A Weston Wedding. Gray Gardner

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      I'd heard them. Accidentally, but I heard them as I was frantically running around on the dark lawn outside with my phone held high above my head, trying to get a signal so I wouldn't be disconnected from my flower guy in Rapid Springs.

       "You scared me so much, sweetheart. God, you could have hurt someone…or yourself. What would I do without you?"

       "I'm so sorry, West. I didn't think about the dead brush. I didn't want—"

       "I know, Blake. I'm just glad you're okay."

       Kissing sounds. Solicitous moaning.

       "Thank you for not yelling at me in front of everyone. And I'm sorry I caused a brush fire."

       "Hey. Hey, sweetheart, you know I don't want to hurt you."

       "You don't wanna embarrass me, but I think you do want to hurt me."

       A manly chuckle.

       "Well, what did I say?"

       "That I needed to learn not to use fireworks during a county-wide burn ban."

       "And if you'd asked me, instead of sneaking around, I would have told you."

       "I know."

       "And what else did I say?"

       "Don't make me say it."

       "Blake."

       "Ugh, fine. I have to…every night…"

       Another chuckle.

       "I didn't catch that, sweetness."

       "Jesus. Okay, I have to get a…spanking every night this week."

       "That's right. Followed by vigorous lovemaking."

       "Can't we just skip to that part?"

       "Absolutely not, you bad little girl."

      I had been a little taken aback. I mean, sure, Drake and I certainly engaged in some of the fun stuff, but that had seemed like a real punishment, and my impression of Blake had been that she wasn't into that sort of thing. She was a debutante, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. She wasn't a crazy kinky skanky kind of girl. To my surprise and curiosity, though, every morning they were absolutely all over each other. She sat in his lap, and he treated her so tenderly and lovingly, no resentment at all.

      Honestly, it just made me curious.

      So, when Drake and I had talked about it and he'd told me that people who were in love and about to get married certainly acted that way, he tried to segue into talking about us. Long term. Forever.

      To which I candidly and callously replied that I wouldn't ever be getting married because after all I'd seen, I didn't necessarily believe in forever.

      "So, which is it?" Drake asked, rain falling in sheets against the window pane behind me. The room was dark except for a small fire in his enormous fireplace, so the shadows across his face and tall frame weren't exactly comforting.

      "Hm?" I asked, playing innocent as I picked up my beer and took a sip.

      He stepped forward and pinned me with a look. That look that says I'd better get with the program. He didn't scare me. He excited me. I just wasn't certain how much further beyond that my feelings went.

      "Easy, my little angel, I'm not proposing here," he said, folding his arms over his chest in an authoritative way. "We have plenty of time for that. We'll discuss it soon, but we have plenty of time. What I'm asking is for you to tell me what I'm supposed to believe. Are you too busy to get seriously involved with a man or are you too afraid?"

      "Who said anything about afraid?" I snapped, stepping forward and glaring up at him. This was one of those moments that I wished I had my six-inch platforms on so my eyes would at least be at his chin instead of his chest.

      "Is your time too monopolized by work, or is your head too preoccupied with doubt?"

      My mouth fell open as I looked up at his handsome face, piercing right through every defense I'd ever put up and stripping me bare. How in the hell did he do that?

      "I-it's not—"

      "So, admit it. You lied to me," he said in a softer voice, crowding me back against the icy blue walls of his bedroom. He smelled so good and he looked even better. My underwear was becoming a lost cause. And yet, I still tried to defend myself.

      "N-no…"

      "Too busy or too frightened?"

      "It's not that simple…"

      He folded his arms again and waited with a silent stare. The kind that made me want to blurt the truth. The kind that made me want to crawl into his arms and cry into his shoulder.

      And that terrified me.

      "If you knew what my childhood was like, you'd understand why I won't marry anyone!" I yelled, feeling my ears and neck heat. I was angry and insulted and nervous, so much that I failed to notice the small smirk of victory spread across his face.

      "You didn't say can't. You said won't, so that just leads me to the conclusion that you do, in fact, have time for a serious relationship that could lead to marriage."

      I stared up at him, loving and hating his smart-Stanford-boy act that I'd become familiar with over the last few months. It was just—his way. He'd been in New York for so long working with other smart people that his language just reflected knowledge. Admittedly, it could be intimidating. Like when I was in trouble.

      "Well, then I am led to the conclusion that you, in fact, are a shitstick for trying to pressure me into something that I've told you clearly and in very small, easy to understand words, that I don't want!"

      I got the eyebrow quirk. You know how it goes. Jaw set, arms crossed, lips tight, and the only movement you detect is one little lift of that eyebrow. It was very powerful.

      "Okay," I sighed, holding up my hands and refocusing. I'd been harsh. Time to back pedal a little. "We're in a committed relationship. I am committed to you, Drake. That's…that's all I can give you."

      Strong arms wrapped around me and my face pressed into a hard chest. He rubbed my back and cupped his hand around the back of my head, something I never knew I could like so much. I quickly wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed, inhaling his manly scent of leather and pine and—man.

      "My little angel, you've given me everything," he simply stated, still holding me. "You've given me more than I ever hoped to get. More than I deserve."

      "Drake," I whispered, hating that the idea that he was unworthy had even entered his brilliant brain. I looked up at him and found him grinning adoringly down at me. His hands cupped my cheeks, his thumbs СКАЧАТЬ