Baiting the Maid of Honor (Wedding Dare #2)(15)

“I guess we’ll see,” Reed responded, grimacing as he heard himself repeat Julie’s earlier words. He didn’t like their ring of uncertainty. It had been a long time since he’d been uncertain of anything. Perhaps it bothered him even more at that very moment, surrounded as he was by some of the only people in the world who knew so much about that uncertain period of his life. When, as a kid, he hadn’t known where his next meal would come from. Whether or not he’d make it through to next week. If his father would come up with the rent money gambling, or they’d once again be forced into a shelter until he hit another “lucky” streak.

Brock nudged him with an elbow, dragging him from his dark reverie. He jerked his chin toward a corner of the lounge where large poster boards had been set up, cluttered with pictures of Kady and Colton, encompassing their lives from birth to the present. Staring up at them was Sophie, Colton’s little sister and thus, their surrogate sister, looking lonely and out of place in workout pants and an oversize T-shirt. Nodding in unspoken agreement, he and Brock made their way toward Sophie, coming up on either side.

She jumped at their sudden appearance, and tugged self-consciously at her shirt. “Oh boy. You guys aren’t going to give me a noogie, are you?”

Brock smiled and tapped her on the nose. “Rest assured. I’m on my best behavior. I can’t speak to Reed’s intentions, mind you.”

He felt a smile threaten when Sophie quirked a censorious eyebrow at him. He’d always had a soft spot for the shy, slightly pudgy girl who’d shadowed them during those hot summers in Manchester all those years ago. She’d lost the pudge sometime since he’d last seen her, but the shy had stuck around. Like her brother and Brock, she’d never judged him or made him feel like he didn’t belong with the well-raised children. Even though he probably hadn’t belonged, despite their assurances. “I ought to noogie you, Miss Sophie. I thought we had a deal. You don’t tell anyone about that issue of Penthouse and we let you come swimming at the lake on Tuesdays.”

Her face broke into a pretty smile. “Haven’t you heard of a statute of limitations?”

“Look at you, talking real fancy now,” Brock drawled. “Besides, I thought it was a Hustler.”

“Does it honestly make a difference?” Sophie asked.

“Yes,” the men replied emphatically.

Sophie said something else, but Reed became distracted by a picture pinned to the poster board. Front and center stood Kady, wearing a crown in front of a mechanical bull. In the background, looking fresh and innocent, Julie smiled brightly at the camera. Posing in jean shorts and cowboy boots. Long legs dangling on either side of the damn mechanical bull. Without a second thought, Reed reached up and snagged the picture off the board, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. If the sexy photo made him hard, he’d be damned before he left it around to have the same effect on someone else. He felt a prickle move over his neck and turned to find Julie watching him through narrowed eyes, obviously having witnessed his thievery.

He winked at her.

…

Julie steadied a tipsy Mr. Wilcox on his feet and waved him out the door. “Now you get back to your room safe, understand? No getting fresh with Mrs. Wilcox in any dark stairwells. There are cameras everywhere now, you know. Eyes in the sky. It’s not just the good Lord you have to worry about judging you anymore. These resort folks will call the police faster than you can spit. They don’t realize we grow our men friskier in the South, do they, Mrs. Wilcox? No ma’am, they don’t. There you go, one foot in front of the other. You’ve got the agility of a cougar. Not that kind of cougar, Mrs. Wilcox. Now who’s getting fresh?”

The jolly couple disappeared at the end of the hallway, marking the last guests to leave. As soon as they left her field of vision, Julie slumped back against the wall, already reaching down to slip off her high heels. She gave in to the urge to sit right down on the carpeted floor and she ran her thumb up the arch of her foot, moaning at the sheer pleasure.

“Careful, pixie. You keep making those sounds, I might have to join you on that floor.”

Julie jolted to her feet as Reed strode through the double doors of the kitchen holding a tray of covered dishes. She hadn’t seen him in half an hour and had assumed he left. Had been simultaneously glad and disappointed when she didn’t see him reclaim his seat in the darkest corner of the restaurant. Glad, because the heat of his constant regard made it difficult to concentrate. On anything. Disappointed, because the heat felt so darn good. It wrapped itself around her, sliding up and down her thighs, belly, and breasts like a living, breathing thing. Throughout the night, she’d found herself positioning herself where he could see her, lest she lose the heady buzz of his attention for one second. At one point, she’d found herself wishing the room was empty, save herself and Reed, so she could join him where he sat in the dark, straddle his lap and…dance for him. Put those secret lessons she’d been taking to good use in a way he’d probably never see coming. Let him look at her up close while she moved. Feel his penetrating stare trace a path up her writhing midsection. She wanted to open his shirt and look at his tattoos while she performed for him. Since starting the classes, she’d had fantasies about dancing for a man, but he’d never had an identity before. Now, in her mind’s eye, Reed looked up at her in awe, lust a living thing on his face.