41. Chapter 41
Chapter forty-one
Frankie
“ A re you all right?”
Frankie’s perked up as the rich baritone pulled her attention from Zac’s sheepish departure. Benjamin stood beside her, head cocked to the side in exaggerated concern.
No, not exaggerated.
Genuine.
“Yeah.” She glanced back to the happy couple, trying their best to rebound from the momentary disruption and enjoy the rest of the evening. Clint and Miguel talked in animated yet hushed tones near the bar, no doubt debriefing the incident and making further plans should the troublemaker decide to rejoin the party. She shrugged, still taken aback by the entire altercation. “That was a lot.”
It hadn’t been the first time that Zac had come on to her. In fact, she’d become a pro at sidestepping his advances. But this was the first time he’d ever been cruel about it. His typical play was a smooth-talking ladies’ man, not an aggressive, vulgar bastard. Something was up. Part of her wanted to ignore it, to chalk his behavior up to too much tequila, but that didn’t feel accurate. There was more to it than that.
“Want to get some air?” Benjamin’s large hand hovered upturned in front of her, and her unfocused attention zeroed in on it. With a nod, she took hold and followed him out of the tent through one of the rear entrances.
A refreshing gust of cold mountain air calmed Frankie’s nerves as she and Benjamin stepped out onto the small, vacant patio. The December chill contrasted with the ambient warmth the two large space heaters pumped out into the space. She approached the wooden railing that overlooked the Wenatchee River as it coiled around Enchantment Park. The moonlight glittered on the rippling current, refusing to wash downstream with the rest of the water. Clouds hovered in thick patches, steadily converging into a solid mass, promising snow but not giving away when or how much.
She shivered.
An instant later, Benjamin’s tuxedo jacket settled heavily across her shoulders, smelling strongly of a crisp fall afternoon. The scent, more intoxicating than the sparkling sweet wine she’d been slowly sipping all night, soothed her anxieties about Zac’s earlier antics.
“Can I get you anything?”
Benjamin stood beside her while also ensuring a solid foot of distance.
Frankie shook her head.
He nodded, matter-of-fact, and said, “I’ll let you be.”
Turning on his heels, he strode back to the entrance.
But she didn’t want to be alone. She needed company, but more than that, she wanted his company. “Stay.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise,” he mumbled, still facing away.
“And why is that?”
“Self-control.”
“Too much or not enough?”
He turned and lit up her insides with his pointed stare. “Oh, come now, Francesca. There’s no need to tease.”
She shrugged, feigning a nonchalance that she knew he’d never believe. “I’m not the tease, Benji.”
Like a whip, he was in front of her, consuming the air she exhaled with each fragmented breath. That cinnamon and sandalwood scent intensified, feeling warmer and more vivid from the source.
“Oh, no?” The endless sapphire of his irises tipped over, cascading into the widening black of his pupils as they jerked from her eyes to her lips and back.
“Nope.”
He dipped his chin, settling his mouth a whisper away from her ear. Hot breath played on the shell, tickled her lobe, and descended in silky swirls along her neck.
“How do you think I felt watching him touch you?”
“Which one? Zac or Clint?”
He responded with a growl and curled his solid fingers around her hand. Lifting, he slid her sleeve down her forearm and danced a gentle kiss along the inside of her wrist—something in her belly leapt at the contact. She thought about all the places those plush lips had been on her, dying to feel them there again. Ached to explore his body with her own.
“Both.” His hoarse response held a tortured quality at its depths, but why?
In the cabin, he’d practically devoured her, teased her, withheld release until she truly believed she’d come undone. He’d murmured sweet nothings about being ruined by her. But that’s just what they were.
Nothings.
They didn’t mean anything.
“Look.” She sighed, sliding her wrist from his gentle grasp. “I’m not sure what you’re doing. Either you’re a little buzzed or don’t like that another dude touching a toy you threw away prematurely. Maybe it’s both, but either way, your dismissal the other morning was heard loud and clear.”
His shoulders tensed at her words. She’d struck a chord, and for that, she felt a drifting flutter of satisfaction, but it was short-lived as she slid his jacket off and handed it back. The chill overtook her, and she backed toward the tent.
“Francesca.” An apology, a plea? It didn’t matter. It was too little too late.
“Thanks for taking me to get some air. I didn’t realize how much I needed to step away.” Smiling weakly, she turned and rejoined the reception, leaving a dejected Benjamin out in the cold.
“Should we request ‘The Electric Slide’? Or the ‘Macarena’?”
Frankie’s eyes went wide at both of Lucy’s awful suggestions. Lydia and Kylie nodded emphatically. As the maid of honor, it was her job to humor the bride no matter what, but this was a bit too much.
Surveying the crowd, she spotted her brother. Jon glanced down and pulled back his sleeve, checking the wristwatch that was once their father’s. A tinge of sadness bloomed in Frankie’s chest.
I wish Dad could have been here.
Catching her expression, her brother strode over, wrapping her in a strong hug. “Me too, sis.”
He always managed to do that. Scan someone and read their thoughts like some psychic freak of nature. Typically, his little parlor trick wigged her out, but the embrace and words were exactly what she needed.
“Screw it. We’ll do both,” Lucy called over her shoulder, a bridesmaid in each hand, as she sprinted barefoot to the DJ. As the first few bars of “Macarena” rang out, a few of the remaining guests scurried out to join her on the dance floor.
“Dad would have loved her,” Frankie said wistfully.
“They would have been insufferable together. She has the same power of persuasion that he did. Same genuine warmth too.” The weight of his arm settled casually around her shoulders. She instinctively leaned in, watching with amusement as their mother—also barefoot—danced right alongside her new daughter-in-law. “It’s probably why Mom glommed onto her so quickly.”
“Can’t say that I blame her.”
Jonathan squeezed tighter at the wobble in her voice. He sighed heavily. “It’s been an emotional day.”
“That it has.” Frankie nodded.
“So emotional, in fact—”
“No, Jon,” she warned uselessly.
“—that even the cake is in tiers.”
“You’re the worst.”
“And you love me anyway.” He squeezed her again.
“You got me there.”
One song bled into another, and Jonathan winced.
“That’s about enough of that, I think. Night, sis.”
Frankie watched her brother’s long, purposeful strides as he made his way onto the dance floor, weaving fluidly between a handful of electric sliders in various states of intoxication. Lucy shrieked gleefully as he scooped her up in his arms like a proper bride, and then she snuggled against his chest.
“Bye, everyone. Thanks for coming,” the newest Miller called hastily as the couple left the venue.
Frankie gathered her handbag and turned toward the door. Her warm bed was calling and she wasn’t willing to deny it a moment longer.
Until a deep voice stopped her in her tracks. “Care for an escort?”