Icing on the Cake (Close to Home) (7 page)

“You wish, lawman.”

“Wishing’s for fairytales. Speaking of…” He opened the passenger door of his car and grinned anew. “Your chariot awaits, princess. Get in. We’ve got a wedding to make.”

Only one man before Curtis had called her princess. Ray Robinson, her dad. Her
first
dad. Peter had avoided the pet name out of respect. No guy she’d ever dated had used it—and why would they? She didn’t dress like a princess and she sure didn’t behave like one. If anybody had tried calling her that, she would’ve snapped the idiot back so hard. Rolling off Curtis’ tongue though…

“Yes, sir,” she said, brushing against him as she ducked inside the car.

His handsome jaw dropped, literally. Only for a second, but it’d happened. If she could shock a man like Curtis, maybe anything was possible. Including not ruining her sister’s wedding day.

*

“You may kiss the bride.”

At the pastor’s cue, Conn pulled Nia close and kissed his bride into next week. Possibly into next month.

Sara would say this for her new brother-in-law, he wasn’t averse to showing affection in public. She joined with dozens of guests assembled on both sides of the center aisle of the small church and applauded long and loud.

On the other side of the kissing couple, Curtis whistled. A wolf whistle this time, though just as loud and commanding as the one he’d used to call Zeus back at the house. Then he looked past the bride and groom to her. And winked.

She stuck her tongue out. His response—because he had one, of course—was to motion at the area below his belt. So cocky.

He’d driven so fast on the way to the church, she’d actually closed her eyes. A reaction that had inspired Curtis to laugh his ass off. Under normal circumstances, she would have unleashed a mouthful of attitude. Hard to say anything when traveling at Mach speed. Or be a bitch to the man who’d saved her ass.

Maybe she’d repay him later. He wanted her tongue on his cock—that could be arranged. With pleasure. But it wouldn’t be enough, not for either of them. What would it take to fully satisfy a man like Curtis? To strip him of his control? More than a standard-issue blowjob, for sure.

All of that would have to wait until later, because Conn and Nia had finally come up for air. Their smiles—wow. They made the whole love-somebody thing look worth the risk.

She shook her head to dislodge the unwanted, crazy thought. Had to be the damn pink satin making her think this mushy-gushy crap. Being forced to stare at Curtis in his tux didn’t help either. The sooner she could get away from the pretty packaging Nia had wrapped this day in, the safer Sara would be.

“Ladies and gentleman,” the pastor stepped forward, “it is my sincere pleasure to present Mr. and Mrs. Lawler.”

That was her cue to return Nia’s bouquet. As she did, Sara went with the flow. With her heart. She pulled her sister in until they were cheek to cheek. “You’re the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out. I’m so glad you’re happy.” She closed her eyes, shutting out the onlookers so she could fully enjoy the warmth of Nia’s hug. “Okay, let go of me now. Before your
husband
gets jealous.”

The H-word had the desired effect. Nia disentangled from the embrace and beamed up at Conn. Her husband twined their fingers together and the happy couple made their way down the aisle. Together. United. ’Til death parted them.

Or took them simultaneously, robbing their future offspring of both parents. Death was a bitch that way.

Curtis stepped to her side, offering his arm in traditional fairytale fashion. “Ready, princess?” His deep, gravelly voice hooked her back to the present, and she slipped her hand through the proffered loop.

“Let’s do this shit, lawman.” At his grunted laugh, she added, “You didn’t assume that would automatically get you another ‘sir,’ now did you?”

“Assume? With you?” He grinned down at her, ignoring the smiling faces in the pews they passed. “Think I’ll go with one of your favorite words on that one—never.”

A flippy thing happened deep in her chest. Different from the tug of attraction low in her belly that Curtis inspired every time she looked at his hot ’n’ handsome self. Not the butterflies-in-the-stomach sensation born of anxiety either. More of a tingly blip.

Had to be indigestion from the huge breakfast she’d wolfed down earlier. Men could make her body tingle, but they didn’t affect her heart. She didn’t allow it.

A limo—a rare sight in these parts—waited outside the church to transport the wedding party back to the Chambers property for photos. Nia and Conn had already settled inside the spacious back seat, their current make-out session in full view thanks to the open door.

“Whoa,” Lindsay said, stepping out of the church behind Curtis and Sara. “Maybe we should let them have the limo to themselves.”

A significant degree of friction chafed between Sara and Lindsay, but about this, Sara had to agree. “Good call. It wouldn’t hurt if they took the long way out to the house, either. We’ve got some cleaning to do before a certain mud monster can drool for the camera.”

“Mud monster?”

Curtis’ eyes darted between the women, ultimately landing on his sister. “Sara didn’t tell you what happened out at the house?”

“No. She just swooped in with the ring that she’d
forgotten
to save the day she almost ruined.”

Nothing like a dose of contempt to go with her existing guilt. Sara folded her arms across her chest. “That’s right, Lindsay, I planned the whole thing. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted my sister to hate me on her wedding day or to be her hero, so I figured out a way to achieve both. You should be happy, maybe you can use this to leverage yourself into the ‘best friend’ slot.”

“You are such a—”

“Hey now,” Curtis said, getting between them as Lindsay took a purposeful step toward Sara. “You ladies want to scrap, you save it for another day. And make sure I get a ringside seat, because I have no doubt it’d be better than women’s MMA on pay-per-view. But for now,” he focused his attention on Lindsay, “you need to get off Sara’s case. She made an honest mistake forgetting Conn’s ring, and she made it right. No harm done.”

Holy freaking shit. Not just an intervention, Curtis was defending her, siding with
her
, rather than his sister. If the ground opened up and swallowed her whole, she couldn’t be more surprised. Lindsay’s expression indicated she shared that sentiment.

Wedding guests overflowed from the church’s double doors. Both sets of parents too, all four of them beaming as they hugged Nia and Conn, who’d given up tangling tongues and exited the limo.

“I’m going to explain the dog situation to everybody.” Sara issued Lindsay a pursed-lip smirk. Punctuation to the fact that everybody
minus
Lindsay deserved to hear the explanation. She tipped her chin in the air and spun on her heel, away from Nia’s would-be bestie.

As for Curtis…well, she’d thank him for his show of support later. And not with words that started with a T and a Y.

*

Linsday huffed as Sara strutted toward their newly combined families. “That woman is unbelievable.”

Curtis grunted. “Yeah. That she is.”

“No.”
A sharp, feminine poke to his upper arm drew his attention from Sara’s shapely, swaying ass to his sister’s highly irritated face. “Tell me you don’t have a thing for her.”

“Guess that depends on what ‘have a thing for’ means in womanspeak.” If it meant he wanted to fuck Sara until he’d exhausted every last speck of energy in the most remote corner of his reserves, then yes, he definitely had a thing for that woman.

“Ugh. Men,” Lindsay said, shaking her head. “At least I have the consolation of knowing Sara won’t become my other sister-in-law.”

Good old Linds, calling it as she saw it, no filter. Not unlike another dark-haired bridesmaid. The pain-in-the-ass, little-brother side of him itched to point that similarity out. The wiser, mature side passed on the opportunity.

“What’s that snort for? Is the playboy cop denying his love ’em and leave ’em ways?”

“Nah. I’ll leave the settling down and grandchild production to my siblings.”

“Oh right.” A feminine version of the patented Lawler snort-laugh slipped from her pretty face. “Because I have so many prospects on those fronts.”

True, Lindsay hadn’t been seriously involved with anybody since Michael broke her trust and her heart a few years ago. But that would change one of these days. After the chemistry he’d witnessed at the rehearsal party last night, and with the way her eyes followed Pastor Ben when he exited the church, that day might not be too far off.

Lindsay’s posture stiffened as Ben joined the happy couple and their folks near the limo. “We should get over there before Miss Master Manipulator says or does something to upset Nia.”

The bride seemed plenty happy to Curtis. So did Sara. It was bridesmaid number two wearing the sour look at the moment. Maybe it was the effect Sara might have on the friendly young pastor that had Lindsay’s hackles up.

He caught his sister’s wrist before she got a full step away. “Hey. You want to know what happened earlier, or would you rather make an ass of yourself being unjustifiably prickly to Sara in front of her family?”

“Wow. You must really want in her panties. If she even wears any.”

“Now you’re just being a bitch, Linds.” He released her hand when she tugged. “She messed up by not taking Conn’s wedding band to the church. And after what happened last night—which you probably don’t know all the facts about, by the way—she felt pretty damn bad about screwing up with the ring. That’s why she insisted on rushing back for it, instead of letting you.”

Lindsay’s sigh told him she understood, even if she didn’t admit it aloud.

“Apparently Zeus was whining at the door, so she let him out, figuring he’d trot out, take a leak on a tree and be right back. But he didn’t come back and she couldn’t see him anywhere. When I walked in, she was in panic mode, knowing she had to get back to the church, but unwilling to leave Zeus outside, unattended, possibly lost or worse.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” No need to chastise his sister further. “I found Zeus in the woods. Probably chased a rabbit or something and got himself mired in some heavy-duty mud. Stuff was practically quicksand.”

Lindsay appraised him, her eyes narrowing in the process. “And yet, not a speck of dirt anywhere to be seen.”

“Because I stripped down to my boxers first.”

“I bet that got Sara’s attention.”

This time,
he
made the Lawler snort of amusement. “Tell me when you’re ready to play nice.”

“Fine. Now.” She shot him a look as they started toward the group. “But I’m still keeping my eye on her until all the wedding stuff is over.”

“Fair enough.” He’d be doing the same—from as close up as possible.

The slowest meal in catering history. A never-ending receiving line of cousins, second cousins twice removed, friends from way back that neither the bride nor groom seemed to remember. Posing fifty different ways for formal pictures. Oh man, the fucking pictures. The last time Curtis smiled that much in a concentrated period of time was…never. But he’d made it through. Almost. Only one more toast and the dance left, then he could lose the noose and jacket.

Right on cue, the DJ appeared at the microphone. “And now, as you folks sit back and enjoy your coffee and tea, the maid of honor is going to step up here and say a few words.”

Lindsay leaned forward, staring at Curtis from her position four seats down at the head table. Her expression read as plainly as bold lettering on a glowing billboard.
Sara better not say something stupid.

He bloody hoped the same thing. But as Sara smiled and pushed her chair back, an unwelcome, fist-sized knot formed in his stomach. He barely knew her, but he knew better than to assume anything where Sara was concerned.

With the lopsided wedding party of two bridesmaids and one groomsman, the DJ had set up the mic in the empty space to Curtis’ left. At least Sara would be within arm’s reach if she went off the rails. Man, he hated thinking that way. His gut told him she wasn’t a bad person. Didn’t mean she always made good choices though. He knew that firsthand.

She met his gaze the moment she stood. Held it—held him, in utter fucking thrall—while moving toward the microphone stand. The click of her heels on the banquet hall floor echoed in his head despite the hum of a couple hundred voices and the clatter of their rapidly disappearing dessert dishes.

Heat rippled through him as she entered his orbit. And when she trailed her nails along the short span of neck above his shirt collar, electricity shot straight to his cock, bringing it swiftly to attention. On the rails or off, it didn’t matter. He definitely “had a thing” for this woman.

“Go get ’em, princess,” he said, loud enough for her ears only.

No reply, just a light squeeze to his shoulder. She exited his personal space and stepped to the mic. Shoulders back, chin up, she appraised the crowd. Glanced to the right and smiled at Nia and Conn. Then back to the sea of faces she returned.

*

So many faces were trained on her. Some innocently and excitedly waiting to hear her toast the newlyweds. The majority probably waiting to see if she’d live up to her reputation as the family troublemaker.

Being the center of attention came easily to Sara. She’d had almost two decades’ worth of practice, starting Christmas Day when she was ten years old. Back then everybody wanted to hear what the little girl who’d just lost her parents had to say. The house fire had earned her the rapt attention of the entire town. Attention she didn’t want, but wound up craving in time, as she discovered its ability to patch her fractured soul. Like so many cravings, it had become an addiction. And in turn, like so many addictions, it had become her undoing.

Not tonight though. Anybody in this banquet hall who thought the fireworks were about to start could fuck right off. For the next few minutes she’d be the center of attention, but only to bounce it where it belonged—on her sister.