Page 52 of The Best Man Wins

“Screw the wedding,” Braxton murmurs. “Cora is going to call it off anyway.”

“You’re confident. You have less than a day left to get her to change her mind.”

“Plenty of time.”

“What’s your play?” Braxton knits his eyebrows in confusion at my question, so I clarify. “You know. Your coup de grâce. I know you have one.”

“Everyone has a weakness,” Braxton says.

“And what’s Ray’s?”

“Whiskey.”

“That’s it…whiskey?”

“You heard him at the distillery. He told us he can’t hold it. I’m going to give him a bottle I picked up from Muddy Waters as an early wedding present. And when he gets drunk and makes an idiot of himself at the rehearsal…Cora will drop him like last season’s sweater.”

Little details from last night filter through my memory. I remember how he spoke about his father, his past. He’s not wrong. If Cora sees even a smidgeon of her alcoholic father in her husband-to-be…she’s bound to head for the hills.

“You’re devious,” I say as I pull Braxton against me. “It’s kind of hot.”

We roll around on bed, kissing, until I get him onto his back. His hands immediately slip under my skirt and cup my rear, but I grip his wrists to stop him.

“Wait,” I say.

“What is it?”

“I want to do this my way.” I look over him and say, “Take off your shirt.”

He does, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor.

God, he’s so built, it’s unfair. But not boxy—he’s sleek, sculpted. I can’t help but take it in for a second as I straddle his lap.

My eyes flicker over the image of him in the bed, and my gaze latches onto the bedposts. There are old-school drapes on either side of the four-poster bed, pulled back and tied neatly with decorative rope.

Bingo. I undo both of the drapes and, holding the rope in my hand, say, “Lift your hands over your head.”

It’s not hard to see where I’m going with this. Braxton lets out a surprised breath of a laugh and then says, “You’re kidding me.”

“No. My way. Right?” He looks dubious. I tilt in and ghost my lips over his. “What if…I make it worth it?”

His breath shakes against my mouth. His jaw tightens, debating, and then he finally lifts his arms. “You’re full of surprises, Susie.”

“You have no idea.”

I shift over him and wind the rope around his wrists and the rungs of the headboard. It takes only a couple of seconds, and I tie it off in a nice sturdy knot.

Braxton even tests the restraints, tugging once. The knot doesn’t loosen, not even slightly. “Should I ask where you learned how to do that?”

I shrug. “I made extra money in college doing magic shows at kids’ parties.”

He lifts his eyebrows, though the corner of his mouth quirks upward in amusement. “I’d pay money to see that.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll give you a free show. Like now.” I reach over the edge of the bed to pick up my shoes and start to put them on. “This is the part where I disappear.”

The mirth in his eyes dies. Quickly. “What are you talking about?”

Now, I look genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry. I really, really am. But I can’t let you ruin this wedding.”

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