The Best Man (Alpha Men 2)

“No, Spencer. You’re nothing like the rest of them. So many of your notes asked questions and showed interest in me. Did I take sugar in my coffee? What was my favorite movie? What was my opinion on”—she laughed softly—“on Hanson?”

“I hated those little assholes,” Spencer recalled, shaking his head. She giggled outright at that.

“Anyway, my point is, you were different. You cared. You wanted to know me. You didn’t expect me to like what you liked. And while none of the other guys expected me to like what they liked, either, in the end, none of them actually cared enough to ask me about any of my other interests. They just accepted that I was this perfect, feminine reflection of them. I liked what they liked, and that was it.”

She got up again and snatched her box of badly written poems back. She placed them carefully on the swing. He couldn’t believe she’d kept them—it made his heart feel so fucking huge in his chest, he thought it was about to burst.

She straightened and lifted her chin to look at him. He remained seated and perfectly still, curious to see what was next.

Daff sucked in a deep, shuddering breath and dropped the coat she’d been wearing. It was too damned hot to wear a coat in late October, but she was making a gesture and it required a reveal.

His eyes drank her in . . . okay, maybe they didn’t so much drink as kind of hop from place to place. He clearly hadn’t been expecting saggy sweatpants, flip-flops, and a ratty old T-shirt.

“Spencer, I can’t say I truly know who I am. Not just yet,” she admitted softly. “I think I’m kind of a work in progress. I hate eggs, I hate jazz, I fucking hate bird-watching—it’s boring as hell. I like slouching around in my oldest, comfiest clothing. Sometimes I don’t wash my hair for days, and in winter I wear long skirts and yoga pants, like, all the time because I’m too lazy to shave my legs. I have no idea what the hell I want to do with the rest of my life, but I think maybe I kind of liked managing that stupid boutique, so maybe I’ll go to business school and study marketing or something. I enjoyed coming up with creative ways of appealing to customers. Who knows? I’ll go to college and work it out from there. I’m not perfect; I get zits and bloated and cranky as hell when I have PMS, and sometimes I don’t shave my armpits. I—”

He got up so quickly, she didn’t have time to react, and he had his arms wrapped around her and his mouth on hers in two seconds flat. Daff sighed and leaned in to his kiss, feeling like she’d just come home.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Daff. And when you turn into a hairy yeti in winter, I’ll still think you’re gorgeous. Maybe—but probably not—I’ll pop your zits for you.” He grimaced comically. “Yeah, probably not, but I’ll yell my support from the other room if you feel the need to pop them yourself.”

“Spencer,” she whispered, snuggling her face into his neck. “My gesture. You’re ruining it.”

“Sorry. But not really sorry.”

She sighed.

“That’s supposed to be ‘sorry not sorry.’ I have much to teach you, grasshopper,” she intoned gravely, and he grinned. “Anyway, I was going to say, I can’t say I truly know who I am . . . but I do know that I like myself when I’m with you. And I think that’s because I’m not trying to be this perfect woman around you.”

“I don’t want a perfect woman, Daff, I want you—” He paused and then grimaced. “That sounded so much better in my head.”

“Spencer,” she said, grabbing his head in her hands and holding it steady so that she could look into his eyes. “I’ve been so miserable without you. I love you and I don’t really think I can live without you. So I want those strings.”

“Daff, we don’t have to rush into—”

“Strings, Spencer! They’re important, because I would prefer not to have to peel more skanks off you in the future. I want them to know you’re off-limits. That you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Fine . . . but you’re going to have to allow me time to work on my own grand gesture, because I want to marry you, Daff, but I’m not fucking proposing to you on a porch full of your ex-boyfriends.”

She giggled.

“This shit is all headed for the charity shop tomorrow, you know that, right?” he warned her, and she nodded, finding herself quite unable to stop smiling. He caught her eyes and smiled back.

“I’ve been miserable without you, too, darling,” he said, and she melted at the sound of the endearment. “I never want to be without you again. So please. You have to be sure this is what you really want, Daff.”