Worried that Wyatt might do that using his fists, I followed him up to where Stark stood.
“Honey, no bloodshed on my wedding day,” I said as I reached him.
“No blood today, baby, I promise.” He ripped the microphone from Stark’s hand and put his other arm around me, pulling me close.
“Just so we’re clear. I’ve loved Sinclair since I was sixteen-”
“Sixteen?” Ryder gaped.
“She finally seduced me when I was eighteen…under that oak tree over there.”
“Oh God, I thought you didn’t want people to know about that.” My face had to be beet red in embarrassment.
He grinned. “Just letting the good people of Salvation know that I’ve always loved you and will always love you.” Then he fused his lips to mine in a fiery kiss that had my knees wobbling.
Hoots and whistles sounded from our guests.
“Oh my God. Stop already,” I heard Alyssa. “This is so embarrassing.”
“Any questions?” Wyatt asked when he finally pulled back.
“Yeah, what happened under the tree?” someone asked.
I blushed. Then turning to Stark, I said, “You can bring your worst, Mr. Stark, but we, and by we I mean the good people of Salvation, aren’t going to go down without a fight.
“Here’s to Salvation,” Wyatt said, reaching for a glass of champagne. He handed me a flute and took one for himself. We clicked and drank as our guests cheered Stark out of my parents’ yard.
We were in a crowd of people, but when I turned to look up at Wyatt, he was the only person I saw at that moment.
“You know, you’re the perfect husband.”
He grinned. “No kidding? That’s convenient because you’re the perfect wife.”
“So, will we be consummating this marriage under the oak tree?”
He nodded and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Next time.” And then he kissed me.
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Book Two - Accidental Baby
Prologue
Trina
I’ve gone mad. That was the only way to explain my current predicament. Up until a few days ago, I’d been a sane, reasonable person who did everything according to plan. Somehow, I’d gone completely off my rocker and was now in bed in Ryder Simms’ house. Not in his bed, but still, in a bed in his house instead of my own bed in my own apartment. The only explanation was that I’d gone nuts. Around the bend. Coocoo for cocoa puffs.
Everything that man did was infuriating. The latest annoyance was his recent shower. Who took a shower in the middle of the day? Ryder, apparently. Hopefully, he’d get dressed and leave the house so I could have peace and quiet. Sundays were my self-care days, which, among many pampering activities, included a nap. Just when I’d laid down, he’d turned on the shower. The pipes groaned and rattled until the water settled into a steady stream.
Just as I got used to the sound of shower, he started to sing. I thought singing in the shower was just a saying, but no. Ryder actually sang as he lathered up his … well, no, I wasn’t going to think about his hard, lean body that was infuriatingly perfect.
When the water went off, I thanked the lord and turned over to enjoy my nap. I could feel sleep shimmering at the edge of consciousness. I was nearing bliss when the twang of a guitar being tuned made me wince. Seriously? Now? Again? Did he ever stop plucking that old thing? I pulled the pillow over my head, trying some deep breathing to calm me down and lull me to sleep.
He strummed the guitar and began to sing.