It was wild, and there was no arguing that, but it also wasn't.
I wanted to kiss every inch of her, every last inch. I wanted to know her thoughts, her journeys, her worries. I wanted to understand Erin Walsh, and thatgreen green greentold me it would take a lifetime.
"Umm," she said, and I tore my eyes off her ass to follow her line of sight until it landed on the newest "umm" of the hour.
I should've known I wasn't getting Erin in bed without getting through one of her brothers first. They came with a special brand of cockblocking radar, the sister edition.
Riley was seated on the inn's stone steps, his arms braced on his knees and his head hanging low. A bottle of Don Felipe Platinum tequila—a full bottle of the good shit—sat to his left. He looked as if he'd been wrestling with himself all night, his hair everywhere and his shirtsleeves wrenched up. His Sperrys were untied. None of that was terribly uncommon for Riley. He was the guy who always rolled into happy hour with a mustard stain on his tie. But here, all alone, he looked sad and conflicted.
"It's really fucking late," she said. "Or really fucking early. What're you doing out here, kid?"
He brought his palms to his eyes with a miserable groan before glaring at me.
"That's unacceptable. Make it stop," he said, pointing to my hand on Erin's hip. "Didn't think I had to teach you manners, Nick."
I shook my head at that. "All good here," I said.
"Oh, yeah. He's fine on the manners front," Erin said with a smirk. I gave her hip a meaningful squeeze. There were going to be zero manners when I got that girl naked. "I'm the offender here. I think you know I usually am."
She slipped her hand into my back pocket and pinched my ass. Fuck me, I'd met my match.
"Rogue, I really don't have the stomach for your catastrophes this weekend," he said, rubbing his eyes again. "Seriously. I can't do this with you. For one time in our lives, my problems are actually bigger than any stunt you can pull."
I tilted my head toward him as if that would turn down the accusation in his words, but nope, that didn't change it. I was still annoyed at the way he was speaking to my wife, like she was some bratty little girl who couldn't be trusted with anything. If I'd learned anything tonight, it was that these guys didn't know their sister at all.
"Seriously, no catastrophes, no stunts, nothing," she said, breaking away from me to nestle beside Riley on the steps. She offered me a small shrug, as if conceding that there might have been a stunt or two last night, but Riley didn't need those details right now. "What's your deal?"
His eyes drifted shut, and for a second, his chin quivered enough that I expected tears to fall next. "I've done everything in my power to stop it, E, I really have," he said, his head dropping to her shoulder. "I thought the dominatrix—"
"That was Josie? Or Mila?" Erin asked.
He nodded. "Mila. Josie's the yoga instructor from Tinder who wanted me to pee on her," he said, and we all winced at that. "So, I thought one of them would beat this out of my system, but it hasn't worked. I don't know what to do. I just know that I love her. She's the only one I want, the only one I think about, and I can't have her. I can't eventellher."
I met Erin's eyes, and she mouthed, "What the actual fuck is going on here?"
"IloveLauren," he continued, and we both struggled to contain our reactions to that one. "But Lauren lovesMatt, and she's so happy. I don't want her to go through with it, but I don't want to ruin her wedding either."
"I'm sure you wouldn't ruin anything," I said. I reached a hand in his direction and helped him to his feet when he accepted it. "It's gonna be fine. You just need to sleep this off. You know, when we were kids and it was time for bed, my grandmother used to say we were going to Mrs. White's party. I haven't thought about that in years, and now that I say it, I'm not sure it translates cleanly. Regardless, you need to go to Mrs. White's party, dude."
Erin's closed fist was pressed against her mouth as she silently rocked with laughter. I shrugged likewhat did you want me to say?
"My grandmother, she was this littleold Mexican ladywho believed in magic and ghosts, and the chupacabra, and wacky shit like that, but she had a lot of wisdom, especially at the end. She claimed she was descended from a line of Mayan priestesses who'd conducted virgin sacrifices," I said. "She lived with us on the ranch, and listen, when she said it was time for Mrs. White's party, me and my sisters, we didn't fuck around. We got our asses into bed."
Riley was in his own world of misery and self-pity, and for his part, ignored everything I was saying. My wife, on the other hand, was slowly shaking her head as if she couldn't believe these things I said. Like it was a shtick we had, one where I was a walking non-sequitur and she was the honest-to-goodness woman who loved me.
Motherfuck. It was going to be hard letting her go. Andcome on. We all knew it was happening eventually. Wanderers of the world didn't spontaneously abandon doctoral programs at Oxford to warm my bed and bear my children.
"I know some cultural anthropologists who'd love to run down the threads of that story," she said. "Especially that ritual bloodletting bit. That's fun."
"Bring it on," I said, reaching for her hand and pulling her up.
"Right, so we're all going to bed," Erin said, patting Riley's shoulder. "Separately. We're all going to bed, but we're going to separate beds."
"Of course," I said. "Lots of different beds."
Riley looked us over as if we were speaking around him in code. Which we were.
"I mean it, Rogue.Swear.Promise you won't let me ruin the wedding," Riley said, his bottom lip snared between his teeth and his arms folded over his chest. "Promise you'll punch me in the balls if I try to object because I can't hurt her like that."
