“It could go a foot or so to the left.” Erin eyed the table.
“No, it needs to go to the right,” Brenna argued.
“I think you’re both wrong.” Honor glared at them. “The table is fine and it’s staying where it is.”
He thought the table looked fine, but he wasn’t about to say anything. Having been around the three sisters for more than ten years, he knew better than to get in the middle of one of their arguments. Nobody won, least of all him. He’d learned that the first year he was here.
“What’s the fuss?”
Maureen had come out and stood there, hands on her hips, giving that look to all three women.
“The table is crooked,” Brenna said. “Obviously it needs to move to the right by a foot.”
“The table is fine.” Honor sent a deliberate look to Maureen.
Erin shook her head. “It needs to go to the left to match the other table.”
Maureen sighed, then turned a critical eye to the table, walking back and forth and even bent over to give both tables a thorough examination. When she straightened, she said, “The table stays where it is. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
Finn waited for the angry explosion, but Brenna just blew out a breath and walked away. Erin shrugged. Honor, knowing that whooping in victory would only irritate her sisters and probably her mother, stayed silent.
Brenna came to him and tilted her head back. “The table was crooked, wasn’t it?”
Now he was truly fucked. He’d never once lied to her in all the years he’d known her. But he’d never been as close to her as he was now. Would he mess that up by starting now?
“Not that I could see. It looked straight to me.”
“Damn. I wanted to be right. Okay. Can you help me with some wine in the storage room?”
“Sure.”
That had gone better than expected. He walked with her to the wine cellar. She unlocked the door and they went down the steps, into the room where there were racks of wine. He wasn’t exactly sure what she needed, but it was nice and cool down here.
She turned and snaked her hand around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers.
Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around her and drew her close, fusing his lips to hers, sliding his tongue inside to take what she was so fervently offering. He backed her against the cool cement wall and breathed in her citrus scent, sucked on her tongue, absorbed the moans she made as she wrapped a leg around his hip.
He was hard and pressed urgently against her center, making her moans more pronounced, and all he wanted was to lift her dress and touch her more intimately, to slide down on his knees and taste her, lick her all over until she cried out and came all over his face.
How much time did they have? Probably enough.
“Brenna? You down there?”
She tore her lips from his. “Dammit,” she whispered.
Finn took a step back, his breathing heavy, his dick rock hard.
“Yes, I am,” she said in response to Honor.
“People are starting to arrive.”
“Be right up.” She looked at him. “I thought we’d have more time.”
“I wish we had. I was conjuring up plans for you.”
She arched a brow as she smoothed her hair back. “Save them for later.”
“Will do. Oh, shit. I should come upstairs with something.” She looked around and settled on a bottle of merlot. “Esther mentioned this being a favorite of hers.”
He followed her up the stairs, admiring the sway of her hips with every step, then decided that watching her ass wasn’t going to make his boner go away, so he stared at the steps instead.
When they got back to the barn, Allison and Mitchell were there. Allison looked them both up and down.
“You look sweaty. What were you two doing?”
“Are you writing an article?” Brenna asked. “Or just bored with your own life?”
She circled around Allison and Mitch and took the bottle to Esther, who squealed and threw her arms around Brenna.
“You’re amazing. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Brenna sported a genuine smile. “I thought you and Brock could crack this open when you get back from your honeymoon.”
“Oh, we definitely will.”
Once the families and all the bridesmaids and groomsmen showed up, everyone took their seats. This time, Finn got to sit next to Brenna. There was an amazing spread of food—salmon Benedict, omelets, crepes, bacon, fried potatoes and three amazing salads along with all kinds of fruit. Plus champagne. It was all so damn good that Finn could have eaten three times. And okay, he might have overfilled his plate, but he was hungry.
After he’d made his second trip to the buffet, Brenna looked over at his plate.
“Didn’t you eat last night?”
He slid his fork through his omelet. “Of course I did.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know where you put all that food.”
“In my belly, of course.”
“And yet look at you. Flat stomach. Lean. It must all turn to muscle.”
He draped his arm over the back of her chair and leaned close. “Why, Miss Bellini, are you complimenting my body?”
The intent in her gaze was obvious. “Maybe.”
He slid his fingers into her hair and teased them along her neck. “Maybe you might want to explore it—later.”
Her breath caught and held. He knew she wasn’t playing this for Mitch and Allison, because she hadn’t once pulled her attention from him. No, this was all for Finn, and he was enjoying every agonizing second of it.
“You make it hard for me to breathe, Finn.”
His lips curved as he whispered in her ear. “You smell like summer and sunshine. And lemons. I want to taste you, lick you all over to see if you taste like lemons, too.”
Allison cleared her throat so loudly that several people—including Finn—looked across the table. She shot them both a disapproving look.
Apparently, she was a little jealous of Brenna getting attention from him. Why? Then he noticed Mitch wasn’t sitting next to her. He tracked the room and saw that Mitch was huddled in the corner of the room talking on his phone. Interesting.
Finn refocused his attention on Brenna, tipped her chin up with his fingers and brushed his lips across hers.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“Just a little dagger to the heart of your nemesis. And for me, because I wanted to.”