“It better not hit me,” Ruby hisses.
I laugh because even with my back to her, I picture Ruby jumping away from the bouquet like it’s lethal.
“Oh!” Someone sputters like she’s just been winded.
I turn around to find Paige clasping the ball of flowers, her cheeks rosy pink.
Magnus comes up beside me and pulls me closer.
“We need to throw the garter, too,” he says.
“Okay.”
Mom and the photographer push a chair over to us.
I look at my mom, confused.
“Foot on the chair, baby,” she says.
I have no idea why, but I do it.
Why are weddings so weird again?
Mag slips his hand under my dress. The slightest brush of his fingers still makes me tremble.
“Use your teeth!” the photographer says with a laugh. “It’ll make a better picture.”
I turn crimson at the words.
“If you do that, you’ll leave here alone.”
“Suburbanite, I love you,” Mag chuckles, shaking his head.
Mom slaps his arm. “Don’t tease my daughter for being a good girl.”
He nods to her and mouths “Suburbanite” again to me. Then he slips the garter off with a perfect grasp and tosses it over his shoulder.
“I got it!” Hugo yells proudly, holding it up like it’s a trophy.
Oof.
“Awkward. I always wanted someone I work with to have my undergarment,” I groan, unable to do anything but smile.
Mag’s arms slip around my waist. His lips brush my forehead.
“That’s okay. I can promise if you don’t want it mentioned, it won’t be.”
“All of Me” starts playing, and I smile at my husband.
“That’s our dance.”
Of course he knows. He picked the song.
Taking my hand, he leads me to the dance floor. His eyes are even bluer against the sea green of his vest.
“That color looks divine on you,” I whisper, burying my face in his chest.
He laughs. “Black?”
“No, your vest. The pale green.”
“Your mother picked it.”
I grin.
“What?” he asks.
“Oh, I knew she did. The whole wedding has a mermaid theme.”
“I thought it was cool, so I rolled with it. I picked your headpiece, so we’re even.”
“Yep. That’s why I’m wearing this ridiculous thing.” For a split second, I flick my tongue out at him.
“You don’t like it?” Mag tilts his head.
“It’s beautiful, but it’s way flashier than what I’d usually wear.”
“Newsflash: this isn’t an ordinary day, beautiful.” He kisses my forehead. “I wish like hell my mom could’ve met you. She would’ve loved you.”
“I wish I’d met her too, but I know she was strong and amazing. She raised you.” I glance over his shoulder. Even just inviting close friends and family there are so many people here, mostly from my side. So many eyes on us. I draw closer, trying to hide my face in his chest.
“First dances are weird.”
“Because everyone’s watching you?” he asks.
I nod sheepishly.
“If we weren’t the only people on the dance floor, they’d still stare. You’re that stunning, and you’re also mine,” he says, giving me a possessive squeeze.
“You know, as half owner of Bristol-Heron, I think I propose that our first order of business after the honeymoon is a name change,” I tell him.
“And what would we change it to?” His blue eyes twinkle in the low light.
“Heron and Heron. What else?”
“Fuck, I like the sound of that.” He leans in and kisses me like mad.
We’re no longer dancing, really. Just standing in the middle of a dance floor, twisted together, making out like shameless teens.
“Get a room, you guys!” Paige belts out.
Magnus backs away from me.
“Sorry,” he whispers before turning his head to find Paige. “It’s my ship, and I own all of the rooms aboard.”
“All the more reason, dude!” Grinning, Jordan cuts in and throws Paige a thumbs-up.
We finish our dance, and then my dad taps Mag on the back.
“Can I cut in?”
“Of course.” He moves aside and Dad takes my hand.
“I didn’t think you’d dance with me. It’s the only reason I didn’t plan a father daughter dance.”
He smiles at me. “I didn’t think I’d dance with you, either, but seeing you all grown up and someone’s wife hit me like a truck. I’m proud as hell of you, Brina, and the man you married.”
Mom stands at the side of the room.
She’s smiling, but still I don’t like that she’s alone. Then Magnus steps up to her and says something.
I watch him lead my mother to the dance floor.
My heart floods with so much love.
Just when I thought it’d be impossible to adore him even more, I see my freaking husband dancing with my mom.
One wild day and a couple of long flights later, we’re on our honeymoon.
“Do you like it?” Mag opens the door to his beachfront condo in Kona, just a few miles from the farm.
“Holy crap. It’s beautiful here, and it smells like The Bean Bar.”
He laughs. “I told you I bought the farm.”
“I half thought you were joking...or at least embellishing.”
But no. Even the Hawaiian breeze rolling off the sea kisses my face, welcoming me in this otherworldly place with a man I’m convinced isn’t fully mortal.
The condo looks sleek, white, and immaculate. The lower floor has a patio that opens to our private beach. The bedroom on the second floor has a huge balcony overlooking the ocean.
“What’ll it be first, sweetheart?” he asks as we unpack.
“I want to swim with the dolphins. Oh, and see turtles if we can!”
“That can be arranged. It just so happens I’ve requested the best turtle tour guide for us, Valerie Calum. She’s flying in from Oahu tomorrow.”
“Amazing.” I bite my bottom lip.
We might need to sleep first, though. That flight was so long, but it didn’t steal all of my energy.
Heading for the bathroom, I slide into the white lingerie I secretly packed.
When I step out, his eyes match the sea, full of sun and steaming with desire.
“I thought you were tired. That seems too luxurious to sleep in,” he says with a knowing smirk.
I walk to bed, lean over, and kiss him, laying my hand against his chest.
His urgency overtakes mine in no time, and he pulls me down on the bed.
My hands stroke down his bare chest and washboard abs, hooking under the band of his boxers.
Growling, he yanks the belt of my robe loose, letting it fall open.
“You’re the devil in an angel’s guise,” he whispers, his voice smoldering.
I straddle his chest, leaning down to his ear.
“You’ll like my sin. I promise.”
“Fuck,” he rasps, right before delivering a wildfire kiss.
The luxe lingerie doesn’t stay on me for long, but we’re both past caring. I think I’d go around in a paper bag for a year if it meant having his kiss, his groan, and those rough, thick hands roaming my body.