Marley doesn’t like strangers or crowds, and she sure as fuck doesn’t like being around men she doesn’t know. I hate it every time I see the split second of panic cross her face.
Being around all these people probably has her on edge.
“Hey, hey, it’s just me.” I croon softly with a smile.
She tips her head back and those beautiful blue eyes meet mine. Relief replaces the fear as she slaps her hand over her chest and lets out a nervous laugh. “Jax, you scared me.”
Right above her hand is the delicate white gold chain with the tiny hammered horseshoe pendant she wears all the time. I love that she always wears it for two reasons: one; she doesn’t know it, but I sent her that necklace anonymously a few months ago.
She almost returned it because she didn’t know who sent it, but decided to keep it because she loved it so much.
Two; it has a tracking device in it so I can always know she is safe.
The relief, and the smile, that replaces the fear when she sees it’s me, sends a rush of happiness through me. But when I let go of her and reluctantly take a step back, I’m speechless as I look at her in her maid of honor dress.
She’s absolutely fucking stunning.
My eyes move down the peach sundress that is form-fitting on the top, but flares at the hips to her knees, down tothe flat ballet shoes and back up. The thin straps of the dress expose her golden tan shoulders and her long blond hair is half up and hanging in big, wavy curls down her back. Her big blue eyes look away and she squirms under my stare.
“Tako lepa.” I whisper. [So beautiful.]
Her eyes snap back to me and her eyebrows pull together, forming that cute little line over her nose. “What?”
Reaching out, being careful not to move too fast, I touch her elbow with the tips of my fingers. “It means beautiful.” Her face softens and a beautiful shyness turns her cheeks pink as she looks down. “You look beautiful, Marley.”
Just eight months ago, she wouldn’t even look at me, and every time I attempted to stand next to her, she moved away. It’s taken me six visits to the ranch and innumerable, brutal attempts to communicate with her just to get her to give me the gift of those beautiful blue eyes.
The soft rosy pink on her face enhances her beauty even more and makes her blue eyes the color of the deepest ocean. My heart flips in my chest when she looks back up and sheepishly asks, “What language is that?”
“Serbian. But if you like, I can say it in French. ‘Si beau’.” Yes, I’m showing off a little, but it’s rare that she talks to me and I’m basking in her attention.
Her eyes drop to my lips, her head tilting to the side in thought before she barely shakes her head. “No, it sounded more natural the first time. It matches you. I like it better.” She shrugs her shoulder a little and looks away while rolling her full, pink lips together.
She’s embarrassed and uncomfortable. I’ve spent hours watching this woman and learning all her tells, so I joke and say, “Sta ti se svida, meni se svida” [Whatever you like, I like]
The smile is back and her eyes volley between mine as her shoulders relax and she links her fingers together in front of her. “What does it mean?”
I wink at her with a smile, but I don’t touch her. Christ, I want nothing more than to touch her, but I keep my hands to my sides. “It means let’s get this party started, beautiful girl.”
An hour later, I’m standing across from her as Mason and Sloane exchange their vows. In the past, when Mason talks about his twin, it’s like she is a living, breathing part of him because they are so close. So, it doesn’t surprise me when she wipes tears from her cheeks as she smiles at her brother.
Taking a handkerchief from my pants pocket, I lean behind the couple and hand it to her. I hear several ‘Ahhhs’ from the crowd of onlookers seated behind us and I wink at her when her eyes briefly meet mine. Her warm fingers brush mine and I swear that warmth travels up my arm.
At the appropriate time, we give them their rings, and as they exchange their vows, my eyes are glued to Marley. The first time I saw her, she took my breath away, and she’s done it every time since.
The priest declares them man and wife and after they kiss, Sloane turns to Marley and they hug. I can’t hear what Marley whispers in her ear, but she has her hand on Sloane’s round belly.
Mason turns to me and we clap hands in a tight handshake, he’s smiling like a schoolboy. “Congrats, brother.” I say, before he turns away and grabs Sloane’s hand to face the crowd.
Right on cue, as planned, every guy from the team stands up and pulls a party popper, streamers and confetti rain down on the couple as everyone laughs. Including Marley. It’s the sweetest fucking sound, and one I don’t hear very often.
Everyone moves to the covered area near the barn where the band is set up to eat. Marley and I are sitting next to each other at the wedding party table and when it’s time for the traditional best man and maid of honor toasts, Marley has a folded piece of paper in her hand.
Her knuckles are white as she clutches that piece of paper between the thumb and forefinger of each hand in her lap. When I turn to her to see if she would like to go first, her face turns scarlet. Mason leans over and whispers in her ear, probably telling her she doesn’t have to do it, but she gives a stubborn head shake while looking at her hands in her lap.
One of the guys from the band walks up to the table and holds the microphone out to Marley, and her chest starts to rise and fall faster. I grab the mic and thank the guy while unfolding my own piece of paper as I stand.
I’m used to speaking into comms with the guys all the time, so this is nothing for me, but I know Marley gets terrified if there are too many eyes on her. She doesn’t like any kind of attention, but she seems stubbornly determined to follow through with her maid of honor duties.
