Love: In the Fast Lane

by Rie Warren

  “You may now kiss the bride.” The pastor grinned.

  “About damn time.” With no veil to rip off, Josh curled his hand around Leelee’s neck and brought her flush to him. Dipping her in his arms, he took her lips in a never-ending kiss that caused the crowd to break out in a hallelujah chorus.

  I didn’t watch them come up for a breather. I was too busy staring at Cat.

  She tugged at her sleeves and twisted the bouquet in her hands. She looked at the wedded couple and sighed. Her gaze reached mine, finally.

  Cat had captured me. Body, heart, and soul.

  I started toward her, but Josh and Leelee broke apart from their lip-lock. Best man bear hugs, Leelee kisses, the in-laws, the outlaws . . . everyone stormed the altar to get a piece of the wedded bliss action, not bothering to wait for a more orderly reception line.

  They all got between Cat and me.

  The congratulatory clamor eventually died down, but I had to follow Josh and Leelee down the aisle with Vivian on my arm. Convivial, voluptuous Viv was lively enough, but she wasn’t Cat. I dutifully led her to the reception tent and saw she was welcomed by a group of guests before I begged off. Backtracking through the crowd toward the scene of the ceremony, I eventually located Cat.

  Some dickhead I’d never seen before had his hand on Cat’s back as he escorted her to the party.

  I didn’t hear what he murmured, a little too close to her ear for my liking, but I did hear her reply. “That’s very kind of you, but I already have a boyfriend.”

  Damn right she does.

  “You can get lost.” I shouldered the suited buffoon aside.

  “Nick.”

  “What?”

  “Really?” she asked.

  Yes, really, especially when you’re dressed like that—a black satin goddess.

  Cat continued to stare me down until I called out over my shoulder, “Hey, dude. Sorry ’bout that. I just haven’t had a chance to say hi to my girl all day yet.”

  “We’re cool. Don’t worry about it.” He lifted a hand and continued toward the reception.

  “Better?” I asked.

  “Much.” Cat smiled.

  I took that as permission to wrap her in my arms. “You lied about the dress.”

  “Did I?” She rested her hand on my cheek.

  “Mmm.” I drew her as close as I could. “You’re breathtaking, Cat. I’m at a loss for words to describe how beautiful you are.”

  “That must be new for you.”

  I lowered my lips to hers, and her tongue slid inside my mouth. Sucking lightly on it, I angled my head, kissing her more deeply. She snaked a hand behind my neck. The heat of her mouth propelling me, I gathered her hips in my hands.

  Just kisses, how the fuck could Cat undo me with kisses? Our roaming tongues and breathy moans and grinding bodies pushed me to breaking point. I dragged my groin across her stomach, wishing she were naked and in bed. Thank Christ I had on a jacket to cover the thick erection her answering gyrations created.

  I cupped Cat’s face and hunched my hips away from her. Her fingers dove to my belt to haul me back.

  I dragged her fingertips to my lips and said, “We gotta stop, darlin’. I’m so lost in you. Every time. Jesus, Cat. What you do to me.” I nuzzled her neck, and waited for our ragged breaths to slow. “I lo—”

  “Oh, how wonderful! What interesting outfits. Are you joining the wedding reception? Bride or groom’s side?” From somewhere behind me, Patsy Childes’s steel magnolia-cum-serene hostess voice cut me off as Cat stared at me.

  “Neither. We’re here for Nicky Love,” came the answer supplied to Leelee’s mom.

  I had yet to look in the direction of the conversation, but I recognized that voice.

  Oh shit.

  My blood ran cold. Panic streaked through my body. I slowly spun around. Pandora stood in the middle of a fanned out semicircle consisting of an entire entourage of obsessed broads from my past.

  Oh heeelll.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bad Boy

  “WE’RE THE OUTFAGEOUS FANS of Nicky Love!”

  Of course I knew of the Facebook group they’d set up in my honor—the fan page, aka Fage. They’d even added me to it. Rather than dissing the group completely and risking a backlash of bad book sales and review blog bitchdom, I’d simply turned off notifications. Maybe if I’d paid attention I’d have learned they were planning a journey to Charleston in order to destroy my life and ruin Josh’s wedding.

  Pandora stepped forward to simper, “We decided to do a pilgrimage, because, you know . . . Thanksgiving? Right, ladies?”

  A dozen or so possibly unhinged bunny-boiler-types nodded along like bobbleheads.

  I grabbed Cat’s hand and made a run for it across the lawn, aiming for the big white tent and safety in numbers. Cat laughed as we ran, her heels sinking into the ground. She laughed even harder when I picked her up in my arms. I glanced back to see the mob behind us gathering speed. Hair flying, arms pumping, each woman wore sheer determination on her face like the grin of a Grim Reaper. Or the Hounds of Hell.

  When we reached the reception tent, I skidded to a halt. I set Cat on the ground and steadied her with an arm around her waist. The unholy she-devils were almost upon us when Josh stepped between them and us. Leelee joined him, holding the full-length skirts of her gown off the ground in delicate fingers. Next, the Hens lined up on Leelee’s other side, the Widows beside Josh, forming a bitchin’ barrier between the basket cases and me and Cat.

  Eyes peeped out from the tent, the trees, all over the place.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Josh boomed, “What the hell is the meaning of this?”

  “Like I said, it’s like a pilgrimage to show Nicky Love our love.” Pandora either had solid metal balls instead of brains or no compunction whatsoever, because she managed to pull off slightly pissy and huffy in the face of Josh’s extreme fury.

  His finger shot out as if it was a revolver aimed point blank at her face. “At my wedding?”

  About the time he was getting ready to blow a gasket, Stone’s mechanics piped up. Ray started the ball rolling with, “Holy motherfucker. It’s like—”

  “A scene from—” Mick interrupted.

  “Brides of Dracula?” Ray asked.

  Gerald’s grin shone pearly white in the dark. “Bride of Frankenstein.”

  Because not only had the OutFAGEous Fans of Nicky Love trekked to South Carolina from all across the country in some twisted sort of homage to me, they’d paid special attention to their appearances. They had dressed as super-slutty versions of some of my most famous female book characters. Vampiresses, witches, she-demons—they covered the gamut.

  One lady was outfitted as Nixxy Wren, head of the coven from my Witchy Women series. There was no mistaking the long Gothic dress and twisty red horns of my demoness, Charna, from Temptress of Fire.

  Then, of course, there was Pandora.

  She’d chosen the fan favorite, turning up as Alaina deChristiane. Her skimpy black Lycra body stocking with the attached high collar put Miss Pussycat the stripper to shame. Pandora the one-night stand fan who wouldn’t fade to black.

  Queens of the Damned, all of them.

  “I’m thinking more like Bride of Chucky.” Cat’s smile was saccharine sweet over a healthy dose of pure poison.

  Tate added, “Rocky Horror Picture Show?”

  Frankie lipped his fat cigar. “Fuggin’ Cosplay crazies. No respect. They got no respect for you, Nicky.”

  “Maldita sea! You got some loco ladies after you, mi amigo.”

  “Ladies?” Gerald’s head cranked back and he laughed up at the sky. “What we got here is some women a few voodoo dolls short of bad juju juice.”

  Josh was turning an unhealthy shade of wrath. I tapped him on the shoulder. “I got this.”

  “Do not let these crazy bitches fuck up my weddin’.” He counted to ten, possibly fifty, as he glared at the amassed paranormal paramours. Then he exhaled,
gathered Leelee around her waist, and headed into their reception. The other guests followed, two-by-two.

  “We got this,” Cat said from beside me.

  All eyes laser-beamed on her. Like they were robots. Or femme-bots. Suddenly it felt like I was in the middle of one of Janice’s Steampunk novels, black moment number two descending.

  “Listen, I appreciate all y’all’s years of support, and I’m grateful for the page and all the work you put into it, but whatever you think is going to happen between you and me . . .” Pandora squeaked. I paused, cringing. “Or whatever did happen between me and maybe a few of you, it’s either in the past or it isn’t in the cards. Ever.”

  Where is a cataclysmic earth-wide catastrophe when I need one? Hole in the ground, swallow me up already.

  The FAGE rage escalated. Sharpened pitchforks? Fiery torches? No, just bared teeth and love torches I’d never meant to ignite. I scrubbed my hands down my face, wanting to escape from my own skin.

  More wheedling and pouty whines squealed from Pandora and the ensemble of supposed enchantresses.

  Cat stepped in. “You all need to back it up, right now.” Her hand slid up my chest. “This here is my man. I will fight for him. So if you think you’ve got a chance of stealing him from me, I’ll tell you right now—not gonna happen. Think I look pretty in my party dress? Don’t mess with me, or you’ll get me gritty with a side of punching bag. And I do kickboxing, not Zumba.”

  Fucking hell.

  I curled my arm around Cat’s neck and dragged her to me. “Fuck, woman.”

  “You like that?”

  “You have to ask?”

  Her hips swiveled against me, and she felt the full bore of my erection. “Guess not.”

  I watched through one eye as the disheartened Fandango train departed, and then I kissed Cat. Her lips opened on a gasp I sucked into my mouth along with the tip of her tongue.

  Just then, someone with a deep voice did some definite throat clearing.

  I cracked an eyelid then backed off the lip-smack with Cat. Brodie hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his black suit pants, the square-faced rings on both hands reflecting the candlelight.

  “Busted, sis. I heard you had trouble out here.”

  She skimmed her hands up my arms and sent him a glare. “It’s nothing I didn’t handle. We can always call Officer Kingston for a restraining order, right?”

  Something about the mention of the policewoman I’d met at the fair jerked Brodie’s chain. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and flexed his knuckles. A sneer curled his lips.

  “Don’t even joke about that.” His voice cut like ice.

  Some kind of sibling dynamic I wasn’t privy to set them both on edge. “I won’t. I’m sorry,” Cat whispered.

  I clasped her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, fine. We’re fine, aren’t we, Brodie?”

  “Sure. Why don’t you two head inside? The top table’s waiting for ya. I’ll round up the last of Nick’s fans. Might even throw them a bone to keep ’em off your tail.” He sent a dark grin and a devilish wink in my direction, and somehow I pitied the FAGEers more than him as he disappeared from sight.

  Under the tent, the combination of patio heaters and the sheer number of revelers warmed the cooling night air. The noise inside was no contest for the three-fold shout that went up. “It’s Nicky Love!”

  Directly in front of me—standing precariously on folding chairs—Jacqueline, Janice and Missy whup-whup-whupped it up. “And Cat Steele!”

  I rolled my eyes and led Cat along with me. I helped each of my friends down in turn. In return to giving the air kisses my Nicky Love persona was known for, I received clandestine butt squeezes.

  “Ladies—”

  Jacqueline choked on her own laughter.

  Janice thumped her on the arm with a fancy meal menu card.

  “What?” I asked.

  Turning wide brown eyes on me, Jacqueline scoffed, “Ladies? Please. You know us better than that. Hussies, hoors, slappers…”

  Clearing my throat, I said, “Okay, bitches—”

  “There ya go!” Jacqueline clapped her hands together, the ebony weave piled on top of her head quirking in my direction.

  “I’d like you to meet my girlfriend—”

  “Lover.” She wouldn’t quit.

  “Babe.” Janice pumped a bracelet-laden wrist into the air.

  “Hmm. I’d say Miss Steele here is one hot, fiery vixen. You said she wears leather?” Missy stroked the pearls at her neck. “Imagine that.”

  “Sooo, Cat, this-is-Janice-Missy-Jacqueline. They write Steampunk-BDSM-gay male.” I rushed through the intros before I got interrupted again.

  Greeting them all, Cat appeared as she usually did with strangers: calm, cool, collected. In return, my boisterous friends gushed and grinned and giggled.

  “You two sexy devils smush together. I gotta tweet this. Gonna send it right to @PanDora.” Janice click-click-clicked away.

  Fanning out her long, red, sparkly talons, Jacqueline asked, “You get rid of those cracker hos? ’Cause I’m ready to sharpen these up if you haven’t.”

  “I think Cat’s brother’s going to pity fuck a couple of them.”

  Cat chuckled. “What can I say? He’s always looking out for me, that Brodie.”

  “Ooh. I like her.” Missy grinned.

  “Win. Total win.” Janice tweeted and talked. “Hashtag younglove.”

  “Um. Likewise?” Cat said.

  I laced my fingers through hers and kissed the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “You are so cute.”

  “Cute?” Cat’s eyebrows lifted.

  I nuzzled her again. “And damn sweet, too.”

  “Oh. Oh! Le sigh, le sigh!” Not only was Janice tweeting and talking at the same time, she was tweeting and repeating herself too.

  I was well pleased, until Jacqueline peered down her nose at Cat. “Go on, girl. Dish.”

  “Dish?” Cat edged away from my side. I tightened my fingers around hers.

  “C’mon. That ain’t fair. You waited a whole twenty-four hours before you tried to get Josh to spill all the secrets about our relationship.”

  “I still think the idea of you and Josh together is a riot.” Cat sniggered, breaking the tension.

  “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, baby,” I said.

  “It wasn’t a riot. It was hot. Hot . . . hot . . . hot,” Janice breathed out.

  “And you never did explain that kiss he gave you,” Missy added.

  “Kiss? You and Josh? What kiss?” Cat was all ears.

  “Can it,” I grumbled to the Hens. When Jacqueline opened her mouth to start in on Cat again, I pleaded, “Y’all ever heard of giving a person some privacy?”

  “Oh, I heard tell of it once, but I don’t think I know what that means.” Jackée imparted a good-natured wink.

  Janice drew Cat to her side in a protective hug. “Lay off. The woman just met us for the first time, and the Good Goddess knows we are a handful as it is.”

  “Amen to that, my sister. I can get behind that vibe.” Jackée stepped off.

  “Nicholas Loveland, get your ass up here pronto. We’ve got some celebrating to do!” Josh shouted. Saved from interrogation hell by an impatient groom.

  “Are they always like that?” Cat asked, smiling and waving back at my bitches.

  “Usually worse. Much, much worse.”

  “Shit.”

  I seated Cat at the head table and found my place across from her, next to Josh. Champagne was served, as well as the Champagne of Beers for those who preferred a little Miller Highlife to Moët & Chandon. While the catering staff dished out the fried turkey-with-all-the-fixings Thanksgiving dinner, the toasts began.

  Since I was a writer, I was supposed to have this in the bag. I’d about sweated my nuts off trying to come up with something funny—but not too funny—something touching—but not too wussy—to say about Josh and L.

  I pinged my champagne flute a co
uple times with the edge of a knife, my hand shaking so much I might’ve cracked the frail glass. Rising to my feet as the noise quieted, I laid a hand on Josh’s shoulder.

  “Josh and I have been through just about every kind of trouble since our teens. Detention. Almost suspension. A couple lucky misses away from arrests. Know what I mean?”

  “There was this one time at the Kickin’ Horse.” Mick joked from the back.

  “It’s safe to say I know him inside and out, backward and forward, and in some ways I don’t care to remember.” I grinned when Josh hit me on the arm. “Last spring, I needed a favor.”

  Felicity from the Widows contingent shot to her feet. “An epic favor!”

  “You could say that. I was fake-gaying it as part of my writing persona, and I needed a boyfriend for a weekend.”

  “Bro, you made me go homo for almost a week.” Josh interrupted.

  “Needless to say, Josh stepped up. My Boy Friday, my big beef, my bear.”

  A screeching whistle came from the Hen’s table. “Stone was Capital H hawt!”

  “The thing is, even with the weirdest request ever, Josh was there for me. He sucked it up, because I needed him. I’m a lucky sonuvabitch to be an honorary member of the Stone family, as are all of y’all. I am blessed to have been part of Joshua James’s—JJ’s—life since birth as his stand-in uncle. Stones are supposed to be cold, inanimate objects. But I believe there’s a big heart inside of every one of these Stones. It started with Gigi and the late—and very much missed—James. They passed it onto their son, my best friend, Josh. And boy, did they sure hit it out of the park with him.”

  I raised my eyes up and swallowed a few times. When my gaze returned, tears stood out on a few faces, gleaming in the candlelight. “But back to the gay gig.”

  “Yeaaah!” Gerald’s deep baritone blasted over the other laughs.

  “My big butch boyfriend couldn’t keep his johnson in his pants. Nor could he keep his big heart under wraps. From the first moment he saw Leelee, he was enraptured. That might sound like poetic BS, but there’s no other word for it. I’d seen Josh love. I’d never seen him in love. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I get it now.” I reached down, placing my hand on the curve of Cat’s neck. “In Leelee, Josh not only met his match, he met his mate. The two halves that are meant to always, always be together.”