Spectacular Rascal: A Sexy Flirty Dirty Standalone Romance (28 page)

“Damn straight,” she says flatly, tipping her head to one side, her gaze fixed on my mouth. “Do you hear sirens?”

I listen, catching the high-pitched whine coming from the top of the hill. “I do. Looks like you only have a few minutes left to decide if you want to ride with me in the back of the ambulance.”

Her hand comes to my face, her fingers scratching gently at my beard. “Of course I’m coming with you in the ambulance. I love you,” she says, sending a wave of relief coursing through my chest.

“I love you, too,” I say, my voice rough. “So much.”

“I wasn’t finished,” she says with a smile. “I love you, but I also have to see if you cry when they dig the bullet out of your arm. If you cry, I’m going to make fun of you for years. I had a bullet pulled from my ass when I was twelve and didn’t shed a single tear. My dad was so proud he bought me a stuffed boa constrictor.”

I shake my head gently as flashlights sweep through the woods near the trailhead. “So is this when you finally tell me what went down in Kathmandu?”

She huffs, her laughter puffing against my chin. “Not a chance in hell. I’ve given away enough of my secrets for free, handsome. You’re going to have to work for the rest of them.”

“Gladly.” We’re so close now that my lips brush hers as I speak. “As long as you’ll remind me that you love me every once in a while. I like hearing those particular words from your particular lips.”

“I love you,” she whispers. “Now kiss me, please.”

“Any time, beautiful.” My fingers curl around the back of her neck. “Kissing you is my very favorite thing. Ever.”

“You’re sweet, Mr. Knight,” she says, a catch in her voice. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“Thanks for coming to mine,” I say, meaning every word.

And then I press my lips to hers, saying the rest of the things that need to be said with a kiss.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Ten months later

From the group text archives of Aidan Knight,

Sebastian “Bash” Prince, Penny Pickett, and Shane Willoughby

Penny: I LOVE THESE IDEAS! I LOVE THEM SO HARD I HAVE TO USE ALL THE CAPS! ALL OF THEM!! THEY’RE ALL MINE!!

OMG, IT’S GOING TO BE SO AMAZING!!

Aidan: Are you sure?

You and Bash aren’t mad at us for stealing your thunder? You were engaged first. So if you want us to wait, we will. It’s not a big deal. Nothing is set in stone yet.

Penny: OMG, DON’T BE CRAZY. YOU HAVE TO GET MARRIED THIS WEEKEND! IF YOU DON’T I’M GOING TO CRY BECAUSE YOU GOT ME ALL EXCITED ABOUT A CHIHUAHUA FLOWER GIRL AND THEN STOLE IT AWAY.

CHIHUAHUA. FLOWER. GIRL!

Seriously, though, all caps aside, Bash and I don’t care at all, do we Bash?

Bash: Not even a little bit. And our wedding is still five months away. You’re nowhere close to stepping on our toes. I also love your ideas, but what do we do if the dog poops in the courthouse?

If I pull strings with Judge Lawrence and then get poop on his carpet he’ll tell my mother, and then my mother will rip me a new asshole. I’m sure she’s going to dump the judge sooner or later, the way she dumps all her man toys, but for now she’s pretty into him.

Shane: I’m on it! I’ll bring a cloth runner to lay down, something that will be pretty for Cat to walk down and protect the judge’s carpet at the same time. That way, if Fang has an anxiety attack and loses control, we can just wrap it up and take it with us.

But I don’t think it will be a problem. She’s been housebroken for a while and she’s not a nervous dog. She does well in large groups.

I’m more worried about the reception. Are you sure we can fit a hundred people in the new studio?

Aidan: Totally. It’s still just empty space. The floors are done and the window was painted yesterday, but I’m not bringing in the furniture until next week. The rest of the space can be mingle room and dance floor. A friend from the gym is going to D.J.

We can just set up a couple of folding tables for food, Bash will play bartender in one corner, and we’ll be good to go.

Penny: He’s going to bartend the shit out your reception, buddy.

He’s been practicing all week. By Saturday, he’ll either be an expert, or signed up for a twelve-step program.

Bash: I will not! I haven’t even given myself a hangover yet.

And how am I supposed to know if my drinks are delicious if I don’t TASTE THEM, Pickett? You’re certainly no help, you lightweight.

Penny: Is it still “tasting” if you taste them all the way to the last drop?

Bash: You’re just jealous that I’m so dedicated to my new art. You’re afraid I’m going to become a famous mixologist, and you’ll have to share me with my hordes of adoring fans.

Penny: Hush. You’re ridiculous.

Bash: I am not.

Penny: Please, save it for when we’re at home. Aidan is trying to decide serious stuff here, and this is a group text. Keep it classy.

Bash: I am keeping it classy! I haven’t used a single farting emoticon.

Shane: Why not? That sounds like fun. I love emoticons!

Aidan: Don’t we all? But I’m trying to plan a wedding in less than a week.

Bash: *farting flying squirrel* That’s a new one my future sisters-in-law sent me last week. I love how it looks like he’s being propelled by fart power.

Aidan: Focus, people. We’ve covered the ceremony and drinks, now

Bash: *farting Buddha* That might be sacrilegious, but I don’t care. The smile on his face as he lets loose a stench cloud is too perfect.

Shane: LOL! Omg, I love it.

He’s clearly found enlightenment. I wonder what it smells like…

Bash: Penny, invite Shane over to poker night. I like her. We need more girls who appreciate my sense of humor.

Penny: Done. Now let’s get back on task.

Aidan: Speaking of group gatherings, my reception is still not fully planned. What about decorations? Cat offered to—

Bash: One more! *farting celery emoticon*

I’m not sure why someone took the time to code a farting celery, but that’s part of what makes it so great. It’s really—

Penny: BASH! BEHAVE!

Aidan: DOES THIS REALLY HAVE TO BE LIKE HERDING CATS?!

Seriously, I like you people, but I don’t want this to be half-assed at the last minute. This is the only time I’m getting married, and I would like it to be nice for the woman who has so generously consented to marry my ass.

I don’t want her to start having second thoughts at the reception, for Christ’s sake.

Bash: I’m sorry, friend. Sometimes I forget how squishy your underbelly is these days. And then you say something like that and I remember.

We will not fuck this up. No way, no how.

The wedding and the reception will be amazing. Leave all the food and drink stuff to Penny and me. She was raised by a movie star and is great at this kind of shit, and I am good at doing what she tells me to do. It will be fabulous.

Shane: And I’ll handle decorations. One of the benefits of running a charitable trust that throws lots of parties: I have access to TONS of decoration options.

And after a decade of friendship I know what Cat likes. I’ve got this scattered, smothered, and covered.

Aidan: Thank you. Good. Great.

*deep breath*

I’m seriously breathing easier.

You don’t know what a load off this is. I was so happy that she said yes that I didn’t think about how crazy it would be to plan a wedding in a week.

Shane: You’re so welcome, Fuzzy. I’m thrilled for you both!

Penny: Me too! IT’S GOING TO BE AMAZING!

Bash: Me three. I’m seriously happy for you, brother. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

Aidan: Thanks, people. I couldn’t do this without you.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

I should have done this without my friends.

Without my family.

Without anyone to observe just in case Cat comes to her senses at the last minute and decides to make a run for it. We’ve been running with our new Dasher club almost every weekend, so I know for a fact that she can make some serious tracks. For all I know, she could be halfway to the Bronx by now.

God, what’s taking so long?

Bash and I have been in position at the front of the courtroom for a good ten minutes, and from the look on the judge’s face, he’s starting to regret staying late to sneak in a private ceremony.

“Relax,” Bash whispers out of the side of his mouth. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Where is she?” I mutter, sweat breaking out at the small of my back beneath my tux.

“Probably just having technical difficulties,” he says. “Maybe her dress wouldn’t zip or she was allergic to the flowers and they made her mascara run.”

I curse softly.

Bash leans close enough to bump my shoulder with his. “Or the dog. It’s probably the dog. Fang is probably rolling around on the floor in protest of that flower puppy dress. You know she’s too badass for lace.”

I swallow hard, trying to come up with an appropriately smartass reply to keep my mind off of my senseless freak out. Cat and I are good, better than good, and deep down I know she would never leave me standing at the judge’s desk. But at that moment, the doors at the back of the room open. Seconds later, Fang, dressed in her flower puppy duds, runs down the aisle to jump into Shane’s lap with a victorious bark, just like we practiced. The assembled friends and family murmur with laughter, and the judge grunts in approval, but I’m not paying attention to any of them anymore.

My eyes are all for the bombshell at the back of the room.

There she is. Red. My Red, looking stunning in her off-the-shoulder dress, with flowers in her hair and a smile that assures me she’s every bit as ready to get married as I am. My heart starts thumping so hard it feels like it’s going to rip a hole through my chest. I’m so happy—and simultaneously worried that I’m about to have a heart attack—that I don’t notice my father beside her, walking her down the aisle, until they’re three steps into the room.

But the moment I see his beaming face, I realize this must be why we’re running late.

Jim must have required some convincing to do the honors. He started acting weird again last week, when I called to announce that Cat and I were doing the courthouse thing instead of a big wedding. If I hadn’t been so busy planning everything, to spare Cat the stress, since she’s covered up with campaign planning for her city council bid, I would have worried that the old man and I were heading into another rough patch.

But when his gaze meets mine and I smile, letting him see how grateful I am that he loves Cat, too, I know the rough patch has been averted. Cat’s made sure of it. She’s taken care of me, again, the way she does in a hundred different ways every day. She swears I do the same for her, that she would never have had the guts to run for office without me, and that she’s happier than she ever dreamt she could be.

But as she walks down the aisle, dressed in white, ready to say, “I do,” for the rest of our lives, I make a silent promise to make her even happier.

“Take care of her, son,” Jim says gruffly, as he and Cat stop beside me.

“I will, Dad.” I draw him in for a hug. “I promise.”

Jim pulls away first, but I can tell he’s one happy bastard. So am I. I love that we’re in such a better place. But the moment my dad sits down, he vanishes from my awareness. I no longer have room in my thoughts for anything but the woman I’m about to marry.

“Last chance,” she whispers as we turn to face the judge. “Dash now or dash never, Curve.”

“Never, Panties.” I tuck her hand into my arm, folding my fingers over hers. “This Curve is yours for life.”

“Lucky me.” She grins so hard I know she’s thinking naughty things, because she’s my perfect match, the kind of girl who has no trouble wearing white while making references to my penis at the altar.

But she still cries during the ceremony. I do, too, a little, but in the car on the way to the reception Cat assures me that no one but her could see. I assure her that I couldn’t care less—I’m too in love with her to worry about losing my man card for tearing up at my own wedding—and then we’re at the shop, and it’s time for the final surprise of the day.

“Close your eyes.” I wrap my arm around her waist, turning her to face the street as she steps out of the car.

“Why?” she asks with a laugh. “What have you done?”

“Just a little something, but it has a story to go with it.” I tighten my grip on her, refusing to let her turn around. “So close your eyes, woman. Now.”