Page 42 of The Love Wager

I look back at Taylor, who has her hands flailing, and Spencer rubbing his temples as Indie leads me off to the side of the barn on the property, where the reception will be held tomorrow night after the wedding.

“Where are we going?” I groan.

She tosses her fake flowers onto the ground before pulling a flask out from nowhere, like magic, waggling it in my face before popping the top and taking a long swig.

“You perfect creature.” I hold my hand out as she hands it over, breathing through the burn of whatever liquid fire she filled the flask with.

I take a mouthful, letting the bourbon inside rake down my throat as I roll my eyes back and sigh afterward.

“God. I needed that.”

“I know.”

I eye her, taking another drink before handing the flask back.

“I could feel your tension as if it was mine.” She huffs a laugh, and I can’t fight the smile that answers it from curling my lips.

Just the act of her taking me away from the frustration of rehearsal has calmed me down. Add that to her presence and the liquid courage she offered, and I’m in heaven.

“Thank you,” I tell her, my voice dipping low as the alcohol coats my empty stomach with a thick layer of buzzing.

“You’re welcome.” She steps closer, her hand resting on my chest as she stows her flask in her back pocket.

“Should we get back?” I ask, lost in searching her face for the barest flicker that she wants to stay with me and fuck me if she doesn’t give it.

Her eyes fill with mischief, and her lips twine in an unholy grin. “They won’t notice we’re missing,” she says.

We both know that’s a lie, but I let myself believe it momentarily as I lean down, caught in the overwhelming attraction floating between us like waves over the pavement in the heat of summer.

We hover in the space where we’re teasing one another for a drawn-out moment before I close the distance and kiss her. This one, however, feels different. Like I know her now, and I want more than I know I can have. There’s a touch of sadness anddesperation in the way Indie kisses me back, and I swallow our collective moan. The kiss deepens, her hands sliding up my neck, holding me as if worried I’ll pull away. Little did she know, I’d stay here until we both starved if she wanted me to.

I feel a little foolish, the small-town man getting caught up in the storm of the city girl who’s only moving through town momentarily. I’m a blip on her timeline, and she’s slowly becoming the entire thing for me.

It’s when her tongue flicks against mine, and I tug her closer, kissing her harder, when I realize that I’m getting in far too deep over my head. But I know there’s no turning back.

We break apart like magnets flipped over to oppose one another when Taylor’s angry voice comes around the corner.

“Are you two fucking kidding me right now?”

We share a look fraught with tension and unspoken words as we try to catch our breath. The distinct feeling that this bet between us is more than I bargained for thrashes the inside of my skull as I follow Taylor back to rehearsal, Indie beside me. When Indie slides her hand into mine, my chest leaps, and I know that this love wager between us is going to leave me irrevocably changed, down to my marrow.

FIFTEEN

Indie

The rehearsal dinner is ten times more enjoyable than the two hours Taylor made us walk down the makeshift aisle. The open bar and Brooks’ company at my side have a lot to do with it. We practice our toasts and let their parents take over the microphone to gush over their youngest children getting married.

The dinner is delicious and I’m glad I went with the non-vegetarian choice for tomorrow’s meal because the chef’s rendition of mini beef wellingtons with a mushroom cream sauce should be served at a Michelin Star restaurant back home, not wasted on wedding dinners for people that won’t appreciate it.

The last decadent bite of mocha mouse dissolves on my tongue, and I drop the small spoon to the dessert plate with a pang of sadness filling my chest. Brooks must see something on my face because he pushes his plate toward me.

“Have it. I’m not much of a sweets person.”

“First off, that’s sinful. Second, thank you because, ironically, I’m fairly sure eating this is the closest to a religious experience I’ve ever had.”

He barks out a loud laugh that pulls the attention of our surrounding seatmates. He leans closer, dropping his lips to my ear, before whispering, “If it’s experiences of the spiritual sort you’re looking for, I’ve got something else in mind for you.”

His wicked smile steals my attention, the dessert long forgotten, and my panties dampen in anticipation. I shift in my seat, glancing around at the wedding party. Some of the table is already empty, couples choosing to call it an early night for the festivities tomorrow.

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