“I just walked out.” I answered my best friend’s call as I punched the clock, finishing another week at the grind. “I have to go home and shower. Try to get the grease off my hands and look presentable.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that rang through the phone. Beau didn’t give a shit if I had black outlines around my nails, but I knew his fiancée sure as hell did.

“Are you going to make it to the church on time?” Beau’s apprehension could’ve been nerves or Felicity riding his ass.

I’d never let him down and I wasn’t going to start today. “I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. See you in a couple of hours.”

I ended the call as I continued through the parking lot of the machine shop I’d worked at since graduating from high school. Beau had gone off to college—where he’d met Felicity—but most of our graduating class had stayed in this one-horse town our parents brought us into.

“Lee!” Masyn hollered from her car.

I turned toward her and kept walking backward.

“My car won’t start. Can you take me home and then pick me up for Beau’s rehearsal thing?”

Masyn was like one of the guys, and she had been since we were kids. Her hands matched my own, and so did her work ethic—she hung with the toughest of men with grace. I didn’t have time to drop her off across town and then pick her up later. “I’ll take you home to grab your shit. You can shower and get ready at my house. I don’t have time to make two trips. Come on.”

She huffed, resigned to my solution. “Fine.” Her head disappeared from sight when she ducked into her car and then quickly reappeared and shut the door.

I turned toward my truck when I saw her jogging in my direction with her Dickie work shirt tied around her waist. Regardless of whether she was one of the guys, she was still a chick and deserved to be treated like a lady, so I opened her door and helped her into the truck, trying not to take notice of her ass in the process. She situated herself on the bench seat, and I paused, captivated by how small her hands looked while she buckled her seatbelt, and how dainty they appeared covered in grease. She was oblivious to my interest. It wasn’t until I realized she was staring at me the way I was staring at her fingers that I snapped out of my trance and closed her door. The instant I cranked the engine, Masyn had her hand on the dashboard, finger-fucking the radio.

“Just because we live in Podunk, USA, doesn’t mean we have to listen to the same type of music.” Her smile melted hearts, even though she wouldn’t let anyone have hers.

“There’s nothing wrong with country.”

“There’s nothing right about it, either.” She slid her fingers into her hair and unwound the tie that had held it in a knot all day. When she let it down, an urge to reach over and grab hold of it swept through me, and damn, was that impulse ever a force to be reckoned with. I wanted nothing more than to sink my hands into those heavy strands and take control. It was the color of motor oil—black when you looked at it straight on—and streaked with golds and browns when the sun hit it, and when she let it down, it was my wet dream come true—long, thick, and perfect to grab on to.

It was easier to let her have her way than to fight with her. She’d win regardless. Masyn Porter didn’t know it, but she’d owned me since tenth grade. Right about the same time that Alex Hartford had demolished her in front of the entire student body—that day, that very event, had cut her off to the male population. It hadn’t opened her up to female relationships, it just shut her out of relationships entirely.

Six years hadn’t dulled that memory; I could recite every word that bastard spouted in the lunchroom about her body, and what he had claimed he’d done to it. She probably could, too. Every word had been lies. I knew it. Yet I hadn’t stood up for her. I sat there silently while Alex, the quarterback for our high school team—King Shit on Turd Hill—took her down because she’d refused him. When she’d put the brakes on, the rejection sent him to the top of his mountain to reclaim his manhood and destroy her in the process. Alex was a dick.

Masyn forgave me, but she hadn’t dated since—not really. There’d been a handful of nights out here and there, just nothing that stuck. One bad apple had ruined her for the rest of us. And to my knowledge, she was still just as pure as the day he’d painted a scarlet A on her chest. She would have had to be super secretive to hook up with anyone for me not to know about it.

After Beau left for school, the two of us remained and took jobs at Farley’s Machine Shop right after graduation. I think Old Man Farley gave her a job as a joke…turned out, the joke was on him. Masyn had three brothers who all tinkered with cars, and she had a mechanical mind. She took to machining like a fish to water. I’d give my left nut to be able to do what she could with a lathe or mill. I refused to admit the kind of hard-on I got watching her write programs for CNCs or turning a piece of metal.

“Is that AC/DC?” I grimaced when we stopped at a light—one of four in town.

She squinted and gave me a shit-eating grin. “I’m surprised you recognize it. You know, since it’s not Willy, Waylon, or Garth.” Her smug look only enticed me more.

“Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart.”

She punched me in the arm with brute force. Her pint size was deceiving. At five-foot-nothing and a crisp hundred-dollar bill soaking wet, she could still take me down even though I was a solid foot taller and had every bit of a hundred pounds on her. With one hand on the steering wheel, I used the other to rub the spot she’d nailed.

“What the hell was that for?”

She arched one brow with a curt stare. “Sweetheart?”

I rolled my eyes. Masyn believed I called every female sweetheart, and it drove her insane to think she was one of the masses. But that wasn’t the case; I called every female darlin’ or hon—sweetheart was reserved solely for her.

Thankfully, she didn’t live more than about five minutes from the shop—just in the opposite direction of the five minutes I lived. I hated the crap part of town she rented a house in—mill hill. When we were younger and the textile mills were still in full swing, this was a solid, working-class neighborhood. Those industries died out and the mills shut down; the people moved out and found work in other cities. Now they’re low rent and not terribly safe—I didn’t even want to speculate about the illegal activity that took place on the streets when the sun went down.

I acted like Harden, Georgia, was a hotbed of drug smuggling and gun running. The reality was, the biggest scandal to take place in this town was the mayor’s wife being caught on the sidewalk with an open container…in broad daylight. Nothing bad happened in this nook of the world, mainly because no one knew it existed. Truth be told, I was overprotective and the idea of something happening to Masyn drove me batty.

“Give me ten minutes.” She hopped out of the truck before it even stopped moving in her driveway.

The moment the door closed, I changed the radio station back to something that didn’t make my ears bleed. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the seat to wait for her. Neither of us were terribly excited about the wedding of the year, much less participating in it.

Beau Chastain came from old money, and he was marrying new money in Felicity Holstein. The difference was Beau didn’t give a shit about the number of dollars in a bank account—probably because he didn’t know what it was like not to have them.

Those same dollars defined Felicity. This was where old money and new money differed. Old money had always been; for generations, these families were rooted in wealth, so no one alive knew what it was like not to have it. Whereas, new money typically came about with the dot-com era, and they flashed it as often as they did their business cards. And Felicity was definitely a flasher.

Felicity Holstein was one of those girls who went to college to find a husband. And once they were married, she had their lives planned out. Not one minute of it would be spent in Harden, Georgia, either.

Masyn and I begged Beau not to propose at Christmas, but the fool did it anyhow. They graduated from college two weeks ago, and she couldn’t wait to add her name to his trust fund. I swear, if their parents wouldn’t have gone ballistic, Felicity would have tried to get him to elope.

Eight minutes after she had disappeared inside, the front door reopened, and Masyn threw her crap in the back. Wrapping her fingers around the oh-shit handle, she then used the running board to hoist herself up. No sooner had she settled in the seat than she reached out to poke button three on the stereo at the same time she buckled her seatbelt. “Let’s go.”

“You got everything? We won’t have time to come back.”

“Yep.”

“Dress?”

“Got it.”

“Shoes?”

“Check.”

“Makeup? Jewelry?”

“Unfortunately, yes to both.”

She didn’t need either. Her skin was like porcelain—even when it was marked with streaks of black from a machine, it was perfect and smooth.

“Pantyhose?” I had no idea where that question came from.

Masyn didn’t respond. Instead, she stuck her hand in her pocket under the seatbelt and pulled on a wad of what I assumed were hose. They stretched but finally broke free, and the leg snapped across the cab of the truck and popped me in the face.

“Got it.” She laughed, and her eyes glittered with humor.

The melodic sound brought a grin to my lips. “What about clothes to stay at my house tonight?”

“I’m not staying with you, Lee. You can bring me home.”

“What if I drink too much?” This was an ongoing battle. She didn’t really drink. I did. Masyn felt it was her duty to get me home safely after every field party, night at a bar, or…rehearsal dinner. Since she usually drove her car, that made dropping me off easy. Tonight, not so much. She was no stranger in my home, so I didn’t know why it mattered where she slept.

“I’ll take your truck home after I drop you off.”

“Like hell. Go get clothes.” It wasn’t like she didn’t have her own room at my house. Other than Beau, Masyn was my best friend in every aspect. We’d never hooked up. Never shared a bed. Hadn’t so much as kissed.

“Can’t I borrow a pair of boxers and a T-shirt?”

Music to my ears. “Have it your way.” I put my hand behind her headrest, turned to look over my shoulder, and backed out.

“Do you think this is going to be as bad as we’re anticipating?”

“Stick with me, sweetheart. I’ve always got your back.”

Her little fist landed on my exposed ribs.

“Ugh. Damn, that hurt. What the hell, Masyn?”

“Stop calling me sweetheart. I’m not one of your minions.”

I’d never stop calling her sweetheart. I didn’t care how many times she hit me. Each bruise was a reminder of me ruffling her feathers, which I loved to do. “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as either of us are expecting.”

When Beau came home last summer and announced to his family he wanted to propose at Christmas, they were thrilled. We were not. In the land of the Chastains, the Holstein name was as prestigious as their own, just in a different circle. The girl could have been an absolute hag and they still would have encouraged the union in order to expand their realm. Although I’d hoped they had seen redeeming qualities in Felicity that Masyn and I had yet to become acquainted with. I didn’t want to believe Beau’s parents would encourage a marriage for social status.

But I guess I was wrong back then.

Masyn shook her head slowly as she spoke. “I don’t know, Lee. She didn’t even try to get to know us when Beau brought her home over Christmas. And anytime I tried to talk to her, she snubbed me. I thought that crap only happened in movies. It was clear she thought we were beneath her.”

“If that were true, she wouldn’t have asked us to be in her wedding party.” It was a lie, and we both knew it.

Beau asked me to be his best man, and I had no doubt he forced Felicity to include Masyn on her side, or he would have put her in a tux on his. Beau came from class, and at the heart of it, he was as Southern as the two of us. The three of us met in kindergarten, and if it hadn’t been for us, Beau would have had his ass beaten on more than one occasion. He didn’t come into his own until high school.

The glare I received in retort told me Masyn thought the same thing I did. “Not even you are that oblivious.”

“Who cares why we were asked? Would you really want to miss being a part of Beau’s wedding?” I already knew the answer. I’d asked myself the same question countless times.

“He’s making a mistake.” She was adamant.

“Agreed.” There was no point in trying to dissuade him.

I’d yet to see what Beau was attracted to. Outwardly, Felicity was a knockout. Unfortunately, the moment she opened her mouth, she lost all her appeal. Catty. Shallow. Pretentious. Those were a few of my favorite adjectives to describe her. The only thing I could figure out was that this girl had some magic pussy and gave it up freely. Even that wouldn’t be enough to make me listen to her wail like a banshee for the rest of my life. I’d rather be alone and get a dog.

“Promise me you won’t leave me by myself with her harem?” Masyn was tough as nails.

I had no doubt she could hold her own with Felicity and company, but if she needed my reassurance, I’d always give it. “Isn’t a harem some kind of sexual group? Like one man, a gaggle of women?”

“You know what I mean. I don’t fit in, and she’ll make sure I know it.” Her arms were folded across her chest, and her bottom lip poked out slightly.

“Maybe we’re being unfair. Felicity was only here a few days over the holidays. It was the first time she’d met Beau’s family and his two best friends. That’s a lot of pressure.”

Masyn cocked her head and looked at me like I’d sprouted a third arm. Without another word, she turned the radio up so loud, even my thoughts plugged their ears and shut down. Angry-girl music would only serve to rile her up. Thankfully, my house was only a couple of blocks farther.

Watching her while keeping my eyes focused on the road was difficult. I knew these streets like the back of my hand, but I couldn’t account for oncoming traffic. As much as I’d like to get lost in the sight of her, ending up in the hospital because I’d totaled the truck wouldn’t be good for anyone. I opted for quick glances from the corner of my eye, and I took a second to admire her when I searched for other cars at a stop sign.

I parked in front of the garage and grabbed her bag and dress from the back seat. She hopped down to the cement, and I got lost in the bounce of her thick hair. The light hit it at just the right angle, bringing all the different colors out like a kaleidoscope.

“You coming?” She shut the door without waiting for me to answer.

When I came up beside her, she snatched the keys from my palm and opened the front door. She moved so quickly, I caught a hint of her in the air, and it lingered in my nose. Most guys enjoyed soft smells on women—lilac, vanilla, roses. Not me. There was nothing sexier than the scent of burnt oil on Masyn’s hair. She did a man’s job every day, yet there wasn’t a hard edge to her other than that scent. It contradicted everything about her. Her voice was as feminine as they come, soft like an angel. Stylists would envy her hair. Dermatologists would praise her skin. And models would covet her perfectly proportioned and dainty body.

I followed her inside and kicked the door closed with my foot. She tossed my keys on the counter as she passed the kitchen and beelined for her bathroom. Technically, it was the guest bathroom, but Masyn was the only guest I ever had, so by default, it was hers. I dumped her bag on the floor next to the sink and then leaned in to hang her dress on the back of the guest room door—also hers.

“You’ve got an hour before we need to leave,” I reminded her.

“I’ll be done before you are.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Depends. Is it a cash bar tonight?”

“Seriously doubt it. It’s the Chastains’ tab.”

“Hmm.” Masyn tapped her finger on her chin. “If I’m done first, then I get to go home tonight, regardless of how much you drink.”

“And if I win?”

She shrugged as though the answer were obvious. “Then I stay here.”

“I’m getting the short end of this stick. You already agreed to stay here.”

“Then what do you want?” Her brows dipped in the center and created a crease above her nose. She turned the shower on, waiting for me to answer. Cheating was clearly part of her plan.

“For you to dance with me at the wedding tomorrow.” Not a clue where that request came from. I can’t dance for shit.

“You can’t dance. Pick something else.” She unlaced her work boots, pulled each one off her feet, and dropped them with a thud on the tiles, gaining further ground in this race.

“Nope. That’s what I want.” I was being set up. She’d be in the shower before I reached my bedroom. My only saving grace would be her mounds of hair that she’d have to wash and dry…since it smelled like grease and likely had a good bit in it.

“Fine.” She pushed me out, slammed the door, and I took off.

I didn’t wait for the water to heat up. After I stripped my clothes off, I jumped under the spray and hissed with the chill that prickled my skin. It took the hot water longer to reach the back of the house, but I couldn’t waste time.

Beau had made a point—more than once—to tell me how much it meant to Felicity for my hands not to look like I’d worked on cars in the parking lot of the church, so I needed extra time to scrub them. It was a hopeless cause. The cuticles were stained from years of manual labor in a machine shop, but I tried all the same. And then I washed my hair three times in an attempt to remove the stench I knew lingered there, and I scrubbed my skin as if peeling off the top layer might make me more presentable.

I wasn’t a bad-looking guy. In fact, most girls seemed to think I was fairly attractive. Picking women up hadn’t ever taken much effort; I just never wanted to hold on to them. They simply weren’t what kept my interest. Working out kept me in solid shape, running kept me lean, and I was blessed with a nice physique. I ate like a horse and played as hard as I worked. Beer flowed like sweet tea on the weekends, and I didn’t have anyone to answer to.

Other than Masyn.

The mere thought of her woke parts of me that needed to go back to sleep—if I had any hope of winning this bet. I didn’t have time to rub one out while thinking of the little spitfire in my other bathroom. Images of her naked body danced through my mind, and my dick twitched. I’d never seen her completely bare, but she’d worn some swimsuits that didn’t leave much to the imagination. That was the beauty of an in-ground pool in my backyard. She loved the sun and the water…she also loved the privacy my fence provided.

Stop. Stop. Stop. I chastised myself and forced my thoughts toward lizards and nuns.

When I turned off the water, I listened closely and couldn’t hear anything…including the sound of the shower down the hall. Quickly wiping away the water, I then wrapped myself in a towel and peeked my head out of my bedroom door. The hair dryer down the hall came to life, and I grinned knowing I had this in the bag. I still had to shave and put on church clothes, but Masyn would spend a minimum of thirty minutes drying that mess of hair. If she straightened it, I could add another fifteen minutes to that. And if she planned to curl it, we’d be late.

I stepped back into my room and left the door open so I could keep track of her progress. The towel still hung loosely on my hips when I saw my reflection in the mirror. I’d gotten a little more hair on my chest over the last couple of years, and the trail from my belly button to my dick was now clearly defined. It had taken nearly two years out of high school for me to fill out, but I wasn’t the boy I remembered seeing for so long. The roughness of my jaw against my palm dictated shaving. I’d hoped the five o’clock shadow hadn’t emerged and I could skip this step. I’d never had a hard time growing out a beard in a day or two, so bypassing the razor was not an option, or else I risked unleashing the wrath of Felicity.

There was something about the sound of a blade on coarse hair that was almost hypnotic. With each swipe, my eyes focused on the skin to avoid cutting myself. In no time, my face was baby smooth. And I stared into my own green eyes wondering what Masyn saw when she looked at me. Since she never dated, I didn’t have a clue what she looked for. She may hate blonds, which would eliminate me. Or it was possible that she liked thin intellectuals—although, not likely—which would put me at the back of the pack entirely. The only thing I had to base her taste on was her relationship with Alex, and he certainly wasn’t the gold standard by which to assess her preference.

The blow dryer stopped. There was no way she’d finished with her hair unless I’d been staring at myself for the better part of twenty minutes. Without further hesitation, I slapped aftershave on, spritzed some cologne and walked through it, and crossed to my closet to find something suitable to wear. I no sooner had on a white dress shirt and grey slacks—unbuttoned, untucked, and unzipped—than a knock came at my open door.

Holy mother of God. She was breathtaking. Not to mention totally uninterested. Her breath didn’t hitch. Her pupils didn’t dilate. Her nostrils didn’t even so much as flare at the sight of my bare chest. Nevertheless, my body let loose with all three of those embarrassing actions while I gawked at her.

“Can you zip me up?” Masyn grabbed her hair with one hand, held the front of her dress with the other, and turned her back to me.

I rarely saw her in anything other than Dickies at work or jeans on the weekends. Occasionally, she blessed me with shorts or a swimsuit, just never a dress. It took everything I had in me not to run my fingers down her exposed spine and kiss her bare neck. Instead, I did as she asked and raised the zipper, praying I didn’t pitch a tent standing there. I held my breath until she turned, uttered a quiet “thank you,” and walked out the door.

If I were more of a gentleman, I’d let her win and allow her to drive my truck home tonight. However, I was far too competitive, and I enjoyed waking up with Masyn Porter in my house too much to concede without a fight. Three minutes later, I leaned against her bathroom door and watched her finish dabbing and brushing on her makeup.

“I hate you,” she groaned.

“You love me.”

“There’s a fine line between the two.”

“You ready?”

She glared at me in response, acknowledging my win. After she slathered shiny crap on her lips, she turned toward me. “How do I look?”

“Like a girl,” I chided just to get her goat. Then I pressed my lips to her forehead and grabbed her hand to tug her out the door.

***

Wedding of the year was an understatement. Felicity was going for largest ever. I’d never seen so many people at a rehearsal in all my life, and weddings in the South were a big deal. I’d lost sight of Masyn within five minutes of walking through the doors to the sanctuary. Beau’s brothers were the only people in the processional I knew, but that was two more than Masyn had on the bride’s side.

I stood at the front of the church waiting for instructions when Felicity found Beau to air her complaints in a stage whisper.

“We should have had the wedding in Atlanta. This place is too small and pictures are going to look awful. There isn’t enough space for the wedding party on the stairs, Beau.”

It was impossible to tune her whining out, and the mention of hicks and the backwoods didn’t endear her to any of the locals within earshot, either. Yes, Harden was a small town filled with hardworking residents, but Beau’s family and friends didn’t lack for class or clout. She’d insisted on inviting everyone this side of the Mason-Dixon Line, and in the process, she’d ended up with his friends he’d grown up with. Simple didn’t mean ignorant. And blue collar didn’t equate to less important.

“Felicity, there’s nothing we can do about it now. Getting married in a church wasn’t optional, and you’re not a member of one.” This had been the one thing I knew they’d argued about since he had proposed. Her family was agnostic, which might as well have meant they worshipped the devil in small-town Georgia. And his were devout Southern Baptists. Even if Beau hadn’t insisted on a church wedding, his parents would have.

I reminded him of being unequally yoked as often as possible without flat out telling him not to marry her, but he’d glare at me and ask me to name the last time I had sat through a sermon. It wasn’t me that was marrying someone outside of my faith, and my time in a pew had nothing to do with the hag he was about to give his last name.

She finally stomped away to bark at her attendants. All I could do was shake my head.

“Don’t start, Lee.” My best friend was on the verge of blowing his top. I could see it written all over his face. The splotchy-red cheeks and pink-rimmed eyes gave him away every time.

He had the fairest skin of any dude I’d ever come into contact with, and any time he got pissed off, he looked like he’d rolled around in poison ivy. He closely resembled an albino, or at least he did in my mind. Masyn always said albinos didn’t have reddish-blond hair or hickory-colored eyes, but since neither of us had ever seen one in person, I didn’t think she could be too sure.

I held my hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say a word.” Even though we both knew I would. “You give me the signal, and I’ll get you out of here faster than you can hogtie a calf.”

“One semester of 4-H and you’ll never let me live that shit down.”

“You are in the house of the Lord. Watch your language.” I kept my expression blank, waiting for him to hit me, and half hoping he’d get the humor in my reference to Steel Magnolias.

He did neither, and instead, he rolled his eyes. “Jesus. You’re a lost cause.”

I pulled him aside—as much to the side as I could with a thousand people packed in here like trash in an overflowing can no one wanted to empty. “Dude, seriously. Why are you doing this? You’re twenty-two. You do not have to get married just because you graduated from college.”

Our conversation was interrupted by hollering in the distance. “Oh my God, can you please stay put. You don’t have to be well bred to stand still.” Felicity’s voice carried across the altar and to the opposite side of the church. I was shocked she hadn’t burst into flames yet.

I stared at my best friend and took a deep breath. “Please tell me that wasn’t directed at anyone we know.”

“Based on the way Masyn is chewing on her bottom lip and glaring at Felicity, I’d say it’s a safe bet that it was.”

“You’re going to stand for that shit?” A year ago, Beau would have trampled anyone for talking to Masyn that way. Funny what love does to a person. “She’s one of your best friends.”

He ran his hands through his hair, and the red on his face only got more prominent. “What do you want me to do, Lee? Cuss my fiancée out? Make a bigger scene?”

“You can, or I will.” I didn’t give a shit who Felicity Holstein thought she was. In Harden, Georgia, she was a nobody without Beau by her side, and even then, I wasn’t impressed.

“Just stay put. I’ll be back.”

Beau’s younger brother, Braden, sidled up beside me. “He’s going to have his hands full with that one.” He wasn’t really talking to me so much as next to me. Braden and Bodie were twins, and both cared for Felicity as much as I did. “I’d rather die alone.” He shook his head and sauntered off to talk to one of the other groomsmen.

I couldn’t agree with his sentiment more. Even so, I’d been left with either alienating my best friend or shutting my mouth until this was over. At the end of the weekend, Beau and Felicity would leave for their honeymoon in Paris and then move into their newly purchased house outside of Atlanta. We’d go back to seeing him on the occasional weekend and major holidays. All I could hope for was that he’d come home alone from time to time. Otherwise, I’d have to find a way to kidnap him from his parents’ house and force him to slum it without his wife.

Felicity didn’t single Masyn out. Still, she had nothing nice to say to any one of her bridesmaids. They walked too fast, they stood too close, they weren’t holding their ribbon bouquets in the right place, yadda, yadda, yadda. She barked at those girls like a ferocious dog hellbent on ripping a posse of intruders to shreds. On the second run-through, she made one of the girls cry, another one yelled back, and a third stomped out. It didn’t appear her friends were any more enthused about this union than Beau’s, and most of them didn’t really even seem to like her.

“That girl who left is Felicity’s sister,” Bodie commented from my right. “Her name’s Peyton.”

I already liked Peyton.

Beau glared over his shoulder at his brother in an attempt to silence him. Either Bodie didn’t care, or he didn’t see him. Either way, he kept talking. “She thinks Felicity is a gold digger. Felicity says Peyton’s an old maid.”

With Beau’s back to me, I chanced questioning Bodie. “How old is she?” I hadn’t gotten a good look at the girl, but she couldn’t be much older than Felicity, and she definitely wasn’t out of her prime.

“Twenty-four. She’s in grad school. Felicity says women only go to grad school when they couldn’t land a husband in undergrad.”

“Does anybody really believe that crap anymore?”

“The Holsteins do. They’re part of the group who marry so they don’t have to work.”

Bodie was about to say something else when Beau turned not so nonchalantly and snarled under his breath, “Would you two shut up?”

“Dude’s going to have a heart attack before his twenty-third birthday married to that shrew.” Bodie hadn’t tried to lower his voice; half the people here turned to gawk at him, and a handful snickered.

“Seriously, Bodie?” At least Beau wasn’t sticking up for Felicity, either. He only tried to silence his brother to keep the peace.

Bodie simply shrugged, as if what he’d said hadn’t been ugly, just true.

“Please tell me this is almost over.” Masyn came out of nowhere to stand by my side.

I extended my arm to escort her out of the door and to my truck. “Just getting started, sweetheart.”

Smack.

I winced and ignored the playful slap to my stomach. “Did she really yell at you?”

“No more than she did everyone else. It’s not a secret she doesn’t want me in the wedding, Lee.”

“She probably doesn’t want you to look better standing next to her.” Masyn could have worn a potato sack and flip-flops and outshined Felicity on her best day. Because no matter how pretty you are on the outside, ugly shines through.

“Well, since she has everyone in the free world standing as an attendant, I’ll be in the next county over at the end of the second line. She’s safe if that’s what she’s worried about.”

We’d reached the doors to exit the building when Felicity stopped us. “Marilyn. You need to be in limo four.”

“Masyn,” I corrected her.

“Whatever. Limo four.” She flipped her hair dismissively and went after her next victim, but I grabbed Felicity’s forearm.

“Masyn’s riding with me.”

“Beau…” Felicity called out in a whine that would get an alcoholic drunk. “Why can’t they cooperate?”

I waved, leaving Beau to deal with his girl. “You okay?” I curled my fingers on top of hers, now clinging to my bicep.

“Fine.” That word was a lie, regardless of when it came out of a woman’s mouth. She was anything other than fine.

“You want to talk about it?” I helped her into the truck and stared at her rich-brown eyes.

She quickly refused, and I let it go. We had less than forty-eight hours until Beau and Felicity were heading to the airport. Surely, we could make it through one weekend without one of us committing a felony like attempted murder.

Masyn studied something out the window and didn’t even reach for the radio. I changed it to her station, hoping to drag her out of her melancholy mood in the few blocks we had to drive. When I cranked it up, she finally turned her head and leaned over the center console to kiss my cheek.

“Thank you.”

I didn’t need to ask what for. I already knew. Masyn was well aware I had her back, even against Beau. After that shit with Alex in tenth grade, I’d promised her I’d never stay silent again. I’d always give her the chance to fend for herself first—she wasn’t helpless—but then I’d go in for the kill. Whether it was getting her out of the limo from hell or turning the music up loud enough for it to vibrate her teeth, it didn’t matter because she knew both were for her. One day, she might realize everything I did was.