Page 19 of The Best Man Wins

“So?” Braxton says expectantly.

“So…?”

“Am I all bark?”

I laugh. “You tell me.” I lift my chin to give him a good view of my throat.

He touches my jaw and squints at the hickey. “You may want to knit that scarf.”

“I’ll have to get you back for that,” I tell him.

“Next time.” His voice is a low purr now, like a satisfied panther, and he tilts in to brush his lips against mine.

I dip my chin, however, pulling my lips out of his reach. “Yeah…that’s probably not a good idea. I mean…this was wonderful. But we should be…uh…”

My head is spinning. Words are failing me.

His dark eyes lock on mine. “Professional.”

“Right,” I agree, making a vague gesture with my hand. “That.”

I start to back away from the fence, but Braxton grabs me suddenly and pulls me close again. “I’m afraid that will be entirely impossible for me,” he says. “I’m addicted to you now, Susie Posy.”

I’m breathless. His lips brush mine, and I lean in to complete the kiss, but he steps back. “We should head back,” he adds. “Before Cora sends a search party.”

With that, Braxton pulls away from me and makes his way down the hill again, toward the farmhouse. I’m flushed, and I need a second to calm the rushed beating of my heart. I wet my lips, and I can still taste him. Braxton West and his darkly delicious kisses.

8

Braxton

I’m not a breakfast kind of guy.

My mornings start with a double shot of espresso and the click-click-click of my inbox as I scroll through my work emails. But Roxanne Dalton is a charming woman, and I’m trying not to be a complete jerk to her, so I take part in her family-style breakfast around the table. I let the plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, beans, and a freshly baked biscuit steam in front of me as I peer through the rims of my reading glasses to scan my laptop.

I have a couple emails about the winery that I mark urgent and forward to my partner in Long Island. Meanwhile, everyone slowly filters downstairs one by one.

“Hell, Mama, this looks delicious.” Ray clunks over like bull and flops down at the head of the table.

“Figured I’d give your Northern friends a little taste of Southern hospitality,” Roxanne calls back as she clatters and putters around the kitchen. If I were a betting man, I’d guess she hasn’t stopped moving since she woke up at the crack of dawn this morning.

“It smells great, Missus Dalton.” I fix my attention on my emails so I don’t have to look at Ray’s face. The reception here is crap, but I flick my thumb repeatedly over the Refresh button regardless.

Ray, unfortunately, feels the need to make small talk with me because he leans across the table. “Phone’s giving you trouble? You can only get reception in certain spots in this house, I’m afraid. Call us backwards, but we prefer trees to them cell towers. If you need to, I can give you a ride into town—”

“That won’t be necessary.” The idea of spending more time with Ray than I have to makes me want to grind away my filings. I give up trying to get my email to work and tuck my phone into my back pocket. My eyes trail over Ray’s colorful, patterned shirt. The fabric looks nice, thin, not his usual bulky wool.

“Nice shirt,” I tell him.

Ray breaks into one of his too-large grins, like a floppy laborer. “You like it? You Wests must have the same taste. Your sister got this one for me.”

“Paid for it too, I imagine.”

Half of his smile drops like a cheap window shade. “She’s a sweet girl. She likes to give me gifts.”

“Not as much as you like to get gifts, I’m sure.”

Before I can outright call him a sugar baby, Ray glances around furtively and then reaches into his shirt pocket. “Listen…I’ve got something I want you to hold on to. Seeing as you’re my best man…and Cora’s brother…it feels right.”

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