Page 37 of Wedlocked

Kruger made a rude sound. “Final girl, we’re getting married in three days. I’m not putting you at risk.”

Finally, someone with some sense.

Fuck, did I really just call Kruger the sensible one?

“But you gave me CPR,” Rory said.

“Well, I keep up on my certification,” she explained.

“The point is you all did something to help today, and I wanted to let you know how grateful I am. You risked your own safety for mine.”

I heard the catch in her voice. Felt the slight tremble in her body. Throat tight, I palmed her hips and tugged her into my lap, sealing her body against my chest.

“That’s enough,” I said, gruff, pushing her carroty head onto my shoulder.

“Since everyone’s here, let’s have dinner,” Madison said, standing up to usher everyone into the kitchen. Except Carrot, of course. I made hers and brought it to her. I was like Uber Eats but better looking.

A few minutes later, the great room was filled with the entire fam, everyone with bowls of cheesy baked potato soup, salad, and bread.

“This soup is so good my taste buds are gonna need a cigarette after eating,” Win told the room, groaning around his spoon.

Lars muttered something in Swedish that made Win smile.

“Bro. My wife made this,” Kruger quipped.

“She’s not your wife for another three days.” Max reminded him.

“About that,” Kruger said. “Your invite has been revoked.”

“Ben!” Jess snapped. Then to Max, “Of course it hasn’t.”

“So me, Lars, Wes, and Max are going to Midnight Madness tonight.” Win changed the subject. “Anyone wanna join?”

“What’s Midnight Madness?” Rory asked.

“You aren’t going,” I told her.

She sat forward, plunking her bowl on the giant wooden coffee table. Pushing to her feet, she pressed her fists against her hips. My heart clenched just looking at her. “I’ve had just about enough of you.”

“Yeah?” I said, pushing to my feet. “Well, too bad for you. I haven’t.”

She squeaked when I picked her up, tossing her over my shoulder and anchoring my palm against her ass. She smacked my back. “Put me down.”

“No,” I said, stepping over blankets and people on my way out.

“We’re using the hot tub on the middle deck,” I told the group. “It’s DIY night. Do it yourself. See you guys tomorrow.”

“So that’s no to Midnight Madness?” Rush called.

“That’s a hell no,” I said and left them all behind.

“Ryan Stephen Walsh.”

“Keep on saying my name like that, baby. I like it.”

“Well, you aren’t supposed to!”

I didn’t mean to smile, but damn, how could I not?

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