I give myself one more once-over in the mirror and adjust the collar of my button-up shirt. The air has cooled down thankfully, so the grey pants and white dress shirt I’m wearing actually feel comfortable, not stifling. But just in case I get a little hot, I unbutton the top few buttons of my shirt, giving myself a little airflow.

I spray on some cologne, making sure not to apply too much, and check my dress shoes—all tied. Looks like I’m ready. Then why the fuck do I feel so ill-prepared?

Maybe because over the last few days I’ve become somewhat attached to this little raven-haired beauty. I know tonight is the last night I’ll see her; she leaves early tomorrow morning, and my body is already aching over her departure.

Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to grow attached to anyone on this trip, and yet, it’s happened.

When I saw Victoria without Rylee by her side today at the pool, I immediately grew concerned. It didn’t take very long to get information out of Victoria about Rylee’s whereabouts or a key to her room. Victoria and I could be friends, which I appreciate.

I didn’t think twice about getting things to help Rylee feel better. It felt like second nature, and if that isn’t fucking scary, I don’t know what is.

I haven’t truly cared for another person in over eight years. Fucking eight years. It’s been so goddamn long since I’ve felt an inkling of something for another person. And now, on a goddamn island, I have to like someone who lives over three thousand miles away from me.

Good job, Beck. Way to fucking pick them.

Taking a deep breath, I glance in the mirror. The corners of my eyes are weathered, my face almost drained, but there is a spark of hope in my eyes—hope for tonight—despite not being the man Rylee thinks I am.

Fuck, she must think I’m some goddamn knight in shining armor, swooping into her hotel room with the cure for her migraine. I want to be that man. I want to be the man everyone looks at and thinks he’s a good human, but that’s not how I feel.

I feel like a goddamn fake.

Someone checking the boxes on how to be a good person, hitting all the marks for people to like me, but deep down, I know my soul is tarnished. I’m not the man I’m perceived to be.

I’m ashamed.

I’m an illusion, a torn individual with a charismatic personality.

And yet, I can’t stop myself from flirting with Rylee, from taking what I so desperately want—one night with her. One night with those light blue eyes staring up at me, seeing the man I wish I was. Someone worthy of her.

Taking a deep breath, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Cal’s phone number.

“Beck, how are you?” his gruff voice answers.

“Good, Cal. How about you?”

“Doing well. The wife and I are about to go to dinner.”

“Ah, sorry about interrupting. I wanted to give you a quick call before I head to the wedding.”

“Yes, I meant to text you earlier. Sorry about that. How are you feeling?”

I nod even though he can’t see me. “I feel confident, in control. I’m going with a girl I met here.”

“Is that so? Having a little bit of fun on the island?” His jovial tone is different from his normal straight-to-business attitude, and I like it. He almost seems like a friend right now rather than a guardian angel. And yes, I truly believe Cal is my guardian angel. Without him in my life . . . No, don’t go there.

Chuckling, I shift on my feet, head tilted down. “Just a little. But I wanted to let you know I’m feeling good and will be drinking water the entire night.”

“That’s good. Have you had any cravings since you’ve been down there?”

“No.” I shake my head. “None, I truly think I’ve put drinking behind me.”

“You might think that, but the craving will always be there, even if it’s buried deep within you right now, it will always be there. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer, hearing the toughness in his voice once again.

“Okay, have fun tonight, and if you need me, you know how to reach me.”

We say our goodbyes and I stuff my phone in my back pocket. I adjust my waistline and belt and roll up my sleeves, because keeping them down was a joke. I check the time and see that we have about half an hour before the ceremony, and it will take ten minutes to walk to the venue. It’s time to pick up my date.

With a deep breath, I walk out of my room and take the few steps to Rylee’s where I knock on the door and stick my hands in my pockets while I wait for her to answer.

From the other side of the door, I hear her moving around the room, and I can also hear the slew of curse words popping out of her mouth after there’s a clunk on the floor. My lips turn up in time for Rylee to open the door.

Holy . . .

Shit . . .

She looks . . .

This is going to be one hell of a night.

She’s dressed in a teal low-cut dress that drops to her feet with a killer slit kissing her panty line. From beneath the slit, there’s a line of lace that matches the dress color, which I can only assume is her underwear. It must be a whole ensemble because it matches perfectly. I’m growing harder by the second.

Her hair is curled in light waves and half up and half down. There is a white flower behind one of her ears, and she lined her eyes with black, making them bluer than I’ve ever seen.

Fuck me.

She looks like some exotic island princess, and it’s making it very hard to remember what the hell we’re about to do, because all I want to do is back her up into her hotel room and lick every damn inch of her body.

“Hey, I dropped my clutch. That’s why it took me so long to answer. Are you ready to go?” She looks me over and casually licks her lips, not hiding her feelings at all. It’s refreshing coming from her. “You look good, Beck.”

I don’t say anything. Instead, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her in close. I place a very gentle kiss on her lips, a whisper of a touch. I needed one small taste, something to get me through the night without losing my goddamn mind over this woman.

When I pull away, I rest my forehead on hers. “Fuck, Rylee, you look stunning.”

“Really?” Her voice is small. How the fuck can she not know? She’s . . . there are no words, but fuck. How can she question this?

“Yes, so fucking beautiful, you’re making it hard on me here. I want to take you to this wedding, fulfill the wedding crashing promise we have, but damn it, all I want to do is peel this dress off your sexy body and fuck you on every surface of your hotel room.”

Her breath catches in her throat, and she takes a deep breath. “I, uh, I got the dress from Macy’s.”

And once again, she has me laughing from the pit of my stomach. I shake my head and give her one more chaste kiss before pulling away and sliding my hand into hers.

“You really know how to make a man feel good about the compliments he’s handing out.”

We walk hand in hand down the steps of the hotel and onto the street toward Whitehead Street. “Telling a girl you want to fuck her all over a hotel room is hardly a compliment.”

I pull her close and nuzzle into her ear as we walk. “Then clearly you’ve been hanging around the wrong men. Stick with me, Saucy. I’ll show you what it’s like to be worshipped.”

A gorgeous smile passes over her lips while she continues to move forward. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll be mine all through the night.

I sure as fuck hope so.

* * *

She’s incredibly beautiful,” Rylee says, her eyes full of hearts.

Normally I wouldn’t be so affected by a wedding, especially since I have a failed marriage under my belt, but the newlyweds were so prolific in their vows and so honest. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man stand up in front of a large group of people and proclaim his love like that for a woman he so passionately and desperately needs in his life. It was heart-warming, and it made me want to fist bump the fuck out of that guy. He spoke pure poetry to his new bride and even shed a tear.

He’s in love. He has the type of love I’ve never shared with another soul, certainly not Christine.

At first, I thought I had that kind of love with her. We were high school sweethearts, after all. But it didn’t take long to work out that’s all we really were, and when reality struck, we realized we got married way too early; we went down a treacherous path that carved our tumultuous and rocky future.

But it was refreshing to see love at its finest and truest form. It gave me hope, not for me, but for future generations.

“That was a truly touching ceremony,” I say honestly.

“It really was.” Rylee pulls her phone from her clutch and starts typing away. Curious, I look over her shoulder and see that she’s typing in her notes app.

“Attention, everyone. The bride and the groom would like to invite you to cocktail hour while they take pictures. Drinks and appetizers are being served over by the pool. Please join us.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Zoey says, dragging Art along with her.

“I smell beef,” Chris says, his nose leading the way with Justine trailing behind.

Victoria takes a look at her watch and says, “I’m going to head back to the hotel. You’re not going to ditch my friend, are you?”

I shake my head. “I’m stuck to her all night, don’t worry.”

Victoria gives me a curt nod before taking off, leaving me alone with a typing Rylee. I wait a few minutes before I finally ask, “Are you writing your novel over there on your phone?”

She doesn’t answer me.

So this time, I poke her. “Hey, do you want a drink?”

Nothing, just more typing, her fingers moving a mile a minute.

“Yeah, beautiful night. The sky is so clear, I agree.”

Nothing.

“Planned on fucking you against the window of my hotel room tonight. I keep picturing your tits pressed against the sliding glass door as I enter you from behind.”

Type. Type. Type.

I lean forward now, my scruff tickling her jaw. “I’ve thought about it ever since I met you. I got off from the image in my mind this afternoon while in the shower.”

Type. Type. Type.

Oookay.

Getting closer, I pull her earlobe into my mouth and nibble on it before saying, “If you don’t acknowledge me in the next few seconds, I’m bending you over these reception chairs and spanking that sweet ass of yours until you cry out in pleasure.”

Her body goes stiff when my hand slides up the slit of her dress.

“What’s going on?” She truly sounds clueless.

“Uh, have you not heard anything I’ve said to you?”

“What? No, sorry.” She types a few more things and then sticks her phone in her purse, giving me all her attention. “I had the most brilliant idea and wanted to make sure I got it all down.” She links her hand with mine, and I welcome the warm connection. “What were you saying?”

I shake my head and lead her toward the pool where the food and drinks are. “Nothing, you’ll just be surprised tonight.” We pass a few servers handing out pre-made drinks, but I bypass them and take Rylee straight to the bar. “What would you like?”

She looks over the selection. “Hmm, how about a rum punch?”

Signaling to the bartender, I say, “Can I get a rum punch and a water?”

When I turn back toward Rylee, her brow is pulled together. “Why aren’t you getting a drink?”

It’s a question I get asked whenever I’m around people who don’t know my situation. Adults drink socially, that’s what we do, and it looks odd, especially at an event like this, when you’re holding a glass of ice water rather than a glass of alcohol. I get it, and honestly, I’m not mad about it. I was the one who dug this grave and have to sleep in it.

“I don’t drink.” I keep my answer simple, short, and to the point, trying not to open up the floodgates for other questions.

But when you’re hanging out with a creative mind, it doesn’t seem as easy to move past what I don’t want to talk about.

“You don’t drink? But, haven’t you had a drink since we’ve hung out?” I shake my head. I would have remembered that drink, because it would have been eight hard years going right down the drain.

“Nope, always water. It’s all I drink besides coffee in the morning and an occasional soda, but that’s rare. I think this afternoon was the first time in a few months I had a soda.”

“Really? Wow. Is it because you’re a health nut or something?”

Clearing my throat, I answer, “Something like that,” just as our drinks are put on the bar counter. I toss a tip in the jar in front of me and hand Rylee her drink.

“You’re hiding something from me.” She eyes me suspiciously.

“Yeah, I am.” I take a sip of my drink. “But it’s not something that’s necessary to talk about now, same as the way you’ve been hiding something from me.”

I’m not stupid. I can read people really well, and there is a reason Rylee isn’t fully enjoying her time in Key West. She’s holding back. I see part of Rylee living life freely, but there are other times where I see her put restrictions on her fun, on letting loose, and I can’t quite put my finger on it, why she’s being so reserved. But I know it’s important. To her.

“I’m not—”

“No lying, Rylee. You don’t have to tell me what it is. I’m not here to quiz you about something you don’t want to talk about. I’m telling you I know there is something important in your life you’re not telling me, and that’s okay. This is supposed to be fun, right?”

She bites her bottom lip and nods. “Yes, fun.”

“Good, then let’s have fun. First things first, we need to find a server who’s passing around those beef tenderloin things, because hell, do they smell good.”

“I want a coconut shrimp. I could smell them during the ceremony.”

And just like that, we’re back to normal again.

“So that was your stomach making all those noises?”

“Guilty.” She tips her drink in my direction and takes a sip, looking around the place.

The house is beautiful. Small, but gorgeous, with its wrought iron details, and a definite coastal feel with its bright yellow paint and shutters. Before we were seated for the ceremony, we took a quick look around the house. Victoria and Rylee were both overwhelmed with excitement, and I became caught up in their joy.

“Look at this place. It must have cost so much back then.”

Not only did he have a beautiful house and grounds, but Hemingway saved six-toed cats and had built a rather impressive pool that, according to the fact plaque, was a bitch to build. “They had to break through coral to build this thing, and before Key West had fresh water piped in, they had to drain the pool then pump salt water in every three days.”

“Seriously?” Rylee asks, leaning over to check out the plaque. I take that moment to place my hand on her lower back and pull her in a little closer.

Just in time too, because an older couple steps next to us, a chatty disposition written all over their gleeful faces.

“That beef tenderloin is to die for, have you tried any?” the man asks me.

“Not yet, I’m hoping to flag down a server soon.”

“You won’t be sorry.” He holds his hand out. “I’m Gregory, and this is my wife, Tess.”

I grip the man’s beefy hand and give it a firm shake only to return it to Rylee’s back. “Gregory, nice to meet you. I’m Beck and this is my wife, Rylee. We’re newlyweds.”

“Oh congratulations. How wonderful. Were Tiffany and Del at your wedding?”

I give him a sorrowful look. “I wish. We had a tiny ceremony out on the rocky cliffs of Maine’s harbor. It was quaint and perfect for us. We celebrated with a lobster cake.”

“Lobster cake?” Tess looks between us. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a lobster cake before, did it taste good?”

“Did it have chunks of lobster in it?” Gregory asks, joining in with his wife.

Well, aren’t they cutely obtuse?

I hold back the bold laugh desperate to escape. “Ah no. I guess I was a little deceiving there. I meant the cake was in the shape of a lobster. The flavor was strawberry with fudge, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Oh yeah,” Rylee finally chimes in. “This guy wanted lemon, but I held strong with my choice of strawberry, and thank God I did, because everyone raved about it.”

“And yet they would have raved about the lemon and you didn’t give them a chance.”

“No one raves about lemon,” she deadpans.

“That’s not true, I was raving lemon up a storm the other day. Lemon is where it’s at, am I right, Gregory?” I give the man a little nudge with my elbow, but he shakes his head.

“I have to disagree with you there. Lemon is not my favorite.”

You and me both. In reality, I would easily pass on lemon and dive right into strawberry with fudge. Hell, I hope Tiffany and Del have strawberry with fudge cake.

Tess takes a sip of her drink and asks, “So how do you two know the bride and groom?”

Ehh. With panic in our eyes, Rylee and I glance at each other. It was a topic we never discussed before we came. Rookie mistake.

“Badminton,” Rylee blurts out, swallowing hard after, as if she couldn’t believe she said that.

“Badminton?” Tess asks as her eyebrows crease together.

Rylee nods, panic still in her eyes. And instead of being the gallant gentleman that’s wooed this woman since we met, I leave the explaining to Rylee because frankly, I want to hear all about this. Plus, it’s fun to watch Rylee create. Almost beautiful. Right then and there, you can see her mind spinning with all the possibilities of interesting badminton stories.

“Yes, badminton.” She laughs, as if she’s about to tell the funniest story ever so I gear up, sip my water, and wait for the show. Ever the storyteller. “Oh it was so silly. You see, I’m a huge fanatic about badminton. Grew up playing my entire life, almost went to the Olympics for it.” Oh Christ, she’s really going for it.

“Really?” Gregory asks. “Wow, you must be really good.” Oh, this guy is not a smart man.

Pretending to do a few swats with her imaginary racket, Rylee says, “See that? Called that the Ry-whack. They still teach it in my hometown. It’s a stroke named after me, nothing too special, but when you’re least expecting it, boy, can I hammer that cock.”

Involuntarily I snort, causing water to shoot up the back of my throat and out my nose. I cover my face as I cough and try to catch my breath. Rylee pats me on the back, a giant smile on her face as she says, “You okay there, big man?” She turns to Gregory and Tess. “This guy, weirdest thing, he has a hard time swallowing without snorting it back up his throat and through his nose. We’ve been to the doctor a few times. He’s going to a specialist when we get back.” She pats me some more. “Don’t worry, honey, we’ll be sure to figure out your snorting water problem. It won’t be like this forever.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.” Tess clasps her hands together and stares at us as I wipe my nose.

Gregory continues the story. “So you met while playing badminton?”

“Yes.” Rylee perks up again. “It was a wet day, and as you can tell, water doesn’t mix well here with Beck. It’s like if it rains, he starts to melt, can’t handle it. But he was putting on a good show for me, making an absolute fool of himself trying to hit the shuttlecock with the Ry-whack, but talk about uncoordinated. He’s better suited sorting and wrapping pennies. It’s his hobby actually. Loves packaging pennies.”

“What a lovely pastime.” Tess smiles at me.

Oh hell.

Packaging pennies? Where is she getting this stuff? And I might not fawn and drool over sports like other men I know, but I sure as hell know how to play them. This girl is getting herself into some major trouble with her storytelling. Just wait until it’s my turn.

“Yes, he has a collection of packaged pennies, at least five thousand dollars of pennies stuffed in the garage. I’m like, turn those pennies in, honey, and let’s get a freaking jet ski.” Rylee lifts her hand for a high five, which Gregory cautiously delivers. Rylee shakes her hand and then makes a fake gun motion at him with a wink. “Nice snap there, Gregory. Impressive.”

“Uh, thank you.”

“Gregory, Tess, how are you?” A woman wearing a leopard-print dress, bright red lipstick, and her hair up in a cocoon of curls coos from the side, pulling Gregory and Tess’s attention away from us. Thank God.

We wave and slowly back away, my grip tight on Rylee’s upper arm. When out of earshot, I lean down and whisper in her ear. “What the hell was that?”

She pokes my stomach. “Having a little fun. What, you don’t wrap pennies for jollies?”

“More like silver dollars.” I bite down on her ear, causing her to gasp, the sound so sweet.

“Oh, I see what you did there, made a reference about your penis.”

Halting in my pursuit, I pull away and she gives me a smarmy smile that says, “Game on.”

“Is this really happening? Are we really going to spend the night telling lies to these innocent wedding attendees to out-best each other?”

“If you don’t think you can handle it—”

“Oh, Saucy, I might not lie, but I have no problem in playing along with your storytelling. I might not be an author, but I can tell a good fucking story.”

She eyes me over her cup. “Then game on, Wilder.”

* * *

Judy and Dwayne, nice to meet you.” I shake the hands of two strangers, putting on a show.

“Nice to meet you too. How do you know the bride and groom?”

“A nursery.” I say, taking a sip of my water.

“A nursery? That seems like an odd place to meet since Tiffany and Del don’t have kids.”

“Ohhh, sorry about that, Dwayne.” I pat the old guy on the back. “I meant a plant nursery. We were shopping for a tree to put in our front yard. Such a hard decision, you know. Should we go with the classic maple, or do we want to bring a Colorado feel to our front yard and plant an aspen? Or what about the cherry blossom?”

“Or evergreen,” Judy points out.

“Exactly, Judy, exactly. God, what a decision. We spent hours in that nursery, fighting over what tree would look best. Rylee over here, she thought why not plant our fake Christmas tree in the front and call it a day.”

“Oh that’s a horrid idea,” Judy says with disgust. “Why would you ever think that?”

“She’s partial to plastic,” I say, and then point to her breasts, which garners a giant whack to my stomach.

* * *

Yeah, Everest, crazy, right? What a trip that was, huh, honey? Oh.” Rylee cringes and covers her mouth. “Sorry, sore subject for this guy. He had such a bad case of altitude sickness after the first thousand feet he had to be airlifted off the mountain by helicopter. They wrapped him up in space blankets like a little sushi roll and took him to the nearest hospital where the nurses had to revert back to bottle-feeding him for a few days. He was delirious. Can’t blame him.”

“Bottle-feed? Why didn’t they use an IV?” Kerry asks, in awe of Rylee’s story.

“Oh they did, but he also needed something in his stomach and refused to eat. He truly thought for a couple of days he was a baby.” Speaking from behind her hand, she shout whispers, “They had to put him in a grown-man’s diaper to keep everything . . . contained.”

“Oh dear.”

“Quite a mess. Thankfully I was scaling the side of Everest and didn’t have to watch my husband lift his butt to have his diaper changed. I think that would have put a dent in our sexual relationship, you know?”

“Oh yes, I don’t think I could get that image out of my head,” Kerry answers, giving me a once-over.

I grind my teeth together, putting on a good smile as Kerry, in her purple crushed-velvet ensemble, casts judgment.

“Had a hard time sucking from the nipple of the bottle.” I decide to join in on the conversation. “They had to bring in the elephant-sized bottles for me.”

“What? Why?” Kerry’s hand is to her chest.

I thumb toward Rylee. “Was so used to sucking on her thumb-sized nips, I couldn’t get used to small ones.”

“Oh dear.” Kerry stares directly at Rylee’s chest, as I happily sip away at my water and pop another beef tenderloin into my mouth while Rylee shoots daggers in my direction.

* * *

What the hell are you two doing?” Zoey asks, murder in her eyes.

Rylee flinches from the tone of Zoey’s voice. It’s venomous, like she’s about to strike any second. “Whatever do you mean?” The innocence is completely transparent. No one believes us at this point. Not that I blame them with the amount of lies we’ve told in the last hour. How we have so many different stories to tell strangers is frankly impressive. I think we should get an award.

Leaning in close, her left eye twitching, she says, “I just finished talking to my aunt who told me about this couple who sucks on elephant nipples while hiking Everest with their plastic boobs. When I asked my aunt who they were talking about, she pointed to you two.”

I can’t help it. I fucking laugh and hard, as does Rylee.

“Stop it, this isn’t funny. Someone truly believes you two met Tiffany and Del at a swingers club that you bought outright with a bunch of wrapped-up pennies. What the hell?”

I’m crying.

I’m crying, laughing so damn hard. Legit tears are forming in my eyes as my stomach cramps.

“Dude, when were you airlifted off fucking Everest?” Chris asks, coming up from behind me.

Justine steps up next to him. “And when in the hell did you find the time to build a one-hundred-acre chicken sanctuary?”

Oh, I forgot about the chicken sanctuary.

Rylee and I hold on to each other, laughing the entire time as our friends surround us, clearly not happy with our shenanigans.

The music fades and the DJ steps up to the microphone. “If the guests could please take their seats, we’re are going to welcome the wedding party.”

“This isn’t over.” Zoey points at both of us.

“I want to know more about the chicken sanctuary. Should I invest, man?” Justine is pushing him toward his seat as Chris motions with his fingers to text him.

I wipe under my eyes and glance at Rylee, who’s laughing as well. When our eyes meet, we pause for a second and then start laughing all over. That was the most fun I’ve ever had at a wedding.