Page 50 of The Bourbon Bride

“You called the police?” I ask Hayes mildly. I don’t mind the thought of Garrison being carted off in a police car in the least. In fact, I relish the idea and would very much like to see that happen. It would be about freaking time.

“My security system alerts me to anyone who drives through the gates when they’re open like we have it for the makeup artist,” he explains rationally, like we’re not witnessing the Atlanta Police Department roll up with Garrison in their sights.

Garrison turns nervously to watch the police car park next to the Lexus he must have driven here.

“I didn’t like the looks of a strange man walking up to the door when we were expecting a woman. I called preemptively, and I’m glad I did, because I was this close to having to bury the fucker out in the back forty.”

I smile. “I like the way you think,” I tell him, rising on my tiptoes to place a grateful kiss on his cheek. He catches me around the waist and keeps me close.

The police officers get out of the car and approach with their hands resting ominously on their gun belts. I highly doubt Garrison would do anything to warrant them drawing a weapon on him, but their seriousness in dealing with trespassers wins my approval.

“Garrison,” I say to drag his attention back to the door instead of on the police. “You’re done. If what Hayes says is true, and I believe it, everyone in Georgia is gonna know what a pig you are. Even my mama and daddy will have to admit they pinned their hopes on the wrong man.”

His eyes grow big with what I hope is a newfound respect for me after assuming I was just going to be a wilting pushover forever. Or maybe it’s just plain old fear. It feels good to threaten him with what I only hope makes him feel as helpless as I have been at his hands.

I look over at Hayes and sigh. Not only is he pretty, but he’s defended me two days in a row.

Watching Garrison get escorted by the police to his vehicle and run out of Atlanta is a sight I will treasure for the rest of my life.

nineteen

Hayes

I’mstraighteningmycuffsand preparing to put on my tux jacket when Lindee, the makeup artist who’s spent the last two hours with Paige, comes down the stairs. I rush to help her with her big bag that I can only assume holds the entirety of a makeup store inside with how heavy it is.Fucking hell, how does she cart that thing around on a regular basis?

I set her bag down in the wide-open foyer once I have it down the stairs. I smile as I open the front door to an empty doorstep, thinking of Garrison Daniels being escorted off my property by the Atlanta PD. It was amazing to watch Paige dress down that dirtbag in her sweet, genteel way. Even when she’s hoppin’ mad and fed up with people, she’s still polite. She seemed lighter and more confident when he was gone, a change having settled over her after standing up for herself and accepting whatever fate came of it because it was whatshe wanted,for once.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice.”

“Paige really saved my butt after I had a cancellation, so it’s me who’s thankful,” she responds, brushing short black hair behind her ears. “Would you mind if I waited for your reaction? She looks so good I want to see your face when she comes down.”

I laugh, but the uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling of nervousness sets in, and I look at the stairs like they’re the gateway to heaven. They are, in a way. Paige is every bit a celestial being of beauty and goodness, so it fits.

“Yeah, of course. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

She shakes her head. “No, thanks, she’s not going to take long.”

As if on cue, I hear the unmistakable sound of a stiletto hitting the stairs and I turn expectantly, my palms sweaty. With the way the stairs make two turns, it takes a moment to catch the first sight of Paige’s slender ankles—that I have some new fetish for—come into view with slim black heels emphasizing her high arches and perfect little toes.

I swallow hard from just her damn feet alone and know Lindee wasn’t messing around when she wanted to watch my reaction. The hem of a glittery red dress brushes the step behind her feet as she descends carefully, and I already know I’m going to have a hell of a time not slinging her over my shoulder and finding an appropriate surface to lay her out on with the striking color and slinky elegance of the fabric. The matchsticks of her heels alone make me want to rush up the stairs and scoop her into my arms to avoid a potential fall, but she’s the epitome of Southern grace as she expertly navigates the stairs.

Of course she is. My girl is a Southern goddess.

Paige rounds the second landing and I see her in all her glory. The lights reflect off the sparkles of the red gown that follows every luscious curve of her body, the front hem slit to mid-thigh on one side so every other step exposes her long, toned leg beautifully. I continue my appraisal higher, loving the way the fabric stretches over her hips and exaggerates her small waist, giving her an incredible hourglass shape. The top is draped low so just a hint of her cleavage is evident while being sexier than a full-on tit show. The thin straps disappear over her shoulders and, I’m sure, continue to the back of the dress somewhere I’ll need to explore with my mouth before the night is up.

Her full lips are painted the same red she wore to her Debutante Ball and her face is expertly shaded so her cheekbones are radiantly enhanced and her eyes smolder in sparkly eyeshadows that make them look twice as big even with the thick, dark lashes that have been added. Her clear green eyes catch the light even more than her dress, dancing in mirth as she catches my stare. I bite my lip as I take it all in. Her softly waved hair is brushed tightly behind one ear while loose and voluminous everywhere else, looking so silky I want to run my fingers through it now.

I open my mouth to compliment her, but I’m at a loss for the words that would adequately describe just how stunning she truly is.

“Wow,” I breathe instead, because that’s all I can manage. A lifetime of speaking and advanced degrees couldn’t have prepared me for this moment.

Lindee claps excitedly beside me, but I don’t look her way. Instead, I pull out my money clip, peel off several hundreds, and hold them in her direction.

“What? No! Paige already paid me,” she refuses.

“Take it. This is worth every penny and far more because that gorgeous woman still looks like the girl I adore under that incredible smoke show.”

Lindee laughs and takes the cash. “If you say so. She’s stunning, right?”

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