Page 113 of Whatever Lola Wants

“Yes, Lola.” He was using his don’t-fuck-with-me voice, firm and low, confident she’d obey. Goddamn him.

“This is not the time,” she said under her breath.

“I don’t care.” His voice was so low she had to strain to hear it.

She felt a quick burst of anger. He didn’t care? “Well, I do. And we are not doing this now.”

He was silent for a long moment, and she allowed herself a sigh of relief. But when they reached the end of the aisle, he growled, “Don’t make me carry you out of here over my shoulder.”

Her head whipped up, shock and anger burning away all the pain and sadness. She yanked her hand off his arm. “Don’t you fucking threaten me, Hastings. I’m not some little girl you can intimidate and I’m not yours to order around, so you can take your threats and your demands and shove them up your ass.”

“Lola,” he said, his tone full of warning, and reached for her.

She twisted away so his fingers only skimmed her skin, her lips peeled back in what only the most generous of souls would term a smile. “Fuck you, Simon. No.”

Then she turned her back on him and walked into the house.

Simon watched her stomp away, all but vibrating with anger and insult. If looks could kill, if words could kill, he’d be bleeding right now from a dozen wounds.

She was magnificent, and he was one hundred kinds of a fool for not realizing before now that he was totally and completely in love with her.

He started to laugh, softly at first, then he was roaring, holding his sides and leaning against the wall as the sheer joy of the revelation rolled through him.

Grant appeared in the doorway, Michael at his side. They both watched him with curious amusement. “You going to tell me what’s so funny?” Grant asked.

Simon grinned, marveling at how good he felt suddenly. “Just laughing at my own foolishness.”

Grant exchanged looks with Michael. “It’s about time. Here.” He pulled a key out of his pocket and handed it to Simon. “This is for the attic bedroom, opposite end of the hall from the stairs. The distance should muffle the screams sufficiently, and there’s some equipment in the trunk at the foot of the bed you might find useful.”

Simon pocketed the key with a grin. “Thanks.”

Grant nodded, then jerked his head to where Anna, Ginger, and Lola stood together. Lola had her back to the door, but the other two were darting scowling glances in their direction. “You got a plan?”

Simon nodded. “Divide and conquer.”

“I’ll take the redhead,” Grant said and nudged Michael with his elbow. “Think you can distract the blonde?”

“Oh, with pleasure,” Michael murmured, and something in the way he said it made Simon frown.

“Go easy,” he warned. “She’s pretty green.”

Michael merely lifted an eyebrow. “She put you on your ass, didn’t she?”

Simon cursed under his breath as Michael sauntered away to the sound of Grant’s laughter. “I’m never going to live that down.”

“Nope,” Grant said cheerfully and clapped him on the shoulder. “But if you get her back, you can take it out on her.”

Oh, he was getting her back. He just needed to get her alone, then spill his guts, and hope she cared enough about him to give him a second chance.

Piece of cake.

He slipped into the room behind Grant, waiting until his friend approached the bride and led her to the other side of the room to talk to the guests clustered there. Grant positioned himself so he blocked Anna’s view of the rest of the room, and sent him a wink.

One down.

Michael had lifted two champagne flutes from one of the roaming servers, and at Simon’s slight nod, slid up to the two women.

As he approached from the rear, Michael extended a glass to Ginger. She automatically reached out to take it, and as she did, he slid a hand to her elbow and smoothly turned her away from Lola.

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