Juggernaut

by K. S. Adkins

  While I’m not normally a fan of weekend long weddings, I was looking forward to this one. Because next to me, wearing the sexiest outfit known to sinning men, is Taylor St. James, killing me with those legs. For the next three days, I have her and her legs to myself. I’ll get to sleep next to her, wake up to her, watch her laugh, dance, power drink, and earn looks of envy from everyone in attendance. This weekend, people will look at me with a new kind of respect. They will see me as a man who truly has it all.

  “—close to two hundred grand for this wedding,” she is saying. “I mean, I could be wrong, but I’m guessing this is going to be a dog and pony show.”

  I don’t disagree. Nathaniel Sparks loves to flaunt his wealth. With each marriage, the man upped his budget, yet his brides get younger and younger. If he keeps it up, he’ll be scouting for high school girls soon. Friends since college, I like Nathaniel for who and what he is. The man simply takes what he wants and doesn’t give a fuck. As the number one divorce attorney in Michigan, Nathaniel was never hurting for business and never would. Tomorrow, he is marrying his secretary like he married his previous secretaries. And because he chose to get married in the middle of nowhere, I have plenty of time to explain this to Taylor.

  “So, how old is the new wife-to-be?”

  “If he sticks to his pattern, I’m guessing this one is around twenty-two.”

  “At least she’s off the tit,” she says casually. “That’s good.”

  Throwing my head back, I laugh but caught the way she watched me do it.

  “What’s your dream wedding like?” I ask subtly.

  Shrugging, she rests her hands in her lap and says, “Never really thought about it.”

  “Bullshit,” I counter. “All women think about their wedding day.”

  “Wrong,” she says. “Most women might. But I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “My life is weddings. I’ve attended, hosted, and suffered through so many, I never took the time to plan my own.”

  “Okay,” I say carefully. “Humor me. Tomorrow, you’re getting married. Where would it be? What would you be wearing? Who would be there?”

  Tilting her head to the side, I see her thinking about it, which pleases me. I have her attention. Moments later she says, “Okay, I’ll play along. If I were getting married tomorrow, it would be at the Martha-Mary Chapel. I would wear a warm white In Perpetuity Camisole top with an Anika Tulle Skirt with sparkly flip-flops. My hair would be down, no veil, and I would forego carrying flowers. Between us? I think carrying something in the process of dying is stupid.”

  “Who would be there?”

  “The girls, Scott,” she says softly, and when I thought she’d say no more she whispers, “And you.”

  “Me?” I swallow hard. “What am I doing there, Taylor?”

  “Making me your wife, Van.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is excellent.

  Taking her hand and linking our fingers, I ask, “What am I wearing?”

  Slowly taking her hand back she turns away and says, “I’m done humoring you.”

  “Come on,” I press. “We’re having fun.”

  “We’re pretending, there’s a difference. Oh, and I was lying.”

  Talk about a kick to the nuts. “Lying about?”

  “The location, top, skirt, flip-flops, and wearing my hair down. Basically, all of it.”

  “Even about me?”

  “No,” she says, staring out the window. “Not about you.”

  Then, in perfect synch, our phones rang.

  Answering mine, it takes me a mere second to explode on Whitney. Several seconds later, Taylor did the same to Taylor. Both of us try everything, but when nothing works she hangs up on him and I on her. Glancing her way, I see she’s already looking at me. “First order of business is shots.” I don’t disagree. Leaving our bags with the concierge, we find a table out on the patio.

  “Whitney is here.” I groan.

  “Oh, goodie,” she rolls her eyes. “Taylor is, too.”

  “Come again?”

  “Shots, then venting, that’s how it works.”

  Crossing her long beautiful legs, I was fighting the urge to run my finger along her thigh then said the hell with it and went for it. Sucking in a breath, she whispers, “This is our weekend, Van. We won’t let them ruin it.”

  “I know why she’s here,” I say moving closer. “Why is he?”

  “Ready for this?” she asks mock gagging. “They came together.”

  “Shots,” I groan at the sky.

  “Make ‘em doubles.”

  Chateau Chantal is a beautiful winery and a nice place to host a wedding if you are into that sort of thing. I have to admit, before hearing Taylor’s idea of a wedding, this type of location may have been what I would have pushed for, but not now. The winery itself isn’t obnoxious, quite the opposite. It is quaint and exquisite. It’s the wedding decor that’s hideous and screamed I knocked her up. Two shots in each, we are both quiet, but it’s Taylor who broke the silence. “I take it Whitney will never accept the breakup?”

  “She’d been planning our wedding since we were kids. Like I said, I was tired of being asked why I wasn’t married. The only reason I caved in the first place was to get some fucking peace. I figured if I indulged her for a while, it was one less headache. Seeing each other casually wasn’t going to equate to a marriage proposal. Apparently, she didn’t know that. The fact that she still pursues this fantasy is insane, considering we only dated for two weeks and spent a total of nine hours together before I broke it off. Our parents are still close, which means she gets extended invites to events like this.”

  “But your parents don’t?”

  “They do,” I explain. “But I offered to come on their behalf.” To spend time with you.

  “Do they like her?”

  “Like? No. Tolerate? Even less so. My father would give anything to put soap in her mouth. My mother would give up wine just to slap her even once. But her parents are genuinely great people, and there are times it puts a strain on their relationship. To be fair, they tried, but she wore them out years ago.”

  “Taylor doesn’t run with this crowd,” she says while lifting her drink. “So, I’d lay money down on Whitney finding him and promising him face time with me so she can have time with you. Although, he and I ended on good terms, so his involvement makes zero sense to me.”

  “Fuck,” I groan. “I’m sorry, Taylor.”

  “Don’t be,” she waves it off. “I have a way with kids. We’ll be fine.”

  Approximately four hours later, I’d learn what fine meant.

  I’ve been to Traverse City twice in two weeks.

  And if I came with anyone other than Van, I’m not certain I would love it as I do.

  If I came with the girls, we’d get drunk and sleep on the beach, never taking in our surroundings. Of course we’d have a ball, but when we partied, we appreciate half off drink specials not the scenery.

  Van though, he makes being here together beautiful.

  He’s sharing his world with me, and I love I’m able to make his a little brighter.

  Because his ex—if she could even be considered such—is a blight who refused to go away. My ex isn’t that type of person. Taylor didn’t plot, pout, or pursue. When I told him I was done, he took me at my word. Honestly, he doesn’t have the patience for games and knew we weren’t forever going in. Taylor is achingly handsome, fun, and could get laid anytime. We had fun while it lasted, and when it was time to move on, we did. Whitney isn’t hideous, by any means, but I don’t see men lining up for her brand of desperate either. She lays it on so thick, it takes a team to tear it off of you.

  While I don’t consider her a threat to us, she is a nuisance.

  But I’m also not the type of woman who could let it continue either.

  Simply put, I was done with her bullshit.

  Another quality I love about Van is when he wanted something he did not take no fo
r an answer. Like right now. He wants me to have food in my stomach and is demanding, albeit really damn sweetly, that I eat. Given we are both buzzed and laughing so loud people dropped their forks when he said let me feed you, I agreed.

  Watching the sun set, hand in hand, I am the happiest I have ever been in memory. Leaning on his shoulder with my palm resting on his thigh, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. It‘s the way he says my name that has me look up. Because he says it with so much need, showing his vulnerability, I have no choice but to let the butterflies free in my belly.

  “It’s beautiful here,” I whisper to him only. When his eyes crinkle, signaling his smile, I can’t help myself. Facing him, I take his face in my hands and kiss him in front of everyone.

  “You won’t regret fake marrying me, Van.”

  “What I regret is waiting so long to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

  “Oh, I could have refused,” I tease. “But you’re too cute when you beg.”

  “Speaking of begging,” he says, tracing my lower lip with his thumb. “I’m not letting you off the hook about your dream wedding.”

  “That’s just it,” I found myself confessing. “It is a dream because it doesn’t actually exist.”

  All of a sudden, Van looks at me like he found the key to figuring me out.

  He says not one word but I feel it.

  His devious smile confirms this and the dip in my stomach adores it.

  Could he possibly know?

  Without even locating the plate, he snags a berry and traces it along my lower lip. Nipping at his fingers, I am about to climb fully in his lap and ask if he truly does know, when I hear, “She’s eating again, there’s a surprise.”

  Van tenses, but I grin. Because when I looked up, our exes are standing there watching us with jealousy written on her face and amusement on his. Internally, I feel the juggernaut wake up and stretch her legs when she senses danger to her mate. Take no prisoners…

  “Taylor,” Van says, tightening his grip in protection.

  “Baby,” I coo. “Allow me, I insist.”

  “As you wish,” he says while palming my breast, uncaring of our audience.

  “These hands should be outlawed, am I right, Whit?”

  “A gentleman does not pawn a lady in public,” she snaps, clearly jealous his hand never held her boob. I know this because she can’t take her eyes off Van fondling mine.

  “Yeah, he does,” Taylor grins down at me in agreement.

  He would know, he loves public displays of perversity. While he lacks skill in bed, he is a fucking riot to hang out with. Which is why we lasted as long as we did. Taylor has himself a raunchy sense of humor. He just doesn’t have anything else. Never breaking away from me or extending his hand, Van says, “Taylor, given you were not invited, your attendance is a surprise.”

  “I’d offer to shake your hand but it’s full,” Taylor grins at me again.

  “With her fat ass,” Whitney mumbles and oh yeah, she is jealous.

  “Oh,” I exclaim. “I forgot to tell you, Whit. They feed the cows over at the barn. I even called ahead, so don’t worry, they promised to have plenty.”

  “You’re temporary,” she seethes. “A plaything.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask sweetly, then drape my left hand over Van’s shoulder. Even knowing she is about to go nuclear, I fucking do it anyway. Go big or go home, right? “Because when I said yes, I said yes to forever.”

  “You proposed?” she cries out in fury with Taylor holding her still. “To that?”

  Oh look, we have an audience… fun!

  “Of course to me,” I play buffer for Van, who was fighting back his own laughter. “I mean, look at me, duh.”

  “Is she pregnant? Blackmailing you?” she ignores me to plead with Van. “She’s only after you for your money, Evander! You can’t possibly be serious! Are you doing this to punish me?”

  “Jesus,” he squeezes me. “This isn’t about about you. This is about my happiness. She makes me happy, Whitney. Now, do yourself a favor and stop attending these events because it changes nothing. I made my choice and it isn’t you.”

  “You’re making a mistake!”

  “And you’re dismissed,” Van decrees and at this, Whitney pales. Clearly, she wasn’t used to being put in her place, and I know she is this close to stomping her foot.

  “Let’s go, princess,” Taylor grins over at us, totally enjoying the moment. “I’m sure we can find you something other than grass to chew on.”

  “Later, Taylor,” I offer him with a grin.

  “Later, gorgeous,” he winks as he drags a pouting Whitney away.

  Van tilts my chin to read my expression. “You really don’t hate him, do you?”

  “No,” I admit. “I don’t hate him.” I couldn’t when he is so entertaining.

  “Do you –”

  “Van,” I smile, snuggling into his chest. “She wasn’t your one. He wasn’t my one. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  Seeing the truth of my words, he does.

  And then he cave-manned my ass when he carries me from the patio straight back to our room.

  All but tossing me on the bed, Van covers my body with his own and sighs. “How did I get so lucky?” he asks softly.

  “Right now, I’d say we both lucked out.”

  “The first night I saw you, I was captivated and have been ever since. That same night, I broke things off with her and never looked back. I came to those parties just to catch a glimpse of your wild. You never disappointed, Taylor.”

  “You like my wild now –”

  “I’ve liked your wild from day one,” he corrects.

  “We’ll see –”

  “I like your fucking wild, woman,” he grunts. “What will it take for you to believe it?”

  “They all like it at first, Van,” I whisper. “And I told you, it’s only a matter of time until I wear you down.”

  Pinning me by the wrists and settling between my legs, he vows, “I’ll accept nothing less.”

  I wanted to believe him so badly, I even wished for it.

  Throughout the ceremony, I quietly asked Taylor how she would have coordinated this event. Needless to say, had she done it, it wouldn’t look like Pepto exploded all over the winery. In any case, the entire production takes fifteen minutes and now we are walking back for the reception. Neither of us wants to change clothes, choosing to hit the open bar instead. Thirty minutes in, I’m standing with my arm around her waist when Whitney begins to approach with Taylor on her heels. Taylor, I will admit, wears a bored expression, while Whitney is out for blood.

  “I’ll handle this,” I lean in to whisper.

  “By all means.” She grins while moving even closer.

  “Taylor,” I nod to her ex when I really wanted to shoot him.

  “Evander,” he nods, but has only eyes for my woman. My woman who is wearing a stunning, formfitting, strapless dress. “And Taylor, the most gorgeous woman here,” he says, openly staring at her tits.

  “Gorgeous is a strong word,” Whitney spews. “I was thinking more along the lines of gigantic.”

  “Whitney, a word,” I demand.

  Not giving her any time to argue, I take her by the elbow, prepared to bitch her out privately when I see her throw a victorious grin at Taylor. Taking a play from Taylor’s book, I stop to face her.

  “You’re going to shut up and listen to what I have to say or,” I lean in. “I’ll have you tossed out on your ass.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she gasps.

  “I fucking would.”

  “Who are you?” she says, planting her hands on her extremely narrow hips. “She’s corrupted you, Evander.”

  “And do I look even remotely upset about it?” I ask, then hold my hand up because her response didn’t matter. “Listen to me because I am only going to say this once. If you ever speak an ill word about my fiancée again I will go to your parents. If you so much as look at her with anything but resp
ect I will see to it you are removed from every charity board you sit on. And if you even attempt to speak to my parents about this, I will end you.”

  “But –”

  “I’m not finished,” I warn her. “She is to be my wife. The stunt you pulled this weekend is deplorable, even for you. Dating you was a mistake. A severe lapse in judgement. I wasn’t in love with you, never would be in love with you, and you need to accept that and move on.”

  “I will not accept this,” she shrieks. “I will not accept anything less than I deserve and that’s you.”

  “What you deserve is a makeup artist and a credit limit,” I seethe. “I’m warning you, Whitney. Stay the fuck away from Taylor.”

  “Or what?” she challenges, and I see she was serious.

  “Princess,” Taylor says, joining us. “I see drinks with our names on them.”

  “I’m not thirsty.” And she actually stomped her fucking foot.

  “But I am,” he counters. “And as your lucky date, I need to drink.”

  Not bothering to stand there and listen, I head back to Taylor and waste no time kissing her senseless.

  Mid tongue duel, Nathaniel and his new wife, who’s name I do not remember, interrupt us.

  “Evander,” he says, slapping me on the shoulder. “You didn’t tell me your date was none other than Taylor St. James.”

  “Because she isn’t my date, Nathaniel. She’s my fiancée,” I proudly explain while taking her hand in mine. “Taylor, this is my old friend Nathaniel Sparks and his wife…” Shit.

  “Daisy,” the bride offers.

  “Congratulations, Daisy,” Taylor says, extending a hand to pull her into a hug. “Congratulations, Nathaniel,” she says facing him and doing the same.

  “This wedding wouldn’t have looked like a candy store had the runs had you accepted my offer,” he smiles.

  “As I said months ago, I’m booked solid.”

  “Yet, here you are,” he says eying me.

  “Here I am,” she grins at him.

  “Engaged to Evander.”

  “The ring doesn’t lie.”

  “Neither does the look of love you’re both wearing on your faces.”

  Both of us shut up at that one, but he wasn’t done. “When I call on you for the next one, I won’t take no for an answer.”