“You did this?” she whispered.
I nodded and took her hands. “I had help.”
“But—” She stepped into my arms and leaned up to whisper in my ear, the fabric of her dress sliding against my suit. “Are you sure?”
Chuckling, I pulled back and tilted her chin up, the way I’d done her whole life when I was about to give her a very important speech where she had to listen carefully.
“You’re brother’s face is covered in ant bites, Reid nearly fell out of a tree, Max was going to drug Grandma, and we finally did have to slip something into her drink to sedate her. I wouldn’t go through all of those things, if I wasn’t sure I wanted to be attached to this family for the rest of my life—if I wasn’t sure I wanted to be your husband for an eternity.”
Her sharp intake of breath nearly brought me to my knees as the tears, once held in, poured down her face.
With a squeal, both of her arms flew around my neck. “You.”
“Me what?” I was too happy to care that everyone was watching us—gaping like idiots.
“It’s always been you.”
I set her on her feet. “Does that mean you can take down those posters in your old bedroom and replace them with pictures of me?”
“Silly.” She rolled her eyes. “Your name is written in invisible ink behind the posters. I had to do something just in case you came into my room and discovered my secret.”
“Hmph, secret.” Max coughed next to Colt.
As if realizing she had an audience, Milo quickly tucked her arm within mine and cleared her throat. “We’re ready.”
“Dearly beloved—”
“I have a few words.” Grandma stood.
Jason quickly tugged her down and gave me a thumbs-up. Funny, because his thumb was the only working body part currently in his possession.
“Who’s that?” Milo whispered.
“Your grandma.”
“No, the guy next to her—holy hell!”
The pastor cleared his throat.
“Is that Jason?”
“Dearly beloved!” the pastor said, a bit louder this time.
“Should he go to the hospital?” Milo whispered.
“After.” I grinned and kissed her hand. “We’ll take him after.”
“If he lives that long,” Max said helpfully.
I shot him daggers. He merely shrugged and motioned to the pastor. “Do go on, I believe you were saying, ‘Dearly beloved.’ ”
The pastor smiled tightly. “Dearly—”
“You sick son of a bitch!” a woman wailed from behind us.
“Oh, dear Lord,” I snapped.
The pastor blanched.
I turned slowly as Jayne made her way up the aisle.
“Jason, you—”
She paused and looked at me, then Milo, then around the audience. Her confused eyes suddenly turning embarrassed as she realized she wasn’t interrupting her ex-fiancé’s wedding, but mine.
“Jayne!” Max shouted. “There you are. We’ve been so worried!”
Uh-oh.
“You have?” she asked in a doubtful voice.
“Yes!” Why was Max yelling? “When you didn’t come back after your walk we thought you were done for! But here you are!” He put his hand over his heart. “I was afraid I’d scared you with my forthrightness . . .”
“Does he even know what that word means?” Milo whispered.
“. . . in asking for your hand in matrimony, dear, lovely woman of my heart!”
I snorted. “It’s like a bad play.”
“My hand?”
Max walked slowly down the aisle. “Your lovely, lovely, small, feminine hands. The same hands that caressed me last evening when I was distraught.”
“Is it me or did he suddenly develop a British accent?” Milo whispered.
“Sounds Australian.”
“No,” Milo hissed. “He sounds drunk.”
“You love my hands?” Jayne beamed.
“Both of them.” Max nodded. “All ten fingers. All ten toes.”
Milo nudged me. “Where did the toes come from?”
Max grabbed Jayne and sighed as he jerked her head toward his chest and started patting it. “Even your elbows.”
Jayne sniffled. “I’ve always been insecure about those.”
“Shh!” Max pressed his finger to her lips and shouted, “Those elbows made me feel for the first time! They made me love!” Raising his voice even louder, he addressed the crowd. “I’d marry her for those damn elbows! I’d marry her and I’d give her children! And I’d—”
“Max!” I hissed.
“Right.” He turned to Jayne. “Shall we sit while they perform the ceremony?”
She gave a watery nod and put her head on Max’s shoulder as they sat toward the back. I didn’t miss, however, the little bus motion Max made with his hands before he made a cutting motion across his neck and then stuck his tongue out as if he’d died.
Yeah, he’d taken another one for the team.
“Dearly beloved!” The pastor was nearly screaming now. He paused, sighed, then continued, “We are gathered here . . .”
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
MILO
The pastor’s lips were moving, sounds were coming out of his mouth, but my focus was completely on Colton.
This couldn’t be real, right?
But I felt his hands in mine, I could practically taste him we were standing so close, and every once in a while he’d release my hands to touch my face.
“Milo?” the pastor asked.
Breathless, I shook my head and asked, “Yes?”
“Do you take this man?”
Colton squeezed my hands tighter.
My gaze narrowed in on his face as his smile fell, his eyes starting to widen with a bit of fear. Ha! Served him right. I went through hell. HELL, I tell you!
“Well,” I cleared my throat.
Colton leaned forward and whispered into my ear, “Skinny-dipping, wine, moonlight, swordplay.”
Those four words sealed my fate.
“Yes,” I all but shouted.
The pastor nodded. “And Colton, do you—”
“Yes,” he said loudly, then leaned down. “I’ll take her in the pool, against the wall, in bed, outside . . .” His lips grazed my ear as he pulled back. “It will be my absolute pleasure.”
Was it hot outside?
I looked away from Colton—had to look away.
My eyes naturally fell to the front row, and my deformed brother who was at that precise moment waving a hand in the air and swatting away invisible flies. Poor kid, he was going to need a heck of a lot of meds to get through that allergic reaction. Was a person’s nose supposed to swell that much? Was it even safe?
“I now pronounce you”—the pastor muttered “finally” under his breath—“husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!”
I grinned.
I couldn’t help it.
Great, so our kiss in front of everyone was going to be one of those awkward toothy kisses where no lips were involved—only clanging.
Except when Colton’s hand came around my head, when he pulled me close, I stopped smiling.
Not because I wasn’t happy.
But because my only focus was on his lips, and then at the tender way he looked at me—the way I’d wanted him to look at me my entire life.
Our mouths met.
They fused.
I didn’t want to let go.
But Max started coughing. I knew it was Max because he was the only one brave enough to ruin the moment. Damn him.
Note to self: kill Max later.
Colton ran his tongue along the seam of my lips. Dear Lord it was going to be a fun night.
“Cough, whore, cough,” Max sputtered.
We pulled back. I glared at him from the front of the altar.
He mouthed one word. “Bus.”
And yeah, all was forgiven. I owed him—big time.
Colton lifted me into
the air just as the music came on.
And that’s when I burst into tears—again.
“Star Wars?” I blurted through my watery mess. “You used Star Wars–themed music?”
Colton smirked. “Just wait until you see what I have under this suit.”
“Uh.” I laughed nervously. “That’s, uh . . .”
“Hell.” Colton bolted down the aisle like there was a fire lit behind him. “If that’s the way you react to nakedness we have a long road ahead of us.”
“As long as the road is straight.” I felt my cheeks heat. “Not narrow or, er, sideways.”
“Aw, you made a sex joke.” Colt kissed my forehead, my very hot-feeling forehead. “I’m so proud.”
“I’m growing up!” I beamed.
“Yeah.” His eyes greedily scanned the front of my dress. “You have. Now, let’s get everyone out of here so we can celebrate, the right way.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “In the bedroom?”
“Hell, no.” He set me on my feet and kissed my cheek. “In the pool.”
“The pool?” I repeated.
“Naked.” He winked.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
COLTON
“Dude, I know you want cake, but you have to go to the hospital.” I tried to steer Jason toward the door, but he’d somehow developed superhuman strength and was in the process of bracing himself against the frame as I attempted to push him through. Don’t ask me how he was doing it one-armed. It was a medical marvel. Actually, I take that back, he was a medical marvel. I mean, how could he even see?
“No!” Jason shouted. “I’ve gone through hell and all I want is a piece of damn cake! Then you can take me to the hospital where they’ll poke and prod me and—”
“Dude.” Max walked up with a large piece of cake hanging out of his mouth. “You aren’t E.T., they aren’t going to poke and prod you like you’re some new species.”
“Aghhhh!” Jason surged away from me and charged toward the cake.
“Hmm.” Max put another piece in his mouth. “On second thought, he should be dead, so maybe they will poke.”
“Don’t say Jason and poke in the same sentence.”
“Or prod.” Max nodded. “Lots of prodding, and the doctor saying things like ‘Okay, bend over and cough.’ ”
“Uh.” I scratched my head. “Highly doubt his examination’s going to be that extensive.”
“Ants”—Max nodded—“are like sand. They get everywhere.”
“And that mental picture I could have totally done without, thanks.” I slapped him on the back.
He demolished the rest of his cake and handed me a plate. Just as I was taking a big bite he said, “So, you ready for sex?”
I choked.
Frosting went everywhere.
I also earned a few stares from family members and a totally inappropriate wink from Milo’s grandmother.
“It’s cool,” Max continued. “I mean, I’d be nervous too.”
“I’m not nervous.” My damn fork shook as I dove into the cake and took another bite—to keep myself from passing out.
“Sure you are.” Max shrugged. “I mean, why wouldn’t you be? You’re her first, what if you totally blow it? And I don’t mean that in the literal sense.”
I choked again.
“Think of it this way—”
“I’d rather not think of this at all.”
“That’s not a good sign, you have to have a game plan!” Max nudged me and then motioned for me to follow him over to the kitchen.
He grabbed a pen and paper and leaned over.
“Now.” He drew two stick figures.
“Uh.” I laughed nervously and looked around. “If you’re going to show me how babies are made, just don’t. Please, don’t. I’m not a virgin.”
“Aha!” Max lifted the pen into the air. “But she is, therefore, diagram. Observe.” He started scribbling X’s and then O’s and then arrows pointing to different parts. To be honest it looked a hell of a lot like a football play.
“So, you start here.” He circled her head.
“I decapitate her? Good plan, Max. Solid.”
“Um, no.” Max rolled his eyes like I was the one losing my sanity. “You kiss her, you have to start slow as to not scare her off, then you slowly, and I do mean slowly, move south.” He drew an arrow down.
“Max—”
“Once you reach this region.” He circled one stick figure’s, well, um, stick body. “You need to be sure not to pressure her, I think the—”
“Whatcha guys doing?” Milo asked from behind me.
Freaked out, I did the only thing I could think of doing. I threw my cake into Max’s face and laughed. “You lose!”
“What game were you playing?” Milo asked, laughing.
“Yes,” Max said, as bits of red velvet crumbled off his face, leaving a smear of bright white icing clinging to his cheek. “I’m dying to know.”
“Tic-tac-toe. I won.”
“So you threw cake in his face?” Milo started wiping it off of Max while he glared.
“Yeah, well.” I sniffled. “He kept saying I didn’t know the rules to the game, and I do. Like the back of my freaking hand. I know exactly where those X’s go, where the O’s need to be. Hell, call me Mr. Tic. Tac. Toe.”
“Lies,” Max spit. “Your O’s are going to be all over the place! And all because you didn’t pay attention to the X’s!”
“Damn you and your X’s!” I thrust my finger into his face. “I’ll prove it once and for all!”
“Oh, yeah, HOW?” Max shouted.
“Game! Right here! Right now!”
It was then that I realized exactly what I’d said.
Max blushed. “Dude, I don’t play . . . that way.”
Milo, probably wanting to help, said, “Guys, it’s okay. I mean, if you need a judge, I can sit here and watch.”
“No!” we shouted in unison.
Max blushed. “It’s not for . . . viewing pleasure.”
“Because that would be . . .” I looked heavenward. “Against the, uh . . . wrong.”
Milo looked between us. “You guys take games way too seriously.”
Max gave Milo a smug grin. “Only the best ones do, my love.”
“Hands off,” I growled, pushing him out of the way. “Come on, Milo, it’s time to play.”
“Oooh!” She jumped up and down. “Are we going to arm-wrestle or play a board game or something?”
“Sure.” I snickered. “Or something. See ya later, Max.”
“At least remember the diagram!” he yelled.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
MILO
I fought to keep up with Colton’s ridiculous pace. “Um, hey, psychopath, where are we going? There are guests who—”
His lips crushed against mine. Guests, what guests? Tongue . . . was that his? I moaned as he pulled me into his arms, his mouth hot and urgent.
“Screw the guests, you’re coming with me.”
Had he not been holding me up I would have swayed on my feet. “And we’re going where, exactly? To hide in Max’s car?”
He paused as if the idea had merit, then shook his head. “Stupid diagram.”
“For tic-tac-toe?” I gripped his hand. “Colt, if you suck that bad I can help you.”
He groaned.
“No, really!”
More groaning and cursing.
“I totally went on Google last time I played and found out all the tricks!”
“Please don’t say tricks.” He bit down hard on his lip and nearly made me pass out from the heat of his lustful glare. “Let’s go.”
And we were back to running through the neighbors’ backyards.
Until we got to his house.
“Colt.” The pool cover was off. Memories of that night plagued me, made me want to turn and run in the other direction. Jason’s sister, Jason’s sister. “What are we doing?” Was he going to reject me again? Was he regretting the fact that we
went through that entire ceremony in front of everyone? Holy crap! I was going to have been married for less than three hours!
I needed to sit.
“Milo.” Colton started pulling at his tie, then his jacket. Clothes fluttered to the ground in a flurry. “We’re going swimming.”
“Now?” I hissed. “Colt, we have like a hundred people back at the house, Jason may die if he closes his eye, Reid asked how tall our roof was just in case he needed to jump, and Max told my mom he used to be a gigolo. I think we have enough stress in our lives without—”
Oh, dear Lord.
His boxers fell all the way to the ground.
All the way.
To.
The.
Ground.
God bless the USA.
Would standing up and doing the Pledge of Allegiance throw the mood off? Because I was suddenly so very thankful for that New York–born man.
And he was all man.
I kid you not, if his name were in the dictionary, right next to it would be “Hot body.”
That’s it.
No more words. Words in a situation like this totally killed the moment. For example, I could wax poetic about the way the moonlight seemed to shimmer across his very bare, tan chest. Shoot, I could even say his abs were so ripped I was afraid if he took a deep breath he was going to pull one of them. Then again, if he pulled a muscle I was the only person close enough to be of aid.
We’d play nurse and soldier.
I’d ask him to tell me where it hurt.
He’d point to ab number two, or maybe three. I do like the lower abdominals . . . Then I’d gently caress the rippled skin and whisper words of encouragement like “Don’t worry, you’ll make it. I know CPR.”
Because um . . . you could never be too careful when a person . . . er, strained his body, and I learned in first aid that you should always, always be sure the person was breathing.
By sticking your tongue down their throat.
Swear it was totally in that textbook.
Probably because I wrote it there, but—
“Milo.” Colton’s smooth voice interrupted the mental image I’d created of our nurse/soldier story. No idea where the whole soldier thing came from. Probably because I was ready to say the Pledge of Allegiance. Something was seriously wrong with me.