Page 119

“I know,” I said quietly.

My mother sighed. “Just get here, sweet pea.”

“I’m leaving now.”

I ended the call and stared at my reflection. My lipstick was still perfect. My hair was still smooth. My dress still looked exactly the way I'd intended. From the outside, I looked like a woman who had everything under control.

Which was hilarious. Because on the inside? I was one kiss away from losing my damn mind. And the worst part was, I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to stop it.

20

A GOAT WITH A CRIMINAL RECORD

Damon

I'd been to my fair share of weddings. We’d hosted hundreds on the ranch. I'd been a groomsman six times, a best man twice, and according to at least three bridesmaids, the best wedding favor they’d ever taken home.

Not my proudest statistic. Not my least proud, either.

But in all my years of attending weddings, I'd never witnessed a rehearsal that felt this off the rails. And I'd certainly never seen a woman take control of one while wearing four-inch heels and looking like she belonged on the cover of Forbes.

Mikayla Parsons was a force of nature. A five-foot-something, gorgeous, terrifying force of nature. And I was in serious trouble.

Not because of our arrangement. Not because we were pretending to be a couple. But because I was pretty sure I was falling in love with a woman I'd agreed to four days of playing boyfriend with who'd spent the last two years treating my flirtation like an unfortunate medical condition.

Chronic. Persistent. Best ignored.

And now? Now I couldn't stop watching her. I stood back near the entrance to the ceremony lawn, one shoulder propped against a wooden post, and watched as Mikayla floated from one relative to another.

Although floated wasn't exactly the right word. Mikayla didn't float. She moved with purpose. Like a general surveying a battlefield.

A very sexy general in a green dress that hugged her curves in ways that made me reconsider every life choice that had led me to this exact moment.

"You're staring."

I glanced at my brother Dylan, who had appeared out of nowhere.

"Observing," I countered.

"Like a stalker?"

"Like a person who minds his own business, you should try it."

He followed my gaze, and it landed on Mikayla. "Ah."

I didn't like that particular ah. It was the kind that suggested my brother had just figured something out about me that I hadn't figured out myself.

"Don't," I warned.

He lifted both hands. "Didn't say anything."

"Your face did."

"My face is naturally expressive."

"Your face is naturally punchable."

He grinned, clapped me on the shoulder and said, “This punchable face is available when you need to talk,” he relayed and wandered off.