More Than Need You (More Than Words 2)

“What did you tell her the first time you were together, Griff? How did you sweet-talk her out of her panties? Into your life, into your apartment, into her heart? And how much of that was a come-on?”

I didn’t know how to act with Britta at first. I remember that. She seemed so different to me…but I fell into old patterns because that’s what I knew. I told her she was beautiful. I “accidentally” brushed against her. I took her to posh restaurants and zipped her around the island in my expensive ride. I did and said whatever it took to tear down her resistance and wear down her halfhearted refusals until she gave me a date, a kiss, her trust, and finally, her virginity.

I probably was a dirtbag, but even before I truly understood how I felt, I treasured her on some level. I know I didn’t want to ever let her go.

“So I need to prove this isn’t about my ego, just about her.”

“You do.”

That’s a relief. If Keeley thought I was making a mistake, she’d flat-out tell me so. “I’m not sure I know how. I have an idea, but you’ll probably think it’s unhinged.”

“Is it underhanded and manipulative?”

I hesitate. “This is me you’re talking to.”

“True. Will it do anything to prove that you love her and want to make her happy?”

“If it comes off right, yeah. I think so.” I sigh. “But I need your help. A lot of it.”

“The favor you asked me for earlier?”

“You read me so well.”

“Of course. You’re male and transparent and have pure bastard running through your veins.”

I scowl. “My brother isn’t so different.”

“I know. I’m still trying to figure out why I love him.” She laughs. “Well, that’s not true. Maxon sang karaoke to prove his love to me.”

That’s somehow endearing to her? “He can’t sing.”

“I know, and we’ve agreed he won’t do that again. But he humiliated himself in public for me. And he was willing to give up the deal of his career and a few million dollars to make me happy.”

Great for Maxon, but I can’t give up now or I lose Britta and Jamie for good. I’ll have nothing left but a career and a shitload of regret.

“My idea is a little more substantial.” I pause, unsure how this is going to go over, but hey… I’m an all-or-nothing guy. “I want to surprise Britta with our wedding.”

“What?” Keeley takes a minute to figure that out. “You mean plan it all and not tell her until the day you marry?”

Her skeptical incredulity isn’t what I hoped for but doesn’t surprise me. “Yeah.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” she shouts, then yelps. I can hear Maxon stir beside her, then some rustling before she whispers again. “Seriously. Are you?”

“Probably.” I explain Makaio’s decision to let his mother plan their wedding, and the fact that Britta had lovingly hand-selected all the elements of her big day through those magazines, only to have the jerk flush it down the toilet. “So my idea is to give her the wedding of her dreams…along with the man who’s devoted to her and the family she craves.”

“Griff…” Her tone asks me to be reasonable. “Even if you gave me her stack of magazines, I don’t know if I could figure out exactly what she wants. I mean, I’ve barely started looking and I’ve already seen ten dresses I love. I’ll bet she’s got her eyes on more than one of everything and—”

“Maybe you could help each other?” When she makes a sound of protest again, I wince. “Just hear me out. Please.”

She sighs. “You owe me.”

“Yeah, but I’m not being your maid of honor and wearing peach chiffon.”

Keeley giggles. “But you’d look really pretty.”

“Fuck you.”

That incites more laughter, then a sound of exasperation—mostly at herself. “All right. Lay it on me. I’m crazy for even listening. I want that on record, by the way. And you’re insane, too. That needs to be stated.”

“Duly noted,” I swear. “But this could be the perfect setup. Tell her you need help with your wedding, but that you’re having trouble making decisions and would love her input. Britta has amazing taste, a great eye for visuals.”

“Solicit her input for my wedding and use what she tells me for her own?”

“Exactly. Once you get the information out of her, pass it on to me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Actually…” She pauses. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

“See?”

“And I can’t believe I’m going to help you even more. The wedding Maxon said he already booked for Sunshine Coast Bed and Breakfast—that really has a nice ring, don’t you think?”

“Way better than Maxon Maui Realty.”

“Okay, I can’t disagree with that. The point is, those people realized belatedly that it’s Easter weekend and rescheduled for mid-May. So we have an opening.”

It’s the same Saturday that Makaio picked to marry Britta. Future anniversaries will fall on Tax Day, which is decidedly unromantic. But I’m not going to sweat that. I’ll make future anniversaries amazing.

“Done. So you’ll call her later, work your magic, and help me make her dream wedding a reality?”

“I should take my temperature. I must be stupid to agree to this. Not right in the head. Devoid of all my faculties.”

“Is that a yes? Keeley, honey…”

“Don’t honey-baby-sweetie-pie me.” She sighs. “You don’t need to. I think she loves you. I know you’re absolutely besotted by her. So while this might be the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of, it’s also one of the most romantic. All right. I’ll help you.”

Two miserable days pass in which Britta is barely speaking to me. I’m eager for Keeley to get the ball rolling on the wedding planning, and I hope the nuptials I throw her will change everything. But until then, I need to make better use of my time with her so she actually wants to marry me. I need to ensure that all the days—and nights—I’ve strong-armed out of her aren’t spent in chilly civility or I’m going to lose her for good.

The bright spot is my relationship with Jamie. Last night, I bought him a pair of floaties and a raft. We had a blast in the pool. He called me Daddy again before I set him down with toys. Not going to lie, that warmed my heart.

Then I helped Britta with dinner. And yeah, I probably brushed against her way more than I needed to in a kitchen that size, but she’s right in front of me—all day, all night. How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands off her?

“Can you grab the roasting pan of potatoes from the oven?” she asks absently, then peeks into the adjoining family room to find Jamie with his trucks and blocks, making sputtering, slobbery noises.

“Sure.”

She pauses to watch our son. “He looks happy.”

I smile. “He really liked swimming.”

“He’s not as fond of the ocean, so I’m glad he reacted better to the pool.” She hesitates. “I watched from the lanai. You’re very patient with him. Thank you.”

I grit my teeth. It burns me that she’s thanking me for loving my own son. But I stifle it. I don’t want to start a fight. This is the most conversation we’ve had since the night we argued. “He loved the pool. He’s fun to be with and he’s actually more