by Kait Nolan
“Good to see you again, Xander. Congrats on your own nuptials.”
He wrapped her in a quick hug. “Thanks. You grew up.”
“Yeah, that happens. I’m all set to become a productive member of society and everything.”
“So I hear. Never pegged you for law school as a kid.”
Laurel’s face felt stiff as she forced it into a smile. “It takes all kinds.”
Logan continued with the introductions. “And this is Pru’s husband, Flynn.”
Flynn nodded with an expression every bit as impish as his daughter’s. “A pleasure, to be sure.” The greeting fell off his tongue with an unmistakable Irish brogue.
“This here is Master of Carbs, Athena’s pal, Moses Lindsey. Moses is the genius behind our cake.”
“I’m pretty sure that makes you the most popular guy at the wedding,” Laurel told him.
His teeth flashed white against the burnished bronze of his face. “I aim to please.”
“Please tell me there’s chocolate.” She folded her hands in supplication.
Moses jerked his head in Ari’s direction. “Tiny over there already put in her order. There will be chocolate,” he confirmed.
Laurel mimed a small fist pump. “You are a god among men.” Chocolate cake would go a long way toward making up for the stress she’d endured this semester.
“And last but certainly not least, your escort, Sebastian Donnelly.”
Laurel turned to the last groomsman and felt the faux, flirty smile slide right off her face. She froze there, hand partly outstretched as her gaze locked with a pair of deep, brown eyes. Her breath backed up in her lungs, and her heart slowed to a crawl.
His thick, dark hair was nearly black and just a little mussed, as if he’d combed it with his fingers straight from the shower. Broad shoulders tapered to a narrow waist and long, long legs. His button-down shirt clung to his arms in a way that told her he had plenty of muscle under the Oxford cloth, and she’d bet money there was a solid six-pack under there, too.
He stepped forward, taking her hand in his. “Hi.”
As his long, callused fingers closed around hers, she could breathe again. A stillness seemed to flow out of him and into her, and all the running and the stressing and the anxiety that was her constant companion went quiet. Her breath came out on something very close to a sigh, the tension in her shoulders leeching out. In its absence, the pulse that had turned sluggish began to gallop. All the prospective polite banter evaporated from her brain, leaving her with only one thought: Holy shit, you’re gorgeous.
She couldn’t very well say that, though.
Words. I need words. I’m supposed to be good at those. Casting around for something to say, she blurted, “What happened to Nick?” Goofy, bespectacled Nick, who used to give her noogies and didn’t leave her a tongue-tied mess of attraction.
“His dad had a heart attack, so Sebastian is standing in,” Logan explained.
“Is his dad okay?” The question came automatically. Thank God, she sounded normal at least.
“Yeah, he came through surgery and woke up a few hours ago.”
“Good,” she murmured.
Sebastian still had her hand, still hadn’t looked away. Why hadn’t he moved? Why hadn’t she? It seemed as if heat built between their palms, and Laurel wanted to bask in it.
She wasn’t broken. After the last couple of years, she’d begun to think that Devon had been right. The last guy she’d tried dating, back in her first year of law school, he’d accused her of being a robot. She was driven and focused. In the grand scheme of trying to maintain her position at the top of her class through that brutal, first year of academic hazing, dating and sex hadn’t been a priority. She hadn’t been interested in anyone since. But standing here, palm-to-palm, with Sebastian Donnelly, she felt that interest roar to life like a furnace re-stoked. Heat rolled over her, and she could only pray she wasn’t blushing.
One corner of his mouth quirked, as if he knew her brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Christ, how was it legal for a man to have lips that sensual? The contrast to the neat, close-cropped beard did something to her long-dormant lady parts, and she couldn’t help wondering what that beard would feel like on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
“—done with introductions, how about we do one last run through, so Laurel is up to speed, then we’ll break for the rehearsal dinner. Okay?”
Jerking her attention to Cayla, Laurel pulled her hand free, resisting the urge to tuck it under her arm to savor the tingles from where he’d touched it. Her cheeks bloomed with warmth.
Good God, when was the last time she’d felt an attraction like this?
Pretty sure that would be never, she thought as she followed the other bridesmaids to the vestibule.
With half an ear, Laurel listened to the wedding planner reel off instructions. The rest of her was still back in the sanctuary, reliving the touch of Sebastian’s hand. It wasn’t the heat that drew her—though that had rocked her back plenty—it was the stillness. The same kind of calmness her brother had always exuded but…more, somehow. Rare and precious, that feeling called her more effectively than any siren. Taking her place in the line-up to walk down the aisle, she wondered what she had to do to get another hit.
Chapter 2
The food was amazing. Sebastian figured that was par for the course when the bride was a chef and she’d brought in another of her chef buddies to cater the rehearsal dinner. It sure as hell beat whatever he usually threw together and ate standing up in the kitchen of his tiny cabin. In the Army, it had been drilled into him that food was fuel. But whatever magic combination of beef and vegetables this was—sourced from Logan’s farm, Maxwell Organics, no doubt—was pure pleasure. Sebastian wondered if there was more in the kitchen.
Xander shoved back from the table. “Before we get on to dessert, we’d like to present Athena and Logan with a wedding gift from the whole family.”
From the chair beside Sebastian, Ari muttered, “Oh, this is gonna be good.”
She practically bounced in her seat, wicked humor dancing in those big brown eyes. At the arch of his brow, she pressed a finger to her lips.
When Xander came back a moment later with a large, flat parcel, wrapped in brown paper, Logan leaned back in his chair at the head of the table. “What are you up to, Kincaid?”
Expression deceptively bland, Xander propped the package, which measured maybe two feet by three feet, on one narrow edge. “Why don’t you two come find out?”
Exchanging a look, the bride and groom abandoned their mostly empty plates to investigate.
Logan accepted the thing, running his hands over the edges. “Feels like a picture frame.”
“Your powers of deduction have not failed you,” Kennedy announced. “A house isn’t a home without art, and we all collectively felt like this would make a fitting addition to your living room.”
Athena shot Maggie and Pru a questioning glance. “You two were involved in this?”
“We were,” Maggie answered.
“Then I guess we can trust it was in good taste.” Athena reached out and unceremoniously ripped the brown paper.
From his position across the dining room, Sebastian couldn’t see what the picture was, but Athena’s face had frozen in shock. Logan tore the paper the rest of the way, revealing a fancy, heavy wood frame. He blinked a few times, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Porter asked. “Show everybody.”
Logan flipped the picture around. The image inside the professional frame was one of him and Athena standing in front of the house they shared at the farm. Logan was holding a pitchfork, and Athena stood to his left, wearing a chef’s coat, with her hair bundled into a bun and a scowl on her face. Was that…flour dusted over her nose and hair? Something had grayed out the usually brown sweep of it. The photo had obviously been Photoshopped as a magnificent gag gift, poking fun at the farmer and the chef.
/> “I give you Eden’s Ridge Gothic,” Xander announced.
Logan’s control cracked and he started to laugh. So did everyone else. Everyone except for his parents. Lawrence Maxwell’s brows drew down in forbidding disapproval, and his wife looked utterly appalled.
Sebastian decided Logan was either an alien or adopted. Either way, he wasn’t anything like his parents. His mom was a prim, proper society wife. Sebastian knew the type. He’d seen them often enough where he’d grown up in Kentucky, usually on the arm of some rich guy, who paid for people like his mother to take care of their Derby contenders. Her husband was obviously accustomed to calling the shots. From everything Sebastian had observed this afternoon, the other man didn’t appreciate the small, family wedding Athena and Logan had chosen or the non-country club setting for the rehearsal dinner and reception. Everything but the ceremony itself was being held at Athena’s family’s place, The Misfit Inn. Sebastian had a feeling that the only thing he’d find worse would be if festivities were being held out at the farm itself. It was clear they didn’t understand their son or approve of his life choices. It was equally clear that the down-to-earth and relaxed Logan didn’t give a shit. He was happy with his life and his choice of wife.
That wife-to-be looked less than amused. She shot daggers at Moses. “You said you destroyed that picture.”
The big man crossed his arms, utterly unrepentant. “You really think I was gonna destroy evidence of what happened that time you tried to bake—”
“Stop!” She pointed in warning, but her own lips trembled with suppressed laughter. “What happens in the kitchen, stays in the kitchen.”
“Yes, Chef,” Moses rumbled, a chuckle underscoring the words.
“We figured you could hang it in a place of honor over the mantle,” Flynn said.
Well, that just made the older Maxwells look like they smelled something nasty. If the bride and groom noticed, they didn’t let on.
“Who on earth did you find to put all of this together?” Logan asked.
“I know a guy,” Maggie admitted.
As the ribbing continued, Sebastian’s gaze slid over to Laurel. She was a lot more buttoned up than her brother, though not stodgy with it like their parents. She had the look of a woman who needed to cut loose. Under other circumstances, Sebastian might have jumped at the chance to help her out with that. She’d put on a good front at the rehearsal, making all the right social remarks when she’d arrived. But she’d been strung tight as a bowstring, all but vibrating with tension. And just like one of his horses, she’d quieted at his touch. That fascinated him for reasons he didn’t quite understand. It was a fascination he couldn’t afford to indulge, despite the zing between them. She was Logan’s sister. As a friend and also his boss, that was double the reason for Sebastian to keep his hands to himself. He needed all the reasons he could get because Laurel Maxwell was a beautiful creature with wounded eyes, and those were his kryptonite.
Her lips curved in a quiet smile as she watched her brother and Athena continue to joke around with their friends and family. There was a wealth of affection in her expression that told him she had none of her parents’ reservations about Logan’s choices. Sebastian wondered if she had just a little bit of envy for the ease of the whole Reynolds clan, compared to her own family. It couldn’t have been easy coming up in a household with those parents and their undoubtedly high expectations.
Over the next few minutes, the table got cleared and dessert brought out. At the first bite, Sebastian forgot about seconds on dinner. Heaven was this creamy, chocolaty confection on a plate. Damn. Hanging out with chefs was going to ruin him for regular food.
“I would like to propose a toast.” Lawrence lifted his glass.
All conversation died and attention turned in his direction. Like everybody else, Sebastian picked up his glass. He hoped the guy wasn’t long-winded in toasts. He really wanted to get back to his dessert.
“To my baby girl.”
What the hell?
Sebastian glanced at Laurel, who’d lost her small sign of happiness, her lips bowing into a frown.
“She’s a hard worker and an exceptional student. She’ll be graduating in the top one percent of her class at Vanderbilt Law School.”
Laurel’s fingers flexed on the stem of her glass, and two bright flags of color bloomed across her cheeks. She knew as well as everyone else that Logan’s rehearsal dinner was not the time or place.
“Dad, what are you doing?” she murmured.
He’s dissing your brother’s choice to become a farmer, that’s what. Sebastian gritted his teeth, knowing Logan wouldn’t want a scene, but wishing he could do something to shut all this down.
“Today, all her hard work has finally paid off. She got a job with Carson, Danvers, Herbert, and Pike in New York, and I know she’s going to go on to do great things.”
Her back went ramrod straight, the last vestiges of relaxation evaporating as surprise, then resignation flickered over her face. “I haven’t accepted the position yet. And this isn’t—”
“Of course you’ll accept. Roger is very excited to have you join the firm.”
Around the room, the wedding party fidgeted in their seats.
Laurel had moved beyond embarrassed. The flush in her cheeks faded as her father continued to talk. The skin seemed to tighten over her cheekbones, emphasizing the angles of her face. A faint sheen of sweat popped on her brow. Sebastian kept a close eye on her, feeling his own pulse kick higher as he noted her respiration going fast and shallow.
Logan jumped into the breach, lifting his glass. “To my brilliant baby sister, who isn’t a baby anymore. We’re all exceptionally proud of you and wish you success in whatever you do.”
As the chorus of awkward cheers faded, Laurel pushed back from the table. “Excuse me.”
Sebastian counted down the seconds, while someone made a conversational volley about the dessert to try to get things back on track. At the one minute mark, he slipped out of his seat without a word and went in search of Laurel.
Laurel stumbled outside, into the cold night air. Everything was too close, too hot inside the inn, and she just needed some space to get her head on straight.
Dad knew about the job. Which meant that Pike had probably told him. Of course, to both of them, her acceptance was a foregone conclusion. She’d practically signed her life away when she’d applied for the job in the first place. She just hadn’t realized it until the ink was already dry.
A sharp stab of pain speared through her chest. Laurel tried to hiss in a breath but couldn’t seem to manage it. A thousand-pound weight had dropped onto her ribcage, keeping it from properly rising and falling. One hand went to her sternum to press and rub, as if that would somehow alleviate the ache. But it didn’t. Not like it usually did. She’d had a milder version of this before, and it always went away, but this…this was so much worse. Her vision was starting to go spotty. Jesus, was she going to further ruin her brother’s wedding by having some kind of a cardiac event because she couldn’t be bothered to make time for a physical in the middle of the semester?
Large, warm hands closed around her upper arms from behind. Sebastian. Laurel didn’t question that she recognized his touch without him saying a word. He steered her toward one of the chairs on the wraparound porch and nudged her into it.
“Sit before you fall. You need to breathe.”
Her legs folded like a newborn foal’s. “Having some trouble with that at the moment,” she wheezed.
He knelt in front of her, those big hands circling her wrists, the tips of his fingers resting against her pulse points. His touch was electric, even in the midst of…whatever crisis this was.
“Look at me.” His voice was firm and gentle.
Laurel lifted her gaze to his, appreciating for a moment that she could look her fill without feeling embarrassed. She’d had enough embarrassment tonight.
The porch light cast faint shadows on his face, sharpening the lines
of his cheeks above the close-cropped beard. Her fingers itched to stroke it, to find out whether the hair would be soft or rough. His eyes were dark, focused entirely on her. What would it be like to have that kind of focus on her when she wasn’t in the middle of a medical emergency?
“Match your breath to mine. In and out.” He sucked in a slow breath, his broad shoulders rising.
She followed suit, feeling the unbearable pressure on her chest ease a fraction. They let out their synchronized breaths slowly, then did it all over again. With each inhale, she seemed to find more oxygen. With each exhale, she noticed more details about him. The breadth of his shoulders. The outline of his defined chest, visible in the way his shirt stretched across it. The coiled power in the body crouched at her feet. Something about that leashed capability did something to her, making her belly swoop and swoon. Or maybe that was his thumbs brushing the insides of her wrists, shooting little trails of lightning up her arms. That sensation was much more pleasant to think about than the pain in her chest, so she let her focus narrow in on the tingles and imagine what it might be like if he touched her somewhere beyond her wrists.
“You get panic attacks a lot?”
Laurel blinked, pulled out of the hazy, half fantasy. “Panic attacks? I don’t get panic attacks.”
“Pain in your chest, trouble breathing, racing pulse, clammy skin, possibly nausea, dizziness. How’m I doing?”
Clammy skin? Suddenly embarrassed, Laurel wondered if she should yank her hands away. Instead, she held herself still and answered the question. “Spot on…but…I don’t feel panicked. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Anxiety presents itself in all kinds of ways.”
She scowled a little. “You’ve been hanging around my brother too much.” Logan, her brilliant big brother, who’d bucked family expectation to get his graduate degree in clinical psychology, before bailing on that, too, to become an organic farmer.
“As he is fond of saying, you can take the therapist out of the master’s program…” Sebastian said it with the kind of ease that told her he’d been a target of Logan’s occasional armchair psychologist routine. Somehow that made this easier.
