“Holy cow,” Roxie whispered.
“Damn,” Jules sighed.
“Lordy be,” Stella husked.
“Aces,” Sadie mumbled.
“Oowee,” Shirleen chortled.
“Well, all right,” Daisy chimed.
“Righteous,” I muttered.
Luke pulled Ava into his arms.
Ava shoved her face in his neck.
Tom Petty’s “Alright for Now” started playing.
My insides melted.
Luke swayed to the music, his neck bent, cheek pressed to Ava’s hair, his new wife held close in his arms.
I curled into Ren’s front and both his arms closed around me.
Hank approached and claimed Roxie.
We all watched.
Silently.
The song lasted two minutes.
And those two minutes were two of the best minutes of my life.
Because in a function room in a kickass hotel in Denver, Colorado, watching two people I loved, two people in love, dancing to a simple beautiful song, was two minutes of experiencing sheer beauty.
Chapter Nineteen
We’re a Fuckin’ Pair
The morning after Luke and Ava’s wedding, I walked into Ren’s bedroom carrying a tray.
That morning, for the first time since our first night together, I woke up before Ren.
And I decided that this time was going to go a whole lot better.
So I walked in seeing Ren still asleep on his stomach, the bedclothes down to his waist, the smooth olive skin and defined muscles of his back bared to me.
I smiled at the sight, set the tray aside and put a knee in the bed. Then I put a hand between his shoulder blades and leaned in to kiss the indent of his spine at the small of his back.
He shifted and turned.
I lifted and looked toward his face.
“You sleep any longer, Zano, breakfast is gonna get cold,” I said as my good morning.
The brows over his sleepy eyes went up (hot) before his gaze slid to the nightstand.
I’d made French toast Roxie’s way. That was to say, with powdered sugar sweetened cream cheese sandwiched in the middle (we could just say it was good Ren cooked—he had everything in his kitchen). I’d also fried up some smoky links and cut up some strawberries with the stem still on so I could fan them on the plates, two of which, with mugs of steaming coffee, were on the tray.
It looked and smelled awesome.
His eyes came back to me. “You cook?”
I felt my brows knit. “Sure I cook.”
“You’ve never cooked for me.”
This was true. I hadn’t. I’d made toast, but that didn’t count as cooking.
I smiled, leaned in and whispered, “Lucky boy, you have a plethora of delights awaiting you.”
His eyes got hot, his arms closed around me and I found myself back to the bed, Ren on me and his tongue in my mouth.
Nice.
When his lips slid to my neck, I noted, “Baby, this gets any hotter, breakfast is gonna suck.”
