by Tessa Teevan
I cover my ears with my hands. “Let’s file that under things I don’t need to know. Also, congrats on getting me to leave you alone about taking joy rides in Evelyn.”
Evelyn, his 1967 Mustang, is a perfect copy of Eleanor from Gone in 60 Seconds. She’s his pride and joy, and I’ve been begging him to let me take her out for a test drive. Well, he doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.
I start forward, and he once again stops me. He gestures off behind me towards the photographer. When I catch his meaning, I groan my frustration.
I’d forgotten the whole “let’s take seventy-five hundred photos to commemorate the day” thing. With a sigh, I trudge along for the next forty-five minutes until my jaw hurts from smiling way too much.
Thankfully, the last of the photo shoot I have to partake in is the groom with his groomsmen. Branson put up with it for about five minutes, no doubt for Ari’s sake, and then he says he’s had enough.
I couldn’t be happier.
My job here is done. Now, it’s time to find my girl and officially make her mine.
Except, when I do find her, she’s not alone. Some jackass has his hand on her shoulder as she smiles at him.
Who the fuck is that? And why is he touching my girl?
I’m not waiting another second to find out.
I DON’T know if it’s the magic of the wedding or the magnitude of the emotional tidal wave of the last twenty-four hours, but my heart yearns, just a little bit, for my own chance at love. At what my sister and Branson have. And the only person I want it with is Shane.
Our second night together only deepened our connection. The fervency with which I want—no, need—this man astounds me. Yet I no longer want to fight it. I want to give in. Jump in feet first, blindfolded, because I trust he’ll be there to catch me.
“You’re a vision,” a low, sultry voice whispers in my ear, interrupting my contemplation.
I jump in surprise, turning to see Bryan holding a champagne flute out to me.
“The wedding was beautiful, Lyss,” he says, his finger and his thumb coming to my chin and shaking it like I’m a little kid.
Oh, hell.
After last night, and through all the craziness of today, I’d completely forgotten all about him, buffers, or anything that’d keep me from Shane Wellington’s bed.
“You look surprised to see me, Covington,” he says, raising an eyebrow.
When my cheeks flush, understanding crosses his features.
He chuckles, giving me a pat on the shoulder along with a head shake. “What’d I tell you, kid? Resistance is futile when it comes to love. The heart wants what the heart wants, and our sexual organs are much the same.”
I choke on the sip of champagne I just took. “Did you just say sexual organs?”
He shrugs. “I figured, in this company,” he says, lifting his glass and gesturing to the wealth oozing from the venue and its current inhabitants, “it was safer than saying pussy and dick. Which, I’m guessing, I’m too late to stop you from succumbing to the latter.”
My cheeks flame at the memory of last night. If I’m honest, my mouth is also watering a little bit at the thought of a repeat performance.
Just as I’m about to retort, the dick in question walks up to us. I mean, Shane, not that he’s a dick… I just can’t stop thinking about his.
“Who’s this?” Shane asks, suspicion blatant on his face, his eyes frozen on Bryan’s crooked smile.
I clear my throat, swallowing a groan. I’d forgotten to tell Shane about Bryan. Hell, I’d forgotten about Bryan myself. And by the look on his face, Shane isn’t pleased.
“I, uh…” I stammer like a twit. I point at Bryan. “Um, this is my boss.”
At the same time, ever so helpful, Bryan claims, “I’m her date.”
I turn to glare at him.
“Boss and date,” he corrects with an annoying grin. “And completely platonic friend.”
Shane coughs, drawing my attention back to him. His brow furrows, his eyes brooding. The lips I’ve come to love are held in a tight line. The way his jaw clenches gives me the urge to stroke his cheek in hopes of helping him relax. He apparently has the wrong idea. Inviting Bryan here to make Shane jealous? Yeah, it’s totally backfiring.
“I see.”
Two words I’ve come to hate.
Before I can explain, he turns on his heel and disappears, out of sight without a blink.
I stare after him, my mouth gaping, dumbstruck. I’m an idiot.
My “date” nudges me with his shoulder and nods in the direction Shane had gone. “Isn’t this when you run after him and tell him we’re just friends? I’m hopelessly in love with my best friend who pretends like we haven’t had explosive sex on several occasions and yet I just can’t seem to quit her.”
“Did you just Brokeback Mountain me?”
Bryan’s lips curve up into a grin. “If that’s not a sign of how far gone I am, I don’t know what is. Now quit stalling.”
I glance in the direction Shane stalked off, then look back to Bryan. “You’ll be okay without me?”
He raises his glass. “An open bar, gorgeous women, and good music? I’ll be fine. Go get your guy.”
I squeeze his arm. “Thanks, Bryan.”
As if my feet follow his footsteps, I immediately gravitate toward the front porch, where, sure enough, Shane is. He’s sipping what looks like whiskey—neat—with his free hand gripping the ledge. His back is to me, stiff and unmoving. His shoulders heave then lower as if he’s releasing a long, slow, deep breath. I pick my skirt up, marching across the porch until I’m directly behind him.
“You’re the one running now?” I accuse, my hands on my hips.
He doesn’t even turn to look at me. “Go back to your date, Alyssa.”
The words are clipped, his voice gruff, and the hand that was gripping the rail now balls into a tight fist at his side.
“He’s not my date,” I inform him, scrambling to make him understand. “I mean, he’s my date, but it doesn’t mean anything.”
At that, Shane whirls around to face me. With his jaw held tight, his nostrils flare while his eyes, wild and wide, search mine.
I step closer, tentatively placing my hand on his arm, staring up into his gaze. “Shane,” I breathe, “I’ve been impulsive my entire life. It’s just never gotten me into trouble. That is until I met you.”
He frowns, so I quickly continue.
“I knew you for all of fifteen minutes before I took you to my bed. Me! A virgin, still at twenty-five, gave it up to a charming, sexy-as-hell what I thought was pool boy without a second thought.”
His lips twitch, their corners turning up. A good sign. “Sexy as hell?” he asks.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “You know you are. But I didn’t regret that night. I swear. It was the best night of my life. It’s just… Like I said last night, I was terrified of the intensity of my pull to you. And when the opportunity arose, I ran.”
“I should’ve been honest about who I was,” he whispers, causing me to shake my head in disagreement.
“No, Shane, you weren’t dishonest. You just left out a few details. I used it as an excuse to push you away, and that was wrong. When I saw you at dinner, I still felt that pull. Hell, my attraction—that’s not strong enough of a word—my obsession with you was intoxicating. I couldn’t think straight being around you. I knew, if I came to this wedding alone, I wouldn’t be able to fight it anymore. I don’t even know why I wanted to.”
Shane’s hand comes to the curve of my neck. His thumb rubs soothing circles as he gazes into my eyes. “I felt—I still feel—it, too. There’s this crazy invisible force drawing me to you. It should scare me, too, but, Alyssa, it doesn’t.”
My heartbeat quickens. A wall of tears forms in my eyes. I take a step closer, not breaking eye contact. “Bryan’s just a friend. That’s all he’s ever been. All he’ll ever be. But you… God, Shane, you could be so much more than that, if you
wanted to.”
A corner of his mouth lifts into a half smile. “I don’t know if it’s because the Wellington men are dropping like flies and I’m the last one still standing, but dammit, sunshine. I don’t want to stand anymore. Not alone. Not without you.”
I suck in a breath.
He cups my cheek with his palm. “We barely know each other, and I don’t give a damn. I want to be with you. I want to explore whatever this is that we have. And I want to do it exclusively. You and me, no one else.”
The rushed words send my heart into a tailspin. “I want that, too. I really, really do,” I breathe, not sure if I’m admitting it to myself, him, or both of us.
His forehead comes to mine as he wraps his arms around my waist, settling his hands on the curve of my ass. “This is real? We’re really doing this? We’re going to give it a shot?”
I laugh as snow begins to fall around us, something I don’t think is usual for Tennessee, and it makes the moment all that more magical. “Yeah, Shane, I think we are.”
He picks me up, twirling us around before setting me back on my toes. His mouth crashes down on mine, and he grins against my lips. I moan in protest when he pulls back.
“We can go slow,” he tells me, “at your pace. Whatever you want.”
Laughter bubbles up as butterflies take flight in my belly. “I mean, I don’t think we’ll pull a Branson and Ari and wed in three months, but I don’t want to go slow. Not with you, Shane. I’m all in.”
His answering smile dazzles and sends the butterflies soaring. “Thank fucking Christ, sunshine.”
And this is how Shane and I begin our whirlwind romance.
He leads me back to the reception and draws me into a tight embrace on the dance floor. We sway to “Let’s Be Still” by The Head and the Heart, and when the singer warns that this may not last if you move too fast, I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest, my heart hoping it isn’t true. Because, if it were up to me, our romance will never end.
AFTER WE send Branson and Ari off on their honeymoon, Shane takes my hand in his and leads me past Knox’s car and toward a sleek, black Jeep. I’m confused at the longing look he gives the Mustang. He must see the expression on my face, because once he’s placed me into the Jeep’s passenger’s seat, he leans in close. “I don’t even know how Knox fits in that car, let alone fucks in it.”
I giggle at the mental image it brings to mind. “Must be a Wellington thing. You’ll do anything you set your mind to.”
Shane’s lips find mine, his teeth nipping at me. “Don’t you forget it.”
We make small talk on the short drive back to the Wellington mansion, and the closer we get, the more nervous I become. Sure, we spent last night together, but I didn’t know at the time that, less than twenty-four hours later, we’d be a couple.
I don’t even know how to be a couple.
Just as I’m about to place my hand on the doorknob, Shane’s hands find my shoulders and he twists me around until my back’s pressed against the wall. His face hovers just above mine, his eyes searching.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispers.
I lick my lips. “Then what’s stopping you?”
“I want to date you, Alyssa.”
“Isn’t that what we agreed to at the reception?” I ask.
He sighs. “I’ve never done this. I’m not even sure I know how,” he admits, and it’s like he’s read my mind. “But I do know I want to do it right.”
“Shane, I’ve never done this, either. Not really. We’ll learn together.”
A slow smile spreads across his face. “I look forward to it, sunshine.”
He surprises me when he places a kiss right on my cheek and then pulls away.
“I’m heading to New York tomorrow and won’t be back until Friday. Say you’ll have dinner with me then?”
“Of course. I’d love to,” I tell him, even though the idea of a week without him already sucks majorly.
Shane strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. “It’s a date.”
“Our first.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow from the hotel, if that’s fine.”
He really isn’t coming into the room with me. Well, hell.
Not wanting to beg, I smile up at him. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
“I look forward to hearing your voice. Sleep well, sunshine. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night, Shane.”
He waits as I open the door, and I hesitate closing it behind me. It’s apparent he’s steadfast in his mission not to join me, so with one last smile, I shut the door and Shane disappears from view.
I want to cheer. I want to swoon. I want to melt into a puddle of gooey emotion. Because, while I don’t exactly know what I’m feeling, I know I’ve never felt this way before.
My plan to steal a few kisses before breakfast are thwarted by the stampede that is the Banks family. Sure, there are only three of them, but when they’re around, they provide nonstop entertainment. I say that in the most lovingly way. I love them—I really do. But they’re kiss-blocking me and it’s driving me insane.
“Jeremy, stop telling everyone your ridiculous theories,” Sierra jokingly tells her husband.
“It’s true!” he exclaims, and Cohen, Jace, and Knox all grin.
“I mean, I never thought of it, but now that you bring it up, it makes so much sense,” Jace says, causing Sierra to roll her eyes.
“Don’t encourage him, McAllister!”
My gaze falls to where Shane just entered the room, looking gorgeous in a pair of jeans and a pink button-up. I don’t care what anyone says. There’s not much sexier than a guy wearing pink. Shane? Definitely rocks the look.
He crosses the room until he’s directly in front of me. Everything around us fades. “Good morning, sunshine,” he whispers.
Then he takes my hand and brings it to his lips.
The sound of a fork dropping breaks the silence. I glance up to see all eyes watching us with rapt interest. Looks like we’ve been outed before we could even go on a first date. I shrug and fall into Shane’s side when he slips an arm around my shoulder.
And Jeremy, God love him, saves the day. “Hey, she’ll know. Alyssa, back me up. Isn’t it true that the “Electric Slide” is all about vibrators?”
“Wait. Why would I be the one to know that?” I ask, wondering what the heck Sierra has told her husband.
“Because you’re all about the eighties music,” Jeremy says, a duh expression on his face.
“The Electric Boogie,” I say, correcting him, “is from the seventies. And no, it’s not.”
He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Next, you’re going to tell me Clarence Carter wasn’t singing about masturbation.”
Sierra chokes on her breakfast, and Lexi bursts into giggles.
The Wellington men appear to be confused, and Jeremy is quick to explain. “There’s this thing my wife likes to call hand-job gate.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, wondering how in the heck I’ve missed this story.
“Long story super short—just like the supposed hand job.” Jeremy gives Lexi a dirty look. “Before Sierra and I were together, we were at a party on the beach. Some drunk girl shoved her hand down my shorts, felt my junk, and then walked away.”
“Dude, that’s not a hand job,” Knox says.
“Thank you!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together.
“Can I ask why it matters?” Andi pipes up for the first time this morning.
“It doesn’t,” Sierra responds then looks at her husband. “So Mandy Simpson touched your penis before I did. Big deal. I’m the one you married.”
“But if you call it a hand job, that’s completely changing what happened. You were my first and only handjob giver.”
Sierra pats his hand. “You’re right, honey. It wasn’t a hand job.” She looks around the room. Then her gaze falls on us. “So, what’s the deal with you two?”
“Nothi
ng,” I blurt out just as Shane says, “We’re dating.”
He looks at me and I blush.
“We’re a thing. Umm.” I glance around the room at far too many expectant eyes then confirm what Shane said. And God, it feels good. “We’re dating.”
“Since when?” Charlie asks.
Once again, we’re in unison. “Since last night,” comes from me, and “Since last winter,” is Shane’s response.
It’s my turn to look at him.
He grins down at me then lowers his head for my ears only. “You say last night. I say last year. Truth is, sunshine, there’s been no one since you. You’ve had me since that night last December. You just didn’t know it yet.”
My blush deepens. He stares fixedly into my eyes, and I’m unnerved.
“I feel the same, Shane,” I finally admit.
He leans in and caresses my lips for the briefest of moments, completely aware of our audience. When he pulls back, the smile on his face has butterflies soaring through my belly. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, for our anniversary’s sake, we’ll stick with yesterday.”
“We can’t have the same anniversary as Branson and Ariana,” I inform him.
He cocks an eyebrow. “Why not? I’d like to think of it as a good omen.”
Before I can protest, I hear a squeal. We both look up and see his aunt Amelia looking from us to the cell phone in her hands. She’s furiously typing on her phone.
Shane groans. Then he takes my hand and starts to lead me from the kitchen.
“Shane Wellington, get your behind back here! Your mother wants me to take a picture.”
“Ma, leave them alone,” Knox tells her, to which she huffs.
Once we’re out of both view and earshot, Shane presses me up against a wall, covering my body with his. He places one hand on my face, using his thumb to tilt my chin up. My heart hammers in my chest as warm, blue eyes gaze into mine. I’m willing him to kiss me, and I’m amazed at how nerve-racking it feels to experience this “will he, won’t he” moment. It makes me crave him all the more, and I have a feeling that’s exactly what he’s going for.
