About something that he’d promised never to talk about again. The biggest—okay, maybe second biggest—mistake of Lia’s life.
“We’re not discussing this here,” she whispered from the side of her mouth. “Or ever again.”
“C’mon, Lia. I’m leaving tomorrow, and since Daisy and Mason are moving, it’s not likely you’ll ever see me again. I’m single, you’re single—”
“So help me, if you say ‘let’s mingle’—”
“Let me make you tingle,” he finished, ignoring her interruption. She gasped again, fighting back unwanted images of her stupid, drunken mistake the other night. It was completely uncharacteristic, and she was not going to repeat it. No matter how great he smelled right now, how enticing that roguish grin looked, or how mind-blowingly fantastic his body was beneath that tuxedo.
None of that mattered. Lia learned from her mistakes, and there were a lot of truly nice men here today. She glanced over at Sam Brand and caught him staring at her breasts and fought the urge to cover herself up with her hands. Lots of nice men here who were interested in more than just her boobies.
The photographer now wanted shots of just the bridal couple, and as the rest of them heaved relieved sighs and turned to walk away, Sam placed his palm in the small of her back, ostensibly to lead her through the departing group. She shuddered at the intimate warmth of his hand resting so close to her butt and tried to glare at him, but it was a bit demoralizing when you were trying to freeze a guy with a glare and he reacted by smiling.
“You’re so cute when you try to look stern, princess. You should get a pair of those half-rim glasses just so that you can glare at me over them. God, this is becoming a fully realized fetish,” he groaned in dawning self-recognition. “But I don’t even care. It’s hot. You’re hot. Let’s go somewhere and fuck.”
“You’re just so . . . ugh. The other night shouldn’t have happened,” she snapped, her voice low.
“The other night was awesome,” Sam recalled with a nostalgic smile. “I lost track—how many times did you come? Four times? Five? We could try for seven tonight. After all, I have to give you something to remember me by.”
“Mr. Brand . . .” He sighed, the first sign of annoyance he’d shown her.
“Sam. Or Brand. Just drop the ‘mister’—it’s weird when you’ve had my cock in your—”
“Oh, please stop.” She held up both hands and his mouth snapped shut. “I don’t usually sleep with strangers. It’s not who I am. I’m Dahlia McGregor. I teach Sunday school, volunteer at animal shelters, I want to be a kindergarten teacher, for crumb’s sake. I don’t have these kinds of conversations with men.”
“I get it,” he said, his voice placating. “You wanted to break out of your shell for a night. Be a bad girl. But here’s the deal, princess. I’m not a stranger anymore. So it’s okay for us to have one more night. And tomorrow I’m out of your life for good. And you can go back to being Miss Priss and teaching the homeless to play harpsichord or whatever the fuck it is you usually do in your boring suburban daily life. But why not take this one moment out of time and walk on the wild side? With me.”
“You look so sexy in that tux, Carlisle,” Daff said with a salacious grin as she took in Spencer’s fine form in the traditional black-and-white tuxedo.
“Hmm?”
“You know you do.” She winked, the gesture teasing a small lip tilt from him. He was pale, and his forehead gleamed with sweat. She grabbed the crook of his elbow to halt their progression into the marquee where the reception had been set up and went onto her toes to kiss him.
“You’ll be fine,” she whispered encouragingly.
“I’ve never spoken in front of a crowd of people before,” he groaned, looking absolutely terrified. “I’m going to make a gigantic dick of myself and ruin my brother’s wedding.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re going to rock this.”
“Mason should have made Brand his best man. Or Chris. Both of them are smooth fuckers who could charm the scales off a snake. I can’t even charm the collar off a puppy.”
“Please, you can charm the panties off me. And despite many rumors to the contrary, that’s not an easy feat.” Another grin.
“I don’t think I’ve told you how cute you look in that poofy skirt, darling,” he said, and she was happy that he’d forgotten his anxiety long enough to tease her, but that was beyond the pale. She looked like a frickin’ Disney princess. She didn’t do Disney princess. And she didn’t do lilac. But it was better than that hideous yellow her mother and sisters had threatened her with.
“I look silly.”
“You look stunning,” he pacified, stroking his hand down her arm. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“Thank you, handsome,” she said, somewhat mollified, and reached up to straighten his tie. “Now, why don’t we get in there and get these speeches out of the way so that we can party and go home, where you can charm the panties off me?”
Just like that, his nervousness was back, and she lovingly traced her index finger over his tense jawline.
“Spencer, Mason chose you because you’re his big brother. You’re the best . . . no, the only man for the job. You’ve got this.”
He inhaled deeply and loosely hooked his arms around her waist.
“I love you so much.” She swallowed down the lump of emotion at those words. They were so simple, yet meant so much. She would never get used to hearing them from him.
She took his hand and led him into the tent.
When the moment arrived, Daff squeezed Spencer’s thigh before he got up, and he gave her a nervous smile. Her steady gaze calmed him. He still couldn’t quite believe that she returned his feelings. Just last week his life had been a total wreck, and today, with Daff by his side, he felt like the tallest, strongest, proudest man alive. She was his very heart and soul. And as he stood, his eyes touching on all the familiar faces around him, his heart nearly overflowed with love.
This was his family. Not just Mason and Charlie and Daff, but all of them. Daisy and Lia, their parents, their crazy old aunts . . . they had all accepted him into their intimate family circle long before today. He huffed a laugh at the revelation, and when he felt Daff’s familiar hand creep into his, he looked into her beautiful eyes and grinned. She returned the smile widely.
Love you, she mouthed, and he nodded, his hand tightening around hers. He lifted her hand and bent his head to drop a kiss on her knuckles and proclaim to anyone who wasn’t yet aware that she was his, he was hers. They belonged.
He looked at Daisy and Mason, who were sitting so close together they might as well be sharing a seat. They were staring back at him expectantly, and Spencer exhaled slowly.
This was his family, his friends. And the woman he loved.
Hmm, he thought, contentment settling in his veins. I’ve got this.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Natasha Anders was born in Cape Town, South Africa. She spent nine years working as an assistant English teacher in Niigata, Japan, where she became a legendary karaoke diva. Now back in Cape Town, she lives with her opinionated budgie, Oliver; her temperamental Chihuahua, Maia; her moody budgie, Baxter; and the latest addition to the family, sweet little Hana the Chihuahua. Readers can connect with her through her Facebook page, on Twitter at @satyne1, or at www.natashaanders.com.
The Best Man Page 32