Page 12 of The Best Man Wins

“Not quite.” Thom smiles. “I’m her—”

“Assistant,” I blurt out quickly before he can call me his babysitter. “Thom and Marlee are my assistants.”

Thom shoots me a death glare for the demotion. I apologize with pleading eyes. Just let me have this one.

Immediately, Braxton softens. He withdraws the guns, releasing Thom’s grip, and his smile warms. “Glad to have you. This wedding is going to be a train wreck. I imagine Susie can use all the help she can get.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Thom says, his voice sickly sweet. “Whatever my buttercup Susie needs.”

“Has she told you yet that I plan to sabotage the wedding?” Braxton is as blunt and forward as a mallet to the face, and it catches me off guard. Worse, he smiles as he says it, wearing a deceptively charming wolf-in-the-woods grin.

“We were just getting to that,” I say brusquely.

“In that case, you, Mr. West, have your work cut out for you,” Thom says. “We can design a postcard wedding in our sleep.”

“So—hey,” I add. “I think first class is calling. All grumpy butts please return to your seats.”

Thom adds, “Please adjust the stick in your ass to the upright position.”

“Is this your version of trash-talking?” Braxton asks. “It’s adorable.”

I cover my mouth with my hand and mimic the crackling of the captain’s radio. “This is your captain speaking. Be aware that we will be offering complimentary disparaging comments that no one asked for.”

“With a side of entitled arrogance,” Thom adds.

“Let’s be clear.” Braxton drops his voice, and it’s as though a dark cloud has enveloped our little gathering. His eyes pin on mine, and I shiver at the chill that ripples through me. “I’m going to eat you alive, Posy. Then I’m going to use this one—” A nod to Thom. “—as a toothpick to clean my teeth when I’m finished with you.”

“What about me?” Marlee says.

“You, puppy, I’ll save for dessert.” He winks at her, and I’m pretty sure my blush has taken over not only my face, but also my neck and entire body.

“This was fun,” Braxton says, those steel blues on me again. He smiles and the cabin warms once more, as though he has the very mercury in the thermometer under his control. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

Braxton reenters first class. It occurs to me that he might actually be a psychopath.

“That’s right, run away!” Marlee pipes up. “And take your nice, tight butt with you!”

“Marlee, no. It’s over. Sit.” I gently push her shoulder, and she sits back down.

“He’s going to be a handful,” Thom huffs.

“Yes, well. I’ve got two hands,” I remind him. “He doesn’t scare me.”

“Wouldn’t mind getting my two hands on him…” Thom murmurs dreamily. “Are we sure he bats for your team?”

I flick on the cold air vent above us and point it directly at him.

While Thom cools his heels in a time-out and Marlee chitters behind us, I turn my attention back to the blue print of the Dalton estate. I already have a rustic wooden arbor planned out beside the farmhouse. I imagine that South Carolina sun steaming down on Cora as she flaunts a boho-chic wedding dress and a flower crown. My chest swells and my nerves decorate themselves with war paint. I’m not going to let anything, not even Braxton West, come between me and my perfect wedding.

6

Notes From the Dalton/West File

Venue: The Dalton Family Ranch

History: the ranch has been in the family since 1912, when Ray’s great-grandfather, Herbert Dolton, purchased it. It was part of a working farm for fifty years, and keeping the ranch alive through those trying times was a huge point of pride for Ray’s family.

Notes:

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