2
Andi
More Than 8 Months Later
“Inow pronounce you husband and wife.” The electricity in the air is palpable when the priest makes his final announcement. The handsome deputy has been waiting to kiss my cousin all day, and not even her mouthy teenage kid can take issue with it, considering we’re in a giant church and the priest said it was okay.
“Oscar.” The priest’s lips twitch. “You may kiss your bride.”
Times have changed since the eighties. Bridesmaids no longer look like giant balls of taffeta with shoulder pads and big hair. Weddings are no longer the long, droning affairs they once were – assuming your friends are cool like mine – and the single guests tend to look at you with a twinkle in their eyes because the wedding planner knows how to order a bangin’ dress that makes your ass look ahhh-mazing.
But when my brand-new cousin-in-law takes his bride in his arms, when he dips her almost upside down and ignores his new step-son’s creative cursing, I let my gaze wander across the sea of guests until I lock onto a muddy brown pair of eyes and a wash of warmth swirls in my belly.
Blake, the front man of an up and coming rock band watches me with hungry eyes. He’s sexy as hell and comes with a chiseled jaw, and according to the list of eligible bachelors the wedding planner curated just for me, Blake stands atnumero uno; the most eligible, the most willing to have a day of fun, and the least likely to become a creeper begging for tomorrows.
I’m twenty-nine years old, single, healthy, and as previously mentioned, this dress makes my ass look spectacular. I’m a red-blooded woman in the prime of my life and I’m definitely not shy. I like sex. Ilovesex! I love men. I love attention. And Blake’s eyes aren’t the only pair warming my skin today.
This wedding seats two-hundred and thirty-four guests. It’s small, considering who is here and how many more wanted to come. Of those two-hundred or so guests, I think I may be one of only a small few that are single and female.
I have the pick of the bunch.
I’m spoiled with choice.
And each second that passes and my cousin’s new husband makes out with his bride, each time she moans and his hands grab places I look forward to someone grabbing me before this day ends, each time Lindsi bumps against me, I stand here with an angelic grin on my face and mental plans to make my own fun just as soon as I’m not in the house of God.
I love men and men love me, but my cousin is flirting with going to Hell, and Oz looks like he’s got the taboggan ready to slide on in with her.
I’m not messing around with that juju.
Blake’s dark eyes slide over my heels, my legs, the soft fabric of my bridesmaid dress, and the swell of my sweetheart neckline. I don’t know what kind of magic the dress designer wields, but she’s a unicorn, and if I were rich, I’d have her design everything I ever wear.
Skimming the crowd in an attempt to stop thinking about Oz and Lindsi and how filthy he probably is –he totally seems the type– I let my eyes cruise over Lindsi’s side of the aisle; the fighters from the local gym, the family that saved her life more than a decade ago. They’re family now. They’re her employers. Her guardian angels.
And they’re sexy as shit.
Too bad for me, they’re all married.
Scanning along the rows, past Blake’s band of misfits, I move to Oz’s people. The cops. The first responders of all shapes and sizes; EMT, a couple firemen, a nurse, a woman cop, a male cop.
When I stop on a familiar youthful gaze, I grin and send a playful wink to Oz’s junior officer. Riley Cruz is about my age, he’s buff as hell, and by the looks of his broad body, he never skips legs or chest day at the gym.
We met a long time ago at a barbecue in Oz and Lindsi’s backyard. Riley was quiet, bordering on shy, and spent most of the night staring and sending me quietly insane with curiosity, but when I went inside to say hey, he only stared at his phone and glowered.
Maybe that’s hisschtick. Stare at the girls, then turn mute when they try to strike up a conversation. He wasn’t rude, and when I forced my company on him and asked questions hehadto answer, he replied with kindyesandno’s. But that’s as far as I got with the shy guy.
By the time he was ready to leave for the night, he tipped an imaginary hat, forced a grin, and that was that.
Tease.
How dare he turn up with that chest, those thighs, those arms and that cute grin, only to play shy-boy?
Not a lot has changed between that night and now. Riley’s still sexy, but he has a big problem in the fact that he has a man’s body, but a boy’s face. He looks so innocent, I’d actually feel bad for tainting him with my devious ways.
When I wink, his soft cheeks – freshly shaved and baby-bottom smooth – show a little pink and make my insides sigh.
He’s too pure; I’m not sure he’d even know how to spank a girl. And what girl doesn’t want to be spanked?
Exactly.