Wish Upon a Wedding (9 page)

“Sure was. We should go to some games this summer.” He put his glass on the coffee table and reached down and lifted her feet onto his lap. “I think your feet deserve a massage. May I?”

She wiggled her toes. “By all means.”

“You have very pretty feet,” he said and started rubbing her cute toes.

“Oh my word, that feels just simply . . . oh . . . amazing.” She leaned against a fluffy fringed pillow and sipped her wine. “My dogs tend to bark at the end of the day. This is pure bliss.” She closed her eyes and sighed.

“You deserve it.” It suddenly occurred to Easton that Carrie Ann didn't have anyone to pamper her, not even family since Ava and Ellie lived in Lexington and her mama retired to Florida. An odd ache settled in his chest and he looked over at her. Because her eyes remained closed he studied her face, loving the slight smile and soft moans when he massaged a little bit harder. The wine, the music, the warmth of the fire must be doing the trick. “I could get used to this,” he said without meaning to.

Her eyes remained shut. “Isn't that my line?”

Easton chuckled but in that moment he realized with complete clarity that he really could get used to pampering Carrie Ann. He knew without a doubt that she'd never shout or argue with him the way his parents went at each other. She might be sassy, but she was also soft and sweet. He thought about the conversation with Pete Sully about the cruise he was taking with Maria and made a mental note to start researching vacations.
She said she used her free time to visit her mother and sisters but he had to wonder if she'd ever gone someplace exotic where she could just do absolutely nothing but just simply sightsee and relax. He imagined walking hand in hand on the beach or sitting in lounge chairs on the deck of a cruise ship. He'd take her to Disney World if that's where she wanted to go. Yeah, he needed to put that plan into action.

Easton looked at her sexy red toenails and felt a jolt of heat. He kind of wanted to kiss each toe but didn't know how she would react. Swallowing hard, he looked up. Her eyes remained closed and the flickering light from the fireplace danced over her features. Her chest rose and fell in a slow even rhythm making Easton smile.

“You're not gonna fall asleep on me, are you?” he asked softly.

“If I fall on you, rest assured that I won't be asleep.”

Easton leaned his head against the cushion and chuckled. “Is that a promise?”

“Yes sir-ee.”

“Mmmm, well now . . .” he responded and slid his hand up her smooth calf. She opened her eyes and met his gaze while his hand slid higher over her knee and up to her thigh. Easton's body reacted to the feel of her skin, warm, soft, pliant. He rubbed his thumb back and forth until her breath caught.

“Carrie Ann . . .” he murmured and when she nodded he moved his hand higher until he felt the silk of her panties. When he lightly grazed over her mound she gasped and nearly spilled her wine. Easton leaned over, took the glass from her, and put it on the coffee table. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Yeah, with wanting you,” he said as he toyed with the edge of her panties. “I'd suggest right here on the sofa but we might end up injured. I think that our days of making out on the couch have passed us by.”

“Then take me to bed.”

Easton didn't need another invitation. He eased her legs over to the floor, stood up, and offered his hand. When he gently tugged her to her feet she stumbled against him.

“Sorry. I'm a bit unsteady.” She smiled at him. “And it isn't from the wine.”

“I can fix that,” he said and scooped her up into his arms.

“Are plumb crazy? You're gonna throw your back out. Or pull something.”

“No, I won't,” Easton said. In truth, he was having instant regret, but he was determined. He started walking, gritting his teeth and trying not to grunt.

“Easton, seriously. I'm a big woman.”

“I'm a strong man,” he said, but his voice sounded strained and she started to laugh. “You are seriously ruining this very romantic moment.”

“No, the romantic moment is going to be ruined when I have to dial nine-one-one,” she replied with a laugh.

“I'm fine,” he said but staggered and started laughing with her. He eased her to her feet. “Evidently I need to hit the gym.”

“Evidently I do too,” she said as he hugged her close.

“I think you are perfect just the way you are.”

“And so are you,” she said and stepped back and took his hand, leading him up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Easton took a second to absorb the fact that he was in Carrie Ann's bedroom, about to make love to her once more. She turned on a small lamp on a nightstand illuminating the room with a soft glow. Then, stepping back, she turned for him to unzip her dress. He kissed the delicate slope of her neck while he eased the zipper down, thinking there was something so intimate about this act. The dress slipped from her shoulders and pooled at her bare feet.

With a moan, Easton pressed his body against her back and cupped her breasts. He rubbed his thumbs over the silk of her bra.

“Oh my, that feels so very nice.” Carrie Ann rested her head against Easton's shoulder, letting him touch her, caress her, sliding his hands lower over her torso until he reached her panties. He slid his finger beneath the waistband and felt the heat of her desire. Dipping his finger between her folds, he encountered the silky wet evidence that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“God, you are so very sexy.” Easton longed to turn her around and see her standing before him in black lace and pearls but his hands refused to stop touching her, caressing her. Her breath caught and he knew she was close to climaxing. With a flick of his wrist, he unclasped her bra and cupped her breast. As soon as he flicked his thumb over her nipple she cried out with a throaty moan. He was sure she might have slithered to the floor if he hadn't hugged her against him.

“Dear God,” she said, breathing a little hard. “I do believe you made my knees buckle, Easton Fisher.”

“Good, but you ain't seen nothin' yet.” He kissed her neck, and then turned her around to face him. She blinked at him and smiled, looking so damned gorgeous with her flushed cheeks that Easton smiled back at her. “Now sit down on the bed.”

“Are you giving me orders?”

“Not at all, sugar. I will do whatever your little ole heart desires.”

“I desire you. Naked.”

Easton grinned. “Your wish is my command.”

“Oh, I like this. I need to invite you to dinner more often.” She let her unhooked bra slid down her arms and tossed it aside. Her breasts were lush and full with creamy white skin and dusky pink nipples. Youth might have passed them by but there was such beauty in her
rounded curves and laugh lines. She looked at him, and while there was a hint of shyness in her eyes, he didn't see even a flicker of hesitation. She wanted this as much as he did and the thought made him feel . . .
happy
.

“I know I keep saying it but you're beautiful, Carrie Ann.”

“You certainly make me feel that way.”

Needing to be next to her in bed, Easton made quick work of shedding his boots and clothes, glad he'd purchased new boxer briefs in black. He didn't belong to a gym, but physical labor and sports kept him in pretty good shape and by the looks of Carrie Ann's smile, she liked what she saw. “I want to explore every inch of you,” he said.

“Again, we are on the same page and, better yet, in the same bed. This day just keeps getting better.” She scooted to the edge of the mattress and tugged his boxer briefs downward. When his erection sprang forward, she cupped his balls and ran the tip of her tongue from the base to the tip of his shaft. Easton shuddered and knew that if her hot, wet tongue teased him with another lick he would likely lose it. And when he lost it, he wanted to be buried deep inside her body.

“Ah, Carrie Ann,” he said and she understood. When she scooted back he leaned over and tugged her panties down her legs and tossed them over his shoulder. Most of her hair had come loose from the pins and was spread out over the cream-colored comforter. Except for the sexy string of pearls, she was naked. Ready. And he'd never wanted a woman more than he wanted Carrie Ann Spencer.

Easton slid his body next to hers, loving the sensation of his skin on her skin. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, tasting the wine on her lips. She threaded her fingers through his hair and arched her body as if trying to get even closer and he understood how she felt . . . he couldn't get close enough.

Easton explored her body with his hands, his mouth, and when he grazed his teeth over her nipple she gasped.

“Please . . .”

“Please what?” He rubbed his thumb over her wet nipple.

“Please . . . don't
stop
.”

Easton laughed low in his throat. “There is zero chance of me stopping unless you want me to.”

“Negative zero chance of that . . .”

“You feel good, taste good, and I can never get enough of you.” He began a trail of kisses down her body and then parted her thighs.

“I want you inside me.”

“Just one . . .
taste
,” he said and flicked his tongue over her core. She arched her back, gasping. “You . . . I'm going . . .” she said, but he came up and silenced her protest with a hot kiss and then entered her with one sure stroke. She wrapped her legs around him and moved in a slow seductive rhythm. Easton threaded his fingers with hers and made love to her the way he'd dreamed about all day long.

Oh, but the reality was so much better. He was learning the nooks and crannies of Carrie Ann's body, her pleasure points, and he made sure to pay close attention to each and every one of them. She liked to be kissed and nuzzled on the tender side of her neck, and his nipping her earlobe with his teeth made her breath catch. And her breasts . . . She loved to be caressed and teased; it drove her wild. The other night, after dinner, she sat between his legs and he'd brought her to climax by kissing the back of her neck and stroking her beautiful breasts.

Easton thrust deeper, faster. When she grabbed his shoulders and cried out, the sound of his name on her lips pushed him over the edge. But Easton's sweet release was so much more than physical. For the first time in his life, he felt desire to have a woman in his
life and by his side. He pulled her close and held her. Brushing her hair to the side, he kissed her shoulder.

For a few moments neither of them spoke. Easton wanted so much to tell her that he loved her, but something told him to hold back. He knew when she didn't utter any wisecracks or playful banter that she was feeling the intensity of the moment, the shift of their relationship to something deeper, lasting.

He kissed her shoulder again, wondering if he should just take the leap of faith and say it . . . Let her know how much he cared for her. But would she say I love you back or run for the hills?

The words were on the tip of his tongue and he decided that he should just go for it. . . .

“Carrie Ann, I—”

“You worked up an appetite?” she asked as if somehow knowing what he was about to say.

“Yeah, I sure did.” He tugged at her shoulder so that she rolled over to her back. Smiling down at her he kissed her lightly. “Let's go eat.”

She smiled back but her eyes appeared stormy.

“Carrie Ann,” he said and rubbed his fingertip over her bottom lip. “I want us to be . . . exclusive.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she cupped his cheek. “Of course. Easton, you're the only man I want in my life.”

“I mean, I knew that after—well, after
this
—that we would be but I wanted to say it. You've been my friend for a long time and now you're my girl.”

She chuckled. “I like being called a girl. Makes me feel young.”

“You're my girl,” he repeated.

“I like the sound of that,” she said, and although something flickered in her eyes, she seemed to relax.

Easton told himself to be content with this for now but he wouldn't wait long before telling her that he loved her. They weren't spring chickens and they'd lost
years of what could have been nights like this. He only hoped that she would soon realize how good it could be from this day forward. He planned to do his best to chase away any remaining fear she had of commitment. He thought again about taking her away somewhere . . . Yes, then he'd tell her so there wouldn't be any chance of her running away.

“Why do you suddenly look as if you've got something up your sleeve?” she asked with a touch of her usual sass.

“Um, as you well know, I'm naked. No sleeves here.”

“It's a figure of speech.”

Easton shrugged. “I think there's something to be said for a little bit of mystery,” he said with a hint of smugness that he knew would intrigue her to no end. When she opened her mouth to protest he silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Oh, sweet pea, you're just gonna have to wait.”

“Come on, Easton.” Carrie Ann narrowed her eyes and pouted but Easton wasn't about to tell her that he planned to sweep her away for a romantic vacation.

Easton rubbed his fingertip back and forth over her bottom lip. “My granny used to say that patience is a virtue.”

“Something I am lacking in, by the way.”

“And that makes this even more fun,” he said, but when she tried to protest again he covered her mouth with a kiss. And a moment later, she forgot all about fussing at him and melted into his arms.

On and On

S
ophia stopped shelving shampoo and conditioner and watched her new washing machine in the throes of a spin cycle. The massive machine spun so fast that the towels were nearly dry by the time the cycle ended. Sophia blinked at the stainless steel machines with wonder. Who would have thought that a washer and dryer would bring her such joy? She smiled and did the Snoopy happy dance. Her joy wasn't really just about the washing machine, but the reality that she was the half owner of her own bridal hair salon!

Carrie Ann had given Sophia full rein to run the creative end of the business while she tended to the books, which was perfectly fine with Sophia. She needed a budget and guidelines or she'd overspend, not in a frivolous way but with too much enthusiasm. So instead, she'd had fun this past week shopping at thrift shops and antiques stores, searching for bargains in and around Cricket Creek. The result was a shabby-chic look, and Sophia adored the elegant results.

Sophia brought one of the freshly dried oh-so-soft towels to her nose. She inhaled the delicate scent of
lavender knowing all too well that brides-to-be needed the calming effects of aromatherapy. The piped-in playlist consisted mostly of laid-back jazz and old-school love songs setting a soothing mood. Brides needed to be handled with care, and over the past few years, she'd become an expert in the field of frayed nerves.

Earlier that morning, Sophia had coffee with Nicolina Diamante Monroe, owner of Designs by Diamante, a lovely jewelry shop two doors down from her salon. Nicolina showed her sketches for a complete line of White Lace and Promises hair jewelry that would be created exclusively for Sophia's clients.

Later in the week, Sophia had a meeting set up with Addison Greenfield, owner of From This Moment bridal salon, and Gabby Marino, the florist from Flower Power. Together, they could provide a total bridal party experience, all within walking distance of one another on Wedding Row. Grace was already working on pamphlets for the shops to share and a Facebook page chock-full of wedding planning tips. Her sister's unending ideas and suggestions were enough to make her head spin as fast as the new washing machine. Well, maybe not that fast.

But in fact, White Lace and Promises was coming together at a much faster pace than she and Carrie Ann had imagined. She'd already landed a few gigs for several weddings and they hadn't even had their grand opening celebration as of yet.

Grace assured Sophia that everything would fall into place but in truth a little bit of panic slipped its way past her excitement. Closing her eyes, Sophia inhaled another deep breath of lavender, rubbing the soft towel against her cheek.

Zoe Dean was scheduled to come in later in the week for a consultation. She thought of Avery and nibbled on the inside of her lip. She thought of Avery a lot . . . as in
all the time
. But while Sophia and Avery
had been out and about in Cricket Creek for the past couple of weeks, Zoe apparently hadn't totally gotten the message that she and Avery were a thing . . . or at least pretending to be a thing. Zoe continued a push for Avery to hang out with her, Ashley, and Max. And even though Avery resisted, taking Sophia all around town, Zoe just wouldn't totally give up on the hope of reuniting Avery and Ashley.

The pretending part wasn't going so well for Sophia. In fact, her pretense was pretty much a complete fail. Try as she might, the hand-holding and public displays of affection felt all too real. In addition, Sophia thought about Avery throughout the day and looked forward to spending time with him. And while he ended all of their outings on Sophia's doorstep, thoughts of making love to him made for a fitful night's sleep.

Usually good-natured, Sophia found herself getting a little bit grumpy over little things that she would normally shrug off or even laugh about. So even though she remained extremely excited over the opening of White Lace and Promises, a little cloud hovered over her head, causing bouts of irritability that she couldn't seem to control. Unlike headstrong Grace, Sophia was a worrier and could slip into a blue funk now and again.

Like now, when she reached deep into the washing machine for a towel that was suctioned to the back of the tub. The towel remained stubbornly out of reach, making her spitting mad over something so small.

“Grrr . . .”

She leaned in farther, causing short-girl problems to raise its ugly head. “Damn it!” she grumbled and leaned in farther. “Aha, you little bugger,” she said, using one of her mother's English terms that came out of her mouth every so often. “Come to mama!”

Her toes left the floor and she finally managed to pluck the towel away but when she lifted her head to ease out of the washing machine, the lid decided to flop down and smack her in the small of her back. “Well,
damn it all to hell and back! I should have gotten the front-load model!”

Clutching the towel, she attempted to disengage herself only to realize that she was sort of . . . stuck. While she could rock back and forth, the lid remained shut and her toes failed to touch solid ground. Sophia let out a little squeal of pure frustration. “This is not happening!” She pushed with her hands and legs but had somehow managed to wedge herself even farther into the washing machine.

Normally Sophia would remain calm, maybe even laugh and then find a way out. But today she cursed a blue streak and her earlier good mood evaporated like rain on a summer sidewalk. To add insult to injury, her phone rang from where it rested on the table where she'd folded towels earlier.

Dear God, how long was she going to remain here before anyone came to her rescue? With renewed determination she wiggled and managed to move a bit sideways, thinking if she could get at least one arm free she could hoist herself up. Her phone rang again. “I can't answer; I'm stuck in a damned washing machine!” she shouted.

A couple of hours passed, okay more like a few minutes, but Sophia couldn't recall being this totally pissed off. As a hair stylist she'd learned to deal with crisis situations all the time. She had her share of color gone wrong, and she'd even snipped an ear a time or two. But for some reason this little incident had her totally annoyed. She struggled with renewed vigor but managed only to bang her head and bruise her ego.

And then she started to cry.

What began as a rather sad whimper quickly escalated into sobs that sounded really hollow and weird while submerged in a washing machine. For a wild second she wondered if this was the way she was going to die, but once she realized there was zero chance of her demise occurring, she calmed down
just a tiny bit
.

“Okay, just settle down.” She inhaled what was supposed to be a calming breath, but for some reason, being stuck in this ridiculous situation forced her to take a look at her life or, more accurately, a look at her love life. Her fake love life that wasn't really so fake—well, at least on her end. Unrequited love really, truly sucked.

Seriously, her half brother Garret was happily married to sweet Mattie and their daughter, Lily, was the cutest baby in the whole wide world. Grace and Mason were totally in love and Sophia wouldn't be surprised if Mason popped the question sometime soon. And independent Grace had been adamant that she needed her freedom to wander all over the globe and could never be tied down. Ha! Funny how falling in love changed her sister's entire attitude about being tied down. While in Cricket Creek for the birth of Lily, her English-born fashion-icon mother met and fell head over high heels for Jimmy Topmiller, former world-class pro bass angler. Sophia didn't know that a person could become rich and famous for catching fish but apparently it was a real thing. Seriously, who would have thought that her city-born mother would end up with an outdoorsy type? That her mother would
become
an outdoorsy type? And that Rick Ruleman, Garret's famous rock star father, would give up his wild leather-clad ways and marry Maggie McMillian, a local real estate agent. Oh, and that Addison Monroe, Garret's former fiancée and owner of From This Moment bridal salon would marry Reid Greenfield whose sister, Sara, plans lavish barn weddings on their family farm!

This list in her head went on and on . . . and Sophia would like to make the Cricket Creek falling-in-love list too! Well, if you came right down to it she was already on the falling-in-love-with-a-local-boy list. She was just missing the all-important detail of having Avery's name on there with her.

“Well, this is just plain silly.” Sophia inhaled a sharp breath of Tide-scented air. “Okay, sister,” she
grumbled, “you need to concentrate on the problem at hand, not the state of your love life. Seriously, who gets stuck in a washing machine?”

Surely, at some point someone would realize she'd gone missing. Wouldn't they? Her stomach gave a little growl reminding her that she'd had only a not-so-tasty, hard-as-a-brick granola bar for breakfast instead of the bacon and egg biscuit that she really wanted. And soon she'd have to pee. She had a bladder the size of a doggone walnut and it was quickly responding to the bottle of coconut water she'd guzzled earlier.

Sophia was contemplating if she should immerse herself farther and push up with both hands when she thought she heard her name being called. Cocking her head to the side she stopped and listened.

“Sophia?” She heard faintly.

Yes! Her savior had arrived. The UPS man? She hoped it wasn't someone she knew.

“You in here?” She heard more clearly.

Oh great . . . just her luck. Not the UPS man. Her savior was
Avery
. How embarrassing. Maybe she'd just keep quiet until he went away, but her bladder gave a cry of protest.

“Back here!” she shouted, hoping that her muffled voice reached him.

“Sophia?” Avery shouted again.

“Back here! In the laundry room!”

“So-phi-a?” When his voice sounded dimmer she wiggled, panicked, and hit her head again. Her phone rang, probably Avery.

“I. Am. In. The. Ouch! Laundry . . . Rooooooom!” She felt as if she was stuck on a desert island with a flare that failed to signal the rescue plane. She wanted to jump up and wave her hands. Panic gripped her. “Aaaaa-ver-eeeee!”

“Soooo-phia?” His steps sounded louder, closer.

“Here!” She panted. “Laundry room!” Who knew that being stuck could cause her to get out of breath?

“Oh my God!” His boots clumped in rapid fashion over the tile floor. “What the hell? Are you okay?”

“Define okay,” she replied in a muffled, mortified, slightly watery tone.

“Here . . . let me . . .” he said a bit uncertainly. He lifted the lid upright off her back. “Stay still.”

“Right . . . like I can move.”

“So, you're stuck?”

“No, I decided I needed deep cleaning in the washing machine rather than a shower.”

“What?” he sounded confused.

“Yes, I'm stuck!”

“Oh, well, I got this. I'm going to put my hands around you and hoist you straight up and out of there.”

“Okay,” reverberated in the washing machine. She felt his big hands on the waist of her jeans and realized with another hot flash of humiliation that her bum was in his face with a few inches of skin showing, most likely including the lace of her pink panties. At least it wasn't the whale tail of a thong. She didn't know how women wore those things wedged up their bum. His long fingers gripped her and as promised he lifted her up and out of her stainless steel prison. When her feet touched the blessed floor, she stood up quickly causing the blood to rush to her head. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she swayed.

“Sophia, God, are you okay?” The humor was gone from his voice.

“I . . .” She swallowed hard and inhaled a deep breath, trying to stop her world from spinning. “I think . . . so. I'm a bit light-headed. Just let me lean back against you for a minute.” Or ten. All day might be nice, too.

“Sure, just take it easy.” His arms remained around her. “Can I get you anything? Water?”

“My dignity would be lovely.”

He gave her an uncertain chuckle. “Hey, I've gotten myself in worse pickles than this. You sure you don't want some water or something?”

“No, thank you.” She shook her head, which was a big mistake when one was dizzy. She groaned thinking she might get sick to her stomach. Wouldn't
that
just top it off like a cherry on a sundae?

“Still dizzy?”

“High on Tide fumes, I think,” she replied with a weak little chuckle.

“I have to ask. How did this even happen?”

Sophia raised the evil little towel still clutched in her hand. “I had a stray and had to lasso it.”

Avery laughed.

“And you fell in?”

“Short-girl problems. And then the lid closed and well . . . I think you get the picture.”

He laughed harder. She could feel the vibrations in his chest and his arms tightened around her.

“It's not that funny.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, it kinda is humorous now that I'm rescued from the deep bowels of the washing machine. I was worried that it might spontaneously start that crazy-fast spin cycle at some point just to prove who was boss.”

“Oh God . . . Sophia.” His laughter subsided into little chuckles. “Do things like this happen to you often?”

“Actually, getting lost or stuck like this is more Grace's style. But let's keep this little mishap between us, shall we?”

“Not on your life.” He continued to laugh making her get a little bit pissed until he kissed the top of her head, which made her anger melt like butter on the griddle at Walking on Sunshine Bistro. “Has the dizziness passed?”

“Yes.” Sophia nodded reluctantly since she knew the admission meant she could no longer lean against his very nice chest and feel those arms holding her close. “I mean, I think so.”