Chapter 25
SAWYER
BY THE TIME the afternoon rolled around, I had learned three very important things.
One: Rome Montgomery had the worst timing of any human being who had ever existed.
Two: Mom could turn a quick vow-renewal rehearsal into a full-blown military operation—if that military operation contained an obscene amount of flower arrangements and a truly alarming number of tiny votive candles.
And three: Beckett Calder carrying boxes in a fitted navy shirt with his sleeves pushed up should really come with a warning sign.
The day had started with Rome pounding on our door like the place was on fire, announcing—before we even opened it—that Mom needed all the strong arms she could get at the lakeside pavilion.
Oh, and that if we were naked and in a compromising position, we had less than ten minutes to become useful members of society.
Beckett had looked at me. I’d looked at Beckett. And then Rome had added, “Also, spare me the details. I have an imagination and eyes.”
So, that was how my morning had kicked off after I’d told Peter to go to hell, then had Beckett for, um, breakfast. Followed by speed-showering, chugging coffee, and putting a pin on continuing the hot moment with Beckett by jogging down to the pavilion with him instead.
I wasn’t complaining, though. For once, I felt good—suspiciously good, the kind of good that made me wonder if it was possible to feel this way or if the other shoe was about to drop.
Peter’s stupid ass had tried to drag me backward, but I hadn’t gone. And Beckett had been there when I walked back inside, looking at me like I’d done something worth remembering, and that look had followed me around all day.
It was following me now, actually, as I stood by the lakeside pavilion with a clipboard in my hand that I had not asked for, watching Beckett lift a box of candles from the back of a resort golf cart like it weighed nothing.
“Careful,” I told him. “If you keep doing helpful things, my family is gonna expect it.”
Beckett glanced over his shoulder, mouth twitching. “Too late.”
“Way too late. Two boxes in and Mama thinks you’re staff now.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“Don’t say that too loud. She’ll hand you a headset and ask if you can run lights.”
Across the pavilion, Mama popped her head up from behind a table covered in cream linen. “Did someone say headset?”
“No,” I said immediately.
“Yes.” Rome smirked where he stood by the floral arch, holding a bundle of ribbon. “Sawyer volunteered his boyfriend to be stage manager.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“A wedding doesn’t need a stage manager.”
Beckett set the box down near Mom and leaned in when she pointed toward the aisle markers. He listened and nodded, then moved exactly where she told him, and she looked more than pleased. A feat, considering Mom could be a hardass.
Interesting…
Then again, who wouldn’t love Beckett? The man was so close to perfect it wasn’t funny.
I watched him crouch by the first row of chairs, open the box, and pull out one of the glass hurricane candleholders. His shirt stretched across his shoulders, the sun catching his hair, and suddenly I forgot why I was holding a clipboard.
Drew appeared beside me. “You’re staring.”
“I’m supervising.”
“You’re holding that upside down.”
“No I’m—” I looked down. Oh. “Don’t you have Hudson to harass?”
“I would, but he’s arguing with your mom over the chair positioning.”
“The what?” I followed his nod, and sure enough, Hudson stood beside Mom with a measuring tape in hand. She was shaking her head about something, which made him walk over to the first two rows and stretch the tape out between them before repeating the move on the row behind him.
“I don’t get it. Who’s winning?” I said.
“He’s stubborn, but he gets it from her, so…” Drew shrugged. Then his gaze shifted to Beckett and he nudged me with his elbow. “He fits, you know.”
“Who?”
“Uh, the guy you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from. The reason you didn’t notice your clipboard was upside down.”
“Well, he’s my boyfriend. Of course I look at him that way.” The word “fake” didn’t even enter my mind that time.
“You didn’t look at—”
I slapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it.”
He held his hands up, and I eventually lowered my arm. “I was just gonna say he’s good with you.”
I scanned the pavilion, my eyes catching on Beckett, who’d already started on the next box of supplies.
He looked up, catching me watching him, and when he smiled, my stomach went stupid.
Butterflies exploded, and I couldn’t deny that Drew was right.
The way Beckett checked in with me, the way he stepped in to help and joked with my family like he belonged there…
“Yeah,” I said. “He is.”
Drew didn’t tease me further; he was called over by Mama to help her finish setting up tables, and we all pitched in to get things done faster. Apparently it was usually the resort who set up events, but my parents had a specific vision and preferred to get us all involved.
The rehearsal itself was a blur of Mom trying to pretend she wasn’t emotional, Mama finishing off a box of tissues, and Rome putting his online ordained minister skills to good use.
“Just another role,” he’d said, while Hudson and I stood at the altar, Drew took unofficial photos, and Beckett kept getting pulled into helping out whenever someone needed an extra hand.
Straightening the aisle runner. Fixing the wobble from one of the table legs being uneven.
At one point, when a string of lights didn’t turn on, he disappeared with a couple of staff.
Then, less than two minutes later, they blinked to life, warm and golden, crisscrossing around the pavilion and making Mama gasp.
“Oh, perfect,” she said.
Rome pointed at Beckett with the notepad—what he kept referring to as his script—in hand. “That man is staying.”
Beckett didn’t hear him, though, his gaze caught on something I couldn’t see as he stared out at the lake. Like his mind was a million miles away.
I cocked my head to the side. “Hey. Everything good?”
“Yeah.” He blinked, like I’d just pulled him back from wherever his thoughts had gone. Then he lifted the string of lights in his hand. “Just making sure I didn’t accidentally agree to be the electrician.”
“Too late,” Hudson said as he passed by, following Mom with the measuring tape. “You touched the lights.”
“See?” I told Beckett. “That’s how they get you. One helpful act and suddenly you’re on payroll. You have to learn to do less.”
His smile came easier then, and I chalked his distraction up to the fact that he’d been dragged into manual labor by my family. Hell, he’d already lifted enough boxes to earn a break.
“Don’t worry,” I said, making a note on my clipboard. “I’ll make sure they pay you in extra red velvet cake.”
“You found my weakness.”
“What can I say? We take care of our own.”
The second I said it, Beckett’s eyes met mine again, but before I could read too much into what they were telling me, Mama called for everyone to gather by the arch for photos.
“I don’t think so,” Rome said, moving in front of Hudson. “This is my good side.”
Hudson rolled his eyes. “Funny, considering you don’t have one.” But he moved anyway, clearly not caring which angle of his face the camera caught.
With my moms in the center between us three, the photographer spent a few minutes getting photos, though I had no doubt there would be hundreds more tomorrow.
“Okay, now let’s get some with you two,” Mama said, waving Drew and Beckett over. “Come on, don’t be shy.”
Drew didn’t hesitate, heading to stand by Hudson, but Beckett glanced at me, uncertain for the first time all day.
I shot him a wink and held out my hand, and when he started toward me, Rome called out, “Tall ones in the back, Tracksuit.”
“Ignore him,” I said as Beckett’s fingers curled around mine, sending warmth through my entire body.
The photographer started arranging us then, moving Beckett to stand angled toward me, his hand on my lower back, my shoulder pressed to his chest.
I couldn’t remember my Ex Who Would No Longer Be Named ever being asked to join in a family photo. But it felt so right with Beckett by my side, like he was mine and I was his.
We posed for a few, including a final “silly” one for Mama, and when the photographer finally let us go, I took advantage of everyone’s being too busy wanting couples photos and grabbed Beckett’s hand again, held my finger over my mouth to keep him quiet, and led him to the back path toward the boathouse.
When we were out of earshot, he whispered, “What are you up to?”
“Cobalt.”
He moved faster at the mention of my safe word, eyes roving over me. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t answer, not until the path narrowed and wound around the boathouse.
The trees blocked most of the pavilion from view, and the second we were out of sight, I turned and pushed him back against the siding.
It’d been hours since we’d been interrupted, and it was past time I got my hands on him.
My lips were on his in a hot second, and I pressed my body up against him to steal what I could before the search party inevitably came.
Beckett got the picture immediately, his hands tightening on my hips, and then he flipped positions, pushing me up against the boathouse and devouring my mouth, his urgency matching my own.
I smiled against his lips because this was exactly what I wanted. Not soft or careful, but desperate. I liked that the cool, calm Beckett lost his mind because of me.
His hands slid under the hem of my shirt, warm palms flattening against my skin, and I sucked in a breath as he pressed in closer, dragging his mouth from mine to my jaw, and then to the side of my neck.
“Emergency under control,” I murmured, tipping my head back as he made his way to the sensitive spot beneath my ear, and I shivered.
“This what you wanted?” Beckett’s voice rumbled in my ear.
“Oh yeah,” I said before capturing his mouth again, sweeping my tongue inside. I wrapped my arms tight around him, holding him to me, wanting even more, though it probably wasn’t the best place for more.
“God you’re hot,” I said between kisses as his hands traveled over my ass. “And distracting. The boxes and the lights. The family photos. All of it.” I nipped at his lips. “You walk into my day and make yourself fit there, and it’s—”
Too much. Not enough. Too dangerous for me to actually say out loud.
Beckett leaned back, brows pulled together. “It’s what?”
I swallowed, suddenly way too aware of how he held me and the sound of my family’s laughing in the distance.
“It’s a problem,” I said, then bit back a grin as I reached between us to cup his hard-on. “A huge problem.”
“Ah, I see. Do you want this problem to stop?”
“No.” That came out almost embarrassingly fast. “Terrible idea. Please do not stop fitting into my day. That would be tragic.”
“Okay.”
Just like that. Okay, like it was simple. Like he had no problem being the man who kissed me senseless between family obligations and then went back out there to be the charming man everyone had instantly liked, and somehow I was supposed to survive with my sanity intact.
I kissed him again before I could say anything else, drawing him closer until there wasn’t any space left to pretend this was casual. Casual had disappeared somewhere between hot tubs and slow dances and waking up in his arms.
He angled his head, diving in deeper for more, and I moaned at how damn good it was. Seriously, Beckett was the best kisser I’d ever been with, and it wasn’t even close.
“Sawyer!”
It was Hudson, and I froze momentarily.
“Just ignore him,” I whispered, and nipped at Beckett’s lips.
“If you’re doing something inappropriate behind the boathouse, wrap it up,” Hudson continued. “Time for rehearsal dinner.”
Motherfucker. Not even a full five minutes.
Beckett’s forehead dropped to my shoulder. “Your family’s timing…”
“I know. I’m disowning them.”
Beckett lifted his head, a small smile playing on his lips, and I hated how much I liked being the reason for that look.
Hated, loved, wanted to bottle it and crawl inside it and stay there until someone dragged me out by my ankles—no biggie.
“Come on,” he said, smoothing his hands down my shirt. “Before they send a search party.”
“Uh, hello, they already sent Hudson. That was the warning shot.”
“Well, shit.”
My dick was not getting the memo that this moment wasn’t going any further, and I brushed my palm over it like that would help. “Just so we’re clear, this emergency is not resolved.”
Beckett’s gaze flicked down to my hips before he nodded. “Noted.”
We headed back to the pavilion hand in hand, trying and failing to look like we hadn’t just snuck away to make out like a couple of teenagers with no control over their hormones.
Rome took one look at us when we returned and opened his mouth, but I pointed at him before he could speak.
“Don’t.”
His hand went over his heart. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. I was going to tell you that you have leaves in your hair, but by all means, continue attacking your loving brother.”
Beckett reached over and plucked a tiny brown leaf from near my temple, his mouth twitching. “He wasn’t wrong.”
“Please don’t give him the satisfaction of ever being right or he’ll lord it over you for eternity.”
Beckett squeezed my hand, chuckling, and my heart gave a ridiculous little kick.
This, I thought, not for the first time, was what it would be like to keep him.