Chapter 3
three
Dash
Can this day get any worse?
I’m all for love and romance, just not when you’re supposed to be the ushers at a friend’s wedding.
My brother, Dawson, is hopelessly in love with Esme, and she is hopelessly in love with him, though it took her a little longer than him to figure it out.
Instead, she wanted a friends-with-benefits relationship with my brother.
It wasn’t until she realized that all the sneaking around and not telling anyone her true feelings for Dawson were hurting them both that she declared her love for him publicly.
Now all they do is publicly display their love for each other, like today, on the day our friends, Aspen and Wilder, are getting married.
I’ve had to tear them off each other, while Esme splits her time between her bridesmaids’ duties and sneaking around with Dawson.
Dawson isn’t any better, either, with the way he keeps leaving his usher post to check on Esme.
“Sorry, Dash. Esme needed a fix of her man.” Dawson grins, his hair sticking out in all directions and lipstick on his collar, as he tucks his shirt back into his pants. “You know, Esme’s still on her apology tour and can’t keep her hands off me.”
If I have to hear about Esme’s apology tour one more time, I’m going to punch Dawson in the mouth to shut him up. At least he’s gentlemanly enough to keep all the details to himself, but the sheer sight of a man kept well pleased is too much to handle.
Both my brothers have found the loves of their lives, and I’m happy for them.
I just don’t want it shoved in my face every time I turn around.
Between the family lumber business and all these damn weddings, I’m invited to, I haven’t had time to find a woman of my own.
Even though you’d think there would be plenty of them at a wedding, they’re all already taken.
Maybe I should sign up with Aspen’s Mail Order Bride Company.
“Can you at least pull yourself together for a few minutes? The wedding is about to start.” I let the anger and frustration of not having the kind of love my brothers have get to me as I shove Dawson through the church door and close it behind him, needing a few minutes to compose myself.
I turn around to make sure all the guests have arrived before I head inside the church, when my eyes fall on the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Her hair is a golden brown, like the richest maple syrup.
Her curves are made for a man’s touch, but not just any man—she was made for me.
She’s the woman I’ve been waiting for all my life.
She stumbles, and I rush down the steps, catching her in my arms before she falls to the hard ground. “Are you okay?” I ask the Goddess in my arms.
“Blue.” She says, lifting her hand to my cheek, a look of awe and confusion written all over her face.
“Excuse me?” Who answers the question, "Are you okay,” with the word blue?
Just my luck, I finally find the woman of my dreams, and she’s not firing on all cylinders.
Her forest-green eyes blink as if clearing her thoughts. “I’m here to stop the wedding,” she says, trying to wiggle out of my embrace, but I tighten my arms around her, not letting her spoil Aspen and Wilder’s big day.
“Like hell you are.”
“Let me go!” She struggles harder in my arms, her voice rising to a shout.
It took Aspen and Wilder forever to get to where they are today.
I’m not going to let some crazy, curvy beauty spoil that for them.
Without a second thought, I secure the spitfire’s wrists in one of my large hands, then pull the handkerchief or pocket square or whatever it’s called from my suit pocket.
At her gasp of surprise, I push the silky material into her open mouth past her plump lips, trying not to imagine what I’d really like to push into her mouth.
Next, I untie my tie with one hand, pull it from around my neck, wrap it securely around her wrists, then toss her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
She squirms in my grip, but luckily, I’m a lot stronger than she is, and my cabin is only a couple of miles away.
I stomp away from the church, making my way through the wooded forest as her bound wrists beat against my back.
With a quick slap on her luscious ass, I try to get her to stop moving.
“Settle down before you make me drop you.” My hand comes down on her plump backside, not hard enough to hurt but enough to let her know I’m serious.
She must get the hint, because her body instantly freezes.
“Good girl.” My hand, still resting on her ass, caresses it through the silk of her dress.
If I’m not mistaken, I hear a moan rattle through her chest, trapped behind the material stuffed in her mouth, and my cock responds instantly, pressing hard against the zipper of my suit pants.
Increasing my speed, I maneuver through the overgrowth of tree branches, making a mental note to come back here to clean them up once I figure out what to do with the little spitfire in my arms.