by Cat Mason
Shutting off the faucet, I grab a towel. This is how it’s been every day since she saw my ring. Every day this week she’s been on me for a date, a color scheme, and even a possible head count. You’ve heard of baby fever? Well, my best friend has caught wedding fever and no matter how hard she tries, it’s not contagious. I want to marry Mitch, I just want it to be about love, not about coordinating flowers and ice sculptures.
“No, we thought maybe Mitch and I could get used to the idea of him being home first,” I reply. Just the idea of new orders so soon makes my heart ache. I am proud of Mitch, I am, but there is that part of me that doesn’t want to share him with the military, especially not this soon. It’s selfish, but I want to keep him to myself for a while. “I’ve missed sleeping beside him every night, Mad. All I want is to enjoy that for a bit before getting lost in meaningless details of a ceremony that honestly could be done anywhere, anytime.” Looking her in the eyes, I shrug. “If Mitch is there, everything else is just details.”
The sad thing is: every time I think one more day is all I need, it never is. I tell myself if we can shut the world out for just one more day, it won’t hurt as much when he leaves me again. But it only leaves me wanting more. The time I get with him between deployments will never be enough.
“This is serious,” she says, yanking the hand towel away and swatting me with it. “Your wedding day will be the best day of your life, the one day it’s all about you. It’s a day we dream about growing up. All a little girl wants is to be a princess.”
“The day I become Becky Taylor will be about way more than just me.” Shaking my head, I smile at her. “Besides, the best day of my life was the day he walked in here and sat in my chair,” I say, letting the memory wash over me. His smile, that deep, rich laugh… It was like it woke me from a deep sleep and nothing has ever been the same. As sappy as it sounds, we simply complete each other and a ring and a piece of paper isn’t what proves that. I’m already his and he’s mine, there’s no going back to before he existed in my world without ripping apart the person I am. “Every day I’ve had with him since has only been icing on the cake.” Stepping around her, I head back toward my station to get ready to head home for the day. “
“That’s so sweet,” she says, her blue eyes going misty. “You two really should be on that Wedding Story show. I should nominate you.” Grabbing her notepad from the counter, she scribbles something down. “Can you cry on cue?”
Pointing my finger at her, I shake my head. “Madison Faith Sheppard, I swear on my last pack of Now and Laters that if you try to put my wedding day on reality television, I will switch out your bikini wax with industrial strength adhesive,” I toss out, making her eyes widen.
“Okay, Beck, okay.” She giggles, holding her hands up in surrender. “No live-streaming the wedding ceremony. Got it.”
I grab my bag, meeting her at the door once she closes down everything for the day. After yelling down the hall to the office where our boss, Maxine, is working on payroll, we head for the parking lot. “Yellow,” Maddie says, opening the driver’s side door to her car.
“What?” I ask, climbing into the passenger side and settling into the seat.
“The color for your wedding,” she explains. “Everyone needs a signature color. Yours can be yellow. It really makes so much sense, Becky. I mean not a neon yellow like a school bus or anything.” Starting the car, she puts it in gear and peels out of the parking lot like Speed Racer on two wheels. “Canary yellow.”
“Canary yellow?” I ask, scrunching up my nose when she looks over at me. “Like Tweety Bird?”
Reaching over, she slaps my leg. “It’s a beautiful, vibrant yellow. Nearly gold, but not quite. It’s not overwhelming, but it’s classic, elegant, and will be a perfect backdrop for your white dress.”
“Good thing I don’t have to decide today,” I reply, turning toward the window.
I don’t say a word the rest of the drive home while Maddie is busy humming the wedding march and smiling like a lunatic. Climbing from the car, I grab my bag and head up the sidewalk to the door. I wave at Maddie before she disappears from view and step inside.
The sounds of laughter and trash-talk fill my house along with the television. Stepping around the corner, I drop my bag to the chair and smile at Mitch sitting in his recliner while Tyler, Micah, and Pop occupy my couch. “Boys,” I say, planning to skirt by and disappear until the game is over. These men take their ball seriously and I’m not about to interrupt. Tyler and Micah nod, both grunting a greeting in my direction, their eyes never leaving the television.
Pop smiles at me. “Mhm. Evenin’, girl.”
“Hi, Pop,” I say, blowing him a kiss from across the room.
Mitch’s eyes find mine. Adjusting himself in the chair, he pats his knee. “Baby.” Walking over, I sit on the edge of the chair and glance at the screen before his arm snakes around me, pulling me into his lap. “That’s better.” Brushing the hair from my face, he presses his lips to mine quickly. “How was your day?”
“Nearly non-stop. Warmer weather means everyone wants to wear sandals and look pretty so I’m exhausted,” I say, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck. “Prom season is coming up along with wedding season so it’s gonna be busy, busy, busy.”
“Yeah, Maddie is all jacked up for wedding season,” Tyler says then takes a long swallow of his beer. “She’s on a fuckin’ tear about yours now that Taylor put a ring on it. Watch out, she’ll have you color coordinating your guests by table at the reception.”
“She’s one-sighted these days, that’s for sure,” I reply, shaking my head. Turning to Mitch, I kiss his cheek. “I’m getting a beer, you need another?” I ask, tapping the nearly empty bottle in his hand with my finger.
He nods. “Thanks, baby.” Releasing his hold on my waist, he helps me slip from his lap to my feet.
“Can I get one of those too, Becky?” Micah asks, looking over at me.
“You sure can, Micah,” I reply sweetly. “In what, just over three years?” I giggle, making Pop, Tyler, and Mitch laugh.
“It’s not right,” Pop says, shaking his head. “Man can sign his name and fight in a war, but can’t have a beer. You put on the uniform, you should get all the freedoms we fight for. A cold beer is a God given right.”
“I agree with that, Pop.” And I do. A man can walk in and sign his name to fight and even die for his country at eighteen, but can’t have a beer until twenty-one? Sometimes the laws of society make absolutely no sense. Micah’s eyes widen along with his smile and I shake my head. “Tell you what, Micah, I’ll buy ya a beer when you get drafted to the NBA,” I say, knowing that he will play one year at Duke—if he’s lucky—before being scouted. Honestly, it shocks me that he hasn’t been scooped up already for next season. I’ll be able to look back and say I knew him when, but no matter what, he will always be the kid Mitch practiced with every day he was home.
Heading into the kitchen, I open the fridge and grab beers for us and a soda for Micah before closing the door with my hip and settling them on the counter. Grabbing the mail off the counter, I sort through and quickly separate the bills and other things from the junk that I will just toss in the trash. Warm arms wrap around me, Mitch’s scent invading my senses. I lean back, taking in his warmth. He breathes into my neck, tickling me as his lips brush over my ear. “Kiss me.”
My heart skips a beat, just like it always does. Turning in his arms, I stare up at his face. “Always,” I reply, running my hands up his arms, feeling the muscles twitch beneath my fingers and the cotton of his t-shirt.
His hand cups my jaw, tipping my face so he can capture my lips with his. His other arm, still locked firmly around my waist as he kisses me, sways us slowly back and forth. There’s no music playing, nothing but the low hum in the back of his throat as his tongue sweeps over mine softly. I get lost in his taste, in the feel of his body moving against mine. His hand slides down, resting on my ass. I smile against his mouth when he fl
exes his fingers, effectively copping a feel while the guys are shouting at the players on the screen as if they were playing right there in my living room.
This is all I need for the rest of my life. The man dancing with me to no music in our kitchen while he kisses me softly and feels me up before I hand him another beer. Everything else fades into the background, lost in the fog while I’m content in his arms.
Chapter Seven
Mitch
“We’re late,” Becky says as we pull into the parking lot.
“I was tuning up the truck, Beck. That can’t be rushed.”
I have been home two weeks now and things are finally finding some sense of normal. Becky’s work schedule has gotten crazy, just as she predicted, so it leaves me filling my time with Tyler and the kids at the basketball courts when I’m not finding a reason to work on her truck. “There’s nothing wrong with my beautiful Chevy, sailor. Leave her alone,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“That’s why there’s nothing wrong with it. When I’m home I service the shit outta the damn thing. It’ll run forever if I have anything to say about it.”
“Well, how the hell do I argue with that?” she replies, just like every other time we have this discussion. “I like you shirtless and dirty especially beneath the hood of my truck.”
“I like you shirtless,” I say climbing from the truck and winking at her, making her grin.
Sliding across the seat, she grabs my shoulders so I can help her down from the truck. As always, I let her body slide against mine until she reaches her feet. She doesn’t need help getting down from the only thing she has driven since she was eighteen, it’s just another reason for me to put my hands on her and I am glad she loves it as much as I do. I have to touch her when I’m near her. The act is as simple as breathing. She shakes out the layers of her pink sundress, taunting me with a fucking wink before taking my hand.
“Do you like my dress, Mitch?” she asks wickedly. My cock has been hard as stone ever since she walked out of the bedroom. The look in her eyes tells me she knows that too.
Tease.
“I’m about two seconds away from draggin’ you home and rippin’ all that sheer pink shit off with my goddamn teeth. That’s not a dress, darlin’, that’s a torture device designed to give me fuckin’ blue balls all night,” I say, eyeing her up and down.
“Stop it,” she scolds, slapping me in the chest. “Tyler and Maddie are already inside,” she explains.
“Well, since we’re already late…” Waggling my brows, I run a finger up her bare arm and watch her eyes as they follow the trail it makes. “What’s a few more minutes?”
“No,” she says, lacking conviction. “We need to go inside.” Pushing my hand away, she groans. “Just please don’t steer the topic of discussion to the wedding.” She reminds me for the fifteenth time today. Maddie has been driving her bat-shit crazy over planning every last detail. She even used her key to get in while we were at the lake the other day and set our DVR to record all episodes of Say Yes to the Dress and A Wedding Story. “I love my best friend, but if Maidzilla pulls out one more color swatch or mentions invitation fonts, I’m gonna go lethal and beat her with that damn canary yellow binder she scribbles down all her ideas in.”
“Canary yellow?” I ask, biting back my laugh because I know it will only light more of Becky’s already short fuse.
“Yes, canary yellow.” She groans again. Closing her eyes, I bite back another laugh as her lips move, silently counting to ten. “You can’t make this crazy shit up. She has officially deemed it our signature matrimonial color. I’m leaning more toward saying fuck the canary yellow, caging the cuckoo bird friend, and running like hell for the courthouse. So please, for the love of God and my sanity, no wedding talk tonight.”
“Okay, baby,” I assure her, but I still find her little, fuming, angry ass cute as hell. “I thought you were having fun plannin’ with Maddie. Don’t you love all the different shades of yellow and the many, many, cake and icing combinations? Oh baby, just wait, you’ve still gotta do seating charts.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she deadpans, stepping closer to me. “Mitchell Taylor,” she says, fisting my shirt in her hands. “Operation Defuse Maidzilla is a go, that’s all I wanna hear from you right now. I need a night out with my guy and our friends without deciding what color garter matches the place settings or whatever insane idea she is thinking up.”
Holding up my hands in defeat, I can’t help chuckling at her. “Okay, okay, I got it. I got it. I’ll tell Shep to occupy his woman. Consider Maidzilla defused for the night.” Running my hands down her arms in an attempt to soothe her, I lean down and brush my lips over hers. “We’re trained professionals, Beck. We can handle one tiny blonde with wedding fever.”
The minute we step inside the bar, Maddie is on us. “I brought cake samples!” she squeals, holding up a fork. “We need to get our decision back to the bakery by Tuesday if we want to go with them.”
“Remember, I told you that…” Becky starts before Maddie interrupts, rambling on about how the frosting needs to be this color and the cake would obviously need to match a champagne for flavor consistency.
“The menu will all need to be planned carefully.”
I laugh, causing Becky to bristle, her entire body going rigid. “We haven’t even settled on a date yet,” she says through gritted teeth once we reach the table. “There’s plenty of time for all of that. Let’s just have fun tonight, Mad.”
“Oh, we have a date.” Reaching down between her and Tyler, she pulls out a yellow binder. Oh shit. This isn’t going to end well. “I took care of it.”
“You what?” Becky and I ask in unison. Tyler nearly chokes on the tiny squares of cake he keeps shoving into his mouth, his eyes fixed on his wife.
Maddie shrugs. “What, like you two were ever going to choose one? Cathedrals book fast, you know.” Opening the binder, she flips to the calendar and points to the last Saturday in June, which is now circled in the same fucking shade of yellow. “A decision needed to be made, so I made it. No biggie. June is the best month to marry according to marrybythebook.com. It’s the matrimonial bible!” Patting the binder, she grins. “That’s where I got the idea for this.”
“I want to burn it,” Becky mutters under her breath. “Burn it so that it dies.”
“Can I get your drink orders?” a waitress asks from behind us.
Grateful for the distraction, I turn and smile. “Two of the same.” I gesture to Tyler and Maddie’s bottles before turning back to Becky, knowing that I need to get her away from the wedding in a box Maddie brought to the bar tonight. “How about I spin you around the dance floor a bit?” I ask. “When we come back to the table I bet all the wedding stuff is gone so we can focus on having a good time tonight, huh, Maddie?”
Without saying another word, I place my hand in the small of her back and lead her across the bar to the old wooden floor where a band is playing country songs that were popular before we were even born. My arm slips around her and I take her hand in mine, pulling our bodies flush. I stare down into her beautiful eyes, waiting for them to soften, and smiling when they finally do after a few minutes.
Taking the lead, I guide her body around the floor as we sway to the beat. I fucking love the feel of her body against mine. It doesn’t matter how or why I get my hands on my girl, I’ll gladly dance with her all night to feel her in my arms. If it makes me a pussy, so fucking what. Real men do what it takes to make the women they love happy if it’s in their power. The way I see it, a happy and relaxed Becky now, equals a very happy me later. There is very little I wouldn’t do for this woman and she knows it too. I’m far from pussy-whipped, but I’m down to worship hers for the rest of my life.
Shit, now I’m hard again.
“Oh, sailor,” she says on a sigh, pulling my mind away from all the sexy as hell, dirty things I want to do to this woman. “Let’s just go to the courthouse. I don’t care about any of that shit. J
ust you and me, forever or bust, right?”
“Babe,” I say, blowing out a breath. Releasing her hand, I brush away a strand of hair from her face, her hand coming to rest on my chest over my heart as I cup her jaw. “I’ll give you whatever you want, I honestly don’t care as long as it ends with you havin’ my last name. Deep down though, we both know you don’t wanna get married at a courthouse without Frank or my Ma there. Hell, admit it, even though she’s drivin’ you nuts, you want Maddie there too.”
Nodding, she closes her eyes and blows out an exasperated breath. “I know. I just don’t want anything as big as she’s talking about, Mitch. Who the hell would we fill a cathedral with? Or a huge ballroom for a reception?”
“I’ll handle it,” I say, her eyes widening when I blurt the words.
“What?” she laughs, stumbling on her feet. “You can’t be serious.”
Why the fuck not? I can totally do this. It can’t be that hard, can it? Not like I have anything better to do with my time until I get new orders than plan our wedding. Wrapping both arms around her hips, I let my fingers graze her ass with every move of her hips as we continue to dance. “Are you sayin’ a man can’t plan a wedding, Becky?” I ask, arching a brow. I grin, remembering the day I asked her out. Giving her shit about not letting a man have pink nail polish. “You wouldn’t be discriminating me again, would you?”
She smiles and it’s fucking beautiful. Her entire face lights up as she laughs, clearly living in the memories that brought us here together like I am. Those memories and dreams of the future we’re building are what I live on when we’re apart. There isn’t one part of my world she isn’t tethered to and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Is that a yes?” I ask, taking her hand and spinning her out away from me before tugging her back in until her chest is pressed into mine.
“Have at it, sailor,” she replies, running her hands up my chest then wrapping her arms around my neck. “Plan away. Just tell me when to show up in my dress and I’ll be there.”