Obviously. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to make demands of me, like that I marry a polo shirt and white pants wearing, old money, phony smiling douchebag I barely know. My dad expects the same thing from me that my mom gave him. She was a former beauty queen raised by parents from old money, and she happily went into a marriage that was basically arranged, dutifully had two children, and never said no to her husband on any matter whatsoever. My mom is placid, sweet, biddable, and still a size two. She’s naturally blonde with hardly any grays—she announces this nearly every day like it’s something I should thank her for passing along—she plays tennis, goes to dinners with my dad when it’s required, belongs to two country clubs, swims every morning in the backyard pool from five to six, can prepare a gourmet meal at the drop of a hat, and has impeccable taste in everything fashion, though apparently not when it comes to this wedding dress. She is also charitable, although doing charity work and being charitable might be two different things, and she was the model mom for my brother and me as we grew up, where she did all things model mothers do.
Anyway, where was I? Right.
Where the ever-loving fuck is Taylen?
I start to panic—meltdown style—when I get the faintest whiff of pungent smoke. Two seconds later, the fire alarm goes off, blaring through the place. Everyone remains frozen in the pews, where there are three rows and two aisles in between. It’s almost comical for me to be standing at the front, watching everyone’s heads swivel back and forth like a bunch of shocked owls.
Oh, it’s on. It’s so bloody on.
I don’t miss my cue. Or rather, I’m preparing to hightail the hell out of there when Henry’s arm shoots out, catching me smack in the middle of my chest as I’ve angled myself such that I’m facing the stunned crowd. No one has moved an inch except Henry, who screams the highest, most teeth-clenching, skin-shriveling, bone-melting scream I’ve ever heard before shoving me.
Literally, he shoves me. Then he grabs my arm and whirls me around in front of him. “I don’t want to die!” he screams. “Take her instead! Her first!”
What the hell is up with him? It’s just a fire alarm.
So much for my noble white knight of a husband that was never to be.
Since Henry’s basically given me a clear path while he’s cowering behind me, and now that everyone is watching him and his shameful display of very cowardly public indecency, I snatch up the skirts of the horrible monstrosity I’ve been crammed into, hitch them up daringly high, and bolt down the thankfully still clear aisle.
My grandmother is sitting in the front row, and as I go tearing past with my blonde ringlets and a twenty-foot freaking veil fluttering behind me, she screeches at me in a way that only she would dare. She only wears haute couture, which today means a bright red dress with hoops sticking out at least two feet around her waist, such that she’s barely in the pew she’s supposed to be seated in. She’s also wearing a hat that stands about two feet off her head, and it is decorated with scarlet feathers that wave in the air as she turns her head to yell after me.
“Get back here, you little missy! I shaved my legs for this!”
I let out a gleeful whoop as I clear the doors and burst into the back of the church. The double doors are only a few feet away, and the most beautiful sight awaits me there. Taylen Cromwell. My dark-haired, gray-eyed, six-foot-four, muscled god of a partner-in-crime best friend, who no, I’ve never thought was attractive because we don’t do that. I know he’s handsome, lickable, and sexy, but for me, it would be like ruining something beautiful by wanting it. If I licked him, I’m sure he would taste like wet paint. He might be sexy, but he’s so much more than that to me, so it has drowned out any physical effect he might have on me.
We made a pact long ago that we wouldn’t do the whole stupid falling in love with each other thing and ruin our friendship, so there you have it.
Taylen is firmly on the list of people I don’t bang. My list is simple. Just enemies and friends, which means people have to be in neutral territory before they become bangable.
“What took you so long?” I huff as I race to the doors. “I almost had to marry the bastard!”
Taylen’s grin is like ink spreading across creamy white paper. It’s kind of fascinating and totally shit-eating on an otherwise perfectly composed face. “I’m sure you would have thought of something.”