Five Ways to Fall (Ten Tiny Breaths #4)(117)

“Well, I think you and she have some things to talk about,” I tease with a wink. “Why don’t you come in here?”

His head falls back with a loud bark of laughter. “Hell no!”

“Wuss.”

He regards me for a moment, his tongue running over his teeth slowly as he ponders something.

And then he kicks off his shoes, tosses his tux jacket onto the ground, and steps into the fountain. “I’m going to make you regret calling me that,” he warns with grim determination as he stalks toward me, the water no match for his powerful legs. I quickly scramble away, trying to dodge the cascades of water shooting up from the pool, but he’s too fast and his strong arms seize me in a backwards hug.

“I don’t have a change of clothes, Ben!” I remind him with a squeal.

“Neither do I, but you insisted, so I guess we’re in for a really interesting drive home, aren’t we?”

From my peripherals, I see a small crowd forming on the steps and flashes of camera lights go off, no doubt the invited media for the event. If Ben sees them, he certainly doesn’t care. Or maybe he does, and that’s why he hooks one arm around the backs of my knees and lifts me up into a cradle.

“Ready?”

“No!” I howl with laughter as I squeeze his neck tightly. “Don’t you dare let me fall into this water! It’s f**king freezing!”

A strange look passes through his blue eyes. “Let you fall? Reese, you should know by now that I’d never let that happen.” His one arm pulls me in to lay a highly inappropriate kiss on my lips, given we have spectators.

And then he starts running through the ring of water sprays.

Drenching us both as we laugh and laugh.

Epilogue

BEN

“Damn, I can’t wait to get this tie off me,” I mutter as my fingers curl under the collar of my shirt, already damp beneath the suit jacket. I’ll be stripping down to nothing as soon as the pictures are over, if I have my way.

“Stop whining. At least it’s May. She could have picked July,” Jake reminds me, adding quietly as he wipes his brow, “and we’re all suffering with you.”

A quick glance at Rob and Josh confirm a light sheen of sweat on their faces. The four of us are standing in the shade of one of the oldest oaks on the property. Rows of white chairs, filled with family and friends, face us. A makeshift altar—an archway covered in orange blossoms—is situated next to us.

Just inhaling the scent calms me.

“You guys have done a ton of work on the house since Christmas,” Rob muses, his eyes roaming the big old plantation-style home in the background.

“It was a big insurance policy. Enough to cover the critical stuff.” I nod to our oldest brother. “Josh did a lot too.” Josh quit his job shortly after our dad’s death and moved down to be with Mama. The money from the sale of the woodworking equipment is more than enough to cover child support and alimony payments for the near term. He, in turn, has been a huge help around here, converting our dad’s wood shop into a packing facility and getting that up and running, to minimize off-site fees. He just celebrated his first year of sobriety last week and, though Karen doesn’t appear to be ready to reconcile anytime soon, she came down with their two kids this weekend for the wedding.

I’ve gotten to know my big brother better now, as an adult, than I ever knew him as a child. I’ve even come to appreciate his quiet demeanor and I think, by the small smiles and chuckles, he has come to appreciate me for who I am.

“It’s almost time!” Mama gushes, rushing up to us with her three-month-old grandson in her arms. “You want to see Daddy one more time, Jake Junior?”

“Couldn’t be more original, could you,” I mock, looking down at the little baby in his baby tux, the front of it covered in drool. Okay, I’ll admit it—he’s cute. He’d be even cuter if he didn’t cry so much.

“Shut the f**k up,” Jake throws my way in a mutter as he leans down to kiss his son’s forehead.

“Hush now!” Mama scolds, pulling Jake Junior to her chest.

But I’m not done yet. Getting under my brother’s skin is too damn fun. “Did the doctors tell you when he’d grow into that head of his?” I watch the poor kid struggle to lift it. “Or will he always look like a bobble-head?”

I barely get my arm down in time to block the kidney shot Jake delivers to me.

“Are you making fun of the bobble-head again?”

My heart skips a beat with the sound of Reese’s voice. I turn in time to see her floating forward through the grass, her old blue Yamaha guitar slung over her back. I take all of her in, including the plunging neckline of her dress, which gives me a good eyeful of those tits I have my hands on every opportunity I get. The dress is long, reaching all the way down to the ground. That’s kind of annoying. I really like seeing her legs. But, when she turns around and I see the open back, I figure that makes up for it. “I thought you weren’t supposed to wear white to a wedding?”

She shrugs. “You can if the bride makes you wear it.”

“Did Rita also pick the dress out? Because if she did . . .”

Her wide lips—painted red today—curl up into a slow smile. “You like it?”

“Yeah. In fact . . .” I reach down and rope my arm around her body to get a good grip on that ass I love so much as I pull her up against me.