“Sorry to hold you up.” Curtis caught Sara’s hand and pulled her to his side. “We should’ve taken our conversation outside.”
She snickered. Conversation. Right.
He squeezed hard enough to make her jump. “See you out at Peter and Meredith’s, Father.”
“Call me Ben.” He gestured at his neck. “I’m just an ordinary pastor, not a priest.”
“Does that mean I’m not going to hell for groping the best man on hallowed ground?” she asked.
Dimples popped in the pastor’s cheeks as he laughed. “I think you’re safe.”
“Hallelujah.”
Curtis shook his head and jerked her toward the door. “Come on, troublemaker.”
Brilliant June sunshine blinded her as they stepped out of the church. But Curtis didn’t stop moving, nor did he let go of her hand. Not until they rounded the corner and reached a vintage black Mustang parked curbside beneath a large maple tree.
“Nice car.”
“Glad you think so. Get in,” he said, while opening the passenger door.
“If that’s your idea of foreplay, you could use a few pointers.”
“Jesus.”
“Not from him.” She ignored Curtis’ hand waving her through the open door and settled her hip against his car. “Though I bet the old J-man had no problem getting lucky with all the religious groupies following him around.”
“Oh man. I think I have my work cut out for me this weekend.”
She pushed off the side of the muscle car and stepped close enough to put them practically chest to chest. “And what ‘work’ is that?”
“Keeping you out of trouble.”
Those weren’t flirting words. Not the way he spoke them. What. The. Fuck. “Who stuck you with that job?” She kept her tone level, but her voice seemed far away, drowned out by the race of her pulse, hammering in her head.
He shrugged. “Nobody.”
“Liar.” Unlike before, this time when she spoke the word, she meant it wholeheartedly.
He caught her arm when she tried to spin away. He met her narrowed gaze with an unwavering stare of his own. “Just making sure everything goes smoothly for my brother. And your sister.”
She yanked, and his fingers tightened around her wrist. “By handcuffing me to six feet of good behavior?”
“Six-two. And babe, if and when I put the cuffs on you, you can count on my behavior being very, very bad.”
She shivered and he grinned. She jerked again, this time breaking free of his grip. “Fuck you, lawman.”
“Maybe later.”
“Try never.” Not now, knowing any attention he’d shown her was the result of a babysit-the-troublemaker assignment.
“Never say never, babe,” he called after her.
She flipped him the bird without looking back, her heels clacking loudly against the concrete as she left Curtis Lawler and his stupid sexy laugh in her dust.
Chapter 2
Curtis
Curtis watched Sara’s wicked-hot ass sway as she marched down the sidewalk. The backside looked as good as her front, and since he’d been staring at her incredible tits since she made her entrance in the church, that was saying something. But oh man, what a piece of work.
Conn had told him about Sara’s repeated come-on attempts the first time he’d met her, all of which she’d made in front of Nia. Curtis had thought his brother was exaggerating. What kind of person tries to steal her sister’s brand-new boyfriend right in front of her face? Now he knew.
Sara glared at him while unlocking an early-eighties-model Trans Am parked a few car lengths ahead. Red, with a hood bird. A classic. The perfect car for a hot girl with ego and attitude.
He ducked into his Mustang and brought it rumbling to life. Angry as she was, Sara wasn’t likely to wait around for him to tail her out to Peter and Meredith’s place. She’d probably prefer he got lost—and stayed that way.
She had every right to be pissed. He’d never been one to mince words, but that crack about keeping her out of trouble so she didn’t screw up the wedding had been on the “dick move” scale. Somewhere around a six, he’d guess.
At the first stop sign, Sara once again issued him the middle finger, this time via the rearview mirror. He tapped the horn in response.
He wasn’t a saint by any stretch, but he wasn’t an asshole either. So why had he issued the low-blow comments to a woman he didn’t even know?
Because she’d gotten under his skin.
Bombshell gorgeous with a fast tongue and not an ounce of fear. If women had balls, Sara’s would be so fucking big, she’d be walking bowlegged. She might as well have a neon sign above her head flashing “Bad Girl.” Goddamn irresistible.
He’d been seconds away from blowing off the rehearsal party. From bullying her into his car and heading straight to his hotel room where he could strip her bare and find out exactly how bad she could be. See what it would take to tame her.
Wrong weekend for that kind of fun. Wrong girl too. He and Sara would set fire to the sheets, he had no doubt. But she was practically family. Too close to home.
The second she’d passed the town limits, Sara hit the accelerator. He grinned for no one to see and gave the Mustang gas. Thought she could shake him, did she? Not a chance. Her Trans Am was no match for his ’67 Fastback. Also, he wasn’t inclined to lose.
The woman could drive, though. She led him on a heated chase, ripping down empty rural roads, ignoring the posted speed limit, failing to stop for those irrelevant red signs on the corners. He cranked up the tunes and followed suit through every twist, turn and straightaway.
The game ended way too damn soon, with a final turn down a long, gravel laneway bordered by thick woods. Fifty feet later, they reached a charming red-sided house set on one side of a large clearing. Natural forest surrounded the massive yard, except for a small stretch on the far right side where waterfront broke the circle. On the other side of the yard stood a small smokehouse. And speaking of smoke, there was Peter, waving from his station at the barbecue, near the house’s adjoined garage.
Curtis returned the greeting, shut off the car and hopped out. No wonder his brother liked coming up here to visit the future in-laws. Not only were Peter and Meredith Chambers nice people, they had a sweet setup—if you liked the whole “serenity” scene, as Conn did. Curtis didn’t mind kicking back for short stints now and then, but too much calm and relaxation made him twitchy. Give him the adrenaline rush of ripping down a country road any day.
The object of his recent pursuit had parked directly in front of the garage. Two beefy Dodge trucks separated their vehicles, obscuring his view. Despite being divorced for many years, his parents had made the six-hour trip northward together, along with his sister Lindsay. That was truck number one. The second, and almost matching, Durango belonged to Conn. Apparently the lovebirds hadn’t detoured to the hotel for a quickie—or something longer—as predicted. They’d make up for the missed opportunity on their honeymoon, no doubt. Hell, given their storybook romance, Curtis wouldn’t be surprised if Nia came home pregnant. That’d be the icing on the cake.
“You kept up,” Sara said as he rounded his car and popped the trunk.