo-jumbo about her reasons for relocating, but ultimately it has one appeal she couldn’t resist.”
“You?” I’m sure my stare reflects how skeptical I am about that.
“Not even close.” He grins. “I’m not supposed to know this, but she and your father are…together.”
I gape. “Are you sure? My dad works. He never dates.”
“Every since Hannah came to visit me last spring, he does. They hit it off, and I’m pretty sure they hooked up. After that, they started talking and…I think it’s getting serious.”
“So you’re saying she’d shoot my wedding as a favor to my dad, not you?”
“Pretty much.”
“But neither of them has actually told you about their relationship?”
“Not in so many words. They think I’m blind or something. It’s funny. But the good news is, Dan finally started working a lot less.” Hayden takes my hand, and I smother a gasp at the fire his simple touch ignites. “He didn’t learn to put the people in his life first soon enough to save his marriage to your mom. Or to give you the childhood you deserved. But he has learned since Hannah.”
“Now that I think about it, he’s been around a lot more in the last couple of days.”
“It took your dad twenty years to figure out what was most important.” He shoots me a speculative stare. “How long will that lesson take Derek? Do you really want to marry someone who will put you last for years? Decades?”
“Stop.” It’s all I can say. Every moment I’m with Hayden, I feel so weak.
“I’m right, and you know it.”
I snatch my phone off the table and grab my nearby car keys. “I have to go or I’ll be late to the cake testing.”
“How about some company?”
Oh, he’s tempting me—on purpose, I’m sure. I shouldn’t let him get too close…but it would be nice to have another opinion. At least that’s what I tell myself. “All right.”
The way he smiles says he’s up to something. “By the way, our office manager, Linda, has a son who’s an associate pastor. He could probably perform the ceremony. Want me to call?”
“Have you met him?”
Hayden nods. “Nice guy. Young, funny. He’d be good.”
“Sure. I’d appreciate it. Let me grab my lipstick and my wallet so we can go.”
“My truck is blocking your rental. I’ll drive.”
“Fine.” I disappear to gather my belongings—and my wits.
I’m still suspicious of the reasons he’s being so helpful, but Hayden has always been the first to lend a hand to people who need it. He’s a great problem solver, a good networker, a fabulous friend, and he has an uncanny ability of convincing everyone to see things his way…
That last trait worries me. He’s knows exactly how to push my buttons.
By the time I reach the foyer again, he’s smiling and tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Linda’s son, Josh, is open to meeting you this evening and seeing if you’d be a good fit.”
“Great,” I say as we head out the door. “If I can check one more thing off my list…”
“I’ll set it up for five thirty?”
“Perfect.”
He sends off a text just before he unlocks the truck and opens the passenger door to help me inside. It’s a perfect Arizona day, cloudless and blue. The slight breeze ruffles my hair and my skirt. I’m drinking in the blessed sunlight. My earlier peek at Seattle’s forecast showed days of gloom and rain ahead.
The ten-minute drive to the bakery is full of classic grunge tunes and awareness-heavy silence. Hayden steers a vehicle like he leads his life—competently, confidently, and without much apology. It’s one of the things that most attracts me to him. He doesn’t spend a lot of time second-guessing himself. If he gets something wrong, he just fixes it.
Is that what he’s trying to do with me?
When he opens my door and holds out his palm, I realize we’ve arrived.
I attempt to brace myself before I put my hand in his, but it’s useless. Hayden’s impact on my restraint is nuclear. Trying not to be affected by him is like trying not to notice a mountain directly in my path.
Impossible.
When our fingers touch, I shudder. It’s pathetic. And his little grin tells me he knows I’m not immune.
I slam the car door and head for the bakery. “Don’t gloat.”
“Not wasting time with that. Are you even going to try convince me that he satisfies you in bed or are you just going to cede that point to me?”
“What we do in bed is none of your business.”
From behind, he grabs my shoulders and presses my back against his chest, hard from years of physical labor. There’s absolutely no missing the singe of his firm fingers on my skin or the press of his steely erection against my ass.
It’s all I can do not to melt against him.
“Stop it.” I mean the protest to come out forcefully. It’s totally breathy instead.
God, it’s been four awful years since he turned me down. Why can’t I get over this man?
“Give me a chance to make you feel so much better,” he whispers into my ear.
I don’t dare. “We’re here to focus on cakes. If you have sex on the brain, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”
“When you’re around, I always have sex on the brain.” He opens the door to the shop for me, revealing a long glass case full of sugary temptations under a fascinating floral ceiling painted in a wash of white, grays, and pale pink. “But I’ll be a good boy while we’re here.”
His words do crazy things to my equilibrium. For years, I’ve fantasized about being naked with Hayden, about his large, capable hands gripping my hips as he pushes his way inside me and makes me his for the first time.
With his hot palm settling on the small of my back as he ushers me into the cool, white interior and sets my good sense ablaze isn’t a good time to think about that.
I should resist baiting him. I should…and yet I send a quelling glare his way. “Zip it. I already know you’re all talk.”
Hayden laughs, something low and throaty and totally self-satisfied. “Oh, princess, I’ll be happy to show you how wrong you are. All you have to do is ditch the deadbeat, and I’ll be all over you all the time. And I won’t just fuck you until you have an orgasm. That’s too easy. I’ll fuck you until I’ve imprinted myself on your soul.”
He’s already managed that without ever touching me.
But I’m saved from replying when a competent thirty-something blonde wearing a French twist and a smile appears from the back of the bakery to stand under a modern chandelier. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Perrie Atkins.”
She smiles and shakes my hand. “My last-minute bride. Welcome. I’m Misty, the owner.” Then she turns her attention to Hayden and sticks out her arm in a professional greeting. “And you must be the impatient fiancé. What was your name?”
“Hayden.” He doesn’t correct her presumption that he’s my groom.
“Actually—”
“We’re really eager to taste cakes today and check one more thing off our list.” He wraps his arm around me and pulls me against him.
“Aren’t we, princess?”
I’m not sure what the devil he’s up to, pretending I’ll be marrying him this weekend. But instead of making a scene about something that doesn’t matter, I shrug him off. “I really don’t have a flavor in mind, like I said on the phone. So I’m eager to try some samples and make decisions today.”
“I’m glad I can squeeze you in. Since your cake only needs to feed thirty or less…”
“The event will be really intimate,” Hayden cuts in.
“And I want the cake to reflect that. It should be simple but elegant. I found some things I like on Pinterest.”
“Perfect. That will help. If you’ll show me your pictures, I’ll get your tasting tray ready.
When she disappears, I reach for my phone and launch the picture-based social media app, all too aware of Hayden beside me. “You let her think you’re my fiancé.”
“You didn’t correct her.”
“Not worth the argument. She only cares about the cake.”
“Would you be more excited about this weekend if you were marrying me?”
I turn to him, mouth agape. “Why would you even ask that question?”
“Fine. I won’t make you answer that aloud when I already know the answer.”
“You don’t. That’s so far out of the realm of possibility…”
“Is it?”
He’s actually suggesting there’s an alternate universe in which he and I would be joining hands in a few days and exchanging till-death-do-us-part vows?
“Here we go.” Misty returns with a giant baking sheet lined with nearly a dozen beautifully frosted petite cupcakes and two bottles of chilled water. She sets it on a wide desk tucked in the corner and motions us to the chairs in front. “Would you like me to walk you through the flavors?”
“Please.”
“On the left is our most popular type for weddings, white. I can serve that with an almond cream filling that’s deliciously light or we can go with something fruitier like strawberry or raspberry, which will also add some visual panache to your cake. Down the row, I’ve got red velvet, chocolate, lemon, carrot, pink champagne, coconut, marble…”
After she goes on about each and tells me all the available fillings, I’m reeling. I thought this would be a simple matter of telling her what I wanted the cake to look like and picking a flavor that most people should enjoy. But like with everything I’ve run into while planning this event, the selections are more complicated than I thought.