Chapter 15 Madelina #2
I opted for an off-the-shoulder floral-print light pink tulle dress with a sweetheart neckline. Beneath the dress, my cowboy boots complement the theme and make it easier to get around the ranch, plus dance the night away.
My hair cascades down in soft waves, framing my face with just the right amount of elegance and casual flair.
A quick scan of the area sends my heart racing, and I feel like a meerkat on high alert. As a wave of anxiety washes over me at the thought of running into Myles, I clutch my hands into tight fists.
Guests move about, finding their seats while I take in their attire with an amused smile.
Leaning in close to Elliot, I whisper, “There’s an overwhelming amount of cowboy in here.”
“That there is,” he replies, chuckling softly.
We take our seats on the ivory chairs, facing the front, where a small creek sits with giant lily pads. It almost looks fake, like out of a fairy-tale book, as if a frog might hop out at any minute.
We both wait patiently while the seats around us fill with friends and family. I take note of the crowd—perhaps fifty people, maybe more.
As the first notes of an acoustic version of “Forever After All” by Luke Combs drift into the air, I focus my attention on the altar, where the groom, Brooks, stands with a nervous yet genuine smile, despite the unfortunate spots on his skin.
Soon, a young girl in a cute white dress prances down the aisle, her tiny hands tossing flower petals into the air. She flashes a grin, proudly showcasing her two missing front teeth. She’s adorable, and when she reaches the end, she runs into her mom’s arms all shy.
But it’s Stella’s entrance that steals my, and all the other guests’, breath away.
She glides toward Brooks in a stunning lace gown, the delicate fabric dancing with her movements.
Her hair is down in loose curls, with a small veil resting against her bare back.
The dress she wears drapes down and bunches just above her waistline, showcasing her toned physique.
My mind wanders back to the day when I practiced my own walk down the aisle.
It was the afternoon before the wedding, a memory tinged with bittersweet nostalgia.
Even then, my feet were already cold as doubt crept in, but little did I know it wasn’t just cold feet, it was a whole damn iceberg, and nothing I could do would make the feeling disappear.
As Stella reaches Brooks, they hold hands, the two of them basking in the moment they’ve been waiting for their whole lives.
The corners of my lips pull into a smile as the ceremony unfolds with heartfelt vows. I steal a glance to my left, only to find Myles’s gaze locked on me, intense and piercing.
I bite my lip accidentally, wincing at the pain as my heart races wildly like a herd of stampeding horses.
I instinctively lower my gaze to the ground, my fingers fidgeting nervously.
What have I gotten myself into? This was a stupid mistake.
The fact that I backed out of our wedding doesn’t make this any easier.
“Myles is here,” Elliot murmurs, a commanding softness to his voice.
“It’s showtime.” He reaches down and takes my hand, his fingers enveloping mine in a warm, steady grip.
With our hands intertwined, I glance down and succumb to the security of Elliot’s touch.
Inside my chest, the erratic beating begins to slow, evening out to a steady pace as I muster the confidence to get through the rest of the day.
I inhale deeply, centering my thoughts as the ceremony unfolds around us. Brooks and Stella exchange their vows, their voices shaky while tears of joy cascade down their vulnerable faces.
The guests wait in eager anticipation for the happy couple to say, “I do.” The celebrant concludes the ceremony by introducing Mr. and Mrs. Sweeney.
A glorious cheer erupts, echoing through the air like joyous thunder. The memorable moment is sealed with a kiss—the kind of Hollywood kiss everyone dreams of on their wedding day.
With the formalities over, Brooks and Stella partake in photographs while guests make their way to the rest of the festivities.
The reception takes place inside the barn, which has been restored but still holds its rustic charm.
Soft fairy lights twinkle like stars, draping gracefully from the wooden beams and casting a warm, intimate glow over the open space.
In the corner, just shy of the entrance, a beat-up truck sits with its tailgate open.
People place their gifts inside, the aged automobile adding to the event’s charm.
Tall bar tables are casually scattered throughout, creating an inviting, relaxed atmosphere unlike the usually formal weddings where you’re forced to sit down and partake in a three-course meal.
Myles’s mother requested a six-course meal for our wedding reception, which was ridiculous—not that I argued at the time.
When the word amuse-bouche came up, I lost interest real quick.
The cake, centered at the table near the band, is a cowboy hat with two decorative wedding rings entwined and sitting on top. Everything screams Brooks and Stella, and I grin as I take it all in with a warmth radiating through my chest.
We make our way to the bar, surrounded by a lively crowd eager to toast the happy couple.
A whiskey and bourbon station is set up, but I choose to indulge in a mint julep instead, since I’ve never tried one.
Elliot opts for a straight bourbon. The server slides the delicate highball glass filled with my drink across the timber counter and I take my first sip, only for the potent blend of bourbon and mint to catch me off guard.
I wince slightly as Elliot smirks beside me.
“Strong?”
“You could say that,” I manage with a slight cough.
As I take another sip to get myself accustomed to the taste, the band starts to play a lively tune, prompting couples to spill onto the dance floor. People aren’t shy. They’re quick to celebrate, their feet moving on the wooden floor, laughter sounding above the music.
“So, should we dance?” I ask, pleading with my eyes. “I promise not to make a fool of us. You do know how to line dance, right?”
Elliot takes my hand with a confident smirk tugging at his lips. Carefully, among the lively dancers, he guides me toward the rhythm of the music. With a gentle ease, he places his hands on my hips, and I instinctively lift my arms to drape them around his neck.
It doesn’t take long to find our rhythm. In fact, we find it pretty quickly.
Our eyes lock like magnets, and the sway of our bodies draws smiles from both of us.
“You can dance,” I compliment him, keeping my surprise to myself.
“Of course I can dance,” he replies, a glint of confidence sparkling in his eyes. “How else will I impress women?”
I tilt my head playfully, trying my damn hardest to suppress my grin. “You know what they say about a man who can dance?”
Elliot purses his lips thoughtfully. “That he can also cook?”
“Actually…” I raise an eyebrow, tightening my grip around his neck. “You know what they say about a man who can cook, too?”
“What do they say, Madelina Beaumont?” He enunciates my name with a smoothness that sends a shiver of pleasure throughout me.
“Um, well… they say a man who can dance and cook is good in bed,” I state matter-of-factly.
Elliot flashes me a roguish smirk. “I guess it’s all subjective.”
“Nice answer.” I nod, my grin widening in delight. “Given your ample experience with women, I’m inclined to say you’ve got some skills. The sway of the hips leaves little to the imagination. Plus, I’ve seen you use a whisk in the kitchen. Great wrist action.”
“I once knew a guy in college who had a string of girls but still couldn’t make them orgasm,” he quips, a playful sarcasm lacing his voice. “He worked at the pub as a casual cook and was part of a hip-hop dance group on the weekends.”
I shake my head with a burst of laughter. “How unfortunate for the women, and what a waste of his talents.”
Elliot’s gaze intensifies, the blue staring back at me reminiscent of a deep ocean, captivating my attention and drawing me into his soul.
I’m entranced by the magnetic pull of a single glance, lost in the moment until Elliot’s gaze diverts for a heartbeat, only to return to me with a smug, knowing look, like something is about to take place.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, then continues with, “as part of our plan.”
With bated breath, I watch him, feeling the world around us fade as he focuses on my lips before leaning in.
The warmth of Elliot’s mouth brushes against mine, igniting a fire inside of me.
The sensation burns like a flickering flame, and soon the warmth consumes me completely, like wax surrendering to its own fire.
His tongue lightly trails over mine, teasingly soft, sending whispers of desire cascading through me. Just as I’m lost in the intoxicating kiss, he pulls away, leaving me breathless and yearning for more.
I stare into his penetrating eyes, eager to reach on my tiptoes and kiss him back, but a voice interrupts, cutting through our moment like a siren warning us of an impending emergency.
“Mind if I cut in?”
At a slow, agonizing pace, the familiar voice draws my attention and forces me to glance in its direction.
“Maddy,” Myles interrupts, his intense stare breaking this moment between Elliot and me. Rattled with confusion, my eyes dart to Elliot’s, his envious gaze masked behind a fake smile. But then, I turn back to Myles, and with a pleading whisper, he says, “For old times’ sake?”