His brows pinch low. “Nowthoseare fighting words and grounds for a do-over.” He tips his head closer to mine, his own lips parting as his gaze blazes over me with the heat of ten thousand hellfires. Yes, Shep Collins is undoubtedly getting laid tonight and—
Before I can finish the tempting thought, Lex gives a mean whistle, and just like that, the wedding is underway.
Both Rush and Nolan walk Sunday down the aisle, and I stand up for her just the way she requested. In no time at all Sunday and Seth are pronounced man and wife—and just in time for the sun to set in a spectacular blaze of glory as they share their first kiss.
No sooner do they make their way back down the aisle as an official Mister and Missus than a confetti cannon launches on either side of the overlook, and the entire wedding party is crop dusted with tiny pink paper hearts. Pictures are taken, and the food truck fires up and does its thing.
Harley trots over with Teagan and Colby, each of them in sky-high ankle breakers that look as if they could prove lethal on a dark mountain dirt path like the one we’re currently tottering on.
Harley wrinkles her nose at me. “We’re headed down the hill to Beta house.”
“That’s fine. I’ll catch a ride back with Sunday and Seth.”
“Perfect. And in the event you’re in the mood for a wedding night yourself, I bought you and the naughty professor a little gift.” She plucks something out of her purse and stuffs it into mine without asking.
“I’m sorry. I don’t do drug transports from the hours of six to eleven.” I pull open my bag just enough to peer inside and immediately swat the heck out of my new and truly disturbed roommate. I glance back to make sure Teagan and Colby are fully entranced in their own conversation to notice. “Where did you get these?”
“I have connections.” She dips her hand in and nearly plucks out the peacock feathered mask, but I quickly bury it back to the bottom and zip my purse before she does something ridiculous like tossing that sadistic hood over at Shep. “Loosen up, would you?” She gives my cheek a hearty pinch. “And try to have a great time. I hear weddings are a perfect time to invade West Virginia.” She leans forward and pulls me in for a quick embrace.
I knew that letting her in on Shep’s little slipup would prove to be lethal.
“Use a condom. I don’t want to be standing here come Christmas freezing my ass off because you couldn’t pull it together.”
“You mean he couldn’t pull out.”
She shoots me with her finger, and the three of them take off with a friendly wave.
I’ve got news for Harley. There’s no way I’m letting my West Virginia get penetrated in a panty raid. No way, no how. I’ll erect a fort of cupcakes around myself if I have to.
A warm body comes up from behind, and I don’t need to turn to see who it is. That thick, intoxicating cologne gives him away.
“You’re not eating your weight in cupcakes,” he whispers just above my ear, and a mean shiver goes off through me. Shep has always held the ability to carry out a low baritone when he wants to and, dear God, did he ever want to.
“I’m saving room for a different kind of dessert.” I lean back involuntarily just to feel the warmth of his body washing over mine.
“And what would that be?” His voice strums over my skin, setting every last inch of my flesh on fire. Under no circumstances can I turn around. Under no circumstances am I to latch onto those flame blue eyes. I must avoid the hell out of Shepherd Collins while he’s strutting around this mountain like a scrumptious piece of sex dripping off that proverbial stick and, my God, how I hate that saying. But in my defense Shep happens to be the personification of it at the moment. All of this pent-up sexual aggression is bound to blow right out of me, erupt, explode, detonate. And as if on cue, the night sky detonates in a riot of splendor as Shep and I watch the violent assault in the heavens with awe. The grand finale comes and goes, and soon everyone is sending the bride and groom off with air kisses and well wishes.
“Oh no.” My fingers tap over my lips. It’s only then I realize I’ve lost my ride, and just as I turn to try to find Lex, I smack into a body—the exact body I’ve instructed myself to avoid for the rest of the night—for life if I know what’s good for both me and my West Virginia. This boy—man—my God, Sunday was so right—looks ready to scold, bed, wed, trash, thrash, lust, and thrust his way through life.
“What’s the matter?” His cheek pinches to the side as he offers that obnoxious grin, his lids hooded low as if he were expertly conducting a takedown of my imaginary cupcake fort. “Did you just remember that you’re not the one getting down and dirty with Seth Baker tonight?”
I can’t help but scoff at him. It never ends with Shep. “I’m more of an Eli Gates’ kind of a girl.” Lies. But judging by that look on his face, I just struck every live and raw nerve in his body. His lips press white, and the muscles in his jaw redefine themselves. “I drove up with Sunday and Seth, so I just lost my ride.” I crane my neck past him looking for Lex. “I guess if Eli wants to give me a ride tonight, who am I to say no? I might even let him drive me off this mountain first.” I glance up at Shep, my lips widening with a devious smile. You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. My God, I’ve just discovered where Shep keeps his big red panic button, and it just so happens to have Eli’s face on it. If I didn’t know better, good old Shepherd Pie is stone-cold jealous.
“You won’t need a ride from Eli Gates,” Shep says it without a smile, the hint of smoldering contempt layered underneath his tone.
“Oh? Do you suggest I hoof it?”
“No.” He threads his arm through mine. “You’re coming home with me.”
The driveback to Hollow Brook is swift and without pretense. There’s an undeniable current in the air, and if we’re not careful, one wayward spark will send this entire car up in flames, taking us both down in the most indelicate way.
No sooner do we get into his rental house than I make a beeline for the kitchen, and don’t think for a minute I’m not relishing that look of quasi-disappointment on his face.
“My, my, presumptuous, are we? I do believe that sour puss you’re wearing suggests you would have much rather I made a right at the hall, tosay—far more coital pastures—as in the bedroom?”
His lids slit to nothing as he sidesteps toward the refrigerator. “I was thinking no such thing.” He pulls out a bag of sliced bread and waves it at me. “Peanut butter and jelly sandwich? If I recall, that was your favorite right before you took a nap.”
“I was not napping at fourteen.” Okay, so I might have been napping the three years prior to that, and maybe Shep was around a time or two to witness the event, but that was Lex’s fault for hosting so many damn house parties at our place. “And no thank you. I much prefer a nightcap of a different variety these days.” I pull the whiskey and honey forward, plucking a couple of glasses from the cabinet before he can stop me. I mix us both a sweet and sour concoction, sure to delight and numb a few senses.
