Page 15 of Catch and Release Groom

Then there were the hours spent studying theKama Sutra, as if there’d be a popped-boner quiz during her honeymoon. Instead of gold stars, she’d be rewarded in multiple orgasms.

Thatwas how she’d ended up in her current predicament, susceptible to that firm, twitching line in Easton’s forearm, his long, capable fingers. The lips she’d been daydreaming about having against hers pursed as he returned his gaze to her. “What’s with the look? You gonna puke?”

“Nothing. No,” she retorted, and why didn’t his bluntness counteract her swelling lust? “You’regoing to puke.”

Good comeback, Imogen. You really showed him.

Despite her resounding “no,” he shifted away, and there went the issue of their smooshed-together thighs. Too bad it didn’t quench the underlying thrum of desire.

The cart lurched forward without warning, sending them back in their seats, and Easton gripped the edge of the open roof. Imogen thought he was being dramatic until she careened into him half a second later.

But the nightmare had only just begun. Because the instant the driver hit the gas pedal, a tinny rendition of “Here Comes the Bride”blasted through the speakers.

“Oh God,” Imogen muttered, and Easton’s harsh swear conveyed he felt similarly. Desperate toliterally stop the music, she shot forward to request the kid please turn it off, only to misjudge the distance and end up practically giving herself the Heimlich.

Luckily, she lost only her breath, not her dinner.

A strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, and then she was snugly secured to Easton’s side, his body acting as a burly seatbelt that kept her in place. Yet, when their eyes met, his were wide with panic. Mirroring hers, she supposed.

Hopefully, her riding companion at least noticed they were on the same horrified wavelength. It’d taken seven years and planning a wedding for her to see how different she and Brett were. Most people headed into matrimony hoping their love would never change, while she spent her engagement praying that one day, everything would be magically fixed.

“Kiss!”Other couples hurled the word at them as they rode down the trail, a cacophony of cans clanging noisily along to the garbled song, with the occasionalwhoopor whistle.

“What’s happening? Why is everyone yelling at us?” Imogen asked, and while she’d directed the question at Easton, their driver answered.

“It’s the sign on the front of the cart—normally, guests love it.”

Imogen and Easton exchanged a glance, and she grimaced and asked, “Do I even want to know what it says?”

“‘Everybody cheer for the happy couple.’ It’s our version of banging a fork against a glass.” Their teenage escort propped a wrist atop the steering wheel and glanced over his shoulder at them. “So? Are you guys gonna kiss?”

“No,” Imogen said.

“Not gonna happen,” Easton replied at the same time, with a fervency that went above and beyond hers, andthatcertainly took the one-night stand she probably wouldn’t be brave enough to propose off the table.

As they approached another exuberant group, Imogen burrowed her head into Easton’s chest. His hand came down on her opposite shoulder, and she tensed, sure he was about to peel her off and leave her feeling more pathetic than she already did.

Instead, he drew her closer, dipping his head so low that the bill of his ever-present hat knocked into her temple. “We’re close to the cabin—or chalet or whatever-the-fuck,” he said, and a giggle died in her throat when he added, “Just hold tight a little while longer, and then we can be rid of each other.”

Wow. Talk about being nice yet so mean.

At long last, they reached the cabin where she’d be spending what might turn out to be the longest week of her life. Not bothering to wait for the dust to settle, she tossed a couple of bills in the driver’s direction and bailed out of the cart, calling a thanks and a goodbye, and beyond ready to put this night behind her.

It would’ve been a great plan had she not miscalculated the amount of wine still sloshing around in her gut, or that the bumpy ride along the winding pathway would leave her balance greatly impaired.

Her heart jolted as she swiftly slapped a palm on the center of the squat white hood, and that glittery sign seemed to be rubbing her failure in her face. Between her dizziness and the glare of the headlights and twinkling fairy lights, the world blurred into streaks of light and dark.

Then the dark took the shape of a human form.

“I don’t need help,” Imogen insisted as Easton materialized from the other side of the cart. She jerked her arm away so he couldn’t grab it, only to have to catch herself on the hood again. “Don’t worry, I’m good.”

“Not to blow your mind, but that’s what every single person I’ve pulled over for suspicion of intoxication says.”

“Not to blow any part of you…” Good thing her sockets were strong, because if her eyeballs could’ve popped out, they would’ve. “Obviously, I didn’t mean it like that.” She exhaled until she couldn’t exhale any more, praying some of her inebriation would leak out as well. “Dammit, I was fine before the drive.”

“Another phrase straight out of the drunken denial handbook.”

She lifted her chin but didn’t dare release the hood. “I wouldn’t know. The truth is, I don’t actually drink very often.”

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