Bridger cocked his head to the side and studied her, giving her a sly wink. “In a minute,” he muttered to the preacher.
Then he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her flush against him, and kissed her as thoroughly and deeply as she’d ever been kissed.
Avalyn dropped her bouquet, wrapped her arms around his neck, and returned the kiss wholeheartedly.
When Bridger finally slowed the kisses down she registered the crowd laughing and cheering, the preacher muttering something under his breath, and Creed saying, “Did you expect anything less with Bridger?”
Avalyn laughed and moved in to kiss him again. Bridger grinned against her lips and then he was kissing her and her traditional wedding and the disgruntled preacher would have to wait. This was their day and nothing about their life would be traditional so why should their wedding be?
The kiss continued with joy, tenderness, passion, and a promise that Bridger would love and honor her always. No words or vows exchanged could say it as beautifully as his lips did.
* * *
Hawk Brothers Romance
The Determined Groom
The Stealth Warrior
Her Billionaire Boss Fake Fiance
Risking it All
Her Billionaire Boss Fake Fiance
Slipping on a patch of black ice, Lexi cried out, wind-milled her arms, and skidded over the asphalt. She prayed she wouldn’t fall. The low thrum of an engine rolled over her as a single headlight flashed across her vision. Lexi screamed, horrified to see a motorcycle flying right at her. She was still skidding on the ice, trying to stay upright. If she fell, the motorcycle would run her over without even seeing her until it was too late. She shuffled on the ice, trying desperately to get out of the way and hoping her waving arms might warn the driver.
The cyclist must’ve seen her and clenched the brakes hard, because she heard a yell and saw the huge bike lift onto its front tire. Then the motorcycle hit the patch of ice, and Lexi launched herself out of the way as it skidded onto its side. Her feet slid out from under her and she hit the ice with her knees and hands. Pain spiked up her arms and thighs. She felt a rush of wind, and then—miraculously—the motorcycle skidded past her, metal screeching against ice and asphalt. The machine slid to a stop at the curb twenty feet away, minus its rider, who lay sprawled on the cold asphalt, not far from Lexi.
“No, no, no!” Lexi cried out. She crawled across the patch of ice, praying the person wasn’t dead and praying no other vehicles came along and finished them both off.
She reached the man, who was dressed in a navy-blue suit that even a girl from Montana could guess was worth thousands of dollars. The suit was tailored perfectly for his large frame. Thankfully he wore a helmet, and she couldn’t see any blood or bones poking out. Lexi shuddered. He was lying on his side, facing away from her.
“Oh no! Please don’t be dead!” She glanced up at the heavens and called, “Please, Lord, don’t let him die.” There was no time for folding arms and decorum when a man’s life was hanging in the balance.
The man in question groaned and rolled over onto his back.
“Sir?” Lexi touched his shoulder with her gloved hand, breathing a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t responsible for his death. “Sir, are you okay?”
“Not dead yet,” he muttered. He undid his chin strap and pulled off his helmet.
Lexi gasped. Staring up at her was a handsome face she’d recognize anywhere: deep brown eyes, dark hair, tanned skin, and short facial hair that only enhanced his good looks. One of the famous Hawk brothers. America’s Most Eligible Bachelor. The most handsome man in existence. Her new boss.
“Callum Hawk,” she breathed out.
He arched an eyebrow at her and pushed to a seated position, then stood. At least he didn’t move like he was broken. He tucked his helmet under his left arm and offered his right hand to her. “We should probably get out of the street in case any other crazies are awake this early.” He flashed her the trademark smile that had women across America needing blood pressure medication.
Lexi took his gloved hand and let him pull her up. She was glad they were both wearing gloves, because the surge of energy that went through her simply being this close to him wasn’t smart to experience with anybody’s boss, let alone a new employer who didn’t even know who she was. She’d just made Callum Hawk crash his motorcycle. Jiminy Christmas, she was in trouble!
He released her hand, wrapped his arm around her lower back, and guided her out of the street toward his motorcycle as if they were on a summer stroll through Central Park. Her heart raced out of control. Callum Hawk had his hand on her sweaty back and she’d wrecked his motorcycle. This was not good. She was going to get fired before she even set foot in his office. How would she help her family if she got fired?
“Are you damaged?” Her words came out too breathy and too high-pitched, as her throat was closing off. The motorcycle accident was her fault, but when she died of heart failure from his tingly touch, it would be all on him. “Shouldn’t we call 911?”
Callum glanced down at her, his dark eyes filled with concern. “Do you need medical attention?”
“No.” She pushed the word out, shocked that his first worry was for her. “But I just made you crash your bike, skid across the asphalt, and most likely ruin that beautiful Armani suit.”
He chuckled, stopping next to his tipped-over motorcycle. “It’s Brioni.”