by Nicole Snow
I don’t say anything. No need to give that little bastard a second more of thought than he deserves.
There are bigger sharks in my pond right now. Far more dangerous ones.
Others arrive at the table. Small talk trails from one end to the other. I join in with those nearby, especially Cleo’s boyfriend, George, sitting across from me.
Of all the people here, he was the only one who greeted Blue with sincerity, and his expression held respect when he shook my hand. I get the sense he doesn’t care as much as the rest of the family if Blue and I are really dating. Only that she’s not here alone. I can appreciate that.
Halfway through the meal, I glance around the table and say to Blue, “Isn’t the rehearsal dinner usually just for the wedding party and immediate family?”
She huffs out a breath while nodding.
George laughs. “You’ve been recruited. Congratulations.”
“Recruited?”
“Sure,” he says, “after the meal ends, we’re all expected to go over to Janice and Joe’s house. Bride’s parents. There, we’ll set up tents, tables, chairs, and anything else they need strong, abled-bodies to complete.”
I look at Blue. She takes a sip off her margarita. “We can leave. I’ve already told mother.”
Sitting across from Blue, Cleo gives me a pleading look.
It’s a test. Or, in my eyes, a challenge. Something I can never back away from.
This family is harsh, but only on Blue, which rubs me the wrong way. And continues to as people keep glancing our way. They don’t even try hiding their doubts, or how they whisper to each other.
Later, as I pull in the wide driveway and park behind George and Cleo, Blue insists we don’t need to help. Under her breath because Nat seems excited, hoping to play longer with the girls she was introduced to at the restaurant.
Natalie flies out the back door of the truck as soon as I cut the engine. She slams the door and runs straight toward the minivan where the other girls are climbing out.
“You can leave, I’ll watch Nat while she plays for a while,” Blue says.
“Nowhere I need to go.” I climb out.
She meets me at the front of the truck. “Really. You don’t have to stay.” Shooting a nervous glance, she says, “Go back to the ranch. I can borrow mom’s car and bring Natalie home later.”
Others are pulling in. No doubt they're watching us.
Enough of this fuckery. I grab her by the hips and yank her forward.
She plants her hands on my chest. “What are you doing?”
“Giving them the show they're waiting for.” I brush my lips over hers.
Pinched tight, her lips don’t respond against mine. Not at first.
Then I pull her closer, running my hand over the silky material covering her ass. “Come on, you can do better than that,” I whisper against her mouth. “I know you can.”
The heels she’s wearing make her a bit taller, but still, she has to tilt her head back slightly in order to look up at me. “We shouldn’t do this, Eden. You shouldn’t. It's –”
She’s trying too hard not to smile, to hide the flash of excitement in her eyes. “I want to,” I growl, grabbing her ass.
Taking advantage of her lips parting, I lock my mouth on hers and give some solid tongue action. Her response, her tongue twisting around mine, shoots a thrill through me. Within seconds, I’m as hard as I’d been this afternoon, aching like hell. I’m willing to take the pain.
She’s worth it. So's giving her family something to stare at.
The heat between us intensifies. Her hands go up my neck, her fingers in my hair. I feel every curve of her body as she presses it harder against mine, and it’s fucking amazing. Intoxicating.
I drag my mouth away from hers and do my damnedest to act like I’m perfectly fine. “I’ll be staying till it’s time for all of us to leave.” I plant another kiss on her forehead and then spin her about. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I press my hard bulge against her backside.
She gasps, pressing into me. “Now, you get it. I've got you, Isabella Derby. And I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
She steps forward, and so do I, keeping us tight together and flattening my hand over her stomach. The pressure of my dick against her ass is an extra stimulation I don’t need, but love. It’s like pushing on a wound, how the pain makes it feel better.
“Stop being silly,” she hisses, twisting her hips.
I nip the lobe of her ear. “This isn’t.”
I thrust my hips forward.
She jolts. “Whatever it is, stop! Before you make us a spectacle.”
I laugh, stepping out from behind her. “Too late for that.” I grab her hand to lead her to the front door the others are walking through, glancing back at us.
The beasts are quickly separated from the beauties by a thin gray-haired man in the front foyer who directs the men to the backyard and the women into the living room. For good measure, I give Blue a quick parting kiss and head out to help set up tents, chairs, and tables, just like George said.
The thin man is Joe Derby, Megan and Clara’s father. Apparently, brother of Blue's dead father. He has two other daughters, older, and already married. The mothers of the girls playing with Nat.
Megan is Joe’s youngest, and if throwing together a wedding in two weeks has him frazzled, it doesn’t show. He’s friendly and jovial and continuously passing out beers in payment for the work.
I finish pounding the final tie-down stake in the ground for the big tent and stand up as he walks closer, a bottle of beer in each hand.
“Ready for a fresh one?” he asks.
“Sure.” I set the sledgehammer down and take a bottle. Swallowing a long drink, I nod towards the huge back yard that also hosts a swimming pool. “Nice place you've got here.”
“Thanks. We built it years ago while raising our girls.” He takes a pull off his beer. “I’m sure you don’t remember, but we spoke on the phone a few years back. One of my sandwich shops had a fire in the kitchen. Called your company for a clean-up quote.”
I point out the obvious. “I didn’t get the job.”
“You’d come highly recommended, and even though I tried coaxing you to reconsider, you said you were too booked to take on another job in the time span I had to get things done. Especially a gig up here.” He holds up his beer. “No hard feelings. The guys you recommended did a fine job.”
“Wes Raine out of Flagstaff?” I ask.
“Yep. I’ve used him since, too.”
I’ve known Wes for years. Always happy to recommend him. “He’s good. We’ve worked together on several big projects around the state.” My attention shifts to the patio door opening. Blue steps outside, following a few other women.
“Aw, hell,” Joe says. “Looks like they're ready to decorate the arch and it’s not up yet.”
I empty my beer and hand him the bottle. “Where’s it at?”
He points towards the house. “Box in the garage.”
“Let’s go grab it,” I say, clapping his shoulder.
'Some assembly required' involves so many tiny screws I could have built the damn thing from scratch faster than it takes us to throw it together. Except, then I wouldn’t have needed all the assistance from Blue.
Of all the women here, she’s by far the prettiest. Every time I look at her, my eyes land on her lips, remembering how soft and lush they get under mine.
“Looks perfect,” she says, admiring the archway.
“Marvelous!” Cleo holds up a mess of flimsy fabric. “Now, Brent, could you be a dear and help us get this tulle wrapped around the top?”
“I can do it, Mother.” Blue walks over and picks up one of the folding chairs.
“You can’t stand on that!” Cleo says.
I take the fabric from Cleo. “I’ll help her.”
“Thank you.” Cleo waves at both of us as she walks away.
Blue sets the chair next to the archway. “I c
an do this.”
“Not without my help. Not standing by while you roll off that thing and crack your neck.” I plant a swift kiss on her lips, enjoying how her cheeks go cherry red. “Let me hold the chair. Help you balance. It’ll collapse if I try standing on it.”
She kicks off her shoes. “All right.”
I grasp the back of the chair and take her hand to help her step up onto the seat.
“The quicker we get this done, the quicker we’ll be able to leave,” she says.
“Whaaat? You're leaving us already, Izzy?”
The question comes from a young woman walking past. One who's not nearly as pretty as she thinks she is, and has made a habit of walking past me several times tonight, casting looks any fool could read.
Some fools might take her up on her offer, too.
She doesn't get it.
Ever since the day Isabella Derby walked into my life, I’m no fucking fool.
Ignoring the question, I cup one of Blue’s butt cheeks. Standing on the chair, she’s taller than me, and has to bend down, just as expected. Before she can speak, I kiss her.
“What're you doing?” she asks, breaking the kiss.
“Marking territory. Letting everybody know you’re taken.”
“Oh, please! No one’s concerned about that.”
I lean back so I can see her face, the sheepish expression forming as she stands straight again. “I’ve convinced them, you mean? Glad that was fast.” I say, happy to have been of service.
“Convinced them? You can say that, I suppose.” She holds her hand out for the fabric.
I hand it to her. “That upset you?”
“I’m past being upset by what any of them have to say.”
First, I’m irritated, then my thoughts go in a different direction. One I should've thought of before. “Even if they say you’re too good for me?”
“Hardly, Eden!” She rolls the material over the top of the archway. “Quite the opposite. Between nearly every woman drooling over you with their tongues out, I’ve been told constantly how hard I'll have to work to keep a man like you satisfied.”
My irritation at her family returns, turning to anger in two-seconds flat. “Bullshit. All of it.”
“It's true.” She evens out the fabric flowing over both sides of the archway to the ground.
I let go of the chair and grab her waist, lifting her into my arms. Then I let her body slide down the front of mine.
“What are you doing? I’m not done yet.”
Isn't it obvious?
Or is she just playing hard to get like a pro?
I hold her against me with her feet barely dangling off the ground and capture her lips. Heaven.
This kiss holds nothing back. It’s long and hard and hot.
Doesn't stop till she’s slumped against me, moaning softly, holding onto my neck and gasping for air.
I must be getting used to the fact that I have no control over my body when she’s near.
Maybe I just don't care.
I’m hard. I'm ready. Eager to fuck her all night long, past sunup, but it’s not the only reason I'm running down her lips like a starving lion.
It’s the desire to teach her entire family a lesson.
When they pick on Blue, they pick on me, and I retaliate.
9
Show Me (Izzy)
I watch the ranch come into view with a nervousness I’ve never felt.
It would be easier if Natalie was with us. She’s not.
Though I believe allowing her to spend the night with Paige and Hannah, Janice’s granddaughters, is a good thing, she’s the shield I need right now.
Not against him. Me. Brent's kiss earlier rocketed my libido to Jupiter and it hasn't come down yet.
His kisses are fake, I know. He’s playing a role. My bogus boyfriend. My not fiancé.
But hell, who would've thought he was such a great actor? I’m half-believing we're real.
Which we're not. And can't be. And that can never change.
Damn, I should've stayed with Uncle Joe and Aunt Janice, too. Slept on the floor, maybe.
Which would have proven to everyone how false this is, leaving him for the vultures among my many single cousins. If that one bridesmaid, Pamela something or another, made one more comment about Brent’s God abs, I swear I would've ripped her bleached blonde hair out by its black roots.
Every time I turned around that little bitch was outside, strutting past him.
Presenting. Pleading. Filling me with a jealousy there's no rational reason for me to have.
“Home,” he whispers, parking the truck.
I take a deep breath as he shuts off the engine. Staring out the windshield, I see Shadow on the front porch, his big gold eyes catching moonlight. “Natalie will be fine, if you're worried. Mom loves company. She'll keep a close eye on her.”
He opens his door. “Yeah. Wouldn’t have allowed her to stay if I didn’t already know it.”
Of course. I knew that, too, but I’m stalling.
It feels like I’m on some sort of rickety bridge. I’ve made it too far to turn around, yet, if I go forward, all the way across, I know I can never go back.
Forward it is. Like there's another choice.
I have to see what’s waiting for me, even crave it deep inside, and that frightens me.
What if I reach the other side and find out I’ll want more? More. And then maybe the wanting never ends.
It just swallows me whole, chews me up, and spits me back out piece by mangled piece.
“You gonna sit there all night, or what?” He's smiling, despite the teasing edge in his voice.
I glance across, to where he’s standing, door open. Moonlight shrouds him, blending into darkness. Deep green man eyes shine brighter than Shadow's.
Brighter than they've been all day, even. And they were damn bright.
This afternoon, when he’d taken his shirt off, I’d nearly fainted. Pamela Bitchface wasn't kidding about God abs.
Putting Brent Eden and ripped in the same sentence doesn't do him justice. Neither does assigning him a mere six pack.
Seeing him shirtless stopped my heart. I had to tell myself to breathe.
He’s beyond good-looking. He’s art. Sculpted to perfection by life. The tattoos he keeps hidden are magnificent, too.
They're huge and dark and meaningful and just the slightest bit scary.
I wish they were scarier. Then I wouldn't want to examine each and every one of them. Up close.
Each and every inch of him.
“Blue?”
I grab the door handle, open the passenger door, and climb out.
Taking another step to the proverbial bridge. Toward the other side, the unknown, and possibly my self-destruction.
Brent runs out of patience. He steps up next to me and takes my hand.
I should say something, but what? I had a nice time tonight? Thanks for being so nice to my family, who all want to fuck you? You know, like I do?
Dread bubbles up in my stomach. What am I thinking?
It's Pretend with a capital P. He was pretending to like me.
Kissing me to make things look good. To make it look like neither one of us was lying.
He lets go of my hand and opens the front door. I step past him, into the living room. My breath catches in my lungs, hanging heavy in my chest. I swallow and turn around.
“Thanks for, um...” God, he looks so good.
His button up pale green shirt still looks fresh and neat even after all the work he did setting up the tent, the chairs, the tables. And the archway.
How could I ever forget?
That kiss, when he lifted me off the chair, swung me around, and attacked my mouth, still has my blood smoking. “Everything,” I say, the air rushing out of me. “Thanks again.”
He steps closer.
My heart races.
“My pleasure, Blue.” He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Everything,” he growls, throwing
my strained word back at me.
Heat swirls deep inside me. A whirlpool of fire.
I’ll never forget the first time I saw that face. He walked into the classroom, looking all grumpy and formative.
I thought he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen. Still do.
Even after everything we've been through.
“You're a good actor,” I say.
Lame.
His grin nearly knocks me off my feet. Literally.
I have to press my heels into the floor to stay upright. God.
“I'll share the Oscar, Blue,” he says. “You weren't half bad yourself. Not half anything.”
His eyes swoop downward, and back up, slowly. My nipples tingle when they settle there, as if he can see right through my clothes.
I swallow hard and flip around, needing to breathe. “I wasn't acting. Not the whole time, I mean.”
“No?” he raises an eyebrow.
Crap.
I shake my head, still trying to convince myself not to turn around, rather than answering his question. “No. I –”
He twists me around before I finish. Runs both hands down my arms, sending shivers clear to my toes. “Fuck the acting, Blue. I'm just as sick of it as you are.”
His voice is so husky. So sexy.
Fuck me.
In a flash, he pulls me against him. “I want you, Blue. Honestly. Right the hell now.”
My mind is gone. All I can do is nod.
“Right now,” he growls again, running his hips into mine.
He's too hard.
I'm too wet.
This is too insane.
Then it finally happens.
My lips land on his while my arms wrap around his neck. Hallelujah!
He spins me around and around, plants me against the wall, kisses me until I can’t breathe.
I pull away, sucking at the air, and then go back for more. His hands are under my dress, free marauders, running up my thighs. Whatever surges through me – some adrenaline I’ve never experienced – gives me courage.
Freedom.
I hook one foot around his leg, giving him more access.
His fingers slip under my panties. I arch into him and press my head against the wall as his lips leave mine and trail downwards. Lower than ever. So low there's a soft weight in my panties from how drenched I am.
