“Yes,” Sadie calls from behind me.
The woman uncovers a tray of fresh chocolate strawberries. There’s a note with them. “From your secret admirer,” she gushes, winking at me like I sent them.
Dammit. The thought hadn’t occurred to me. I’m not sure I even knew that was a thing until this moment. But Sadie sure as hell deserves them, even if they are from her dickwad ex.
“Oh,” Sadie says without much enthusiasm. She shoots me an apologetic look. “Great.”
I take the tray and shut the door.
Sadie opens the card. “Enjoy your stay. Let’s talk soon,” she reads the note aloud.
I try to keep from growling out loud.
“Yuck. This is so like Scott. He doesn’t stalk in ordinary ways. He throws his money around and puts apps on my phone and then just won’t leave me alone even though I have you here. I’m obviously with you, but he has to prove he’s the bigger man with a bigger bank account or something—”
“Huh. He’s pretty brave. Does he think I won’t rip his arms off for moving in on my fake girlfriend?”
Sadie lets out a soft laugh, the awkward tension leaving her.
“Hey.” I cross and settle my hands on either side of her head, cupping her cheeks. “I’ll keep him away from you.”
“Thanks. I’m so glad you came with me. I was absolutely dreading this weekend, but now...”
“Now what?” I don’t know why her answer seems important. Mission critical, even.
She flushes and shrugs. “It seems like it might be fun.”
My dick punches out against my zipper. Fun is definitely on the agenda for me, too.
For Sadie, of course. I’m not here for me. It’s all part of the mission.
And if that mission involves giving Sadie Diaz orgasms until she screams, so be it.
Sadie
There’s a second sharp rap on the door. I open it and greet the bellhop, who’s delivering a welcome basket from the bride and groom. “Welcome reception at five,” he reminds me, and I thank him.
“Welcome basket delivery.” I set it down and unpack it. “Oh good, there’s a folder with our itinerary for the weekend.” I set that aside. The rest of the basket is all fun stuff, and I announce each item like a dork. “We also got champagne and hand engraved glasses.” The glasses read Whine on.” Jenn has come to our Whine Wednesdays when she’s in Taos. “And this cute little white bag that reads bridesmaid, slippers—I can use those for the spa day.” I’m babbling now, but Deke’s listening.
I heave a giant sigh. “I’m just trying to figure out how it’s going to go.”
“It?” Deke stands right behind me, making goosebumps race across my skin.
“This weekend. This whole thing. I need structure, Deke. I need a plan.”
He cocks his head to the side, his dark eyes squinting at me for a moment. Then he says, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
He waves a big hand. “Talk me through it.”
“Really? You're not going to just tell me to go with the flow?” He seems like that sort of guy.
“This is our mission. We never go into a mission without a plan. Of course, when things go sideways, we have to improvise.”
I grab the folder and flip it open. “Our theme is “Romantic rustic,” I read aloud. “The attire is “Mountain Chic” I turn to Deke and ask with fake seriousness, “Are all your outfits Mountain Chic?”
“Don't know what that means, but I doubt it.” His lips quirk.
I grin back, feeling better already. Deke makes it all better.
“Well, all my outfits are mountain chic, so we’ll be fine.” I turn back to the itinerary to read through it. The bed creaks as Deke shifts positions. His weight makes the bed dip, and I half roll into him. Now we’re face to face, close enough to kiss.
“Is that what you call this?” he murmurs. His fingers pluck at my little yoga top.
I feel his touch through my clothes. My core clenches. “No, this is athleisure wear.”
“Don’t know what that is, either.”
“Fancy workout clothes. I’ve also got a closet full of off-duty kindergarten teacher chic. Mostly jeans, ballet flats and cardigans.” I shift a little closer to him. A few more inches, and my breasts will touch his chest. Not that I’m intensely aware of that fact or anything. “I’m sure you’re super interested in all my fashion choices.”
“Maybe I am.” His hot breath warms my face. His finger traces the neckline of my shirt. “But I admit, I’m more interested in what’s underneath.”
My nipples tighten. “Oh yeah?” I’d move even closer, but then I’d be actually climbing him. DO IT! My ovaries shout. They hold up a sign that reads: GET THE DICK.
“I have to confess, this is not my usual op, but I am definitely up to the unique challenges it presents.” His eyes crinkle.
I laugh. “I know one of those challenges is putting up with my anxiety.” I grab the itinerary and toss it away.
“Oh, I think I know what to do with your anxiety,” he murmurs.
I shoot him an inquisitive look, but he’s rubbing his face, looking away like he didn’t mean to let that slip out.
The rest of the basket is filled with snacks and spa samples. There’s also a note from Jenn thanking me for being a part of her and Geoff’s special day. Plus a personalized calendar with pictures of Jenn and me and Geoff. Unfortunately Scott is in a lot of them. Ugh.
“I’ve never been to a wedding,” Deke rumbles. “Is this typical?”
“Unfortunately, yes. The average wedding cost is like thirty thousand.” Jenn and Geoff are definitely spending way more.
“Jesus. You gonna do this?” He waves a hand at the basket.
“Um, do what? Use the spa samples?”
“Get married. Spend thirty thousand on a wedding.”
“Ummmmm.” My brain shorts out. “I want to get married. One day. I want kids. And my dad will probably insist on a big fancy wedding for networking purposes.”
“Fuck your dad,” Deke says with such beautiful nonchalance I want to record him, so I can play it over and over again with a beat track. “Don't care about him. What do you want?”
Suddenly, I get this image of me and Deke standing on a mountain top, holding hands. I’m in a cute but simple white summer dress, and Deke’s in his usual attire. My girlfriends and Deke’s biker buddies stand behind us, clapping. Rafe’s the officiant, and after Deke and I kiss, we all head to picnic tables for barbecue. Simple. Casual. Beautiful. I feel it with such a strong sense of longing. And suddenly there are tears in my eyes because it’s all I want.
Eek—too clingy. Deke said he doesn’t do relationships. He’s going to be a fling for me. Just a fling.
“I’d prefer something more casual,” I whisper. “Outside. A few friends, maybe my mom. An officiant and a picnic afterwards. That’s it.” I summon my courage and ask, “What about you? What’s your dream wedding?”
“Never getting married,” he says, and my dreams die with a little sad trombone sound. “Not for me, babe.”