Page 50 of The Wedding Wrecker

Yes, car? Are you trying to explain the secrets of the stick shift to me?

"Emma."

The car knows my name. That’s creepy.

"Emma, sweetheart..."

And now it’s calling me sweetheart. And its voice is honestly really hot. Why is my car’s voice?—

My eyes flew open. Early morning light cut through the window in buttery shafts, illuminating a very amused-looking James. I was pressed against his side with my face on his chest, and my hands were...

"I can’t say I’ve ever had a woman try that exact technique on me?" he said, voice rough with sleep. “But I’ll give you an A+ for effort. It felt like you were trying to get me to shift into gear or something. I’d say we’re in second or third gear already, maybe we’ll hit fourth if you keep it up.”

That's when I realized my hands were wrapped around something that definitely wasn't a gearshift. Something hard and—oh god. Based on how long his sweats had been tenting, I must have been "adjusting" things for a while.

"How long have you been awake?" I squeaked.

“Not long,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes and smirking. For some reason, my hands werestillon his cock. I could feel it pulsing beneath my fingers and had to fight the urge to bite my lip and keep going.

Oh God. What the hell is wrong with me?

I jerked my hands away, looking at them as if they were possessed.

“I have to say,” James continued. “I’m starting toreallyenjoy sharing a bed with you. Your morning hospitality is absolutely stellar. And the surprise aspect?” He did a “chef’s kiss” motion, smiling wider. “I can’t wait to see what treat you have in store for me tomorrow. Whispering sweet nothings in my ear? Or maybe you’ll be dreaming you’re making clay pots?” He cupped his hands around a phantom clay pot and moved them up and down, as if his implication wasn’t already clear enough.

"This never happened!" I scrambled out of bed, nearly falling in my haste.

"Oh it definitely did. And I plan to cherish the memory?—"

I slammed the bathroom door on his laughter, sliding down to sit on the floor with my face in my hands.

I might actually have to go ask the front desk if they had those handcuffs after all.

17

EMMA

For the first time since James had inserted himself into my life here, I’d managed to slip away for half the day on my own. I had a sneaking suspicion he had only let it happen becausehewas trying to get some work done as well. In other words, he was probably snooping around and trying to look for information on whether or not he was going to have to wreck this wedding.

But I had my own worries to attend to. Despite seeming like it should be an easy task, floral arrangements for weddings had a way of acting up and always presenting last minute problems. A quarter of the shipment had apparently turned up bruised and smooshed at the facility, so I needed to call around and find a backup florist to send extras. There were decisions to be made about the table settings, which Martha Wellington had seen in person yesterday and decided she hated. Chef Antoine wanted me to come by and give my thoughts on a few of the bites he was testing for the big day, too. That wasn’t even the full list of tasks, but it felt good to keep myself busy. It meant my mind wasn’tfree to wander. It meant I had an excuse to be away from James, where my brain could finally seem to function properly.

After a delicious lunch of sandwiches I’d stuffed in my face while checking work emails in my blissfully James-free room, I knew the time had come.

Today was the day of the sleigh rides with some of the wedding party, and I already knew James well enough to be sure he wouldn’t miss that. If I was lucky, he wouldn’t have purchased us another matching outfit with his free time.

I got myself wrapped up and dressed as warm as I could, and then headed to the lobby. I got glimpses of the weather outside as I headed downstairs and couldn’t help noticing how perfect it was. The sun had stayed hidden until about twenty minutes ago, which meant last night’s snow was still clumped dreamily on tree branches, roofs, and every surface. The sky was blue, though, and the sun was shining. A glance at my phone said it was already up to about forty degrees, which would be more than bearable in all my winter gear.

Sure enough, I spotted James lurking near the rest of the Wellingtons in the lobby.

Dick Wellington intercepted me before James spotted me.

“You look smashing,” he said, awkwardly borrowing the British phrase as he tried to lift my hand—presumably to kiss it like some awkward prince.

I dodged his grip like his hand was a snake, smiling—or maybe wincing. “Ah, thanks. Yeah. I think I see James.”

His lip twitched in what might have been a smile. “When you get tired of him, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

I practically rushed toward James like he was a lifeboat in a sea of creepy waters.

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