The guilt that came along with our early departure ate at me. Mom and Dad had never gone more than a long weekend away from each other, but I made them spend three weeks apart.
Suffice to say, she never took another cruise gig until I left for college.
I will not let my aversion to boats ruin another important moment for someone I love.
When I reach the bow, Paige and Dash are already in the midst of their shoot. They stand with a beautiful, sprawling view of Lake Pontchartrain in the background. From the way thetwo gaze at each other, it’s no surprise they’re days away from making a lifelong commitment.
“Great! Now let’s get a smile toward the camera.” The photographer adjusts a lens before raising the camera back up.
But I guess that was too long of a pause for Dash.
“Mr. Lamont, if you would look at the camera?” she calls out again.
Then, a second later, “Mr. Lamont, eyes my way, please.”
Barely a moment passes before, “Mr. Lamont?—”
“Dash!” Paige growls as she cups his cheeks in both her hands. “Stop staring at me and look at the camera!”
The groom only smirks and leans in to kiss her deeply. The photographer shrugs and starts snapping what’s provided.
“He’s hopeless,” a wry voice mutters just behind me.
When I turn to find the speaker, I have to grab on to the railing with my second hand, and this time, it’s not because of the water.
There’s a woman. A striking woman.
She has a sharpness to her. Maybe from her neatly cut hair or the straight line of her brows. Or possibly from the piercing way she stares at the couple across from us.
“Love makes you goofy, I guess,” I offer, wondering what it might be like to have her intense focus on me.
Searing. That’s the sensation when she turns her head, meeting my gaze.
Even with all the angles to her, the ones that warn me I might get cut if I step too close, there’s nothing foreboding about her smile. And with that soft expression, I spy her curves. The way her lower lip is fuller than the top. The nicely sculpted curve of her biceps, which alert me to who would win in an arm-wrestling contest.
Her. No doubt.
And then there’s the round sweep of her hips, the shape emphasized by the vibrant red jumpsuit she wears. Plenty of people wouldn’t call the one-piece outfit provocative, with fabric reaching down to her ankles and a top sporting thick, flowing sleeves. What has my mind floundering is the knowledge that all the pieces connect, which means the outfit comes off all at once.
Fantastic. I’m officially a creeper.
“How do you know Paige and Dash?”
The tempting woman runs her own appraisal over me. I wonder if I meet any of her dating criteria.
“I’m the man of honor. Paige’s best friend.” That’s got to give me some credit, right? That a woman as awesome as Paige likes me enough to include me in her wedding party.
The stranger’s head tilts, and her eyes trail over me at an even slower rate, truly taking in every inch of my body.
“Charlie Keller.”
My name on her lips should be a best-selling song. I want to play it on repeat.
“Yes.” I almost choke on the agreement, eager to find out how she knows me. If she wants to get to know more. “And you are?”
“I’m Luna.” The woman extends a hand, and I detach one of mine from the railing to return the handshake. “Dash’s sister. And best woman.”
The second after she says it, I know I should have realized. For one, Paige told me Dash’s sister would be here and that she’s basically a shorter version of her brother.
