2. Landon
2
LANDON
A my Moray is no longer the brittle teenager who wore too much eyeliner and used to get Izzie into trouble when they were kids.
They thought I didn’t know they snuck out of the house. I had someone on my team follow them. The most they ever did was climb the ridge behind our house in the dark and drink a few of my beers while overlooking the valley.
Amy was a troubled teen back then, but she was good for Izzie when Carol died. I was too caught up in my own grief.
But Amy is not that troubled teen anymore.
Every eye in the room is on my daughter, the beautiful bride. But I can’t drag my gaze away from the bridesmaid. The dress clings to her hips, accentuating her womanly shape, which I don’t recall Amy the teenager having. She’s blossomed into a beautiful woman with curves in all the right places.
The dress is cinched at the waist, hugging her curves and falling just above the knee, showing off the tanned skin of her legs. But it’s the top half that makes my mouth dry.
The dress is too tight, causing her breasts to push up out of the top and revealing an almost indecent amount of cleavage, two plump mouthwatering mounds.
Her hair, once cut short and dyed black, now hangs around her shoulders in soft ringlets. There are streaks of bright pink running through it. She’s still got an edge to her, a little sharpness that a man could cut himself on.
The dark eyeliner has been replaced by subtle makeup that accentuates her amber eyes and plump lips. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off her since I walked into the suite where the girls were getting ready.
I try to remember the last time I saw Amy.
She left town as soon as she turned eighteen and went to live with her dad in France. From what Izzie told me; Amy couldn’t wait to get out of Hope and see some of the world. Izzie was upset when Amy left, but I breathed a sigh of relief. What had started with sneaking out with a beer or two could easily escalate, and I can’t say I was sorry to see the back of her. You worry about your daughter, and with Amy being two years older than Izzie, I was glad to see her go.
Now I’m glad to see her back. More than glad. Since I laid eyes on Amy a few hours ago, there’s been one thought driving through my mind.
Amy is mine.
My chest rattles with the certainty of it. I haven’t felt like this since Carol passed away. I thought I was done with women. Raising a teenage daughter on my own was hard enough. I never wanted another complication.
But one look at Amy, and I’m done for.
The band starts up for the first dance, and Izzie and Jagger take to the floor. It took me a long time to get used to the idea of Izzie marrying my old army buddy, but once I saw how happy they are together, I came around.
Besides, I know how to shoot a gun, and if he does anything to harm my little girl, I won’t be afraid to do just that.
His hand on Izzie’s waist makes my neck tick, but I swallow my father’s protective instincts and try to smile at the happy couple.
No one tells you when you become a dad how hard the wedding day’s going to be. Handing over my little girl to the care of another man is about the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. Not that Izzie needs taking care of. I raised her to be independent and caring, just like her mother.
Izzie has been missing her mother today. I wish she could have been here to see her little girl grow into a beautiful woman. She would be proud.
But it’s not Carol I’m thinking of as I watch the guests surround the dance floor. The bridesmaid is supposed to join in the dance with the best man, but there’s no way I’m letting Ethan get his mitts on Amy. I’m sure his wife feels the same.
I push my chair back from the long table and move through the guests until I get to Amy.
I approach her from behind, noticing the curve of her neck and a sweet scent of perfume. “Dance with me.”
Amy spins around, her eyes wide. “Mr. Laker, you startled me.”
“Call me Landon.” I take her by the arm and pull her onto the dance floor.
My hand slides smoothly around her waist, and I take her hand in mine. I pull her close enough that her breasts brush my chest. An ache throbs in my cock and pulses through my body.
“I’m supposed to dance with Ethan. He’s the best man.”
She glances at the faces in the crowd.
“Eyes on me,” I growl. “Ethan can dance with his wife.”
Amy looks startled, which makes her eyes go wider. I never noticed how beautiful she was before, but she takes my breath away now. This close, her breasts seem like they might fall right out of the dress. The thought of every man in the room seeing her skin makes a vein throb in my neck.
“You’re showing too much cleavage.”
Amy raises her eyebrows at me. “You’re not my father, Mr. Laker.”
She keeps her gaze on mine, and a challenge sparkles in her eye. She pushes her chest out even more, and her breasts skim my chest.
“Do you like men looking at your breasts?”
Amy looks shocked and tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip on her.
“Forgive me. That was out of line.”
Her frown deepens, but she relaxes. “I don’t remember you being such an asshole.”
I bark out a surprised laugh. “I deserved that.”
I’m behaving like an ass, but I can’t stop myself. I can’t bear the thought of other men staring at her. I don’t even know if she has a boyfriend.
I imagine a weedy French youth drinking red wine and talking philosophy, and the vein on my neck almost bursts.
I tighten my grip on her waist so tight she gasps.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
She waits a beat or two before answering, and I don’t breathe. If she says yes, I’ll have to hunt him down and let him know politely that she’s no longer his. Even if that means a trip to France.
“No. I’m happy on my own.”
She says the last with an arched eyebrow.
We move around the dance floor, and I try to get my heartbeat under control. The woman I want is in my arms, but I’m behaving like an ass. This is not the way to win her over.
I try again. “When did you get back?”
“This morning. My flights were cancelled because of a storm.”
This is good. This is safe ground. I’m not the over-bearing asshole. “Did you come back for your mom?”
She frowns at me. “Why, what’s wrong with Mom?”
I mentally kick myself. She doesn’t know.
I’m about to tell Amy she needs to talk to her mom when Izzie taps me on the shoulder.
“It’s time for our dance.” If it was anyone else, I’d tell them to fuck off, but I can’t deny my daughter anything on her wedding day.
“Of course.” Reluctantly, I let go of Amy’s waist, and her body moves away from mine. I feel the loss to my bones.
I take a more conservative stance with my daughter, but as we move around the dance floor for the father daughter dance, my gaze follows Amy and the sway of her hips as she moves across the room.