CHAPTER 3
“Your body's amazing,” I said.
“So's yours. I'm having a difficult time restraining myself, because I want to touch you all over. I want to grab your legs and bite them.”
My eyebrows shot up and my breath caught in my throat. “Bite them?”
He flashed his teeth and tapped them together. “Gently. Just love bites.”
I kept moving my hand up, thinking that what I was feeling couldn't get any better, but then I reached his chest. He flexed under my hand, and he was hard there, too, and now I was having very bold thoughts about visiting his hot dog stand.
I whispered, “I want to bite you right here.”
He whispered back, “I'd like that. You can nibble me anywhere, any time. I work out all those hours a week for a reason, you know.”
My fingers ran over his ni**les, hard as buttons. “For the camera.”
“For nibbles.”
Oh, nibbles. So many nibbles. Our lower bodies nudged closer together, and I could feel the heat of his leg between mine. A shiver shot up my body—a shiver unlike anything I'd felt in a very long time. Forget playful words. It was the kind of shiver that gets one in trouble.
I pulled back and ducked under his arm to get out of the corner, careful not to drop my plate of food.
“Mmm, this food smells good,” I said to the distant relatives who were staring at us while pretending to not be staring.
Dalton detoured back into the buffet line and came away grinning, two fresh dinner rolls on his plate. “To hell with low-carbs. Tonight's about fun,” he said.
~
My parents came by our table with Kyle after everyone finished dinner, saying they were heading home before the Little Monster got into the spiked punch.
Kyle was having way too much fun, chocolate icing all over his face, and asked for another shoulder-ride from Dalton.
Dalton complied, and within minutes, he was the Human Bouncy Castle of the reception, with everyone's kids and babies all over him. As I watched him entertain all the little tykes, I got that overexcited-ovaries-in-squealing-mode feeling you can only get from seeing a strong, handsome man being kind to icing-crusted children.
Calm down, I silently commanded my ovaries. He's not ours for keeps; he's just on loan from his universe tonight, taking a little holiday in Normal Life World.
I took my purse from the table and visited the washroom, figuring it was about time, based on how much liquid I'd consumed. When I'm in my control-top gear, my muffin-top smoothes out nicely, but it's difficult to tell when my bladder is full, versus merely squashed into my spleen.
When I came out of the stall, Marita was in the ample-sized ladies' room, reclining on a wicker settee in a puddle of bridal lace, fanning herself. Marita looked like a smaller version of my mother, with her round face and sturdy frame. She and I had the same neutral, light hair, but while I streaked and lightened mine to a sunny blond, she colored hers red, and the cherry hue suited her no-nonsense personality. Marita had been my favorite babysitter growing up, and she used to dress me up in her clothes until I turned fourteen and got bigger than her, from shoe to hat and everything in between.
She used to read me bedtime stories, and get annoyed when I pointed out that she’d missed a word. One night, she said that if I was so good at reading, I ought to read her book, to her, instead of the other way around. And thus began my introduction to mushy romance novels, and a lifelong love of reading. She wouldn’t let me see the folded-over pages until I was twelve. Like I said, she was the greatest babysitter, right?
“I should be doing that,” I said, taking the fan from her hand. “I haven't been much of a bridesmaid to you.”
“You have good reason,” Marita said, pushing her red hair off her sweaty brow. “Your date is gorgeous! One of my friends asked to get the name of the big city escort agency you used.”
My jaw dropped and my face-fanning faltered.
“Oh, Petra Monroe, it's a joke!” she said. “Nobody actually thinks he’s a prostitute.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the mirror, which was the worst thing I could have done, because the way I was leaned forward and the way the bridesmaid dress pulled across my hips, my butt looked exactly like a big, juicy peach.
“He's just a friend,” I said.
“Is that code for g*y? He'll make somebody a great catch. And he's so great with the kids.”
“He's clearly not g*y. In fact, he's been hitting on me.” I shrugged. “We might end up as more than friends, perhaps.”
“Really? Are you going to sleep with him?” Her grin got wide and salacious. “Tonight? Every guy dreams about bagging a bridesmaid.”
My mouth opened, but then I remembered. Eyes wide open!
No, I couldn't pour my heart out to Marita about the thoughts I'd been having about nibbling Dalton’s carbohydrate-free body. She had a big mouth, and she'd tell everyone, and soon I'd be the cousin who was having a hand-in-panties job from a g*y escort.
“He's just a friend.” I eyed her stomach. “How's the second trimester treating you?”
She glanced from side to side, her face turning red. “I don't know what you mean.” She batted her blond eyelashes and smoothed down the waistline of her white gown. “I've been stress-eating.”
“Marita, you told me last month.”
She looked even more embarrassed, her eyes down. “I'm so sorry, I forgot about that. You've been nothing but supportive. I don't like lying, but James wanted to wait for the announcement until after the wedding, so his parents wouldn't be embarrassed today.”
I knelt down next to her and held her hand as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Secrets are tough,” I said. “Everything will be worth it in the end. You're doing the best you can, and everyone supports your decision, including me.”
Her voice thick, she squeezed my hand and said, “Auxiliary bridesmaid duties accomplished. Thank you for being here with me.”
“Anything for my favorite babysitter.”
“Don't say that! You make me feel old, now that you're so grown up.”
The door to the washroom opened, and a pile of peach-colored fabric piled in with three bridesmaids.
I gave Marita a hug. “Here's the rest of your entourage. Now kick off your shoes and dance the night away.”
The other girls took over, and I excused myself to go back to my date. Marita's friends were all friendly enough, and they made me feel welcome in the group, but the band had started and I wanted to dance.
I headed for the clump of kids and found Dalton at the center. He shook off the last ankle-hugger and accompanied me to the dance floor.