Authors: K. A. Tucker
Tags: #Fiction, #Coming of Age, #Contemporary Women, #Romance, #General
She shrugs. “You can if the bride makes you wear it.”
“Did Rita also pick the dress out? Because if she did . . .”
Her wide lips—painted red today—curl up into a slow smile. “You like it?”
“Yeah. In fact . . .” I reach down and rope my arm around her body to get a good grip on that ass I love so much as I pull her up against me.
“Benjamin!” Mama’s loose hand swats at my shoulder. “Not in front of the guests.” Heaving a sigh of exasperation, I catch an “honestly” under her breath.
“Yeah, Benjamin.
Honestly
.” Reese’s caramel eyes twinkle as she spins out of my grip and takes a step back to where the microphone is set up. Based on what she must have just felt, she knows I’m going to be hauling her up to the attic—claimed as our weekend headquarters—the second those pictures are done.
“I love the orange blossoms,” she says to Mama, smiling. “Nice touch.”
“We can do the same for you and Ben.”
I clear my throat roughly, shooting a stern look Mama’s way, but she shifts her focus to her grandson, cooing softly as Reese’s head falls back with that loud, throaty laughter.
“Only if you can cover the roll bars on that dune buggy, too, because I plan on coming down the aisle in style.” She winks at me and I can tell she’s teasing. Thank God. I’m in no rush. I know she’s in no rush either. We’ve got a really good thing going right now.
“How much longer is this going to take?” I mutter under my breath, tucking at my collar as Jack makes his way over with a glass of lemonade in hand.
“Reese, you look beautiful, even with that beat-up old thing slung over your shoulder.” He leans in to add a kiss on her cheek before turning to Mama. “Here you go, Wilma.”
“Thank you, Jack,” she answers with a coy smile.
And . . . wait, what is that?
Is Mama blushing?
I feel the deep furrow in my forehead when I look from them to Jake, who’s too busy making googly eyes at his bobble-head kid to see anything else, and back to them. It isn’t until I look at Reese, to see her gaze on her stepfather and Mama, her smile secretive, that I clue in.
“Aw, hell no!” My outburst pulls everyone’s attention to me, Mama’s face suddenly full of worry.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
“What’s wrong is that I have a strict policy against my girlfriend’s stepdad putting the moves on my mama!”
Mama’s face turns the color of eggplant to match her dress. If she didn’t have a baby in her hands, I think I’d be getting a proper beating right now, right on my brother’s wedding altar.
Fuck it
, I don’t care.
Jack and Mama?
Josh lets out a loud snort. Jake and Rob follow closely with chuckles. Even Reese can’t keep it down. And it finally clicks. I throw my arms up in exasperation. “Am
I
the only one who didn’t know about this?”
“How did you ever pass the bar, man?” Jake ribs.
Mama rolls her eyes and turns around to walk away, but not before I catch her shooting Jack a wink
. Shit
. I had no idea! Jack and Mason have made some day trips up here to help with harvesting. Then Mama invited them for Christmas. And Easter.
I thought they just liked the grove!
“Well, I guess you’ve been too busy blatantly ignoring
my
policy to notice,” Jack muses.
“I wouldn’t say ‘blatantly,’ ” I mutter.
Fuck. He has me there
.
Jack’s bushy gray eyebrows spike at that. “No? Maybe we should ask Mason about that.”
“I warned you—Jiminy talks,” Reese murmurs as she adjusts the microphone stand, her cheeks now taking on a hint of color as well.
“Uh . . . ” I’m not sure how to respond to that. We’ve been
really
good respecting Jack and keeping our relationship under wraps in the office, Reese working on Natasha’s cases while I take on cases of my own and use two other paralegals. In fact, I’m pretty sure no one has a clue. Then again, maybe everyone knows and we’re fooling ourselves.
And, except for one night a few weeks ago when we were working late and I couldn’t help making her reenact a fantasy I’ve had burning in my head for months now involving Reese and my desk, we’ve kept our hands to ourselves.
What the hell was Mason doing, anyway, coming into the office after midnight?
I’m betting he won’t be doing
that
again without calling ahead.
“So we’ll call it even, then?” Jack offers with a smirk as he walks toward his seat.
I dip my head as the sheepish grin takes over, just as Reese’s phone beeps with a text from Elsie. “It’s time!” she announces, tossing her phone haphazardly onto the ground a few feet away—she’s going to forget it there and then go ape shit looking for it later, guaranteed—before her fingers strum the first chords. When her mouth opens and the words to the song come tumbling out in that deep, raspy voice of hers, Jake has to elbow me in the ribs again to get me to turn around and face the aisle. I last all of five seconds before my attention’s back on Reese.
I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of hearing her sing. Or talk. Or laugh, or bust my balls, or tell me I’m a jackass. And I don’t see how I could ever get sick of waking up next to her in the morning, or pulling all her clothes off of her at night, because I haven’t yet. It’s the exact opposite, actually. I just want her more. She’s everything I never knew I wanted. She’s everything I never knew I could have.
She just . . . fits with me. So perfectly.
I’m vaguely aware of the processional coming down the aisle. I probably should be paying attention to the bride.
But I’m too busy staring at my Reese.
Table of Contents