by A. J. Pine
“Well, I’m twenty-six years old, and I think—maybe—I just fucking grew up.”
Maggie laughed. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
He shook his head, more at himself than anything.
“Would have been good if it happened before I royally fucked things up.”
Her grin only grew wider.
“Miles Parker…” Her voice took on a teasing lilt. “Are you falling for a boy you met on a plane?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s crazy, right? I mean, not just the meeting-him-yesterday part. But he lives in Greece.”
Maggie nodded. “I can see where that might make things difficult. What are your plans after earning that PhD this spring?”
“Maggie…”
“Do you have a job lined up? I know you wanted to teach. At a university. I hear they have those here.”
He laughed. “I just basically told the guy to fuck off. I don’t think he’s asking me to move in anytime soon.”
Maggie raised a brow. “But if you tell him how you feel and that you’re all grown up now, and maybe bat those gorgeous baby blues, he might forgive you. You’ve got five months of school left. Who knows what could happen between now and then?”
He straightened his tie, then loosened it. Then he tore the fucking thing off.
“You’re cute when you’re falling for someone,” she said.
“Shut up. I’m a fucking mess. Are you going to be okay if I go? I need to find Alex. Does this look okay without the tie? Jesus, my palms are sweating.”
She stood on her toes and pecked him on the cheek.
“It’s okay. You’re actually adorable,” she added.
She pulled her small camera from her purse and snapped a picture of him before he could object.
“Here,” Maggie said. “So you remember the moment you decided to follow your heart.”
Miles grabbed the photo and then took in a deep breath.
“So I’m doing this?” he asked, and even though she nodded, he didn’t need her to answer. Maggie wasn’t responsible for his happiness. And neither was Alex, for that matter. He still had a lot to learn about taking a chance on it, but he was the only one responsible for that.
He kissed the top of her head.
“I love you, Mags.”
“Love you, too.”
The image on the photo started to take shape as he began to walk.
He laughed hard when his form came into focus—a version of him he’d never seen before. A complete and utter mess.
He was tired of neat and pretty, of putting on a show. Alex just had to take a chance on the real him, the one who was done with the act. But Alex wasn’t in the restaurant. Miles even snuck into the kitchen, but he knew what he’d find when he got there. No Alex. He was no longer on the clock, and it was New Year’s Eve.
Alex could be anywhere.
Chapter Thirty-One
Duncan
How many people could they possibly know? Duncan had lost count four tables ago. And never mind the people who never sat down and just milled about. They didn’t make the list. According to him, if you weren’t seated you weren’t greeted. Oh bloody well.
“One more,” Elaina said. “And then we get to eat.”
Duncan groaned until his eyes fell upon the familiar faces at this final table where they had to put on the bride and groom show. He collapsed in a chair next to Jordan, who sat with her feet resting on Noah’s lap.
“You’ve got the right idea, Jordan.” He watched Elaina dutifully kiss her American guests on each cheek, then patted his thigh with his palm. “Come sit, wife. I beg you. I can’t stand anymore.”
She obliged, sinking onto his lap and draping her arms around his neck. She kissed him, and he wished that when he opened his eyes, the party would be over and they would be alone in their hotel room bed.
No such luck.
“Do you know that’s the first we’ve kissed without someone else asking us to do it?”
Sure, he’d been kissing her all night, but only on command when someone tapped a spoon against a glass or brandished a phone or a camera. This was the first kiss that was for no one else but them—and the four others at the table watching.
Elaina slipped her tongue past his lips, and bloody hell, Duncan couldn’t give two shites that they weren’t alone. She was his wife, and he would never refuse her lips on his.
When she did pull away, he felt light-headed, drunk even, and he hadn’t had a single sip. He heard quiet laughter and finally opened his eyes.
“Maybe we should leave you two alone,” Jordan said.
Duncan nodded. “Aye. Would it be inappropriate, though, to consummate the marriage at the table?”
Jordan was still giggling. “You do have easy access with the kilt.”
Elaina raised a brow. “Not my husband. He wanted to be a gentleman instead of a true Scotsman. How would you say it? Oh, yes. Access denied.”
Maggie joined in the laughter, and Duncan looked from Griffin to Noah, who were both eyeing each other and shrugging.
“No,” Duncan said. “Please, lads. Tell me I didn’t cover up just so you two could…”
Jordan had her hand on her belly, laughing so hard she began to hiccup.
“Duncan is the only man at this table wearing something under his kilt?” Elaina’s smile was replaced with a set jaw and pursed lips. She stood. “Come. I need to speak to you alone.”
Duncan didn’t have to be told twice. He was standing in a fraction of a second. Food could wait a little longer.
“Better hurry,” Jordan said. “It’s almost midnight. You don’t want to miss the countdown!”
“We will see you for breakfast, yes?” Elaina asked, but she didn’t wait for an answer from any of them. Instead she stalked away from the table, Duncan’s hand gripped firmly in hers, and she pulled him straight out of the restaurant.
She led him up the outside staircase, which led to the back apartment entrance. In seconds they were in her room, the one he came to this morning to make sure she would still agree to be his wife. And now here they were. Married.
“Take it off,” she commanded, nudging the door closed with her beautiful arse.
“Wha’?” It wasn’t as if his John Thomas wasn’t standing at attention. But this was his wife’s only wedding night, and he wanted everything to be just right.
“Take it off,” she repeated. “The kilt. The fucking tartan knickers.” She took a step toward him. “Take…” Another step. “It…” One more. “Off.”
Elaina was close enough to touch, yet she seemed to have a few ounces of restraint left. Duncan’s was quickly waning.
“What about the room? Didn’t your cousins decorate it or something? I thought they’re supposed to parade us off to our bridal bed.”
He may have spent a bit too much time Googling Greek wedding customs.
“Shit, Duncan. I don’t live in a small fishing village one hundred years ago.” She paused for a moment. “Okay, if they are all drunk enough, they might parade us to the hotel, but that doesn’t matter. You said it. We make our own luck.”
He swallowed. “Aye. We do.”
Her face broke into a magnificent grin.
“Then take it all off. Please. For me. For your wife.”
He obeyed. For his wife. Aye. Anything for her.
He started with the jacket. The tie and shirt soon followed. They could hear music below, but this wasn’t a dance. No more performing. Just a man about to make love to his wife. Next came the sporran—not a purse—then the socks and shoes followed.
“Stop,” Elaina said, but her voice had lost its authoritative tone. This was more of a plea.
Maybe he hadn’t done too much research. Maybe this was Elaina realizing they should play by the book, follow tradition, and let the wedding guests pilot them off to the true marriage bed.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he reached for his shirt, but Elaina tugged it gently from his hand.
She
pressed a palm to his chest, and then the other.
“I just want to look at you,” she told him. “A minute to look at my beautiful husband.”
He let out a shaky breath.
“Aye,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “Look.”
She raked her fingers down his chest and up his back.
“And touch,” she added.
He nodded. “Touch.”
She kissed him, her tongue flicking out to tease his lips. Then she was sprinkling tiny kisses over his chin, his cheeks, and that damned bruised eye.
“Does it hurt?” she asked him.
He laughed. “Probably, but I can’t concentrate on the pain when you’re this close.”
“Good.”
She took a small step back, still facing him, and found the zipper on the side of her dress. She guided it down, and he saw her silky skin peek out from the parted fabric.
“Shite, Elaina,” he growled, and this only made her smile.
The zipper was over her hip now, and Duncan practically choked as she stepped out of the dress and laid it over the footboard of the bed.
There stood his wife in nothing put a pair of strappy high-heeled shoes.
“Where are your knickers?” he asked, and she shrugged.
“I wanted to know what it would be like to be a true Scotsman.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. Duncan was done waiting. He wriggled out of his tartan briefs, his erection altering the way his kilt rested over his legs. Then he pulled her to him, kissing her with wild abandon as she pressed her body against his.
“Like this,” he said, kissing her jaw, her neck, down to her breast before taking her firm peak into his mouth. “This is what a true Scotsman is like.”
Elaina called out his name just as they heard the clamor below.
“Ten!” The countdown had begun, and Duncan felt a sense of urgency take over. He grabbed Elaina’s hand and placed it on the belt of his kilt.
“Take it off,” he said, echoing her own words at her. And she did. Then Elaina led him toward the bed, pushing him down on his back as she climbed over him and slid up his length.
“Nine! Eight! Seven!”
Bloody hell. After making love to his wife, Duncan wanted to snog whoever invented the oral contraceptive.
She teased herself with his tip, and he added women to the list. Whoever invented women was getting one hell of a snog after this.
He looked up at this beautiful woman who had promised to be his for the rest of her life, and he had to bite back something resembling a sob.
“I love you, Elaina McAllister.”
She hummed. “Say it again. My name.”
His back arched as she slid down and then up again.
“Elaina McAllister.”
This time she let him push her open, and she sank over him, blanketing him in her warmth, and Duncan knew he was home.
“Duncan McAllister,” she said as he swirled inside her.
“Aye.”
“I love you, too.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Griffin
“Ten!”
Griffin grabbed Maggie by the hand and pulled her from the dance floor.
“Where are we going?” she asked in a fit of laughter.
“Outside. I have a feeling about something.”
So they ran out Ambrosia’s front door.
Noah
Noah pulled Jordan onto his lap.
“Nine!”
“I’m sorry I injured you with my not a proposal.”
She stroked his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Eight!”
“Guess we wouldn’t be us if there was no accidental bodily harm involved.”
He’d be full of scars by the time they were old and gray, and Noah chuckled despite the danger that lay ahead.
She kissed him on the cheek and smiled. “No. We wouldn’t be us at all.”
Miles
Guess the saying was right: you always found what you were looking for in the last place you looked.
Miles had walked the nearby streets for hours, the cobbled paths lit with bright lights as late-night revelers spilled out of clubs and cafés. He’d stood by the white tower as a horse-drawn carriage circled by carrying another pair of newlyweds. From the moment he stepped onto an airplane, people in love had surrounded him. And he’d had a shot at love himself.
But he’d blown it. So he wearily made his way back to Ambrosia. When he arrived he couldn’t bring himself to go inside. Instead he slipped behind the restaurant, ready to ring in the New Year with nothing but the waves crashing against the shore.
Yet even in the brisk December air, he picked up the sulfurous scent of a recently struck match. Alex sat in the sand just in front of the outdoor patio, arms draped over his knees and a cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Those things will kill you,” Miles said.
Alex laughed and bit down on the filter as he spoke. “So will a diet high in butter and cheese, but it’s my livelihood.”
“Thought it wasn’t a habit,” Miles added, lowering himself to the spot next to Alex.
“Told you,” Alex responded. “Only when I need to clear my head.”
“Baseball!” Miles blurted, and Alex narrowed his eyes. Shit. His brain was moving faster than he could speak. “I played baseball—in college. I’m bisexual, and I played baseball, and I’m trying here, Alex. It scares the shit out of me, but I’m trying to give you more than a name—more than I’ve given anyone in years.”
It was time to go big or go home, so Miles pulled the cigarette from Alex’s lips and stubbed it out in the sand.
“I know what I want,” Alex said. “What the hell do you want, Miles?”
He pressed Alex’s forehead to his. “You,” he admitted.
“Right. For the weekend.”
Miles shook his head. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
There. He’d said it. It was out there.
But Alex sat quiet.
“Look,” Miles said. “This makes zero sense. But I finish my PhD in May, and you travel, right? So…I don’t know. Maybe we see where this goes.”
Alex cupped the back of his neck with his palm.
“I want to trust you. I really do. But you’re a mess.”
Miles nodded. “I know. But that’s the thing about meeting someone who makes you reevaluate the way you’ve been living your life. Kinda makes you want to clean up your shit.”
“Seven!”
Alex sighed. “I was in New York to sign the final paperwork for my new position,” he said. “Head chef. I wasn’t going to tell you because I didn’t think it mattered, but I’m moving to the States.”
“Six!”
Miles felt a release in his chest, like the vise that had squeezed his heart so tight all these years had finally let go.
“Five! Four!”
“It matters,” he said. “It matters.”
Elaina
“Three! Two! One!”
Elaina rolled onto her back, panting.
“Happy New Year,” Duncan whispered and kissed her soft on the mouth. “Elaina McAllister.”
God, she loved the sound of that name.
Maggie
Maggie shrieked with delight at the first sound of fireworks.
“I told you I had a feeling, Pippi.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.
“All in,” he whispered against her.
“All in,” she said.
Noah
“You’re really going to marry me, Brooks?”
She tucked her head under his neck and squeezed him tight.
“Only if you promise to never stop calling me that.”
Noah squeezed back.
“As you wish, Brooks. Happy New Year.”
And then he kissed his fiancée with the broken toe and scarred eyebrow as he cupped her cheek with his equally s
carred hand. Though they’d marked each other permanently, Jordan Brooks would never quite know the mark she left on Noah Keating’s heart. But he’d spend the rest of his life trying to show her.
Miles
“We made it till midnight,” Alex said, and Miles nodded, not wanting to do anything but kiss this man who could have written him off but didn’t.
“We made it till midnight,” Miles added.
Alex kissed him—long and slow, each touch of their lips a new possibility.
“Thank you for finding me,” Alex told him.
“Thank you for wanting to be found,” Miles said. “Happy New Year.”
Epilogue
One Year Later
Elaina
Elaina stood in the bedroom doorway, peaceful as a picture, while Duncan ransacked the room. She rubbed her round belly, stifling a gasp at the onset of the next contraction. But even in the midst of his frenzy, her husband noticed, and he was at her side in an instant.
“How close?” he asked.
“Eight minutes. We still have time.”
The hospital was a short ride from their apartment, so Elaina was sure they didn’t have to leave yet. She let Duncan lead her to the rocking chair in the corner of the room, the one where just a couple of days from now, she’d nurse their first child.
She took in a deep breath, shaking as Duncan lowered her into the chair.
“Another one? Already? Shite. I’ll find it, dammit. I’ll find it.”
She shook her head and grabbed his hand before he could pull away. The first tear trickled down her cheek, but Elaina’s smile was unmistakable.
“The next time I sit here, it will be with our baby boy or girl.”
Duncan dropped to his knees and hugged her tightly, planting sweet kisses all over her belly, the same thing he’d done when he found out they were pregnant. Though they’d both decided to throw caution to the wind after the honeymoon, discontinuing any form of birth control and seeing where that led them, Elaina hadn’t anticipated things working so quickly. She laughed now when she remembered how scared she’d been to tell him.
With his head in her lap, Duncan shouted.
“Yes! Sweet mother of God, yes!” Then he scrambled on hands and knees, reaching under the dresser and pulling out the tartan scarf Elaina had worn on her wedding day. “I knew I put it somewhere safe after I washed it. Must have fallen behind the mirror.”
