Take the Bride (The Knight Brothers 1.5)

He hadn’t planned to open his mouth.

He hadn’t meant to ruin her wedding.

He had intended to watch her be given away to another man and, dammit, be okay with it.

But he wasn’t.

So here they were.

He glanced at her brothers, Sebastian, his closest friend, and Parker, because Ethan had gone after his sister. “I have to talk to her.”

“No fucking way,” Sebastian said, one palm on his chest, blocking him from moving forward.

“If I knew you’d planned this shit, I never would have let you in the door,” said Parker.

Ryder held up both hands. “It wasn’t planned. The words just came out of my mouth. But now that I said them, I need to speak with your sister.” He shoved past the brothers and headed directly for Sierra, who stood talking to the man she was supposed to marry.

His gaze locked with hers but Jason wasn’t having it.

“It’s him.” He pointed, shoving his finger into Ryder’s chest. “It’s always been fucking him. At every family function, always around.” Jason turned to Sierra. “You wanted him to interrupt the wedding.” He was clearly furious.

Ryder would be fucking livid if the situation had been reversed, and he had a moment’s pity for the man, already opting not to grab his finger and break it when Sebastian pulled him back.

He didn’t need Sebastian’s muttered word, “Don’t,” to tell him to behave.

“I’m out of here,” Jason, the groom, muttered.

“What?” Sierra cried, stricken, and the sound went straight to Ryder’s gut.

“You don’t want to marry me or this whole mess would have ended up differently,” Jason said, turning and storming out, his best man and sister rushing after him.

Tears streamed down Sierra’s face as she glared at Ryder. “How could you?”

“Come on,” Sebastian said, his hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

Ryder shook his head, determined to talk to Sierra.

“Don’t do this unless your intentions are fucking good,” Sebastian muttered.

Ryder glanced at Sierra, who looked distraught and upset, causing his stomach to churn with the knowledge that he’d caused her pain. That had never been his intent, if he’d had any intention at all.

But he shook his head. He wasn’t finished here. “I need to talk to you,” he said, glancing only at her.

“You don’t have to say anything to him.” Ethan had his arm around her, holding her upright.

Her eyes were narrowed, her lips pursed. He remembered that look, one that would often end up with them in a heated kiss or resulting in hot and heavy angry sex. She was pissed as hell. But she wasn’t storming away.

He extended his hand toward her, needing the moment alone.

Sierra stared at him and he looked back, their gazes locked in a way only they could understand.

“Five minutes,” she muttered.

Glaring, she ignored his outstretched hand and stormed past him, her gown with the long train trailing behind her as she headed for the dressing room.

Despite her anger, she was willing to talk, which told him one thing.

There was still something between them.

Something, he could work with, he thought, and followed her out.

The moment he joined her in the small room, Sierra spun to glare at him. “How could you do this to me?” she asked, face flushed, eyes wide and glassy, makeup stains on her cheeks. She was beautiful despite her tears.

He shoved his hands into his front pants pockets. Meeting her gaze, he opted for the truth. “It wasn’t planned.”

“Oh, that makes it better,” she muttered. “You ruined my wedding on a whim.”

He ran a hand over his face, knowing that despite the blurted-out objection, the feelings behind it were real. “The priest’s words were a wakeup call,” he said.

She blinked at his comment. “For who?” she asked. “You made your choice years ago and it wasn’t me.”

He winced at the reminder of all he’d thrown away, no matter that he’d made the decision for all the right reasons. But he didn’t have time to dwell on the past now.

She turned to head back inside the church and panic struck him. He knew if she walked away, it would be for the last time.

“Sierra, wait.”

She glanced over her shoulder and he knew he had mere seconds to convince her not to leave.

“Do you really want to go back into that room with all the chaos and insanity waiting for you?” he asked. “Your stepmother is splayed out on the floor, moaning and waiting for paramedics to tell her she’s fine. The flower girl is having a meltdown. Your brothers are plotting to kill me, and you have a room full of people in there who expected a wedding.”

She shuddered at the reminders. “Then I want to go home.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Where your bags are packed and your things are in boxes so you can move in with the same groom who just abandoned you instead of fighting for you?”