Page 226 of Perfect Pitch

The last time either of us entered River View Place. The last time we visited where our child died.

And the last time she told me she loved me wasn’t that many hours ago but still far too long for my heart to endure. If I had my way, they’d be the only words that passed her lips.

I’ll need her to rectify that soon, I decide. My lips twitch even as she tries to restrain her own laughter. God, I love how she finds her ensemble just as abhorrent as I do. Still, she stubbornly rolls her full lips inward, refusing to give in today of all days.

I drawl laconically, “A straw hat isn’t your best look, Beats.”

She cocks a hand on her hip, stretching the top of her celery-colored dress across her bosom. It’s a position that’s a dare, almost taunting me to touch her when I’m obviously working. “You think I’m here to look good for you?”

I edge myself closer while still keeping an eye on the perimeter of the botanical gardens I’m being forced to endure while her father “gets inspired.” Gets inspired for what, I don’t know.

He’s had plenty of years to dream of this very moment.

I drag my finger through the curls of hair selectively pulled from her braids. Arrogantly, I tease, “Is there any better reason?”

“Hmm. I can think of one or two.” Austyn murmurs to herself as she plasters herself up against me.

I hear a snicker from Chin, who stands not ten feet away.

Something about her laissez-faire attitude makes me want to roll my eyes. Just this morning, she was so worked up to ensure perfection for today and now she’s trying to seduce me while I’m on the job? My heart thumps wildly against my ribs even as her arms snake around my neck. Deciding to prod the beast inside her a little, I drop my lips to her ear and murmur, “Listen, Beats.”

“Yes?” Her reply is a breathless moan.

“I know I said you had to behave—‍”

“That’s what you said,” she agrees. Her fingers trail through the ends of my hair.

“Because I’m working,” I continue as if she hadn’t spoken and I don’t have tremors racing down my spine.

“You are? I’m not so sure about that anymore.” Her head cocks to the side.

I let her go just long enough to catch her hat as it tips off the side of her head. She scowls at me before she rights it. My body shakes with delighted amusement. God, what was Paige thinking with the attire of the bridal party?

I stifle my laughter as I reach up to touch the earbud, activating my mouthpiece even as I drag her toward the doors where the bride is due to enter any second. “Cover the south entrance. I need ten.”

Colby is fighting a losing battle to restrain his own guffaws through my earpiece. “Copy. I have eyes. Besides, it’s almost time for you to take your place anyway. Things are about to get underway.”

I grip Austyn’s elbow and I mutter, “You’d better be grateful we’ve confiscated all the cell phones.”

She whispers my reward for my good behavior in my ear and I feel the flush rise from my tuxedo collar to the bottom of my ears. My head whips to the left and the right as we pass a plethora of Hudson’s finest bodyguards. I mutter, “Why do there have to be witnesses when you say shit like that to me?”

Her wicked mouth puckers slightly before she declares, “Because you love me.”

I yank her to me and kiss her soundly. Who cares if anyone is watching? “I do.”

Austyn’s eyes sparkle at the words we exchanged not too long ago ourselves. Looping an arm around her shoulders, I casually tease, “Do you think Paige is punishing us—and by us, I mean you—by forcing you to wear that getup today?”

Austyn stops short and glares at me. “It was your idea.”

“Ahh, but I’m not the one who accidentally sent notice about our wedding to the press.” I still can’t believe my wife did that. The whole idea of Austyn and I eloping was to have time for us to enjoy our commitment to one another without the pressure of the fiasco we’re enduring today.

Of course, Austyn immediately wanted to text Sonia and accidentally texted Ursula “Sula” Moore—who happens to not only be one of her mother’s closest friends and chairwoman of a charity we both donate our time and hearts to, but the brainchild behind the blog Moore You Want. Sula, being a solid person, gently probed to find out who was sending her the photo since she didn’t recognize the new number I forced Austyn to get after she started hitting the tabloids as often as her father.

Austyn flushed. “Crap. I guess Mama never gave Sula my new contact info,” she said right before she typed,

Austyn

Hey, Sula. It’s Austyn. Oops. That was supposed to go to someone else.

---