Taming Alaska (So Not Prince Charming Book 1) (7 page)

Chapter Six

Cyn

It only took one month for Blake Waits to propose to me at his parents’ lavish home and another two months to plan the wedding. His proposal was perfect. He got down on one knee while holding a box from Tiffany’s. When I think about it, tingles sweep over my body and a tear escapes my eyes.

My organza-wedding gown swishes and trails behind me as I sashay linked arm-and-arm to my father behind my niece spreading rose petals in front of her. At my mother’s request years ago, Vera Wang herself tailored the dress for me. The lace accentuates my thin waist, and my tanned shoulders stand out against the downy white, strapless gown.

Under the arbor overlooking Mom's rose gardens, Blake stands by the priest and his cadre of gorgeous groomsmen. Gina and Christine lead my brigade of bridesmaids in frothy peach gowns. Blake’s delectable lips curl into a seductive grin that reaches his silver-blue eyes. The tux molds to his perfectly erect body that’s full of confidence and manliness.

Shane knows nothing about men, even if he is one. I know from firsthand that Blake is 100 percent straight and completely into me.

Daddy’s locked arm releases mine to hand me off to Blake, who is so succulent I could lick him right now. Daddy gives me one last smile before sitting proudly in his Ralph Lauren tux in the front row by Fay and Willa.

I glance around at all our guests and wonder if Mom would’ve been happy, especially given the Mexican cartel, including Daddy’s crazy brother, resting their plump behinds on our side of the guests. It’s mostly the perfect wedding—sit down prime rib dinner, open bar, and enough gifted cash to put a down payment on our first home.

I feel the magnetic pull of Blake, and edgy energy fills me. I’m a bundle of nerves while he is composed and completely at ease, self-assurance in every precise movement of his toned fight-ready body.

As he grasps my hand with his, warm, yet dry and firm, I lift my gaze toward his magnificently broad chest and upward to his strong jaw and straight nose.

The sudden ruckus causes me to look back though the crowd and scowl.

If Shane and Nikita weren’t at my wedding, I’d be the happiest girl on the planet. They’re fighting…again. They could at least keep it down so I can hear my vows. To maintain appearances, I unfortunately had to invite her along with all my other sorority sisters whom I actually love.

Two rows from the back of my 300-some odd wedding guests seated on the manicured lawn of my mother’s sprawling ranch, Nikita and Shane are sparring. Mother’s friends, the Bushes, yes, the Bushes, jerk around in their seats to shush them. If Mom saw them so near the back, she’d sit up in her grave and cry, but Dad had to make room for the drug lord, who would never sit in the back unless Dad wants heads to roll.

Shane’s voice rises while Nikita glares and shakes her fist at him.

This is my day. Do Shane and his pole dancer not get that? He is absolutely the worst. Everything is supposed to be perfect. Perfect man, perfect wedding dress, perfect bridesmaids. God, Shane ruins everything, even the perfect wedding.

And I still haven’t gotten over my freshman year at a party when a very inebriated Shane told Austin’s most eligible bachelors that he was sleeping with me. None of them dared approach me given the grizzly bear of a man hovering nearby, and he had the audacity to laugh about it the next day, telling me I was better off.

Shane catches me glaring at him. His pale-green eyes rage, and the red gossamers amidst his dark hair glint in the noonday sun. Even though it’s late October, heat scorches my face, which my makeup certainly doesn’t need in this unforgiving Texas heat and humidity. God, I should’ve worn my Ray-Bans to hide my rubbernecking, but sunglasses would ruin my wedding video.

To my horror, the videographer tapes Nikita and Shane’s blowout and not the gorgeous man I’m marrying. How could she possibly not get along with Shane? He sold that stupid company of his for a half billion, so he’s filthy rich now.

“Do you take this man?” the priest asks, raising his voice. “Cynthia Diaz, do you take this man?” He shakes the Bible at me.

“Don’t shake that thing at me,” I say, pushing the good book out of my face while glimpsing my older sister Fay giving me the slashing throat motion. Especially today given her hair swept up into a French twist, she resembles Mom and it hurts.

Willa sits up straight with her hands on her lap. She desperately wants to find her Prince Charming too, even though she has another half year of high school to go.

“Do you take—” the priest practically shouts.

“Heck yeah,” I say while clasping both of Blake’s hands. “I mean. I do.”

“You’re distracted,” Blake Waits, the sexiest man alive and now my husband, whispers into my ear, nuzzling it and setting it ablaze with a flick of his tongue.

“By you.” I give him my best sexy smile, and dammit, Shane O’Flannery stands up, knocking over his chair into Mrs. Bush’s lap.

“Fuck,” Shane says to Nikita. She’s actually grinning, which doesn’t surprise me that she’s happy about obliterating my wedding.

“No, no you don’t,” I mutter almost too loudly. A puzzled expression spreads across Blake’s strikingly handsome face.

Shane stomps out of my wedding before I do. Damn him. And now Nikita stalks out. As my sorority sister, she knows better than to leave before me, but that good-for-nothing Shane, he catches rotting salmon carcasses swimming upstream to their deaths with his bare teeth.

At least, they’re gone now. My hands strangle my bouquet of fragrant white lilies to the point they’re wilting. I hate Shane and Nikita.

“I do,” Blake says with the poise I admire. He’s the rising star at his father’s firm and in my heart.

Lucky me. I am officially Mrs. Charming.

Blake gives me a kiss that should only be done behind closed doors. My guests whoop and holler, except Dad and Fay. He was not ready to give me away. Fay has wanted me gone since the day I was born, so she should be happy.

A few Stetsons are tossed into the air. Dad curls his fists at his sides, like he wants to clock Blake. No man is good enough for his little girl.

Fay’s eyes roll up so far into her head she reminds me of the Exorcist. My little sister Willa claps her hands, giddy with delight. Surely, Mom is watching from heaven and giving me the thumbs up. Anyway, I hope so.

I fling up my heel for the perfect wedding kiss it’s supposed to be. After all, Blake is what every girl dreams about, tall, dark, racy, a good family, and impressively handsome—the flawless man. He fits Prince Charming to a tee.

I have it all, so I should be ecstatic. Right? This is what I have dreamed about ever since I was a little girl, but a slight emptiness threatens to upset my bliss.

I’d like to think Shane caused my doubts, but it would’ve been nice for Mom to give me her blessing and approval.

“I will love you always,” Blake whispers into my ear, tickling it. “You’re finally all mine,” he says, squeezing my waist. “Wait till you see what I’ve planned for our honeymoon.”

Tahiti, Fiji, or Maui spells perfection, warmth, and plenty of sunshine with a coastal breeze to cool me off. I know what I have planned—nights of tangling in the sheets and hanging from the tropical ceiling fan.

When Blake skillfully guides me down the aisle, a surge of electricity fires in my core all the way to my toes. My bridesmaids including Gina and Christine grin their delight. I perfectly matched them with Blake’s wide array of eye-candy friends.

My right fingers drum out a nervous staccato against the flare of my gown to the song
Chandelier
, playing in the background. We glide down the aisle to our reception held in the mansion’s great ballroom and the adjoining sunroom and open outside deck.

I glance up at Blake whose well-muscled arm supports my back while his hand rests against my hip. He simply won’t tell me where we are going. It’s a surprise. I hate surprises, and no matter how often I tell him this, he keeps coming up with them.

“Won’t you give me a hint?” I ask, batting my dark thick lashes.

He kisses my lips, melting me like molten lava. “Bring something warm to wear.”

My face pinches with concern. “Warm as in coats? Or warm as in beachwear.”

Blake grins. “Maybe.”

He needs to be more specific. Surely he’s pulling my leg about needing winter clothes I don’t even own.

Blake pinches my nose. I hate that, too, but that’s an easy fix, and I can get over that with the way he looks. I love his devil-may-care black hair and those eyes, a brilliant blue that could incite a riot.

When he walks casually into the ballroom, one hand in his tux pocket, every head turns to watch him. From the introspective tilt of his jaw to his self-assurance, he has charmed all of Mom’s friends and Dad’s array of influential Mexican politicos and drug runners.

“Trust me,” Blake says in that controlled tone of his. “You’ll love our honeymoon. Your father and one of my closest friends helped plan it.”

“My dad did?” I don’t like the sound of that because Dad and I spent most of our time fishing together, but I smile anyway.

“Yes.” Blake’s face gleams from his dazzling, white teeth. When he smiles, my carnal lust grows.

When I see Fay from the back, at first I think she’s Mom. A dark, sinking feeling fills my chest, no different than when Shane found her body. I’ll have no unhappy thoughts on my wedding day.

“What’s wrong?” Blake asks.

“Nothing.” Nothing I can put my finger on.

He gives me another one of those wildly, passionate kisses I so adore while his hand pilots me into the throng of awaiting guests.

Fay planned my wedding perfectly. She invited all the girls who had gossiped about me in high school and college, regardless of whether any of it was true or not. When the Austin Chronicle announced my engagement, everyone had turned pea green with envy.

And now the
piece de resistance
. Ever since Trevor stole my virginity, I’ve waited for the ultimate pleasure to happen to me. All my sorority sisters brag about how many big Os they have, but me, I’m a withering flower waiting for the sun and rain to unfurl my petals.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, too,” I say, kissing and nipping Blake’s sensual lips—his heat burning into me.

“I’m looking forward to that,” he says, his hands grasping my waist and searing through the layers of silk and tulle of my dress.

Panicky screams and sobs come from the outdoor shower toward the west side of the estate. My head and a few others jerk up. I recognize the tiny voice.

“Wait here for me,” I say, giving Blake a quick peck. I hitch up my dress and hurry to the definitive sounds of a child in crisis. Three-year-old Felipe Fuentes’ face is about to burst it’s so puffy with tears. His finger is jammed in the drain, and he’s trying hard to yank it free. His tousle of dark curls fall into his eyes that he tosses back with a shake of his head. I want a nest of little ones like him.

“Felipe,” I say in a stern voice. “Stop pulling on it. You’ll make it worse.”

He quits moving. Good. I step onto the stone-tiled floor of the shower. His finger has swollen and pulses an angry red.

“Push your finger back into the hole and leave it there while I get some cold water and soap. Okay?”

He nods like a bobble head. I don’t know why Fay invited the Fuentes, other than the drug lord wanted them on the guest list. Maria never watches her three boys. I’m sure the rest are running around loose like headless chickens.

I step into the inside bathroom adjoining the outdoor shower, leaving the door wide open so Felipe can see me and won’t start panicking again. I fill a cup with cold water and grab the liquid soap dispenser.

For the past month, I’ve taken many outdoor showers with Blake, naked and wet, his amazing body slipping over mine. All the right opportunities have presented themselves for me to garner the coveted award of sexual pleasure, yet it hasn’t happened. I have the perfect man, so it should be easy.

“It’s okay, Felipe,” I say, pouring the cold water onto his finger. “Leave it there.” I let the soap drizzle onto his swollen finger and into the drain. I place my hand over his and slowly rotate his finger to grease it up until it slides out.

“See,” I say. “All better.”

He goes to hug me, but I stop him before his dirty hands mar my Vera Wang. “Let’s wash those hands of yours.”

I lift him up to the sink and let him suds up his hands, which he does in a flurry of bubbles, giggling. “What were you doing?”

“A snake went into the drain,” he says in Spanglish. “I was going to give it to you as a surprise for your wedding.”

Now those kinds of surprises I don’t mind. I love children, but it’s something Blake and I haven’t discussed. His patient nature will make him a great dad. “That’s very sweet. Let’s go find your mommy,” I say, so I can kill her.

I find Maria Fuentes, guzzling down champagne and flirting with one of the groomsmen. Her vagina should be plugged to prevent any more fatherless children, and then she wouldn’t be so penniless but then I notice a ruby and blood diamond necklace plastered to her chest. Where the hell did she get that?

“Hi Maria.” I slip Felipe’s hand into hers, so that she has to set down her plate overflowing with shrimp, caviar, and crab.

Felipe juts out his lower lip. “Can’t I stay with you Aunt Cindy?”

If he were mine, I’d never let him out of my sight. It’s too easy for boys to get themselves into trouble; though I’m surprised Felipe’s not sick of me from all the hugs and kisses I shower him with. “Not today. In a couple weeks, when I get back from my honeymoon, I’ll take you canoeing.”

“Okay,” he says, still pouting. His pudgy little hands grab at my full skirt to hug me.

I whisper into Maria’s ears, “If I have to rescue one of your brood again, you will be asked to leave but not until I cut your fallopian tubes.” In a louder voice, I add, “So nice to see you,
mi prima
.” I smile before leaving to search for Blake.

Hitching up my skirt, I waltz by Dad’s office where he pours over paperwork. His fingers scratch his forehead while his reading glasses dangle from his other hand. The concern engrained in his brow upsets me, so I step into his office. Ever since Mom died, he’s been responsible for the estate. I used to do the books for him, but after I entered college, he hired someone.