8. Wheres Elvis?
Chapter 8
Where's Elvis?
Reece battled the urge to yank Neve even closer and claim her mouth. He was also struggling to keep the activity south of his belt under control. What the hell was wrong with him? The fragrance drifting off her must have been messing with his mind. She smelled like citrus and honey and every delicious thing that set off a gnawing hunger low in his belly.
At least this pose they were locked into spared him having to look at the rest of her. He’d never seen her look like this before. She’d always been the knobby-kneed tomboy chasing him across the rink, across the playground, shinnying up trees behind him, throwing rocks at him when she couldn’t catch him. But man, oh man, she didn’t look anything remotely like a tomboy tonight.
Every inch of her was pure woman, mature and voluptuous and sexy as sin.
The trouble had started the moment the entire vision that was Neve had first glided into the room. She had stolen breath from his lungs, and he had been—there was only one word for it—awed.
Okay. Maybe I’ve had a little too much to drink. But Jesus, it felt so damn good to let go for a little while. On a logical level, he understood it was only the effect of the alcohol loosening the tight check he normally kept on himself. But an animal voice deep inside him was growing louder and more demanding.
Good manners dictated he should look at the bride, but he’d already fumbled that miserably. Besides, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Neve. She was wearing a deep blue velvet dress that skimmed her knees and crisscrossed her chest. It accentuated mouthwatering curves he rarely saw because they were usually hidden under a lab coat—or bulky hockey gear. A fold of fabric—he guessed they were meant to be sleeves—lay just off her shoulders, exposing marble skin he felt a pull to lick and suck. High heels showed off her toned calves with tiny straps that highlighted her slender ankles. He wanted to lick those too. Kiss them.
A simple silver locket—a bridesmaid’s gift from Hailey—nestled in between her delicate collarbones. When had collarbones become so damn sexy? And God, yes, he definitely wanted his tongue on those. He longed to taste them. Worship them.
On her arms were long, lacy fingerless gloves the same navy-blue color as the dress. An odd fashion piece to a guy who knew nothing about women’s clothing style, but it somehow worked. In fact, the whole package was smoking hot. Images of rolling that lace down her arms inch by inch streaked through his heightened and overactive imagination. Or seeing her in nothing but those gloves.
Knock it off, asshole.
Her blond hair was styled in soft, glossy spirals that rested against her upper back, which was bare to below her shoulder blades. Holding her as he was now, he could count the freckles dotting her ivory skin. The inconvenient thought occurred that she couldn’t be wearing a bra, and his mind leaped to weighing her soft breasts in his hands, how silky her skin might feel under his touch. What kinds of noises would she make if he closed his mouth around a nipple and sucked ?
Stop the fuck right there .
He needed to regain control over his freight train of a libido. Still, he couldn’t resist brushing his fingertips along the graceful slope where her neck met her shoulder.
“My bad,” he murmured. He could have sworn goose bumps popped out along the trail where his fingers had been.
“Um, you can let go now.” Neve wriggled in his grasp, shocking him back to the room and the people in it.
Oh shit. He realized he had her waist in a claiming grip.
“Oh, sorry. Got carried away in the moment,” he blithered. “I guess being couple number three blew my mind.” And turned me into a complete idiot! Having little blood flow to the head on his shoulders might also explain his departure from sanity.
Five pairs of curious eyes stared at him.
Neve’s blue-gray irises were bright with champagne bubbles and seemed to convey a warm, reassuring smile as she pulled away.
She was like that, though. Kind, patient, always thinking of others.
Reaching a hand up, he smoothed the hair at his nape and puffed out a frustrated breath. Thank fuck the tuxedo jacket hid the evidence of him “getting carried away in the moment.”
“Let’s pop some more bubbly.” So I can pour it over my head. Maybe that’ll cool me down .
Neve lost track of time and space. She was only aware of three truths. The first was that they stood on a sidewalk in Las Vegas in front of a white chapel with fuchsia bougainvillea clinging to its walls. A neon sign in the same shade of pink spelled out the words “The Chapel of Elvin.” Actually, everyone else stood; she swayed. After more cocktails that went down like decadent dessert on the limo ride over, she wobbled, both physically and mentally, which added the perk of constantly falling against Reece, who didn’t seem to mind holding her up. Which should have come as no surprise to anyone because he was, after all, a rescuer.
And ooh, he smelled good .
The second truth was that the sun had set, and the sky looked like an artist had painted a canvas with broad brushstrokes in pinks and purples. The colors were a little fuzzed, but she wasn’t sure if it was the sky or her. Lucidity was currently a hit-or-miss proposition.
The final truth was that looking at Reece Hunnicutt made her knees melt like butter in a sizzling skillet. Maybe it was the tux that made him so devastatingly handsome. Maybe it was the martinis and margaritas and champagne that had replaced the blood in her veins. Or maybe it was that this was a different Reece, a more playful version of the Reece she was used to. He reminded her of the boy from her childhood, who’d always worn a lopsided grin and carried a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
He was also unusually affectionate, giving her arm or shoulder reassuring, light touches to let her know he was there —when she wasn’t falling against him and smelling his neck, that is. And damn, she liked the feel of his warm, rough fingers on her skin. Probably too much. Each brush set off a chain reaction of chills and goose bumps. But what the hell, she was going to enjoy these rare moments while she could. They would never come again.
Oh, and there was a fourth truth: She was three sheets to the wind and could barely feel her nose or her toes. Good thing her supercharged red blood cells that came from living at ten thousand feet would metabolize the alcohol quickly. She’d be sober in no time. In fact, she was already halfway there.
And yet another truth struck. Was that four or five now? Six, maybe. Anyway, every time she looked in the mirror, she liked the reflection looking back at her. She had to pinch herself to make sure that soft, feminine reflection really belonged to her . The makeup artist and hairdresser had done a damn fine job turning Cinderella into a princess worthy of the prince at the ball.
She was one hot mama.
Thank you, Leo. Too bad he couldn’t see her looking all gorgeous. Oh well. He could look at the pictures later.
They entered the chapel and were greeted by a man with dyed black hair sporting a bright white suit. Beside him stood a plump woman in a purple dress with an orchid corsage pinned to her chest.
The man held his arms wide. “Welcome, children. Welcome to The Chapel of Elvin. ”
“Wait. Where’s Elvis?” Hailey blurted. She swayed like Neve. Or Neve was swaying for both of them.
The woman shook her head gravely and placed her hand on the man’s arm. “This is Reverend Elvin, not Elvis. You are here as guests of Mr. Cantrell, yes?”
“Yes, but …”
The man beamed. “Then you’ve come to the right place.”
“Of course we did,” Neve scoffed, “because the limo that Mr. Cantrell hired brought us here. If it hadn’t, we’d either be letting one-armed bandits steal all our money or stumbling through the streets of Vegas without a clue where we were going right now.” She snort-laughed but was met with dumbfounded stares from everyone except Reece, whose chest thundered with laughter.
“That was funny, right?” She slapped his arm so hard he stumbled back a step. She reached for him with an apology.
“All good.” He offered her an indulgent smile and gave her arm a gentle squeeze.
He gets me.
She was so delighted she let out an audible sigh.
Wait. She needed to give her boyfriend credit. Wait. Was Leo her boyfriend? Maybe he was. She couldn’t quite recall, but nevertheless, he was soooo generous, and she was such a lucky girl, like everyone liked to remind her.
Leo isn’t as handsome as Reece.
Stop comparing them!
Leo. The guy you like is Leo. The man with a voice as smooth and seductive as bourbon butter. The man I share a fledgling … whatever this is between us. Affair? Tryst? Opportunistic lust-quench fest? Not love, though maybe it can stutter its way there.
Yes, she planned to enjoy every minute of the billionaire’s attention. Her ego certainly needed the lift, especially after enduring years of Reece Hunnicutt looking past her, through her, everywhere but at her. Unlike the hungry look he had given her when they’d posed for pictures.
The preacher saved her from indulging in more incoherent thoughts. “I could pretend my name is Elvis.” He flashed them a cheesy smile. “But it’ll cost extra.” Eyes as beady and dark as black beans scanned them from behind thick, shaded lenses .
They all laughed at that, but she didn’t see any humor in it. Reece, stalwart that he was, simply stared dumbly at the man. Yep, he totally got her.
Noah shook his head. “No, we’ll stick with Elvin, as long as you can marry us. Legally.” His tuxedo was looking a bit disheveled, and Hailey took up a stance in front of him and began fumbling with his jacket and tie.
“So which of you is the lucky couple?”
Neve pointed at Hailey. “The one in the ivory dress. And the guy she’s petting.”
Elvin gave Neve a tight smile before turning to Noah and Hailey. “Ah. Well, rest assured, I have all the credentials required to marry you. I’m an ordained minister.” He pointed vaguely toward some framed certificates to one side of a fake fireplace covered in even faker greenery.
Charlie looked down at Joy and grinned. “He’s an ordained minister. He has credentials.” To Elvin, Charlie said, “How do you feel about twofers?”
The minister’s mouth split in a wide smile. “We love twofers.”
Charlie shifted his attention to the bride and groom. “Would you be upset if we horned in on your big day?”
Noah glanced at Hailey, who bounced in place. “Not at all! The more, the merrier.”
“And we can remind each other about our anniversaries,” Noah chipped in.
Charlie wrapped his arm around Joy’s shoulder. “It’s a twofer, we’re all dressed up, and Noah and Hailey are on board with us sharing their big day. What do you say, princess?”
Joy gasped—happy gasp or shocked gasp, Neve couldn’t tell—and everyone exploded in laughter. Elvin and Purple Dress clapped—probably because they saw the potential dollars in a doubled fee.
Charlie dropped to one knee and took Joy’s hand in his. “I hadn’t planned it this way, but the moment seems right, and when in Rome …”
Joy covered her mouth, but a squeal or three managed to escape. “You mean, when in Vegas. And yes, why the hell not? I love you, Charlie Hunnicutt!”
God, drunk or not, this was getting weird. Neve exchanged glances with Reece, whose eyebrows disappeared under his hairline. Yeah, he thought it was strange too. They were on the same wavelength. Simpatico. They were yinning and yanging on their own little Reality Island.
“Are we in the Twilight Zone?” she hissed.
Reece nodded. “Yeah, pretty sure that’s where we’ve landed.”
Charlie jumped to his feet. “I’ve always dreamed my girl would respond to my marriage proposal with, ‘Why the hell not?’” He patted his coat pockets. “Shit. I need a ring.”
Elvin gave them a gotcha smile, like a wolf leading Little Red into his lair. “The jewelry store next door has a lovely selection. I’m sure Alma can help you find something special for your lady there. But first, a toast!”
Champagne appeared out of nowhere. Neve was suddenly thirsty, and she chugged it down, letting the bubbles tickle her parched throat.
Alma, aka Purple Dress, cocked her finger. “Right this way.”
Champagne glasses in hand, Charlie and Joy fell in behind the woman while Noah and Hailey followed. Neve grabbed Reece’s bicep—ooh, it felt like steel, even through the tux sleeve!—and rose up on the balls of her feet. He leaned down, and she whispered, “What do you want to bet Elvin and Alma own that jewelry store?”
“I’m not taking that bet because I’m sure you’re right. C’mon, Doc. Let’s go keep the kids out of trouble.”
Peals of laughter escaped her, and she lost her balance and crashed into him. Again. Falling against him was like bouncing off a tree trunk, except this one caught and righted her. Then he tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and chuckled as led her toward the adjoining jewelry store, weaving all the way.
Good thing she and Reece were along to keep everyone in line.