Page 98 of No Kind of Hero
“Dragonflies,” Evan said. “The symbol of the kind of change that comes from looking under the surface.”
“Dakota,” Beth said. “Evan. Oh, it’s gorgeous.Thankyou.”
“But the question is,” Evan said, “is it going to get me out of trouble?”
“Oh,” Beth said, “I think it will.”
Blake’s present was something more practical. A wedding night in the Founder’s Suite of the Resort, before they took off on their weeklong honeymoon to the Oregon Coast. At seven o’clock, Beth tugged Evan behind the marquee, pulled his head down and kissed him until—she hoped—his toes curled, and murmured in his ear, “Have I been good long enough? Do we get to go?” She’d spent the last three nights in the cottage, and she’dmissedhim.
He had some smile trying to get out. “Yeah. I mean, this wedding thing’s all right, but there’s just nothing like the thought of doing dirty things to your wife.”
She laughed, kissed him below his ear, where he liked it, and said, “Hold that thought while I change out of this thing. I’ll be right back.”
“Hang on.” He tugged her back by the hand as she whirled away. “Are you wearing sexy underwear, by any chance?”
“Well, yes,” she said, “as a matter of fact, I am.”
He sighed. “Do you think you could leave that on?”
“Oh,” she said, “I think I could.”
Evan drove them away—finally—after much too much more time. They’d kissed Gracie goodbye, had left her in Michelle’s arms, and had climbed into Beth’s lawyer car. He was drawing the line at taking her to the Oregon coast in a painter’s van.
“Well,” he said, pulling out of the circular driveway and onto the road, leaving the house he’d come here to paint more than ten years ago, “we did it.”
“We did,” she said. “How about that. I did something else, too. Want to see?”
“Well, yeah. Sure.” He hoped it had something to do with a spa. Things Beth did at a spa usually had rewards for him. He glanced at her, then looked again, because she was pulling the skirt of her yellow dress right up her thighs. There was white lace on the top of her stockings, and smooth skin above. And no garters.
Oh, yeah. Those were thigh-highs.
“Holy sh—” he got out as she kept going. He pulled over fast to the side of the road. “Don’tdothat to me. I about put us in the lake.”
She was smiling, and that dress was coming up some more. She turned away from him, toward the door, and he couldn’t look anywhere else. She pulled that gauzy yellow dress all the way up to her waist, and she wasn’t naked under it this time. It was even better. A white lace thong, the kind you could work around.
But there was another reason he was staring. Because right there on her hip, where nobody could see it but him—there was the word. Written in pretty blue script, with flourishes.
Evan.
She looked back over her shoulder, mischief in her blue eyes, and said, “The bride’s gift to the groom.”
“Now, baby,” he said. “That’s what I call a wedding present.” He had to put his hand out and trace it, too. If there was anything hotter than putting your hand on your name tattooed on your wife’s gorgeous ass, he couldn’t think what it would be.
She turned around again and pulled her skirt down, which he had to be a little sad about. “Ten minutes,” he told her. “We’re in that room drinking champagne, and I’m going to be taking a long, slow look at that.”
Blake had given him the keycards already. So they could skip the check-in and head straight to the penthouse.
“Is that a promise?” Beth asked. Still sassy, and he loved it.
“You could call it a vow. A wedding vow. And—oh. By the way.” He was the one turning in his seat now, lifting the edge of his black T-shirt over his left bicep. The one closest to his heart. “Since we’re sharing.”
For once, she was at a total loss.“Evan.”
“Yep.” Right across her favorite muscle, in a script absolutely as pretty as the artist had been able to do.
Beth.The tail of thehcurved up and around, and then it took flight. A dragonfly in a sapphire as bright as Beth’s ring. As bright as her eyes. “A dragonfly for knowing what matters,” he told her. “A dragonfly for a new life. A better life.”
She was laughing some, crying some. “You’re just . . .” she said. “I’m just . . .” She shook her head, wiped her eyes with her fingertips, and said, “Take me to the hotel and start our wedding night. I can’t tell you this. I have to show you.”
