I Do!

by Rachel Gibson

  Without a word, Nate swam to the back of the boat and climbed onto the deck. He needed to go. He needed to get her home. Away from his reach. She didn’t seem to notice his torture. Not as he drove the boat back to the dock, and not as he drove her home.

  In the parking lot of her apartment complex, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks for driving up to the lake with me,” he said as he opened the passenger door for her.

  “I had a good time.” She grabbed her purse and slid out of the truck. “I haven’t relaxed like that in a long time.”

  At least one of them had been relaxed. She slipped past him, and the front of her damp tank top brushed his arm. His brain went blank and he reached for her. He slid a hand to the back of her neck beneath her still wet ponytail. Without any thought of his promise, he lowered his face to hers and coaxed her lips apart with his mouth. He kissed her like he’d kissed dozens of girls in his life. Soft at first, then teasing her into a chase of tongues. Her wet mouth tasted good, and within a matter of seconds it became unclear who was teasing and who was chasing. Who was giving and taking, and who was in control.

  Kissing her was a mistake. He knew it as his hand found her waist and he pulled her into him. He knew it as the front of her damp shirt chilled his skin through his T-shirt. And he knew it as he felt the weight of her breasts pressed against him and as her pebble-hard nipples stabbed his chest. He knew it but he wanted to make that mistake with her. A hot, messy mistake with her naked skin sliding against his as he slipped between her legs and entered her wet, wanting body.

  He pulled back and looked into her lazy gaze. His breath brushed her cheek as he struggled to pull air into his lungs like he’d just run a marathon. Her deep blue eyes looked up at him, open and honest and with nothing to hide. Not like him. He wasn’t open and honest and was purposely keeping important details of his life from her.

  For the second time that day, the third time since he’d laid eyes on her, Nate moved away from the beautiful mistake he’d give his left nut to make.

  Chapter 4

  THE WEDDING OF Vince Haven and Sadie Hallowell was scheduled for seven p.m. beneath the yellow rose arbor at the JH Ranch. The temperature had dipped to eighty degrees, and close friends and family filled several rows of white chairs set up for the occasion.

  At seven on the dot, Ginger Pratt and Margo Corrigan, from First Baptist on Third and Houston, struck up the music. The harp and violin drifted on a warm Texas breeze and the wedding planner motioned for the ring bearer, Vince’s young nephew Conner, to start down the aisle. Next, she waved for the bridesmaid and best man. Deeann took her cue and tucked her hand inside of the elbow of Blake Junger’s black tuxedo jacket. They stepped from the main house and started down the grassy path strewn with rose petals. Deeann’s blue chiffon dress fluttered about her knees and her red braid glistened in the evening sunlight.

  Stella Leon Junger took a breath and let it out slowly. She wasn’t the one getting married, but her nerves made her stomach tight.

  “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

  Stella laughed and looked up at her sister. “No.” Sadie was stunning in her simple white gown and long veil tucked into the pearl comb Becca Ramsey had placed in her blond hair. “I just went.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. You have to go about every five minutes!” Sadie let out a rush of breath and puffed out the tulle in front of her face. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

  “I’m here with you.” Stella switched her bouquet of blue hydrangeas and white sweet peas and reached beneath her sister’s veil to take her hand. “I love you, big sister.”

  Sadie looked down and squeezed her hand. “I love you, little sister.”

  The wedding planner signaled them and the girls walked down the aisle, sweaty palm against sweaty palm, to Pachelbel’s Canon in D. The beautiful mix of violin and harp drifted on the slight breeze, and tears stung the backs of Stella’s eyes. It wasn’t just that she was pregnant and prone to sudden bouts of emotion. A year ago, she hadn’t known her life would be this good. In just twelve months, she’d found her sister and the love of her life.

  Her gaze searched the front few rows, past Vince’s sister and husband and their two boys, to Beau. His gray eyes were filled with a look she recognized, the same combination of love and joy that filled her own chest.

  The sweet smell of roses filled the air and her nose as she took her place beneath the arbor. Vince looked nervous, but sure. As Sadie promised to love Vince for the rest of her life, his sister, Autumn, softly wept from the front row. Her husband, Sam, wrapped an arm around her shoulders while he held his sleeping toddler in his free arm. His hand caressed her bare shoulder in a way that was both loving and familiar.

  Then it was Vince’s turn to say his vows and Sadie’s turn to cry as he promised he would love and cherish her forever. He slid a nice-size diamond on Sadie’s finger, raised her veil, and kissed her for the first time as man and wife.

  The ceremony was short and poignant. Afterward, Beau helped Sadie onto a four-wheeler and drove her to the barn, where Daisy Parrish took more wedding photos. She’d been there all day, snapping pictures while Sadie dressed and the super perky Becca Ramsey worked magic on all their hair. Stella liked Becca. She seemed thoughtful and had a genuine love and caring for Vince and Sadie, but her energy was exhausting. Or perhaps Stella thought so because she easily tired these days and was generally exhausted all the time.

  While wedding guests were served hors d’oeuvres in the long cookhouse made of cinder block and stucco, Daisy took photos of the wedding party in the hayloft. Lily and another stylist touched up lips and cheeks, while Becca, in a little floral dress and cowboy boots, fussed over Sadie’s hair and tucked it into the pearl comb after she’d removed the veil. Vince and Sadie posed with pitchforks and on hay bales and looking out the loft door at the JH. Once Stella had done her part, she and Beau left to find a bathroom. They moved down the stairs with Beau directly in front in case she “toppled forward.” At the bottom, she moved wrong and pulled a muscle at the bottom of her belly.

  “Ouch.” She paused and sucked in a breath.

  Beau turned, worry etching the corners of his gray eyes. “Is it the baby?”

  “No. I pulled something.” The pain subsided and Beau helped her onto the four-wheeler. He drove her to the closest bathroom in the bunkhouse, then on to the cookhouse. Hunger pangs burned her stomach next to her heartburn, and she didn’t know if she could stand two more weeks of feeling like a whale with bladder issues.

  “You still okay?” Beau stood behind her and softly rubbed her belly.

  With her mouth stuffed with little chicken kabobs, she nodded. Next, she nibbled on stuffed mushrooms and cucumber cups stuffed with crab. Vince’s aunt had brought something she called Frito pie, but Sadie passed. If water gave her heartburn, Frito pie would burn a hole in her esophagus.

  At the far end of the cookhouse, Conner LeClaire ran across the polished floor, then dropped to his knees and slid about twenty feet.

  “Stop that, Conner,” his mother called out to him. “You’re going to hurt yourself and someone else.”

  He completely ignored his mother as if he suffered from convenient hearing loss.

  Autumn called out one more time, then said something to her husband standing by her side.

  “Conner.” He set Axel on his feet and said, “Your mother is talking to you.”

  “Just one more time,” he called out over his shoulder.

  “Okay,” Sam said at the same time his wife said, “No!”

  Axel took off after his older brother. He was fast but he wasn’t coordinated. He fell and plowed into several other kids, knocking them over like bowling pins. Those little nuts didn’t fall far from the tree, Stella thought as she watched the chaos. They were like their father, famous for knocking around opposing hockey players and getting bloody.

  Boys, Stella thought as Autumn and Sam did damage control. No one got hurt, but Stella was glad she was havin
g a girl.

  “What have you done to little Stella?” Beau’s twin, Blake, asked as he and his girlfriend, Natalie, moved toward them.

  “Made sure she couldn’t run very far.” The twins laughed, an identical deep sound of amusement. They tipped their heads back at identical angles and smiled identical smiles. As much as the two were identical, they were different, too. Stella didn’t have any problem telling them apart anymore.

  “How are you feeling?” Natalie asked her.

  “Tired. Huge.” She rubbed the top of her belly as heartburn gripped beneath her sternum. The baby kicked as if she felt the heartburn, too.

  “Are your feet swollen? That’s one thing I did not enjoy about pregnancy.”

  Natalie had a cute little girl named Charlotte. Stella had met them both twice now. “They look like bricks.”

  Natalie groaned. “I don’t know which is worse. Sore, swollen feet or the heartburn.”

  The two women chatted about third trimester pregnancy and compared horror stories until Vince burst into the cookhouse with his bride thrown over his shoulder. Everyone broke into applause and the twin brothers whooped and whistled.

  “Cryin’ all night! Put me down, Vincent.” When he did, Sadie smoothed her hair, then punched her husband in the arm. Stella laughed, and her stomach ached from the simple exertion. With a huge grin on his face, Vince bent his new wife over his arm and kissed her in front of the small, cheering crowd. Stella laughed so hard this time, her bladder squeezed past its limit and she felt warm liquid run down her legs. Horrified, she bent forward as far as possible and looked at the puddle between her jeweled sandals. “Beau!” She glanced over her shoulder and pulled on his sleeve.

  “What, honey?” With laughter still on his lips, he looked into her face. “Do you need to go to the bathroom again?”

  “I think I already went.” Her cheeks got hot and she squeezed her legs together to stop the flow. She was so embarrassed she wanted floor to open up so she could fall through. She wanted to hide behind her big husband or maybe she could fake like she’d spilled some water. “I think I peed myself.” This time she hadn’t even felt like she had to go, and she always felt like she had to go lately. “A lot.” More than she’d been able to urinate in quite a while, and this time no matter how hard she squeezed her legs, the puddle grew bigger. She grasped Beau’s hard forearm beneath his sleeve and her eyes rounded. Her belly got tighter and she sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it’s pee. I think my water broke.”

  THE SUN HAD turned into a flaming orange ball in the darkening sky by the time Becca packed her car and headed to the barn to grab the long, gauzy veil that Sadie had forgotten in the loft.

  The wedding had been elegant and beautiful, like Sadie herself. Everything had been working according to plan . . . until Stella’s water broke and all hell broke loose. Beau rushed with her from the cookhouse, practically running with Stella in his arms, her protests hanging in the air. Sadie hurried after them, issuing orders. “Everyone stay and have a good time. I’m going to the hospital. We’re having a baby.” Vince laughed at the sudden chaos, then followed his wife out the door. The wedding hadn’t exactly gone off as planned, but it was certainly memorable. Most of the guests had stayed for several hours, but now the ranch was quiet except for the LeClaires, who had settled in the main house with popcorn and Cars 2.

  The soft nicker of horses filled the barn as the heels of Becca’s cowboy boots thumped on the wooden stairs. She climbed the steps to the loft and easily found the gossamer veil on a hay bale. The sound of a car driving toward the house, instead of away, drew her attention to the open hayloft doors.

  Headlights cut through the dusky shadows of night and she moved to the edge to look down at the red Cadillac with its white top up. The vehicle pulled to a stop beneath her and the engine died. She felt a little tug at the bottom of her heart as the door swung open and Nate Parrish stepped out. His bright white T-shirt shone in the deepening shadows of night like he’d smeared his chest and shoulders with glow-in-the-dark paint. She didn’t have to see him clearly to know a spiky belt held up his loose jeans. He glanced around as if he’d expected the party to be in full swing. She didn’t have to see his face or feel the touch of his hands on her waist or his mouth on hers to feel a shiver brush up her spine. Her body remembered whether she wanted to remember or not.

  Becca’s nerves had been jumping all day in anticipation of that long red car pulling up to the JH. In anticipation of seeing his handsome face and hearing his voice, not that she knew if he’d even talk to her.

  He pulled his cell phone from his front pocket and the lighted screen lit up his hand as he punched in several numbers. Becca hadn’t seen Nate since he’d taken her to the lake several days ago, and he hadn’t tried to contact her in any way. She’d thought they’d had a good time, but she’d obviously been confused about that.

  He held the phone to his ear for several moments, then tossed it into the Cadillac.

  She’d thought his kiss had been filled with passion. White-hot desire and raw need, but she’d obviously been confused about that, too.

  Several strands of golden hay fell from the toes of her boots and he looked up. For a split second, his gaze met hers, and instead of calling out to him, she backed away from the door.

  One thing she wasn’t confused about, though, was her feelings for him. She liked him and wanted to see more of him. A whole lot more. So much so that the sound of his shoes on the wooden stairs made her suck in her breath and forget to let it out. She turned as his dark silhouette appeared, and with the each step he took toward her, his handsome face became more visible.

  “Where is everyone?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through the darkness.

  “Stella’s having her baby. Vince and Sadie left to be with her.” She clutched the veil to the front of her floral wrap dress. “Folks stayed around for a while but left already.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “My mother didn’t call and let me know not to drive all the way out here.”

  And of course he hadn’t driven out to see her. While she’d been obsessing about that kiss, he hadn’t given her a thought. “I guess in all the chaos she forgot.” She was hurt by his disinterest even as her nerves made her stomach all squishy. “I’m just leaving. It’s getting late and I have . . .” She stopped and bit the corner of her bottom lip. She’d chatted a lot the day at the lake. He hadn’t seemed to mind, but she must have been confused about that, too.

  “What?” He gently pulled the veil from her hands and tossed it on the hay bale. “What do you have to do?”

  She didn’t know. She couldn’t remember. “Leave.”

  “I think you should stay for a while yet.” He took her hands in his and pulled her a step closer to him.

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.” He slid her palms up the front of his shirt to the back of his neck. His cool, fine hair tickled her fingers.

  She didn’t believe him. If he couldn’t stop thinking about her, why hadn’t he tried to see her? “Right.”

  A dark brow rose up his forehead. “You don’t believe me?”

  “No.” But she wanted to. Really really bad.

  “It’s the truth.” He settled his hands in the curve of her waist. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you and I think we should do it again.”

  “I don’t think we should,” she told him, but she didn’t step out of his grasp. Not yet.

  “I think I should change your mind.” Slowly, as if giving her a choice to stop him, he lowered his mouth to hers. The brush of his lips stole what little breath was left in her lungs. The second she opened her mouth beneath his, he kissed her like he meant to take her choice away. If she thought the last kiss had been filled with raw passion, this time Nate showed her that she hadn’t a clue. This time it was filled with so much scorching need, she didn’t think to stop him when he slid his hands
up her ribs. Through her thin dress and lace bra, he cupped her breasts and she took his deep moan into her mouth. He touched and teased her, and nipples turned hard with the sweet ache of pleasure and the pain of wanting more.

  She should stop him while she still could. It was the right thing to do. If she stretched the five-date minimum rule, she could call the day at the lake a date. But that was still just one date. Not five.

  Instead, she clung to him as his tongue chased hers and his hands pulled her dress apart, and he pushed her bra down her chest. His warm palms cupped her breasts and he brushed her nipples with the tips of his fingers. His touch made her feel restless with wanting more.

  He pulled back and gasped for air. His gaze dropped to his hand. “Tell me you want this.”

  She licked her dry lips. She did. She wanted it bad, but admitting it would mean disregarding her rule of love before sex.

  “Tell me you want it right here. Right now.” He lowered his face once more and fed her a wet kiss before he slid his mouth to her neck just below her ear. “I hear there was a wedding today. It only seems fitting that you say I do.”

  “Mmm.”

  “You’re beautiful and perfect and I want to put my mouth on your breasts.” His grasp tightened. “Tell me you want it, too.”

  God help her, she did.

  “The other day at the lake, I wanted to do this and a lot more. A lot more. I can’t recall ever wanting anything the way I wanted to kiss you and touch you and chew your bikini off.”

  “I didn’t think you liked me.” She ran her hands over his shoulders and arms, and her fingers through his hair. “I thought I might have annoyed you.”

  “Oh, you did.” His soft laughter brushed the shell of her ear. “But only because I wanted to jump on you. Now it’s worse. I don’t want to jump on you, Becca Ramsey.

  Her hands stilled.

  “I want to make love to you.” He slid his open mouth to the hollow of her throat. “Tell me you want it, too. Tell me you’re going to die if I don’t touch you all over. Tell me you’re going to die if you don’t touch me all over, too. I’ve never asked a girl to tell me she wanted me as bad as I want her, but I’m asking ’cause I got a feeling I’m going to want more from you. I want more than sex. Tell me you want to make love.”