Desire turned her light-brown eyes almost black. “Gonna be hot as a brushfire between us, Super Man-Slut.”
“For right now we’ll have to settle for a slow burn, Amazing Slut-Girl. Shall we take our seats?”
The bride and groom finally made an appearance half an hour later.
Evidently Sutton was starving because he pushed back speeches, reception games, and dancing until after everyone had eaten.
Then Wyn was so busy shoving food in his mouth and seeing to his best man duties that he didn’t have a chance to talk to Melissa privately until over an hour later.
He grabbed a beer and sat beside her. “Hey. Did you get enough to eat?”
“Too much. The food was great.” She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “When you disappeared for so long I thought maybe there was an emergency that only Super Man-Slut could handle.”
“And not invite my trusty new sidekick, the Amazing Slut-Girl? Not likely.” He sipped his beer. “Why? Did you miss me?”
“Yes. We had a very…promising conversation going and then the Injustice League split us up.”
He laughed. “I don’t know what the hell Cres’s problem was.” Wyn and Melissa had taken the two chairs on the other side of the groom’s seat at the head table. But Cres and Stirling insisted the setup was groomsmen next to the groom and bridesmaids sat on the bride’s side. So it had seemed like they were purposely being separated. “Anyway, great toast.”
“Yours was good too.”
“Glad it’s over. I ain’t much on public speaking.” He set his forearms on the table. “And while you were talkin’, I noticed you have a hint of a drawl. Where are you from? Texas?”
“As if. I’m from the great state of Kentucky.”
“That didn’t sound real sincere.”
“I used to be all Rah! Rah! Go Wildcats! But I grew up, moved away, and haven’t been back to the Bluegrass State for more than the occasional weekend since I graduated from college.”
“A Kentucky college girl. So what’s your degree in?”
“American literature with an emphasis on twentieth century authors.”
“Huh.” Had she noticed his eyes glaze over? “So uh, what do you do with that degree?”
“Exactly.”
Wyn blinked.
“I would’ve liked to teach—I still would—but earning a degree was secondary to why I attended UK.”
“And why’s that?”
“I went to school there to be part of their equestrian team. Train with the best, win a team collegiate championship, compete individually, and qualify for world finals with the end goal of competing in the Olympics.” She sipped her drink. “Bored yet?”
“Are you kiddin’? Lord, woman, you’re a Kentucky blueblood from a horse training dynasty or something, aren’t you?”
“I was, now I’m not. Now I…” She shook her head as if to clear it. “This year, I’ve been teaching at Grade A Farms. Chuck and Berlin Gradsky have…shall we say, affluent clientele who prefer their children train in the English style rather than western.”
“Well, Kentucky, I’ll bet your horse cost more than my house.”
“But you own your house. I never owned my horse. My parents’ corporation did. And when I was competing I leased my horse from Gradskys.”
“You’re not competing anymore?” He didn’t remember what her rodeo specialty was. Since she’d gotten the horse from Gradskys, he’d put money on her being a barrel racer.
“How did I end up blathering on? It’s your turn.” Melissa stared at him expectantly.
Wyn shifted in his seat, feeling uncomfortable with her for the first time since they’d met.
“Don’t.” She squeezed his knee beneath the table. “This is why I don’t tell people about where I came from. I’d rather they see me as a rodeo road dog who gives it the almighty try year after year but never quite makes it to that top tier.”
“That’s intentional, isn’t it? Not competing on the highest level?”
“I had enough of that. Now I drift from town to town and occasionally toss out a Sylvia Plath quote or a passage from William Faulkner to keep people guessing about me.” She squeezed his knee again. “You were about to spill all of your secrets to me, Mr. Grant.”
“That’s one thing I don’t have are secrets. I grew up a rancher’s kid and never wanted to do anything else. When it became obvious that Sutton was better than average with his rodeo skills, I knew he wouldn’t want to ranch full time, so I stepped up and learned everything I could. Figured it’d be up to me’n Cres to keep the ranch goin’. My folks did insist on shipping me off to vocational school for three years.”
“What’s your degree in?”
“Associate degrees in engine repair and veterinary science.” He sipped his beer and smirked at her. “Granted, it’s no Elizabethan poetry degree, but it’s helpful around the ranch knowin’ how to doctor up machines and animals.”
“Elizabethan poetry? Nice shot, grease monkey.”
He laughed. Damn he loved her sense of humor. “You had that comin’, Kentucky.”
Her eyes turned serious. “Why is this so easy with you?”
“Because we’re both easy?” he offered. “It’s easier knowin’ how things are gonna end between us tonight.”
“You two look awful cozy over here,” a cooing female voice broke the moment.
Wyn looked up at Violet McGinnis. Then he leaned back and draped his arm across the back of Melissa’s chair. “Hey, Violet.” After spending one night in Violet’s bed, she decided they were destined for each other. Not because the sex was off the charts explosive. Not because she was crazy about him and wanted to spend the rest of her days with him. Her sudden interest happened after she’d turned thirty and decided to settle down. He’d never been interested in that with her, or any other woman, and hadn’t hidden that fact from anyone. But she hadn’t taken the hint. Evidently it was time to broaden that hint.
“We are very cozy,” Melissa said, pouring on a thick drawl. “In fact, we may not move from this spot all night, it’s Super”—she caught herself and amended—“that me and my best man are hanging.”
Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “I hope that’s not true because Wyn promised me a dance.”
“When did I promise you a dance?”
“It’s a figure of speech, Wyn, meaning I want to dance with you.”
“Ah. Well, I wouldn’t want you turnin’ down all the other fellas who’re eager to squire you around the dance floor on the off chance I’ll tear myself away from this lovely lady’s side tonight. Because I doubt that’s gonna happen.”
Violet didn’t know how to respond. She spun on her boot heel and stormed off.
“Recent conquest?” Melissa asked.
“Eight months ago or so.”
“She lousy in bed?”
“Not that I recall.”
“So why no repeat?”
Wyn watched Violet move to the back of the room. “That’d give her the false expectation there might be a three-peat. I’m not interested in settling down with her. Or anyone else.”
“That’s another thing we have in common. But there seems to be…a few haters, here, Super Man-Slut. So how many women in this place have you nailed and bailed?”
He scanned the tables. “Six?”
“You’re not sure how many women have slicked up your pole, grease monkey?”
“Funny, Kentucky. You say that like you didn’t admit, two short hours ago that you’re equally as slutty as me.”
“Fair point.”
“Lots of people from the world of rodeo here. How many guys have you mounted and discounted, Amazing Slut-Girl?”
“Mounted and discounted.” She snickered. “That’s a new one. I might have to steal that.” Melissa tried to discreetly crane her neck to scan the area. After several moments, she said, “Four. Five if I’m counting the same guy but two different times.”
“N
ope. Still only counts as four. But I am interested on what he did that earned him a second go.”
“He was breathing.”
Wyn choked on his beer. “What the hell?”
Melissa shrugged. “All right, it was more boinking from boredom. We ended up at the same after party. Other people started hooking up so we were like…you’ll do. How close is your horse trailer?”
“Has he been eye-ballin’ you?”
“Some. But I’m not interested in ballin’ him, because that’d be a three-peat rule violation and like you, I don’t raise false hopes.” She cocked her head. “But I’d make an exception to that rule for you.”
“You know what I like about you so far, Kentucky? You don’t make excuses for bein’ a highly sexual woman.”
“And?”
“And you said you were gonna make me work for it. Since we’re bein’ open about everything else, explain how. Because I want a piece of you like you wouldn’t believe.” Wyn pushed to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”
Chapter Two
Mel, you are in deep with this man and you’ve known him less than half a day.
She watched Wynton Grant amble off. And she couldn’t help but notice other women sizing up the rancher hottie too.
From the moment she’d set eyes on him she had that overwhelming punch of want—a feeling that happened to her so rarely lately. So seeing the identical look of lust sizzling in his eyes? The balls to the wall woman of action who’d been in hiding for the past six months had awakened with one thing on her mind.
Sex.
Lots of it.
Hot and dirty sex.
Fast sex.
Slow sex.
And it turned out the very sexy best man was more than happy to oblige.
This was turning out to be the best wedding ever.
The object of her lust stopped to speak to an older woman, giving Mel ample opportunity to study him. The man had it going on. His shoulders were so broad that he blocked the view of the woman entirely. Pity he hadn’t taken off his western cut suit coat so she could check out his ass; she’d bet his buns were grade A prime beef too. Not only did he have a big physical presence, he carried himself with confidence. He had an easy smile—which was a sexy-as-his wicked grin. From the back she noticed his dark hair brushed his collar and held more than a little curl. The groom and groomsmen had removed their cowboy hats as soon as the wedding pictures were done. As much as she appreciated a man in a hat, Wynton looked better without it.
Hands landed on the back of Mel’s chair and a soft rustle of fabric tickled her neck.
“Staring at him that intently won’t make his clothes disappear,” London murmured in her ear.
“That obvious?”
“Yes. But if it helps, my brother-in-law is staring back at you the same way.”
“Then maybe I’ll get lucky on your wedding night too, Mrs. Grant.”
London plopped down in Wynton’s chair. Her wedding dress was a stunning mix of ivory satin and chiffon. Intricate beadwork of rhinestones and pearls stretched across the bodice of the off-the-shoulder dress. Folds of satin were ruched below her breasts and then floaty, filmy panels of chiffon fell in a column to the floor. It was simple and elegant—exactly like London herself.
“So you’ll get a kick out of this, but you cannot tell anyone.” London leaned in close enough that a long tendril of her hair touched Mel’s cheek. “Earlier, when Sutton said the photographer wanted pictures of just us? Total lie. My husband insisted we have some alone time. And by alone time I mean us in the ready room, with my wedding dress pushed up to my hips, Sutton’s tux pants around his ankles as he proved how much he loved me by immediately consummating our marriage.”
Mel grinned. “Sounds like him.”
“He said he didn’t want to wait hours to finally claim what was legally his forever.”
“If I didn’t love you so much I’d hate you. That’s so freakin’ romantic.”
“I know. I’m so lucky. I am such a sucker for that man. He keeps trying to get me…” She sighed. “Look, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Anything.”
London tucked a key into Mel’s cleavage. “Keep this away from me. And definitely keep it away from Sutton.”
“What is it?”
“The key to the ready room where we already rocked the countertop. I have to tell him that I lost it because if he had his way we’d be in there right now. I understand this is a celebration for everyone else, so I can share him for a few more hours. But I promise we ain’t gonna be here all night.”
“Everyone will expect you to take off.”
“Speaking of expectations…You’ve been such a huge help to me throughout the wedding planning. Mom and I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Mel teared up. “My pleasure. But if you would’ve turned into Bridezilla at any point, I would’ve bitch-slapped you.”
“And that’s why I love you.” London hugged her. “But don’t think for one second that I’m not aware there’s been some serious shit going on with you the last six months. You can talk to me about anything. So I’m telling you that you will be spilling your guts to me as soon as I return from my honeymoon, got it?”
“Yes, bossy-pants.”
“That’s Mrs. Bossy-pants to you.” London whispered, “Thank you for being my maid of honor, Mel. Thank you especially for being the sister of my heart.”
The tears she tried to hold back fell freely. “Same goes.”
“You have your own special chair, my darlin’ sister-in-law, so get outta mine,” Wynton said behind them, “and quit hoggin’ my wedding partner.”
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”
After he sat, he noticed Mel’s damp cheeks and he looked at London sharply. “You made her cry?”
“They’re happy tears, I promise,” Mel said with a sniffle.
“So you weren’t here warning her off me?” Wynton asked London.
“I should, because you’re a serious pain in my ass. But I kinda like you, Wyn, so I’ll take the high road and not fill her in on your many conquests.” London winked. “His little black book rivals yours, Mel. So I’m thinking you two might be a match made in heaven.”
He laughed after London flounced off. “Love that girl.”
“Me too.”
A voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “Let’s kick off the festivities with the bride and groom’s first dance as a married couple. Sutton and London, take the floor please.”
Wynton scooted his chair closer. “Will you cry when you hear the song he chose?”
“Maybe. This part and the father/daughter dance always make me cry.” Her eyes narrowed. “Wait. What do you mean the song he chose?”
“Sutton asked London if she trusted him to pick a first dance song and surprise her.”
“So you know what it is?”
He nodded. “And trust me, Kentucky. You’re gonna need more tissues.”
Turned out, he was right.
Ten minutes later, when she and Wynton were on the dance floor with Cres and Stirling, the newlyweds, and both sets of parents, Mel still had a lump in her throat thinking about the song Sutton had picked. Billy Joel’s “She’s Got A Way.”
“You all right?” Wynton murmured.
“No. I’m just so happy that London found the perfect man for her. Sutton…gets her. I never would’ve pegged him as the romantic type.”
“Yeah. Me neither. He told me she makes him a better man. I guess that’s something to aim for in a relationship.” Wynton smiled against her cheek. “I’m happy for him too.” He paused. “Maybe a little jealous.”
“Jealous? You? Mr. I’m-not-settling-down?”
“From a strictly competitive point of view,” he explained. “I’m the oldest. I should’ve gotten married first.”
Mel tilted her head back and stared into his eyes. “I call bullshit on that. Nut up and admit you want that.” She pointed at the happy couple.
&nb
sp; “Fine. I want that. Someday. How about you?”
“Of course I want it. When I’m lucky enough to find the one.”
The DJ called for all the guests to join the wedding party on the dance floor. And although people crowded around them, it seemed as if they were the only ones in the room.
“What makes a man ‘the one’ Melissa?”
The husky way he rasped her name sent a slow curl of heat through her. “Not wanting anyone else. Everything you do, everything you are with that one person is enough.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“It’s logical. The literature degree allows me to break anything down to its most basic component. Even love.”
“No, baby, that romantic notion of ‘one true love’ is all you, and logic won’t play into it at all when you find him.”
And…she melted. “I really want you to kiss me right now.”
“I really want to take that pretty mouth you’re offering, but not here.” He brushed his lips across her ear. “Dance with me. Let’s both of us take the time to enjoy the journey for a change. Since it sounds like we both jump to the good part first.”
Mel was beginning to believe being in Wynton’s arms was the good part.
The tempo changed to a fast tune and he eased them into a two-step. They danced four songs together. When it came time for the father/daughter dance, he draped his arm over her shoulder and wordlessly pulled a tissue out of his pocket when she started to sniffle.
He excused himself to dance with his mother, and Cres whisked her back onto the dance floor when he saw Breck approaching her. After that, Mel danced with London’s dad, London’s brother, Macon, the wild bulldogger Saxton Green, and Sutton’s boss.
By the time she returned to the head table for a drink, she realized the dizzy feeling wasn’t just from dancing and she needed a quick snack to keep her blood sugar in check. She cut to the bar and downed a glass of orange juice. She turned around and Wynton was right there.
“I saw you slam that.”
“I was thirsty.”
“So it appears.” He drained the contents of his lowball glass and set it on the tray. “I like dancing with you, Kentucky. Come on.” He clasped her hand in his and led her to the dance floor.
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