The Consequence of Loving Colton (Consequence 1)

She directed the question at my mom.

Max slid a knife toward Jason and nodded encouragingly.

Jason eyed it like he was seriously contemplating cutting the bitch, while Colton calmly picked up the weapon and put it in his lap.

Mom stood. “Now, I understand you’re upset.”

Jayne flinched, a look of utter disbelief etched into her features.

“But you need to calm down.”

“Ooo.” Max shook his head. “Bad call, real bad call. It’s like telling the shark you’re a surfboard. It’s gonna bite you to make sure you aren’t a seal, then it’s going to kill you anyway. My leg, my leg!” I swatted him on the stomach.

Jayne’s eyes narrowed as she zeroed in on Mom.

The chairs around the table made a resounding screech as we all pushed away.

“You said you would take care of things,” Jayne said in a low voice. “This is not taking care of things!”

“Listen, sweetie—”

“We’re getting married!” Max yelled.

“What?” Colt roared as a doughnut went flying out of his hand, missing Jason’s bad eye by a centimeter.

Everyone fell silent.

“Surprise!” Max lifted his hands into the air. “You know this is as good a time as any, babykins.” He reached for my hand; I pulled away and glared. Son of a mon—! What was he doing?

“Oh, honey!” Mom ran around the table and pulled me in for a hug. “We never thought it would happen for you!”

“Gee, thanks.” Nothing more encouraging than your own parents assigning you to spinsterhood and a childless future. “But we’re not—”

“We are!” Max gritted his teeth and nodded toward Jayne.

The fire left her.

She slumped into her chair. “Max? You two, you’re really getting married?”

“Yup.” He gripped my body so tight I wheezed. “Come here, baby.”

He kissed me hard in front of everyone.

I could have sworn I saw the knife in Colton’s hand twitch.

“A toast!” Mom clapped and pulled out a bottle of champagne.

“But it’s like ten thirty in the morning?”

I received four stares that would have frozen hell over. “I mean, sounds great!”

Max whispered in my ear, “If we don’t have alcohol, we’ll all perish. I’m fully convinced that I may not make it to my next birthday if I have to stay in this house any longer. Keep an eye on Jayne, make sure she stops harassing your mom, and I’ll go fix things.”

“How the hell are you going to fix things?”

He shrugged. “I know people. Now, toast to our future, and stand close to Colton. Oh, and remember our talk.”

“Doughnut, I know, be the doughnut.”

“No.” He rolled his eyes. “Eye of the Tiger!”

With that he snuck out of the room, taking my dad with him.

“Where are they going?” Mom asked, setting the champagne on the table.

“Boy stuff, wedding stuff,” I lied.

“This has just . . .” Mom wiped a tear from her eye. Oh, crap. “Turned into the most . . .” And here comes the chin-trembling. “Beautiful . . . wonderful . . .” And the waterworks. “Day!” She wiped her cheeks.

“Mom, don’t cry.” I said it like an order.

“I’m sorry.” She sobbed harder.

“Mom, seriously, stop crying.”

“I’m just so proud of you!”

“Well, I did just solve world hunger by way of marriage to Max.” I clenched my teeth.

“Really?” Jayne perked up.

“Yeah.” I nodded enthusiastically. “Because that’s what weddings do, cause peace, not war.”

Jason choked on his champagne.

“Milo?” Colton handed me a glass of champagne. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

“Sure.” I grinned, knowing full well he was going to want answers. Great! Just more lies to cover up more lies. Fantastic.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

COLTON

Married. Married! Married? Right, however I said it, however I looked at it—all I saw was freaking red. The color of rage, and if I was being completely honest with myself? Pain with a hefty dose of regret. Damn it.

I downed the rest of my champagne and set the glass on the table just as a decorator came by and set down a large contraption that I’m sure they patterned after a medieval torture device.

“What is that?” I pointed.

“Holds the cake.” The guy shrugged and walked off, just as Milo came up and eyed the same thing.

“Is this an S&M wedding or what?”

Yeah. My thoughts totally went there.

Milo with a whip.

Dressed in head-to-toe leather giving me bedroom eyes. My groin tightened as a vision of her waving the whip around floated around my head. Damn, was it wrong to love the violence as much as I did?

I mean, come on, the woman was walking violence, she practically ran into that one!

Coughing, you know, to hide my embarrassment and make sure her eyes weren’t anywhere but my face—lest I embarrass myself and have to jump in the subzero-temperature pool—I got her attention.

“So what’s up?”

“Married?” I squeaked. “You’re shitting me, right?”

Obviously I missed my calling as a therapist or a motivational speaker.

“I guess so.” Milo’s cheeks burned red. “I mean, I guess . . . yes?”