“Yeah?” I ask.
“John Legend is amazing. I love it. I’m claiming it.” He points at everyone with a spatula. “Mine.”
Nick rolls his eyes. “I actually have a song for you to listen to … for us.”
My heart beats painfully in my chest. How could I have yelled at him when he’s so good to me? I never should have crossed that line.
“My mom said we should look into dance lessons,” I say. All the guys laugh and I look between them. “What?”
“We all know how to dance, Soph.” Gunner assures.
“Really?”
Another slow song plays and Nick offers me his hand. I take it and he sweeps me into a dance. My feet follow his obediently. I honestly don’t feel like I’m dancing at all. I’m floating. He twirls me under his arm and Holden steps in.
I giggle as he dips me and kisses me, then spins me under both his arms so my back is against his front. “Salsa and tango.”
When he spins me out, I fall into Gunner. He chuckles and I brace myself for club dancing. “I can waltz too. Mom insisted I learn to impress girls in high school.”
And he shows me exactly what he means, twirling me and sweeping me all across the room, before he bows and puts my hand on Roman’s. Roman claims my eyes and dances with me in a way that makes me swoon all over again.
He keeps me close enough that no one can cut in, but far enough that it’s like a tease. I want to be crushed against him, feeling every one of his heartbeats thrum through my body. When the song ends, he spins me out so I end up by myself.
“Wow.” I put my hand to my chest. “How is there so much I still don’t know about you guys?”
“That’s what keeps life interesting.” Gunner swats my bottom.
I laugh and we spend the next two days having a good time as we go over the wedding, until I get a call from the florist in Paris. They speak perfect English, but that doesn’t make me like them any more. Apparently, they ended up double booked and can’t help on the wedding day.
I want to hit something, throw something, but take ten deep breaths, like Nick and I promised to do when our tempers get triggered. Not that it matters, because five minutes later, I’m with Roman and the guys on the way to city hall to apply for the marriage license.
My foot taps impatiently and Gunner’s the one that asks. “Sweets … what’s eating at you?”
“The florist canceled.” I hiss.
“There are plenty in Paris.” Nick shrugs. “That’s not as terrible as it seems and at least we know now.”
“You’re not annoyed?”
“Very.” Holden huffs. “They never should have double booked, but we have to fix it, not focus on what should have been.”
Nick nods.
“But I’m not wrong to be annoyed?”
“It’s an inconvenience.” Gunner pats my knee. “But it’s not like something’s wrong with your dress.”
“When are you guys getting your tuxes?”
Roman soothes me this time, stroking the back of my neck and kneading the muscles that are tight there. “Tomorrow, before dinner with Carl.”
“While you’re at the spa.” Nick reminds me. “Full body massage, pampering, skin treatments, anything and everything you want.”
I nod. Luckily, the marriage certificate is easy to get set up, and then we’re off to putt-putt where I destroy all my men. I think Gunner’s too busy taking pictures of all of us and pointing at all the mildly terrifying animals – their faces are half rubbed off thanks to age – and I see Roman’s hackles raise.
He hits the ball on the last hole and it ends up in the pond. A string of curses in Italian leave his lips, but I rub his chest and kiss his throat. “You’re just too strong for this game, amore. It’s sexy as hell.”
“It’s a ball in a hole.” He growls.