Explosive Alliance (Wingmen Warriors 9)

He stepped back. "Quit trying to sidetrack me, and yeah, I noticed that's what you're doing. I have a tropical shirt you can borrow. All you need is a pair of shorts since it's going to be an oceanside ceremony." He let his eyes speak for him instead of his hands. "I would really like you to be there with me tonight."

"Because you're worried about me?" she asked with unerring insight.

"I have to admit leaving you alone doesn't sit well with me right now." Since he was being truthful, might as well go for broke. Somehow he sensed this woman would find honesty as tempting as any foreplay. "But more than that, I just want to be with you.

Time's running out for us, lady."

Chapter 11

Time passed for Paige in a haze of wedding vows, seaside winds and Bo's beautiful music. She hadn't realized until he pulled his guitar from the back of the dusty Jeep that he would be providing the music for the ceremony, a sentimental gift from him to the couple.

And he'd been thoughtful enough to ensure she didn't feel abandoned in the crowd by parking her with a friend of his— instructing that friend not to walk away even if Prickly Paige insisted she was fine. Which of course she would have done.

So now Paige sat beside his friend Nikki Price, a recent college graduate and daughter of one of the crewdogs. They shared a minipack of Kleenex as the bride and groom exchanged pledges of love with waves crashing against the shore. Sunset cast shadows and tequila hues across the sand while tiki torches flickered in the salty breeze, encircling the crowd of about a hundred. How could she not think of her own candlelight wedding?

Not to mention her garbled emotions when it came to the new man in her life.

Focus on the moment, doggone it.

The spiky-haired groom sported a tropical shirt and baggy khakis, his long pants the only difference from his shorts-clad friends standing witness in floral shirts of their own. The bride wore a gauzy yellow sundress and no shoes, a beam of casual sunshine in the midst of all the crazy colors.

Snagging another tissue, Paige dabbed more sentimental tears over the love radiating from the two people standing under a floral bower. Even with the beach setting, they hadn't spared expense just because they'd opted for less formal. Sprays of tropical flowers and a spread of food large enough to feed an army waited on the sandy beach beside bowing sea oats. The unconventional ceremony spoke of their personalities and commitment.

A couple of years ago she wouldn't have recognized that, too caught up in appearances and the protocol of engraved invitations to appreciate the importance of the sentiment behind it all. No wonder she hadn't fully recognized her husband's shallow veneer.

And didn't that make her appreciate Bo's surprise frugality and thoughtfulness all the more? She was still working to reconcile her shifting image of him after seeing his house that held his "toys," but bought without extravagance.

Bo's shirt teased her skin with reminders that he would be touching her later. Even Downy-fresh clean, the fabric still carried his spicy scent. Or was he becoming that familiar to her after such a short time? She needed to keep this uncomplicated. She might be ready for sex again, but no way was her battered heart ready to risk more.

She forced her attention back to the present, Nikki pointing out the wedding party with whispered explanations. Matron of honor—the bride's sister who flew fighter planes in Alaska with her aviator husband. Best man—a longtime friend of the groom who happened to be another pilot in the Charleston squadron, a guy named...huh? Crusty?

Sheesh. What a name. Of course the guy did look like a cute but rumpled mess.

The minister raised his arms. "I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell Keagan." The willowy bride gave the minister a gentle tap on the arm. "Oh, uh, Mr. and Captain Keagan."

Laughter rumbled through the crowd while the groom scooped up his bride for a kiss and Bo launched into the final love song.

Where were those darn Kleenex?

The reception started and still Nikki Price stuck to her like glue while Bo helped the band set up. And wasn't that surreal, hanging out with the loadmaster, Tag's, daughter? One of the people hurt by Kurt, since he'd threatened her younger brother and held her parents hostage along with Bo.

How could these people be so forgiving when she couldn't find it within herself to forgive her husband?

A plate of food in hand, Paige plopped into a chair under a palm tree with Nikki. "You don't have to entertain me."

"It's my pleasure. Really." The leggy young woman leaned, silky black hair swinging with the swish of her head. "Besides, everybody's curious about you, so I'm the official spy for the gang."

"Curious? About me?" A chill tightened her skin. She rested her plate on her knees with a shaky hand.

"We've seen Bo with a lot of women—uh, no offense."

"No need to apologize." The chill turned downright icy. "I pretty much guessed his reputation."

"The thing is, we haven't seen him with a woman in almost a year." Nikki popped a sweet-and-sour meatball into her mouth.

"A year?" Icy nerves melted into something... She didn't know what.

God, she was hungry. Petit four, pronto.