by Amelia James
“It takes more than a wildfire hurricane to get rid of me, sweetheart.”
Sassy woman, throwing my own words at me. He caught up to her and slipped his hand under her elbow, slowing her escape. “I’ll try harder next time.”
Her eyes turned shiny and her lower lip trembled as he swept her into his arms. “Thank God for next times.”
The rain let up as he kissed her, holding her close while they shivered. The sun poked through the clouds, shining a spotlight on them—muddy and drenched, but together. A firefighter walked over and cleared his throat, offering them a blanket. Dash wrapped the warm, scratchy wool around them, sealing in the love they’d resurrected and the hope he’d found.
He brushed Simone’s dripping hair behind her shoulder. “Every time. You and me. Every stupid fight. Every makeup kiss. There will always be more to come. In this life and the next.”
Epilogue
Six Weeks Later…
Dash tugged at his bowtie and gasped for breath, searching for an escape from the chaos surrounding him. Laughter rang out and voices rose. Silverware clanked against china and champagne glasses clinked. The reception hall he’d once thought too big shrank in a hurry as friends, family, and people who may or may not have been relatives swarmed, shaking his hand and congratulating him. His new in-laws had made a grand entrance, drawing attention and a few eye rolls as they arrived in a flurry of noise and sparkle.
“This is why I wanted a small wedding.” Dash ducked into the lobby as he jerked his tie undone and popped open the top button on his stiff shirt. “I lost that battle before it started.”
Wyatt snickered and signed. “Did you really expect to win?”
“Still not talking?” Dash enunciated each word, knowing his brother’s lip-reading skills needed work.
The best man grimaced and forced the words out. “I hate the sound of my voice.”
Dash shook his head. “We compromised. I got a small ceremony, but Simone wanted a big fucking deal, so she got a huge reception.”
“Where is she?” Wyatt aimed his professional camera and snapped a few candid shots of guests celebrating.
“She and Regina ran off as soon as we got here. I don’t even want to know what they’re doing.” He flashed a hokey smile as his brother pointed the lens at him.
Spencer, Wyatt’s hearing dog, nudged his nose against Dash’s hand and wagged his tail.
“Hey, buddy. How are you?” Dash patted the big golden retriever on the head. “Do you want a treat?” He slipped into the dining room and brought back a bacon-wrapped scallop from the hors o’doeuvre table and waved it in front of the patient dog.
Spencer sniffed the snack, then strolled over to Wyatt, sat down and patted his leg with his paw.
“What do you hear?” Wyatt pulled his camera aside and glanced at his companion.
Spencer bounded back to Dash and eyed the food he held, wagging his tail so hard he nearly knocked over a small child walking by.
“Oh. Yes, you can have it.” Wyatt smiled and gave the dog a hand signal. “Eat.”
The big retriever’s whole body wagged as Dash handed him the treat.
“That is a well-trained dog.” Dash scratched the golden behind the ears while Wyatt snapped a picture.
“He’s the best one I’ve had.” Wyatt signaled him to lie down and stay. “Service dogs are always obedient, but Spencer is more trustworthy than most people I know.”
A grim scowl darkened his brother’s eyes and Dash remembered who had violated Wyatt’s trust—and how. He snorted and changed the subject. “Obedient is boring.” Had Simone obeyed him even once? Nope. And he never wanted her to without a fight.
“Congratulations!” Micah, Simone’s cousin and Dash’s high school wide receiver, walked by and gave Dash a crushing hug.
“Thanks, man, glad you could be here.”
Simone had called her aunt to tell her about their engagement, not really expecting much support, but Regina immediately invited the whole family and volunteered their help.
The gigantic flash from Wyatt’s camera blinded Dash for a few seconds, and he rubbed his eyes. “Thank you for the photography too. I still think I should pay you for it.” Not that his wealthy and famous photographer to the stars brother needed the money.
“No, I told you. This is my wedding gift to you.”
“I thought the ceremony on your penthouse rooftop was our gift.”
Wyatt shook his head. “I just booked it for you. It turned out even prettier than I imagined. Your wedding planner has a real artistic flair.”
“She wasn’t sure she could put this together in six weeks, but Simone and I didn’t want to wait. Life is short.” Although it took them thirteen enduring years to learn that lesson.
“You two have waited long enough.” Wyatt focused the camera on his brother’s face and snapped a shot.
What did his lens capture? Regret? Hope? Irritation? “And I’m getting a little tired of it.” He jerked his sleeve back and scowled at his watch. “Where the hell is she?”
“Ta-da!” Simone’s trademark announcement echoed through the lobby.
Dash shuddered and turned around, expecting to see his new bride posing, but instead, she smiled and held her hand out to him. He reached for her, then pulled back as the full picture clicked into frame. “You put on a different dress?”
For the ceremony, she’d worn a slender, elegant dress with long sleeves, intricate lace, and a sweeping train. The second one bared her shoulders and lifted her breasts. Sparkling crystals decorated the bodice and a poufy skirt blossomed at her waist, skimming her cherry red heels.
“The first dress was for getting married. This one is for the party.” She handed her bouquet to Regina and spun, becoming a blur of white and bling. “I want to make an entrance.”
“What did I expect?” Dash curled his fist over his lips to hide the smile that threatened to overtake his face. He’d let her shine. And then he’d take her home and tarnish her sassy ass. “All right, go grab the spotlight.”
“No.” She took his hand and kissed him. “Not without you.”
His fingers tingled as he laced them through hers. She’d never shared her glory with him before, and the fact that she wanted to now when she could’ve made the reception all about herself lightened his heart and chased away lingering fears. “Let’s do this.” He tugged her toward the dining room.
“Wait.” She dug in and yanked him back.
Her resistance pulled him off balance and he stumbled into her. “What now?”
“Fix your tie.” Simone smoothed his shirt with her palms.
Regina nodded. “Don’t forget that button.”
Dash rolled his eyes and followed their orders, grateful that his mother-in-law lived hours away. “Better?”
“Perfect.” Simone linked her arm through his and stepped toward the door.
Guests cheered and raised their glasses as Dash and Simone entered the dining room as husband and wife. She blew kisses and waved while he stood beside her wishing he could drag her off to a dark corner and ravish her. She wants to put on a show? I’ll give her one. He swept Simone into his arms and bent her backward as he kissed her. Her cousins whistled and hollered while his parents cringed. Wyatt snapped pictures while the crowd laughed.
Dash nuzzled her ear. “Let’s go someplace quiet.”
“The party’s just getting started.” She stood upright and repositioned her bodice while he adjusted his pants.
Simone practically glowed as family and friends surrounded them, showering them with congratulations and good wishes. Every time he stepped back to let her bask in the spotlight, she pulled him close. “All this means nothing without you in it.”
He squeezed her hand as he raised her fingers to his lips.
Wyatt elbowed his brother. “Who is that?”
Dash followed his gaze toward a woman signing to a waitress. “Oh, that’s our wedding planner. Her mother is deaf, so she learned sign language.”
“But she can hear?”
“Yes.”
“And talk?”
“Yes.”
Wyatt closed his mouth and signed. “Then she wouldn’t be interested in me.”
“Knock it off, man, you sound fine.”
“That’s not what,” he finger spelled a name Dash couldn’t keep up with, “said when she dumped me last weekend. She got tired of listening to a man who can’t pronounce words. Too difficult to communicate with me.” Wyatt had gotten his cochlear implant in junior high, so his language skills trailed behind those of hearing people his age.
“Then that’s her problem, not yours.” He signed the words while he spoke to make sure Wyatt got the message.
He signed back with forceful gestures and slapping hands. “You always say that, but I’ve yet to see proof.”
“Damn it! When are you ever going to learn that you’re not—” Dash jammed his flailing hands in his pockets as their mother approached carrying an impeccably wrapped package.
Christine Ryder pushed it toward him, forcing Dash to catch it when she let go. “Malcolm sent a gift.”
“I told you he wouldn’t show up.” He winked at Simone.
Christine refused to concede defeat. “At least he knows you wanted him here.”
He let her believe that. One thing he and Simone had agreed on when they planned the wedding—they wouldn’t invite Mal.
But his mother had insisted, so they sent him an invitation and made perverted bets on whether or not Mal would be there. Dash grinned as he anticipated collecting his winnings in the honeymoon suite tonight.
“Should I open it?” He shook the box and held it to his ear, listening for a ticking time-bomb.
“Better you than me.” Simone backed up a step, and Wyatt did the same.
“Pansies.” He didn’t dare call them pussies in front of his mom. Dash tore the fancy silver paper and opened the box. “Boom!”
Simone shrieked as Wyatt shielded her with his body.
Dash cackled. “I can’t believe you fell for that.” He pulled out an endless mountain of white tissue paper. “Fucker sent us an empty box!” He turned it upside down and shook it, and a fat brown envelope dropped to the floor.
“Wait.” Simone knelt and picked up a manila packet with Mr. and Mrs. Daschle Ryder written on it. She opened the package and scowled as she read. “I don’t know what this means.”
Dash took the papers from her. He understood the words, but since they came from Mal, he questioned them. He handed the document to his mother for her legal opinion. “Is this for real?”
She read the paper and smiled. “It looks legitimate. All you have to do is sign it. I told you your brother isn’t as big a jerk as you think.”
Wyatt spoke. “What did he do?”
Dash’s knees buckled and he sank down as Wyatt scooted a chair under him. He took the stack of papers from his mother and read them again. A lump formed in his throat as he searched for the words to explain. “When I was a kid, maybe six or seven, before I met Simone, Mal and I used to be best buds. We were playing out by Conifer Lake, and I told him I wanted to build a house there when I grew up. This,” he waved the document, “is a transfer deed for three acres of land right on the lake. And it’s in both our names.”
Simone retrieved the card that had been taped to the wrapping paper and read Mal’s note.
This is the last time I’ll interfere with you two. Build your house, Dash. Enjoy your lives together.
She clapped a quivering hand over her mouth and her eyes turned shiny.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He glared at his mother. “Are we never going to see him again?”
Christine took the card and studied it. “Maybe he’s trying to apologize.”
“I’ll believe that when he learns to keep his dick in his pants.”
Wyatt snorted and their mother scowled. The man whose juvenile prank nearly ruined his life for good had handed over an opportunity for Dash to build his dream house. No snide comments, no conditions. Dash wiped his eyes and glanced at his mother. “Tell him thank you.”
She nodded and bent to hug him. “He really does love you.”
The lump in his throat kept him from speaking, so he signed instead. “He’s got a funny way of showing it.”
Christine ruffled his hair and stood. “I need to find your father before he tastes all the frosting off your cake.”
Wyatt clapped Dash on the shoulder. “I need to take some more pictures of this beautiful event.”
“Go talk to the wedding planner.” Dash signed as he stood so no one else could hear him. “She’s single.”
“No. I’m taking a break from…” Wyatt’s hands faltered as the young woman smiled at him from across the room and finger spelled hello.
“When have you ever taken a break?” Dash scowled and shook his head.
“She’s cute.”
Dash snickered as Wyatt signed something dirty and shoulder-nudged him toward the woman. “That’s what I thought you said.”
“I’m going to get some more champagne.” He left his brother with his new wife as he wandered in the general direction of the bar where the wedding planner happened to be giving instructions to the musicians.
Simone reached for her husband. “Dance with me.” She pulled him close and they spun onto the dance floor.
He held her tight and whispered in her ear. “I wrote a poem for you today.” He’d kept his promise and written or quoted her a poem every day since the fire.
“I want to hear it.”
Guests swirled around them as the music swelled. “Not here.” He whisked her out to a balcony overlooking an early snowfall blanketing the mountains. “I didn’t want to say this at the ceremony. Too personal.”
She shivered and he draped his tux jacket over her bare shoulders. Then he closed his eyes and recalled the words he’d written.
“Love eluded me until I found you again. Hope escaped me until I reunited with my best friend. Joy binds us in its enduring grasp as today we vow to never give up.”
“That’s so romantic.” She snuggled into his chest. “You could’ve said that at the ceremony.”
“Hush now, I’m not finished.” He curled his finger under her chin and smiled into her eyes. “And lust rules my dick whenever I find you sleeping in nothing but my t-shirt. Tonight I vow to use you like a man should—in the bedroom, on the kitchen floor, bent over the coffee table…”
A snortle escaped as she clapped her hand over her mouth.
“You said you wanted them dirty.”
“I love you.” She framed his face with her hands and brushed her lips against his. “Better this time.”
***Sneak Peek***
no relationship
required!
A Ryder Boys Novel:
Book 2
Chapter 1
Sunlight streamed in through the bedroom window, warming Wyatt Ryder’s bare ass as he rolled onto his hip to caress the naked woman beside him, his stiffening cock primed for a vigorous round of morning sex. His hand flopped on the empty mattress, tangling in the rumpled sheets as he searched for her. Is she making coffee already? He inhaled, detecting the scent of sweaty sex and salty air mixed with the too flowery perfume Megan wore last night. A change in the lighting compelled him to open his eyes.
Her body had blocked the sunrise and cast a shadow over the bed. He sat up and stared at her, taking note of the tension in her limbs and her determined movements as she buttoned her blouse. Something had changed. She was talking, but her hair fell over her face as she bent to retrieve her shoes, so he couldn’t read her lips. He fumbled around the nightstand for his cochlear implant’s processors and slipped them over the magnets under his scalp.
“…fun while it lasted, but there’s no future for us.”
Not again. Wyatt sighed. He could drown in self-pity, the victim of yet another woman using him to advance her career. But something dark and seriously pissed of
f emerged from the abyss, demanding justice. No. The anger he’d kept locked down for too long wanted vengeance. “Get out.”
She bolted upright and gaped at him. “What?”
“You heard me.” His pronunciation had been clear, his meaning unmistakable. He took his time and willed his mouth to shape each word perfectly as he issued his next statement. “I want you gone.”
She gasped and whipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder in a huff. “Now you talk like a man.”
Ah yes. The classic insult from a woman grown tired of making the effort to communicate with him. He’d heard it before, and he’d no doubt hear it again. Unless you do something to change things. He snatched her purse from the nightstand and threw it in her direction. “You remember where the front door is, right?” She’d insisted on driving last night. She’d planned this from the beginning.
Megan collected her belongings and stomped toward the exit. Her fingers curled around the doorknob and she paused, casting a vicious glare back at him. “I faked all those orgasms.” Then she marched from the room and seconds later the walls rattled as she slammed the front door behind her.
Spencer, his hearing dog, followed her as far as the bedroom door, keeping his distance, as he stared outside. The electronic device in Wyatt’s brain translated the distinct sounds of a car starting and leaving, and the dog relaxed. The golden retriever wandered over to the bed and laid his chin on the quilt, his big brown eyes looking puzzled and sympathetic at the same time.
Megan’s parting shot ran circles around Wyatt’s head. He should’ve known a relationship with a wedding planner would only last as long as she could milk his celebrity photographer status for profit. A glance at the still twisted sheets confirmed he’d been used again, trading sex for public appearances. In the time it took for his brother and his bride to enjoy their extended honeymoon, Wyatt had been seduced and paraded in front of Megan’s potential clients. Once she’d booked enough weddings and anniversary parties to fill her calendar for the following year, she dumped him.
