I adopted an air of innocence. Booker — no other name because the dude thought he was Cher or something — was an air elemental who had a way with the ladies. He and Galen had grown up together and claimed to hate one another. Every story I heard, every catastrophe we survived, made me realize they were idiots if they believed that. They were best friends, although both would die before admitting it.
“I didn’t say he was better looking.” I patted Galen’s forearm. “I said he was hot. You’re obviously hotter.”
“That’s right.” Galen bobbed his head. “I am hotter.” He fell silent a moment before speaking again. “On a scale of one to ten, how much hotter am I?”
I was used to questions like this. Galen and Booker were locked in constant competition. When trouble came calling, they banded together to fight it, but they never stopped messing with one another.
“Ten,” I answered without hesitation. I knew what was expected of me. “Definitely ten.”
“Good answer.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. Ever since deciding two weeks ago that we were going forward with the wedding sooner he’d been a lovey-dovey dude. It made me smile. “Let’s go back to the dress.”
He tapped the magazine we were scanning. “Why don’t you think you can wear white?”
“I told you.” This question made me itchy. It was likely Catholic guilt. My father had taken me to church until I was about eight and Istill remembered some of the sermons. Sex before marriage was bad. That one stuck with me because my father brought it up constantly when I dated as a teenager. Sure, I understood now — through the lens of adulthood — that he was trying to protect me, but I couldn’t let it go.
“Brides wear white,” Galen insisted.
I had no idea why he was so fixated on this one detail. “Tell me why,” I ordered. “I don’t want to hear about tradition or how it’s supposed to be that way. Tell me why you’re so insistent.”
Galen’s sigh was long and drawn out. I’d trapped him in a conversation he didn’t want to have and there was no escaping. “Because when I picture you saying your vows, you’re wearing white,” he admitted.
My heart did a little lurch.
“I don’t picture a specific dress,” he continued. “I see a moonlight ceremony with you in white kind of glowing,” His cheeks colored slightly. “I know it’s your dress and you get the final say, but I don’t want some antiquated belief keeping you from a white dress.”
I angled my head as I regarded him. “I can wear white.”
He grinned, then sobered. “Are you doing that for me or you?”
“For both of us.”
“Good.” He leaned in to kiss me in an absolutely perfect Moonstone Bay moment. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.
“There’s a banana in the fruit salad,” a voice squawked amidst a flutter of feathers.
I jolted in Galen’s arms. Overhead, Carlos the parrot swooped above the patio — thankfully he didn’t crap as he was flying for a change — and landed in a palm tree not far away.
The parrot stared at us balefully.
“Making the bacon,” he added for good measure.
Carlos had been on the loose for months. He was a pet — or had been — and had made his escape despite his owner’s best efforts. His vocabulary consisted only of sex euphemisms, which had me side eyeing the woman who still cried at regular intervals when shesaw him and he refused to fly to her. We lived on a tropical island so Carlos was in no danger of going hungry or succumbing to cold, but storm season wasn’t far off. I was thinking of using my magic to trap him before that. I didn’t want anything to happen to the bird though. I was a softie at heart.
“I’m going to turn you into teeny-tiny drumettes,” Galen threatened Carlos. “You ruined my chance to get freaky on the patio.”
Carlos didn’t look bothered by the threat. “Stuff that muffin.”
Galen growled and I stifled a laugh.
“We were not going to get freaky out here,” I supplied. “You know I don’t do public displays of nudity.”
“You wouldn’t have had to be nude. I could’ve managed to get freaky with you and not removed a single item of clothing.”
That seemed unlikely. Intriguing, but unlikely. “Your brother will be here in about twenty minutes.”
Galen stiffened at my use of the word brother. Julian Nichols, a Florida shifter alpha, was moving to the island. Actually, he was temporarily moving in. He’d committed to two months to determine if he could acclimate to island life. After that, he would decide if he wanted to stay.
Galen and Julian hadn’t grown up together. They’d recently taken DNA tests to prove that the whispers were true. Julian’s mother had mated with Galen’s father — something people had gossiped about for decades — but Julian had been raised with another pack leader as his father and Galen had always believed he was an only child.
