Текст книги "Lovely Trigger"

Автор книги: R. K. Lilley

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

CHAPTER EIGHT

SIX YEARS AFTER THE ACCIDENT

DANIKA

I was beyond flattered to be asked by Bianca to be a bridesmaid.  I agreed instantly.  I hugged her when she told me, and embarrassingly, even teared up.

Her friendship had been very good for me.  We’d particularly bonded after the shooting.  I’d visited her whenever I could as she was healing.

She managed in that quiet way of hers to talk me into posing for a series of paintings for her while she recovered.

I was terribly flattered, and excited, because she’d promised me a painting for my time.

She was extremely generous with her art, offering several times to give me pieces I was taken with in the past, but I’d always put her off, insisting on paying for the two small paintings that I did end up buying from her collection.  This though, the exchange of inspiration for art, didn’t feel like taking advantage, and so I accepted her offer of taking my pick from her next collection after we’d finished with the sessions.

One painting turned into another, until I became her favorite subject, second only to James.

The hours turned to days, hell, to weeks, and her next show, which premiered a mere of eight months after her first, had so many paintings of me in it that I couldn’t keep track.  I became a bonafide part of the show.  It was a strange experience, to say the least, but a good one.

  We’d opened up to each other as I’d sat and she’d painted, even talking to some extent about our rough childhoods.  As far as nightmares went, I thought hers took the cake, but it was good to have a friend that could relate to having and surviving a troubled past.  To climbing out of a pile of rubble and leaving it behind.

It was hard, but I made a promise to myself, for the sake of two people I adored who were getting the dream wedding they deserved, to just be nice to Tristan for the whole affair.

Not just civil.  Not just less hostile.  But nice.

I could do this, I told myself, many times.

And when push came to shove, it was frightening just how easy it was to fall back into the old rapport.

Not just easy.  Natural.

I had this moment every time I went to visit Bev and Jerry at their house.  I’d walk in the door, and everyone in the place would just stop what they were doing and rush at me.  The kids, no matter how big they got, would wrap themselves around me.  The dogs, sans Mango now, but with an extra puppy in the mix, would come and crowd me until I sat down somewhere and let them all converge on me.  Bev would come and kiss me on the forehead, even while Jerry did a drive by all the chaos to pat me on the head affectionately.

I was squeezed so tight that the air left my lungs, licked on every part of skin that wasn’t covered, and it usually lasted for several minutes.  That many kids, and people, and dogs should not have existed comfortably into one space, but it didn’t just feel comfortable, it felt right.  Like I was coming home.

Every single time.

That’s how this felt.

Tristan and I were entering a new and unfamiliar chapter, only it didn’t feel that way.  It felt like no time had passed at all.

It was terrifying.  And comforting, because it hadn’t all just been some dream, there’d been a reason I’d gone through hell with this man, for this man, some true good to precede the bad.  Over the years, I’d half-convinced myself that I’d imagined most of the good.  It was just easier that way.

We were partnered up in the wedding party, which meant that we walked together, and at all of the parties, we sat together.

I usually took care with my appearance, but I went to great lengths that weekend, spending extra time on my hair and makeup and shopping for days to put my best foot forward.

I don’t care how things stand, every girl wants to feel beautiful when they see ‘that ex’ again.  You know the one I’m talking about.  The one you never quite got over.  The one that had claimed enough of you that some of it had been lost in the parting.

I wore a gold lace sleeveless mod sheath to the rehearsal dinner, going heavy with gold shadow and big hoop earrings.  I wore my hair straight and parted down the middle.  I kept it down, since I’d have a complicated up-do the next day.

I was in dress to impress mode.  I’d already seen Tristan several times since the festivities began, and each time I’d decked myself out with special care.

Vanity at its most perverse.

On the up side, we’d been getting along well, both of us cautious enough to go out of our way to give no offense.

“By the way, where’s that guy?” Tristan asked, sometime during the third course at dinner, his mouth making a mockery out of the words with just a hint of an unhappy smile.

His hair was longer.  It looked good on him.  Grippable.  I gave myself a mental slap for even thinking it.

“Andrew,” I clarified, something in his voice troubling me, and unwillingly, intriguing me.

We’d kept things light thus far, and it had seemed to be working.  This was a new turn, or the potential for one.

“You think I don’t remember his name?  How likely do you think that is?”

“Where’s that girl?” I asked, immediately wanting to take it back.  We did not need to do this to each other.

I looked down, up, shifted uncomfortably, but his eyes stayed glued to my face, his intense regard strong enough that it felt like a physical touch.

“What girl?” he finally asked.

I made a dismissive motion with my hand.  I knew her name, but I already regretted even asking.  “No one.  It was a very silly question.”

“No, tell me.  What girl?”

“That blonde one you’re always with.  Your girlfriend.”

“That’s not my girlfriend.  It’s weird to bring a girl that’s not your girlfriend to a wedding.  Your turn.  Where’s that guy?”

He had this perfectly even scruff on his jaw.  It was distracting.

“Andrew couldn’t make it.”  That was a lie.  He’d wanted to come, but we were on a break, a very long break, due to the fact that he’d proposed several months ago, and I’d put him off again, and to say he’d been unhappy about it was a gross understatement.  These days we were strictly friends, but Tristan did not need an update on my love life, or lack thereof.

“Oh, well that’s too bad.”  His statement was so unconvincing that I had to make an effort not to laugh.

“Not an Andrew fan?”

He gave me a rueful smile, his brown eyes so endearing.  I could tell he was about to say something funny.  I just knew him that well.  “That’s like asking if I’m a fan of cancer.  I fucking hate it, but do I know how to get rid of it?  Not fucking likely.”

That surprised one small giggle out of me.  “Oh my God.  Stop it.  You’re impossible.”

His focus shifted to something behind me, and I turned to look.  In an almost comical manner, everyone seemed to be staring in our direction, all gone quiet.  No one was used to seeing us interact with each other like normal human beings.

“We should really blow their minds and start making out,” he whispered.

I laughed again and had to check the urge to give his arm a playful punch.  “You’re an ass.  Shut up,” I told him.

His smile grew and his eyes shone in pleasure, like I’d just given him a gift.

CHAPTER NINE

THE WEDDING RECEPTION OF JAMES AND BIANCA CAVENDISH

“That motherfucker is even bigger than you,” shot out of my mouth as Tristan took his seat beside me.

He gave me one quick look and then looked at Akira, but that look told me plenty of things that I’d rather not have known.  For starters, my statement came out sassier than I’d intended, and Tristan still loved my sassy.   In fact, he ate it up.  His gaze had been hot and…something else that I didn’t want to name.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said idly, taking a sip of water.  “That giant bastard is taken.”

My eyes narrowed on him.  “I know that.  He’s married to a supermodel.  I was just saying…it must be weird for you, usually the biggest guy in the room, having to look up at somebody.  And his biceps are even a bit wider than yours…”

His breath whooshed out in a surprised laugh.  “You and your big arm fetish.  Mine are still bigger than your waist.  They haven’t gotten any smaller.”

I didn’t let myself look at them, but it was a struggle.  And I’d looked enough already to know that he was right.

Absently, I rubbed at my bad knee under the table.

I felt him staring at me.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly, as though he couldn’t help himself.

I made my face into a very careful mask.  “It’s fine, just a bit stiff.  Nothing to concern yourself with.”

Nothing on earth could have shocked me more than when his hand touched my leg, sliding under my hand to rub at my knee, somehow knowing just where to touch to ease the ache.  He’d always had a special talent for that.

“What are you doing?” I asked through my teeth.  We’d been getting along for days, but this was too much, too far.

He didn’t even flinch away from the look of murder I sent him, the bold bastard.  “I’m just trying to help,” he said, deadly earnest.

“I don’t need your help.”  My tone was venomous.

He didn’t stop rubbing, still didn’t flinch away.  Over the last six years, it had been way too easy to get him to back off, and I found that I had no clue what to do when my venom didn’t push him away.

“I know that.  Believe me, I know it.  But what if I need to give it?”

“We’re at the wedding of two people I adore, so I will be civil for about ten more seconds, but you had better believe that—”

“What about friendship?  Can we just try that?  No funny business, I swear.”

I felt so stiff, and I knew hostility was radiating off me in waves.

Frankie caught my eye, her arm around her girl.  This was a wedding, a joyous occasion, and her concerned look swayed me.  She was worried I’d cause a scene, and it hurt me that she was right to be worried.

I’m more mature than this, I told myself.  And hell, why couldn’t we be friends?  I didn’t think he was attracted to me anymore.  I knew that what he wanted really was just friendship and forgiveness, so why couldn’t I just give that to him?  Why did I feel the need to shut him out completely?

I knew the answer.  I was like a wounded animal, lashing out at his indifference, which had become the cause of my pain.

“No funny business?” I asked, then spoke again before he could answer.  “I actually believe that now.  I didn’t figure you were into cripples.”

His hand dropped limply from my knee.

I got a look at his face, right before his gaze dropped down to the table, and instantly regretted saying something so ugly.

Whatever his feelings for me had turned into, I still had the power to wound him deeply.

“I’m sorry,” I told him quickly.

I opened my mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by a furious looking Frankie.

She sat on Tristan’s other side, giving me a hostile look that I’d never have figured she’d direct at me.

“You okay?” she asked Tristan, her hand going to his arm.

He nodded shortly, stood up, and strode away.

“When are you going to stop hurting him?  When is it going to be enough for you?  You wanted him punished; he’s been through hell.  What more do you want?”

Part of me was livid about every word that came out of her mouth, but another part, the part that wouldn’t shut up today, knew she had a point.  I had been punishing him; for six years I’d been punishing him, and it had gotten out of hand.

She stood, and I knew that it was to go after him, to make sure he was okay.

I stopped her with a grip on her hand.  “I’ve got this,” I told her, standing.  “You’ve got some best man duties to attend to.”

“Please, Danika.  You don’t have to take him back, but please, just be kind to him.  He’s been through enough.  You both have.  You’re hurting yourself with this bullshit, too, you know?”

I knew it.  I let my eyes show her that as I nodded.

I found him walking aimlessly through the woods, somewhere between the wedding tents and the fortress of a building that James called a ‘house.’

“Tristan,” I called out loudly.

He froze.  He didn’t turn around, just stopped.

I caught up to him quickly, grabbing his arm.

“I’m sorry I said that.  It was an ugly thing to say, and I didn’t even mean it.  You know how I am.  I can never seem to keep things to myself, and sometimes they come out worse than I mean them.”

“You’ve been pretty good at keeping things to yourself for a very long time.”

My eyebrows shot straight up.  He had a point.  I had gotten better at holding my tongue, but I couldn’t quite decipher what his tone meant.

“That’s true.  I’ve grown up.  But what I said back there wasn’t grown up, and I’m sorry for that.  I don’t have a grudge against you.  I really have gotten over our…history together, and I think you’re right.  There’s no reason that we can’t be friends again.”

“Thank you.”  His voice was low and hoarse, his head tilted forward.  Even in the semi-darkness, I could see that his eyes stayed on the ground.

There was something so defeated in his stance, something so hopeless in his voice that I couldn’t seem to help myself,  I hugged him.  For comfort, for support.  Whether it was for him or me or both of us, I didn’t dare contemplate.

I had to stand up on my tiptoes to get my arms around his neck, and that was with him slouched down.

He was stiff as a corpse for about ten seconds before he reacted, his arms squeezing me so hard that I let out a grunt as all of the air was pushed out of me.

He eased up, and I took a few breaths before relaxing into him.

My body seemed to take over, because touching him brought back so many sensory memories.  We were a train wreck, he and I, but something about touching him had always just felt right to me.

I pressed into him, my face still buried in his neck.

He pulled back slightly, and I looked up at him.  I couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but I knew he was looking down at me.

“Tristan,” I uttered softly.

He lowered his head until his mouth was a breath away from mine, and even then, I didn’t think he could possibly be going there.

“Tristan.”

He moved his hands to cup my face, and at the corner of my vision, I could see that that they were trembling.

He tilted my head one way, slanted his head the other, and brought our lips together.

He kissed me.

A desperate, hungry, wild, make me forget the past and the future kind of kiss.

Most of my life was spent displaying a cool reserve to the world, my self-control assured and seemingly effortless.  One brief kiss and the years dissolved; the past and the present merging into one singular thought that existed right now.  And right now, all that mattered was this connection, this sensation that began at our joined lips and traveled down my body, igniting every last molecule of my being into a wildfire of sensation.

I snapped.

My hands clawed at his shoulders, my mouth ravenous on his.  I’d always considered myself a good kisser, and I knew for a fact that Tristan was one, but there was no finesse in this.  We simply took, and took, and gave in the form of clashing teeth and warring tongues.

His hands moved to my hips, lifting me high against his body.  I’d longed for this body, this exact shape, every bend, bulge, and curve of him all that my body needed.  My legs wrapped around his waist, animalistic whimpers escaping my throat as his erection pushed hard against my belly and after I’d shifted just right, straight into my clit.

I knew he was walking, carrying me, but I didn’t care, just sucking at his tongue, biting his lip until I tasted blood.  The sky could have fallen around our heads and I wouldn’t have cared.  I wasn’t letting go of this; this mindless moment where everything felt like it had shifted back into place and all of the wrongs were right again.

He tried to set me down, but I wouldn’t let him, my legs a vise around his hips, my arms locked around his shoulders.  He pulled his head back, and I bit his neck, rubbing my torso into his.

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely.

That one small request had me pulling back just far enough to look at him.  A bright lantern light shone down at us, and I took in our surroundings.

We were on the back porch of the ranch house, and Tristan was pushing my hips away from his, setting me on the thick rail that ran the length of the patio.  Confused and disoriented, I let him.

I swallowed hard, opening my mouth to say God only knows what when his hands shot to the hem of my lavender bridesmaid dress, yanking it up over my hips.

That effectively squelched my urge to try to speak.

We were rushing headlong into this lunacy, and I could worry about the mess we made later.

I wanted this, needed this like I hadn’t needed anything since I’d cauterized all of the joy from my life.

He pulled the dress straight up, flipping it all the way over my head until my arms were effectively restrained.  I didn’t know, or care, if that had been his intent.

He unsnapped the front clasp of my bra, moaning and bending down to suck one quivering globe into his mouth.  His hands fumbled with his belt and fly.  He groaned, and I gasped as his freed erection sprang into my stomach.

Big fingers shoved my panties to the side, and the tip of him was pushing into me as he raised his head and took my mouth again.  He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask if I was sure I wanted to do this.

I was relieved, because a crash this brutal could handle no brakes at all.

He reared back, then drove forward, burying his cock in me with one hard stroke.

The world stopped as we took what we needed, what I’d been starved for since the very last time I’d been in his arms.

It was a frenzied mating, a swift coming together that took me to the fever pitch of ecstasy with a few rough, heavy strokes, over too soon, the perfect testament to our torrid love affair.

We didn’t move for a very long time after we finished, and more importantly, we didn’t speak.  Words would break the spell.  Words were reality.  This was a stolen moment, and I wanted to keep it as safe from reality as possible.

My forehead had fallen to his shoulder at some point, and what felt like his cheek was pressed to the top of my head.  He didn’t pull out, the only movement between us the aftereffects of his member still twitching deep inside of me.

We stayed like that for what could have been minutes or an hour.  I had no idea what he could be thinking, and I was trying hard not to think about anything but the moment at hand, and the pleasure of being in his arms for this tiny foray of ours into utter lunacy.

It was the first impulsive thing I’d done in years, and boy was it a doozy.

“Danika,” he finally spoke, his voice hoarse but soft.

I sighed heavily, pulling back.  The spell was broken.

I couldn’t look him in the eye and looking down was a no go, so I looked over his shoulder as I spoke.  “Can you put my dress back on?  We need to get back.  We’re both in the wedding party, so I’m sure we’ll be missed.”

His hands moved to start righting my gown and still he didn’t pull out.  I would have tried to shift away, but I was afraid it would just lead to another indiscretion.

“Danika,” he said again, his voice very soft and very sad.

God, it was flooring how just listening to that deep voice of his could captivate me.  For just the sound of his voice alone, I could have stayed glued to that spot indefinitely.

I shook the thought off, calling myself a fool.

“I need a minute alone, if you don’t mind.  I’m going to go clean up.”

He tried to kiss me, but I turned my head away.  “My dress, please.”  My voice wasn’t sharp, in fact, it was gentle, but I saw him flinch out of the corner of my eye.

How did he always do that?  Make me want to take back whatever I’d said that may have hurt him, even after all this time.

Reason number one thousand why I needed to stay away from him.

We both gasped in a harsh breath as he dragged himself out of me.  I clenched at him involuntarily as he pulled, and that seemed to drag it out, into an act of pure torture.  His girth assured that he hit every nerve ending on his way out.

I cursed.

He pulled my dress back up onto my arms, then over my head, then my shoulders.  His hands were gently caressing as he eased every inch of it back in place.

I didn’t look at him.

He still had his hips close, still between my thighs, even as he smoothed my dress over my back.

I felt him nudge back against my sex, seeking entrance again.

I don’t know how, but I managed to shake my head.  We would not be going for another round, addictive as it might be.

I had to get off the crazy train now, not go for another loop.

I needed just a moment, to go be by myself and think.  The sooner the better.

 He stepped back and helped me down.  He let me go to tuck himself back into his pants, and I fled into the house.

The place had a ton of bathrooms set throughout the sprawling mansion, but I went up to my appointed guest suite and used my private bath to clean up, then combed my hair, and touched up my makeup.

I stared at my dazed expression for a solid five minutes, wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

Was this some new sickness, or had the old one persisted, in spite of everything?

Or was this the result of mishandling the situation altogether?

How were we back to square one six years later, within just a few conversations?

Had that happened because we’d never learned to cope with sharing the same space?  Had never having any contact at all just made us more susceptible to a screw up of epic proportions?

Had we only made ourselves more sensitive to the other’s presence, when what we’d needed was to be desensitized?

Was it just possible that there was some middle ground here?  Some sort of closure to the romantic part of our relationship that I’d never pursued?

I had always thought of Tristan in terms of all or nothing, but clearly, that hadn’t worked.  That failure was currently staring me in the face, and perhaps more mortifying, dripping down my leg.

I could admit that cutting someone that had become such an undeniably significant part of me so completely out of my life had been damaging to me.

It had stunted me.  Stunted my happiness.  Stunted my growth.

That was a fact I’d accepted long ago, in a resigned sort of way, seeing it as a necessary evil.

But what if it wasn’t necessary?  What if it was only detrimental?

Spending some rare time in his company made me realize something new.

I’d been so focused on the bad of him, of us, the bad of all that had happened that I’d forgotten the good.

I’d lived the bad, existed with it every waking hour of every day and some nights, in my dreams, as well.

Why shouldn’t I get a bit of the good?

What if, just maybe, I needed it?

What if it would help me close that chapter of my life?

Being with him was out of the question.  A long-term romantic relationship was absolutely unthinkable.  But a friendship?  Hadn’t I moved on enough to at least give myself that small bit of comfort?

Didn’t I deserve it?

I was expecting it.  I wasn’t even a little bit surprised when Frankie made a point of cornering me.

She and I weren’t the type of friends that fought.  We gave each other shit on a regular basis, but that little scene earlier was as good as a full-on confrontation for us.

I’d known she was going to feel bad about it and quickly try to make it better.

The reception was still in full swing when I returned to the party.  I’d have been surprised if it didn’t go until morning.

I made my way quietly to my table, very acutely aware of the fact that, though I’d cleaned up as well as I could in a hurry, I hadn’t showered.  I was planning to slip away and do that just as soon as I thought it was politely possible.

Frankie joined within a minute of me sitting down.  She was alone.  Almost everyone else from the wedding party was dancing.  Estella was currently going to town as the dancing meat in a Stephan and Javier sandwich.

“You remember that I set you two up, right?” I asked her as I met her very serious eyes.  “You owe me.  I brought that hot thing into your life.”

She shot her longtime girlfriend a fond glance.  “I know it.”  Her face crumpled slightly, not a breakdown, not tears, just screwed up a bit, as though she were in pain.  She looked away.  “You know I love you, right?”

It was my turn to look away.  We were close friends, but not the mushy kind.  Things like this were rarely said between us.  “I do.  I love you too.  You’re one of my closest friends, and I know that your heart is always in the right place.”

“Forgive me?” Her voice had gotten very, very quiet.  “I overstepped back there.  I know it.  It’s just so hard for me to see him suffer any more, and no one can hurt him like you can.  But I overreacted.  I was a dick, and I’m sorry.”

“Frankie, I’m well aware of the position we’ve put you in, and how hard it’s been for you, but you’ve got to stop interfering, and you’ve got to stop thinking it’s your job to protect him or even me.  We are adults, and we don’t need a buffer, much as I might like one, may even have depended on it in the past.  He and I…we need to sort our messes out ourselves.”

“Of course.  And for the record, I never took his side.  Or yours.  You know I’m always just trying to help whichever one of you is hurting the most.”

“I know.  We’re both lucky to have you.”

I considered the matter settled, and apparently so did she as she didn’t mention it again.  We sat there for a long time, just watching the revelry.

There were a lot of people in the colossal reception tent, but I could still tell that there was no sign of Tristan.  He hadn’t returned yet, and I found that odd.  I was sure he’d gone and cleaned up, but he couldn’t possibly need more time than I had, even if he’d taken the time to get in an actual shower, and to change.

I was so involved with this thought process that it took me a moment to realize who else was so glaringly missing.  “Did James and Bianca ditch out on the rest of their own reception, already?”

Frankie laughed.  “I would bet a lot of money that they’re off in the forest somewhere having a quickie.  James is a kinky fuck, but they’ll be back.”

We continued to watch the dancing crowd.  “Who is that Marnie and Judith are assaulting on the dance floor?”

Frankie squinted, then started laughing.  “That’s Jackie’s dad.  Marnie is making it clap for him.  I think Jackie was right.  They’re going to give that poor man a heart attack.  And get a load of Lana and Akira.  They’re making out like teenagers.  God, that guy is huge.”

“He’s hot,” I added.

“So is Lana.  And this is the first time I’ve met her brother, Camden, but he’s smokin’.  This tent is chock-full of hot people.”

“True.  Some good dancers too.”

Finally, I saw Tristan re-enter the tent.  He stopped at the entrance, scanned the crowd, and zeroed in on me.  The second his eyes touched on me, he started striding towards our table.

“Did you two, uh, work out whatever that was you two were having?  Was it a fight?”

I couldn’t quite hide my wince.  “Yeah, I guess we worked it out.”

“So you finally had a good talk?  You both disappeared for a while.”

“I guess.  You know how we are.  It’s complicated.”

“Complicated.  Now there’s an understatement of epic fucking proportions.”

I had to laugh.  She wasn’t wrong.

And that’s how Tristan found us as he approached, laughing and relaxed.

The relaxed part went a bit south as he sat right next to me, and I instinctively started to tense up.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Frankie told us with a grin.  “I have some freaking to do on that dance floor.”

“Who the hell calls it freaking?” I called to her back, but she just kept walking.

It wasn’t easy, but I made myself turn and look him in the eye.

I’d likely be mortified in the morning over what we’d done, but I thought the entire thing was too new for my shocked mind to react appropriately.

His face was sober.  “We need to talk.”

That surprised a laugh out of me.  “We just tried that.  Didn’t exactly work out.”

“I wouldn’t say that.  I’d say it was cut short.  I’d like to try again.”

I couldn’t stop laughing.  “I bet you would!”

Finally, his solemn face cracked into a smile.  I had to clench my fists to keep from touching one of those calamitous dimples.  “Well, yes, of course I would.  God, Danika, I’ve missed you, even just to see you laughing again.”

I looked down at my hands, the laughter dying a bit.  “I think you’re right.  I think you’ve always been right.  We should be friends.  I miss that, too.  I know you’re worried that I’ll never speak to you after this—after that little scene back in the forest, but you don’t need to worry.  That was insanity, and it does not need to happen again, but we can be adults here.  I…won’t be a stranger when we get back to town.  I’ll give you a call.  We can sit down for coffee, or, you know, something.”

There was a very long pause on his end, and I wondered which part of what I said was eating at him.

He didn’t address that though, instead said, “Do you mean it this time, or are you just blowing me off like last time?”

I sent him a rueful smile.  I hadn’t meant it last time, and I had blown him off.  But I found that, shockingly, I’d had a real change of heart.  “I mean it this time.”

I did mean it but, while I didn’t avoid him for the rest of the weekend, I also made sure our contact was limited.  It was necessary.  I needed time to think, to have a battle plan before we started to transition into this friendship idea.

We’d been at war for way too long for me to delude myself that a battle plan wouldn’t be necessary, even when we were playing nice.

I was packing to leave for home, the happy couple already having ditched the party and jetted off to God knew where, to do God knew what kind of kinky shit, when I noticed something odd.

My perfume was missing.  I did a quick search of the bathroom, but there weren’t that many places it could have gone, and I’d thought the small bottle was sitting right on the counter.

I was annoyed.  I loved that perfume, and it wasn’t cheap, but I shrugged it off.  Some lost perfume was really the least of my problems.

Tristan managed to corner me one last time before I took off.

The wedding’s location was remote, and so all of the guests had been flown to the nearest airstrip, and driven in limos the rest of the way.  I couldn’t even wrap my mind around how expensive that must have been, but there was no doubt that James could afford it.