He thought it cute how she kept trying to make him call her Sam. The stammering, hesitant insistence did things to his groin he wasn’t sure were appropriate in this situation. Sam was an endearment, not a nickname. Something used in private. Not out in the world.
“Samantha,” he growled playfully.
A soft pink glow highlighted her suntanned cheeks. The colors made her eyes seem brighter than usual.
“You are a rare gem in a world of tacky glitter.”
She almost snickered. Almost.
And he almost rolled his eyes at how greeting card-ish that sounded.
“Now, see.” Ryan chuckled softly. It couldn’t be helped. “Right here is exactly why. I’m trying to be all serious and whatnot but you? You’re at a comedy show.”
Serious moment be damned. She giggled despite chomping on her lips. “Aw, come on,” she quipped. “You have to admit that was pretty cheesy.”
“Rare gem in a world of tacky glitter is cheesy?” He made sure there was a double helping of mock outrage in his retort. “I beg your pardon, madam, but I do believe that in certain circles that particular bumper sticker would score a perfect ten.”
She leaned on her elbows and added her hand to his creating a tangle of fingers and palms.
“Eight, maybe an eight-point-five, but that’s the best I can do, Mr. Charming.”
“Ah! Mr. Charming, is it? Why thank you very much. You’ve earned some bonus cheese.”
She smirked. He wanted to pin her to the table.
“Go ahead, then.” Her sigh of indulgence sent his libido soaring.
“A guy could waste a lifetime waiting for a girl like you.”
She squinted and stared at him real hard. “Are you messing with me?”
“No. And that would be the point. I can guarantee you, Ms. Evers, that nowhere in my world of experience have I ever encountered anyone like you.”
“Is that a. . .good thing?” she asked quietly.
Ryan smiled indulgently. Was it a good thing? Sheesh.
“You’re embarrassed when you think you’ve said the wrong thing. You’re a loyal friend. When faced with it, you had no problem insulting what I do.”
She gasped, shook her head in denial, and tried to pull away. He just chuckled some more.
“You know damn well you did, which is why I spent two hours locating this delightful vacation outfit. No one besides my mother has ever had the balls to ask if I get high.” Plowing on, he just kept going with a bullet list of their previous encounters. “And you took a noogie like a pro. I don’t do wedding guest sex was a nice touch, by the way.”
The pink blush went full rose.
“Now, I’m not stupid. We each chose our outfits carefully for this meeting.”
He eyed her critically and gave her a wink. “Boutique, I’m guessing. Right?”
“Andi,” she groaned.
“All that taken into consideration, why wouldn’t I be fascinated?”
Ryan played with her hands and stroked her fingers in silence.
“But I do have one question. I’m a pretty good judge of people, but you threw me a curve with the triskele comment. Not that I’m complaining.” He shrugged and smirked. “To each his own—but that seems like odd knowledge for you.”
Samantha laughed merrily and squeezed his hands. “You, sir, are underestimating the street knowledge a girl can pick up in a town like Hollywood.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” He knew his reaction was harsh and fierce, but he couldn’t help it. Even the slightest suggestion that the delightful fresh-faced woman across from him was dabbling in such things in a place known almost exclusively for excess and debauchery made his blood boil.
“Chill, okay? Let me explain. I handle the scheduling for a craft services business. We regularly juggle multiple clients. Film, TV, video. More times than I can count over the last two years, the rather serious BDSM community in L.A. consulted on or were the balls-out subject of a project. They insist on themselves, by the way.”
His expression mirrored his confusion.
Her tone was hushed and low when she explained. “I just mean they take their stuff seriously. It’s no entertainment joke to them.” Beaming as if she’d won the Olympic floor dance competition, she proudly declared, “I learned how to tie some pretty cool knots along the way. And don’t get me started on the sheer number of leather stores in L.A.”
He saw her eyes dip to his wrist. Took him a good few seconds to get the message. She liked leather and probably didn’t even know it. This kept getting better minute by minute. A girly girl who got off on a testosterone vibe. The fucking universe better not be clowning him.
Their damn waitress was making her way to the table. Shit. The conversation was just getting good. He had one chance to drop something meaningful into the space between them. Something she’d think about all day. He went with comical and from her amused snort knew his instinct was right.
“Shit, Samantha. Leather? Really?” He released her hands and sat back. “Now where the hell am I supposed to find a leather getup on Maui before tonight?”
The sound of her sweet laughter filled the air around them. He was sure she had a comeback but didn’t get a chance to set it free as their breakfast arrived and their conversation ended.
Samantha was three pieces of bacon in when she reached for her phone and started tapping.
“Got notes to share,” she mumbled as she chewed. “Or did you get an email from the event planner?”
“If I did, it got ignored or went to the trash can.”
“Great! So you’re going to be no help at all? Some BM you turned out to be.”
The best man abbreviation would never not sound hilarious coming out of her mouth.
Practically inhaling an omelet the size of his ass, Ryan enjoyed the relaxed air between them. He honestly couldn’t remember if any woman he’d ever dated actually chewed her food during a shared meal or just carefully rearranged it on the plate. Samantha had clearly never received the starve at all cost memo.
Another reason he liked being around her.
Shoveling a forkful into his mouth, he chewed and wiped the napkin across his lips before saying anything.
“Hey, lady. I’m your man. Your best man and don’t forget it. Whatever you need, just tell me.”
She rewarded this answer with a beaming smile.
“I need you to get the groomsmen in hand and make sure none of them wander off the reservation.”
“They’ve all got wives to handle that part.”
“For real? They’re all married?”
“Yes, ma’am. Kyle and I are the last bachelors in the bunch.”
“Okay, then”—she snickered softly—“so that makes things easy. I’ll start a chat with the wives and keep them in the loop. Looks like you’re all meeting at the clubhouse at nine. Prepare to be wowed. We toured the Poipu Bay Golf Course last week. The scenery sucks.” Amusement tinged her laugh and shone brightly in her eyes.
“When’s the bachelor party?”
“There isn’t one. Now, pay attention,” she burbled with smug delight. “Kyle’s on lockdown at the golf course. One round and that’s it. Understand?”
“You’re a bossy little thing, huh?”
With a cocked brow, she drawled, “You have no idea.”
“Okay. Got it. Clubhouse at nine and only one round. What’s after that?”
“Mmm. Looks like lunch on your own. Then in the afternoon, the ladies are off for a final fitting and a mini-spa appointment. The gentlemen,” she said with a comical head nod, “are booked for a boat tour. Not quite a booze cruise, but close.”
“Is this a three-hour tour?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well, it might. Have you checked the weather?”
God, it was so much fun playing with her. She took things so seriously, looking at him as if she was translating languages. He started singing and got through the whole first verse before it hit her.
<
br /> His father and uncle were Gilligan’s Island fanatics. Both could go off on an endless rant about how clever the professor was with nothing but coconut shells and bamboo. Ryan and Kyle knew the theme song by heart.
By the time the tiny ship got tossed, she was laughing out loud and so was a couple at a nearby table.
“Feeling an S.S. Minnow t-shirt coming on.”
She laughed even more at his cheesy comment. “I think you’ll be fine. Better be because I’m counting on you to keep the adults under control later when it’s just family.”
“Is tonight a rehearsal dinner?”
“No actual rehearsal, I’m afraid. But there is a video for the wedding party to watch. I suppose, in a way that, yeah—tonight is the rehearsal dinner.”
“So tomorrow night is the bachelor party?” Needling her was a shit ton of fun.
Slapping her phone onto the table, she sat back with a huff and crossed her arms. Ha! All that managed to do was lift her tits up in that ridiculously skimpy triangle of fabric masquerading as a top—and he was totally fine with that.
“What part of no bachelor party don’t you understand? I mean, you’ve met Andrea before, right? If Kyle gets a raunchy dick party in his honor, believe me, Ryan, she’d counterpunch with a ladies’ bacchanal that would go down in the record books. Best not to tempt fate.”
Feigning disappointment, he went for the gold. “Well, shit,” he muttered. “The only reason I came along on this mystical love boat to marital happiness was because I was promised naked breasts and a lap dance.”
Her shocked gasp was priceless.
“Looks like you’re up, Ms. Evers. Sun’s out,” he said with a glance at the sky, “so tits out. And we can negotiate the lap dance. There’ll be none of that bridesmaid dress crap, though. I want ass, legs, and preferably no panties.”
Ryan expected her to come back at him with typical female outrage. She wasn’t typical by any means and what he got was fucking-a priceless.
“Sorry, Ry,” she simpered, “my dance card is full. You should have been here days ago if you wanted a shot. Too many hot tropical guys in skimpy sarongs, ya know what I mean?”
He was enjoying this immensely. “Fuck. Seriously?” he muttered. “Damn. Had a moment there when imagining those legs of yours wrapped around my head took things to an eleven. Or a twelve.”
“Is that like more cowbell?” she drily quipped.
“Something exactly like that,” he answered.
The rest of breakfast rushed by in pretty much the same way. She was smart. And interested in everything. How to fold an origami napkin. Why Tarzan lived in the jungle but never had a beard. It was as if life unfolded for her as a never-ending narrative about every little thing.
A guy would have to stay on his toes to keep up with a woman like Samantha.
She also asked questions. Lots of them. Some were serious and specific; others were lighthearted and slightly blonde. When he used the partial blonde observation, she swatted him with her napkin and pointed out that she was far from blonde.
He was bummed when breakfast was over. With no more wedding details to pour over and pick apart, they had a schedule to keep. To make himself feel better while helping her from her chair, Ryan took advantage of her nearness to breathe her in.
Maybe not a good idea, he thought after it was too late to stop. Life clung to her skin. He smelled bacon and pineapple. Vanilla and something spicy. Her hair held a sweet, fruity scent. And it all blended with her natural essence and was made more potent by the setting. The sun, the warm air, the ocean nearby.
It occurred to him quite suddenly that she hadn’t said what the ladies were doing while the men were off playing golf and having lunch, so he asked. Anything to delay their farewell.
She let him take control by slipping her hand through the crook of his arm as he led them slowly from the outdoor restaurant. He liked having her close.
“Why, we’re going shopping, of course!” Her merry chirp was delightfully female.
Women could be ready to jump off the ledge from a life crisis one moment and then be ready to bounce ten seconds later at the notion of going shopping.
“All the girls,” she told him while filling in the details. “Both your moms. Alianna too, I would imagine. There’s a boutique nearby, and Andi’s photographer is meeting us.”
He snorted with laughter and warned her as best he knew how. “Watch out for Ali. I hear she found the island’s only sex shop. A place where she can happily cause all sorts of chaos.”
“Oh, no. Really?”
Ryan was amused that she sounded so worried. It was just harmless fun. Ali Morgan style.
“What?” he teased. “Sex toys and naughty nighties not your thing?”
“Huh?” she asked with a distracted grunt. “Oh, yeah. Whatever. Never been to one. And it’s not me I’m thinking about.”
They came to a bend in the path. The ladies were on one side of the resort, while he and Kyle and their families were on the other.
“It’s Andi’s mom who worries me. She’ll faint dead away.”
Frankly, he didn’t give a shit about Andi’s repressed mom. But for Samantha, he’d stand there and pretended to care. Until she called him out.
“Men.” She giggled. “You’re all alike so don’t act like you care. I bet you haven’t heard two words I’ve said since the subject turned to sex.”
With a hand on his heart as if she’d shot him, he chortled. “Give a guy a break, would you? Never been in a for-real sex shop.”
“Too scared?” Samantha lightly taunted.
“Men do not shop,” he drawled with manly affront. “We order. It’s only women who need the endcap displays and sale signs.”
“Guilty.” Her face split into a wide grin.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asked quickly.
With no opportunity to censor or customize her answer, she blurted out, “Rose. Not red.” She shuddered adorably and stuck her tongue out. “Blech! I’m not a stop sign. But a nice dusty rose or a bright rose—yeah. Love.”
It would have been weird to continue to linger—they had places to be.
“You’d look beautiful in rose. And my illustrious modeling career means I should know.” He smirked.
She blushed and made his point.
“Find something rose and wear it for me tonight.”
She elbowed him and pushed Ryan aside. As she started to walk away with a wave and a smile, she laughed. “Dream on, Mr. Charming.”
He watched her sexy ass walk away and grinned. Uh-huh. We’ll see.
The golf cart zipped along as his and Kyle’s laughter rang out. He’d just read aloud a snarky text from Andi that should have been headed—Mom behaving badly.
“Jesus, Ry.” Kyle chuckled. “Ali was on fire today! Did you slip her a bribe to stir up trouble?”
As if that was ever necessary. Ali had a unique way of making people crazy without expending much effort.
“My fingerprints are not on this fuckery, dude. This one’s all on her. Bet you anything she had her assistant research the quickest way to start shit. Luckily, the sex store turned out to be a high-end underwear shop.”
A thundering bark of laughter erupted from Kyle as he shook his head. “Bet my credit card is shooting flames. When my fiancée leads the charge, no bits of silk and lace go unnoticed. Not complaining, mind you. Especially not when she needs an entire suitcase just for that shit.”
Behind them, their fathers were laughing too. He’d bet anything that their moms were also texting. The Sommerfield family had a quirk when it came to laughing at the wrong stuff.
“Sam’s a keeper, huh?”
“Conversational whiplash much?”
“At least I waited till the ‘rents weren’t listening. Aunt Hannah would freak if she thought for one second that you had your eyes on a girl.”
Was that how Ky saw this? Ryan hoped his interest didn’t come off as casual. Or predatory.
“
I like her.” He had more to say, but the words didn’t come.
“Wow,” Ky sneered. “Man of few words? Gotta tell you, bud. Your face last night when you first saw her was a surprise. I’ve never seen you like that.”
“Never felt like that,” Ryan grumbled. After a tense second or five of silence, he mouthed, “Fuck,” took off his sunglasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thought that at first sight crap was just that. Crap.”
He expected Kyle to give him a raft of teasing shit—but he said nothing. Because the silence struck him as odd, he swiveled his head to peer at his cousin.
“Say it,” Ryan muttered. “Whatever it is, just let me have it.”
Instead of a string of expletives about what a pussy Ryan had become, Kyle knocked him sideways with a blunt confession. Listening thoughtfully, the artist inside him created a visual to go along with the story he was hearing.
“I was scoping out a course redesign at a club in Florida and being my usual jackass self. You know how it is—everyone from the valet to the golf pro treated me like royalty, and that particular day, my ego was definitely running wild.”
Ah, yes. The ego-driven jackass. He remembered his own days as a public person and how easy it was to get sucked into the celebrity spectacle.
“The club was hoping for my endorsement, so the management team was running me around, showing off their fancy bells and whistles. Along with the new course, they were upping the wow factor in the clubhouse. Frankly,” he opined, “I couldn’t have cared less.”
A pause let Ryan know something key was on board and about to be explained.
“The clubhouse director was a woman—big surprise—who made little effort to hide her interest, if you know what I mean.”
Oh, fuck yeah, he knew what Kyle meant. Nothing opened the floodgates of barely respectable behavior faster than a good-looking, rich guy with a People magazine smile.
“So anyway,” Ky continued, “ she was showing me her office and yes, feel free to embellish that statement with a wink-wink. I commented that it seemed strange that the view from her window was that of the parking lot. She babbled something stupid about how distracting she found men in golf pants. It was a classic wind up to a balls-out proposition. All of a sudden this quack of snorting laughter rang out. Seemed we weren’t entirely alone.”
The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) Page 7