The Best Man (Alpha Men 2)

“Oh, you’re up,” she said, sounding a little disappointed. “I fixed us some breakfast.” His eyes swept down to the tray in bemusement. Two cups of coffee, scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. And a fresh flower in a slender vase. He peered at the flower closely.

“Is this a daffodil?” She went bright red at the question.

“It’s the only flower I could find out in the garden. Daisy planted a crapload of daffodils when she first moved in. I’m pretty sure she did it to annoy me or something. She knows I hate them. Anyway, they’re the only ones in full bloom this time of year.”

“Why do you hate them? I love Daffodil . . . s.”

Daff rolled her eyes at Spencer’s lame little quip, but he barely cracked a smile and she blinked uncertainly.

“Let me help you with that tray,” he offered, and the awkward moment slipped by. “This all looks awesome, thank you.” They retreated to the bed and sat cross-legged facing each other. Daff aimed an exasperated look at his lap.

“You couldn’t put on your pajamas?” she asked, tossing a pillow into his lap to cover up his eager erection. She was wearing his top as usual, and it was modestly tucked over her lap, concealing her from his hungry scrutiny.

“Couldn’t find them.” He shrugged. “Besides, putting them on just to take them off again seems like a waste of time and energy.”

“Uh-uh, Spencer, no time for any rumpy-pumpy this morning, boy-o. We’re taking Charlie out, remember?”

“Fuck. I forgot.” He’d made arrangements to pick her up at ten this morning, and while Charlie hadn’t seemed too enthused, Daff’s mother had ignored the girl’s surly reaction and had cheerfully agreed that Charlie would be ready and waiting for them.

“I figured. But you can’t cancel.”

“I know. I wouldn’t.” Of course he wouldn’t. He took his commitments seriously, and he would never disappoint the girl. Even if she probably wasn’t really keen on the idea of spending the day with them.

“What’s the time?” he asked while hastily gulping down his coffee.

“Eight thirty, no rush. Enjoy your breakfast.” He ignored her words and continued to gobble down his breakfast, occasionally buttering a piece of toast and hand-feeding it to her when she ate too little and too slowly for his liking. Daff rolled her eyes but accepted the offerings.

“I said there was no rush, Spencer,” she said when he’d polished off the meal in record time.

“Hmm.” He wiped an arm across his mouth, moved the tray aside, and then focused a predatory look on her. “Rush through breakfast, take my time through dessert.”

“Oh.”

In the end they wound up rushing anyway. After a lengthy and satisfying morning session, they broke all speed records to get showered and changed before dashing over to the McGregor farm in Spencer’s truck.

They had just parked in front of the farm when Daff glanced over at Spencer and gave a horrified shriek. He jolted and shot her an alarmed look.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh my God! Your neck.”

“What? Is it a spider?” He sounded so panicked that for a moment she forgot her own horror and stared at him in fascination.

No way.

“Are you afraid of spiders? Is big, bad Spencer Carlisle terrified of a teensy, weensy wittle spider-wider?”

“Is it a spider, Daff?” he asked urgently, starting to dust at his clothes and his hair. He looked completely freaked out. She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying her best not to laugh, and he glared at her before hopping out of the truck and doing the spider dance, all flapping arms and flailing legs.

Daff was hosing herself with laughter. She practically fell out of the truck and rounded the front of it to watch him flail around. It was too much. This massive specimen of man afraid of a tiny bug. It was absolutely adorable.

“Did I get it?” he asked after he stopped flapping around, both his hair and eyes completely wild.

“Th-there wasn’t one.” She forced the words out between the gales of helpless laughter. “N-no spider, Spenc . . .”

“What the fuck, Daff? Why did you say there was?”

“I—I didn’t . . . it’s the . . . you have . . .” She was bent over, hands braced on her knees as she tried to compose herself. This was serious. He couldn’t talk to her mother looking like that. But she just couldn’t stop laughing. “Hi-hi-hickey. Neck!”

She lifted a hand to point, and he clapped his palm over his neck, somehow looking even more horrified than he had just moments ago. It set Daff off again, and they were both unaware of the group of people on the porch now watching them in bemusement.

“So what’s going on, guys?” It was Mason. Why the hell was Mason here? Daff looked up to see her entire family on the porch, watching her and Spencer. Her mother had a small smile on her face while everybody else just looked befuddled.