Chapter 45
Magma
Carla is fucking radiant.
I’ve been hunting for a better word through the entire ceremony and coming up empty. Nothing seems a good enough description. Beautiful doesn’t cover it. Stunning gets closer and still falls short. Her eyes look bigger than ever, huge and bright, and that dress.
Holy shit, that dress.
It showcases each and every curve. The neckline dips low, and I have to work to keep my eyes off her tits. Her cleavage is something else.
I keep looking at her, and it’s completely involuntary.
When all is said and done, I hugged her far too close and for too damned long. I couldn’t help it.
I also put my face right into her hair just so I could get a whiff of her shampoo, and then, because apparently, I have zero self-control today, I lean in and pull a whole nose full of her.
Underneath the spritz of perfume are cherries and vanilla.
She feels so damned good pressed up against me. Soft in all the right places, her arms tight around my neck. She pulls away first.
My dragon stirs, rising under my skin, wanting more. Wanting to pull her back against me.
Then my dick decides this is a fine time to wake up as well.
In the middle of the damned chapel. At my best friend’s wedding. With a minister standing ten feet away.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
She steps back, smiling up at me with those big eyes. “You did good with the rings. Very smooth.”
“I only had one job.”
“Over here, Magma.” Flint waves at me from a small table where Robyn and Ridge are standing over the open register.
“I’ll see you outside?” I ask Carla, lifting my brows.
She nods, and I make myself walk away from her.
“You need to be a witness,” Flint tells me as I get closer.
Great.
I get to sign the official record of Ridge and Robyn’s marriage while sporting a semi.
Fuck me.
“I would be honored,” I tell them.
Robyn signs first. Then Ridge. Flint is next up, and then me; my name going down under theirs as witness.
It’s done.
I hug the happy couple, one after the other, wishing them all the best, even though they don’t need my wishes. They have everything they need. Ridge holds on to me for an extra beat and thumps my back twice, and when I pull away, his eyes are wet again.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more in love.
It’s sickening, actually, but in a good way.
That’s when I spot Brook hovering off to the side, hands folded in front of her, giving us space.
I smile and wave her over, and she comes to join me, and I hug her.
This female is a damned saint. I swear it.
Any other woman would have thrown a drink in my face after the conversation we had in the car, and instead she’s here, smiling, playing her part like a champ.
“You did great,” Brook says as we pull apart. She pats my lapel once, straightening it.
Then she turns to the newlyweds. “Congrats. I’m Brook, by the way.”
“Yes, of course.” Robyn beams at her. “You and Magma are dating. I think it’s amazing. You have yourself a real catch.”
“Don’t I know it.” She winks at me as she hugs Robyn.
For the millionth time, I find myself wishing I could feel something for her in that way.
I feel nothing, because I’m an idiot.
No, it’s my dragon. He has things all muddled. Asshole!
Brook hugs Ridge next, then Flint.
“You look great, Brook,” Flint says, his face turning serious. “Did you organize to fly back with me so that we can go over the reports on—”
“No business talk at my wedding,” Robyn warns, wagging a finger at him.
Flint smiles and holds up his hands. “Duly noted.” He nods a few times. “From here on out it’s all about fun and celebrations.”
“Yes, it is.” Ridge kisses Robyn on the top of her head, pulling her into his side.
“We’ll see you guys out there,” Flint says, already herding Brook and me toward the doors. “Give us a few minutes to get things ready for you.”
Robyn nods, smiling from ear to ear.
Outside, the late sun has turned the chapel steps gold, and the guests are spilling out across the lawn in their suits and dresses, laughing, talking, shading their eyes. Flint climbs two steps, puts his fingers in his mouth, and whistles loud enough to stop every conversation dead.
“Listen up, everyone!” He spreads his arms. “The newlyweds are about to make their grand exit. I need you all to line up on either side of the steps, grab a handful of rose petals from the baskets. Arm yourselves.”
Laughter rolls through the crowd, and everyone starts moving, funneling toward the big woven baskets on either side of the path.
I listen with half an ear, because I’ve found Carla in the crowd and now I can’t take my eyes off her.
She’s with some male. He’s tall, blond, and young. Fresh like a fucking daisy. And he is all over her.
Fuck.
He’s got his arm wrapped around her waist, his hand resting on her hip like it belongs there, and he’s leaning down, talking right into her ear. His mouth is close enough to touch her hair.
She laughs at whatever he said, head tipping back, throat exposed to the sun, and my dragon does this thing inside me. A slow, hot roll, like a beast turning over in its den. He roars, but I hold it in. He doesn’t like the male’s hand on her. He doesn’t like the male’s mouth at her ear.
He wants me to go over there and remove the arm at the shoulder.
I grit my teeth and stay exactly where I am, because I can’t rip someone’s arm off at my best friend’s wedding. It would be seriously frowned upon. Not to mention all the blood and mess.
Nope.
I can’t.
Carla is allowed to laugh with whoever the hell she wants.
I knew she was bringing him. I was prepared. But knowing and seeing it in the flesh are two very different things.
Brook appears at my side and presses a handful of petals into my palm. “Breathe,” she murmurs, so low only I can hear it, and gives my arm a squeeze.
Saint. I’m telling you.
I nod and smile at her.
Then the chapel doors swing open, and Robyn and Ridge step out into the light, hand in hand, and the whole crowd erupts.
There’s cheering, whistling, and a whole lot of clapping.
Petals fly from every direction as they start to walk down between the guests.
Robyn squeals with excitement, ducking her head against Ridge’s shoulder as the petals rain down on them.
They’re both laughing, and Ridge lifts their joined hands overhead like a champion, which earns him another roar from the crowd.
The blond male takes his hand off Carla’s hip to throw his petals.
Carla throws hers too, flinging them high, laughing and clapping as they scatter over the newlyweds.
The photographer is having a field day, crouching, circling, the shutter going nonstop, catching the petals mid-flight from every angle.
Then the male puts his arm right back around Carla.
I grind my teeth.
Fuck!
I need to get a grip, and I need to get it fast. We’re about to spend a whole evening together. Dinner, speeches, dancing. The whole nine yards.
I can’t ruin things for Ridge and his mate. I won’t. This is their day, the best day of their lives, and I will smile and toast and dance and be the best man they asked me to be, even if it kills me.
Which, at this rate, it might.
Robyn and Ridge come down the steps toward where we’re standing, running the gauntlet of petals. Robyn’s veil streams behind her, and Ridge is looking at her instead of where he’s going, and they are so stupidly happy that my chest aches with it.
I throw my petals.
They drop straight down and land at my feet in a sad little clump.
I look at my hand. Shit, I crushed them into a wad without even realizing I was doing it. There are red and white smears across my palm, and I’ve delivered the world’s most pathetic petal toss in the history of weddings.
This isn’t a good start. Not a good start at all.
I brush my palm off against my trousers and roll my shoulders back.
I can do better.
I will do better.