Brook hugs Ridge next, then Flint.
“You look great, Brook,” Flint says, his face turning serious. “Did you organize to fly back with me so that we can go over the reports on?—”
“No business talk at my wedding,” Robyn warns, wagging a finger at him.
Flint smiles and holds up his hands. “Duly noted.” He nods a few times. “From here on out it’s all about fun and celebrations.”
“Yes, it is.” Ridge kisses Robyn on the top of her head, pulling her into his side.
“We’ll see you guys out there,” Flint says, already herding Brook and me toward the doors. “Give us a few minutes to get things ready for you.”
Robyn nods, smiling from ear to ear.
Outside, the late sun has turned the chapel steps gold, and the guests are spilling out across the lawn in their suits anddresses, laughing, talking, shading their eyes. Flint climbs two steps, puts his fingers in his mouth, and whistles loud enough to stop every conversation dead.
“Listen up, everyone!” He spreads his arms. “The newlyweds are about to make their grand exit. I need you all to line up on either side of the steps, grab a handful of rose petals from the baskets. Arm yourselves.”
Laughter rolls through the crowd, and everyone starts moving, funneling toward the big woven baskets on either side of the path.
I listen with half an ear, because I’ve found Carla in the crowd and now I can’t take my eyes off her.
She’s with some male. He’s tall, blond, and young. Fresh like a fucking daisy. And he is all over her.
Fuck.
He’s got his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on her hip like it belongs there, and he’s leaning down, talking right into her ear. His mouth is close enough to touch her hair.
She laughs at whatever he said, head tipping back, throat exposed to the sun, and my dragon does this thing inside me. A slow, hot roll, like a beast turning over in its den. He roars, but I hold it in. He doesn’t like the male’s hand on her. He doesn’t like the male’s mouth at her ear.
He wants me to go over there and remove the arm at the shoulder.
I grit my teeth and stay exactly where I am, because I can’t rip someone’s arm off at my best friend’s wedding. It would be seriously frowned upon. Not to mention all the blood and mess.
Nope.
I can’t.
Carla is allowed to laugh with whoever the hell she wants.
I knew she was bringing him. I was prepared. But knowing and seeing it in the flesh are two very different things.
Brook appears at my side and presses a handful of petals into my palm. “Breathe,” she murmurs, so low only I can hear it, and gives my arm a squeeze.
Saint. I’m telling you.
I nod and smile at her.
Then the chapel doors swing open, and Robyn and Ridge step out into the light, hand in hand, and the whole crowd erupts.
There’s cheering, whistling, and a whole lot of clapping. Petals fly from every direction as they start to walk down between the guests. Robyn squeals with excitement, ducking her head against Ridge’s shoulder as the petals rain down on them. They’re both laughing, and Ridge lifts their joined hands overhead like a champion, which earns him another roar from the crowd.
The blond male takes his hand off Carla’s hip to throw his petals. Carla throws hers too, flinging them high, laughing and clapping as they scatter over the newlyweds. The photographer is having a field day, crouching, circling, the shutter going nonstop, catching the petals mid-flight from every angle.
Then the male puts his arm right back around Carla.
I grind my teeth.
Fuck!
