Page 17 of The Best Man Wins

“We’ve got a week. God built the world in seven days. Anything’s possible.”

“You’re hopelessly optimistic. One day, someone is going to pop that bubble you live in.”

“Someone like you, Mr. Prickly Pear?” I turn around, perch my elbows on the fence, and look out along the property. “This wedding will make a romantic out of you yet. I see piles of fall leaves. Torch lights when the party runs late. The bride and groom dancing barefoot as fireflies flicker around them.”

“Just try to keep the expenses to a minimum,” Braxton sighs. “My purse strings are already weeping.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Okay, now I’m confused. Your purse strings?”

“Yes. Mine.” He turns around now so he’s side by side with me. “I’m financing the wedding.”

My mouth nearly hits the ground. “You? But you hate weddings. And happiness. And Ray.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “But I love my sister. I promised her a long time ago that I’d give her whatever she wants, no matter what.” The fading sun casts a light, orange glow around Braxton’s profile. In this light, he looks almost human. There are soft flaws in his face, worry lines in his forehead, a too-tight jawline, and a darkness that lingers in his irises. He’s like an old, salty ship that has weathered the beatings of tremendous storms and survived on sheer stubbornness alone. But there’s a warmth to him too. Underneath all that dogged determination, he loves his sister. He would do anything for her, even if it means setting aside his own ego.

But it’s a double-edged sword. He would do anything to protect her. Even if it means he has to be the jackass who broke off the wedding in order to save her from what is—in his mind—surefire disaster.

I get it. I do. The road to hell is paved with pretty, glittering intentions.

“You’re a good brother,” I tell him.

“I never break promises.”

“Don’t you?” I grin. “Because I remember you once telling me that you were going to nail me nine ways to Sunday, and then…”

“You ran.”

“A true Prince Charming wouldn’t let that stop him. You should’ve chased me down on a white horse.”

A grin twitches at the corner of his mouth. There it is. His smile warms his whole face, and I ache to bring it out of him more. “My steed was in the shop.”

I sigh dramatically. “Excuses, Mr. West.”

His fingers catch my chin before I can pull away, and he draws me toward him. We’re close, suddenly, barely inches apart, and my lips part as my breath hitches. Those eyes. They’re deep, intense, and they sparkle like the sunset on a still lake. “Late is better than never,” he murmurs.

I’m stuck. I can’t move. All my limbs freeze in place as Braxton lands a kiss on my mouth. His lips are plush and warm, but his kiss is like his words—bold, powerful, and to the point. He parts my lips with his tongue, and I feel myself grow incredibly weak.

“Wait…wait.” I put my hand on his chest to pry him off me. “This isn’t me.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me you’re waiting for marriage.”

“I’m not. It’s just…” My tongue trips me up, so I tuck my hair behind my ear and reorient. “I know this is probably standard procedure for you—”

His eyebrows lift. “Are you calling me a man-whore?”

I shrug my shoulders tight around my ears before dropping them with a sigh. “I don’t…go around and have meaningless sex with the first hot guy who shows interest in me. Especially not when I’m working. It’s incredibly…”

“Unprofessional? Dirty? Naughty?”

With each word, he gets a little closer. I swallow. “All of those things.”

“So let’s not have meaningless sex.”

“What do you want from me?”

His dark eyes flicker between mine. “Everything.”

Holy hell. If that’s not a line, I don’t know what is. I almost fall for it too as his hands slip up my dress and cup my rear.

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