Page 58 of Best Hex Ever
Chapter 23
The morning had gone by in a flash. Dina had regretfully placed a spell on her door that wouldn’t let her open it until she was ready—and in her words, “not super horny.” Scott had a million and one questions about the functionality of a spell somehow measuring her horny levels and interpreting them for the logical operation of the door like some kind of magical chastity belt, but mostly he was secretly chuffed that Dina wanted him enough that she had to bespell herself in order to get ready on time. His growing ego worried she might get stuck in there perpetually.
He didn’t have the same magic at his disposal, and it had taken quite a few deep breaths and distracting thoughts to get his semi to go down. Dina had called to him when she was leaving the cottage to go and help Immy prepare—and, as pre-agreed, he’d reluctantly remained in his room until she was gone. That lock spell hadn’t seemed so stupid anymore.
It had taken an obscene amount of willpower not to open up his bedroom door and scoop Dina into his arms. He would tip her onto the kitchen counter and bury his face in the heat of her thighs, just to hear that sweet little sound she made in the back of her throat as she came, and then he’d fuck her on every singlesurface and against every wall of the cottage. He would have her screaming his name on her knees tonight.
But he’d remained firm. Christ, had he remained firm.
This was Eric and Immy’s wedding day. He had to be there for his best friend, just as much as Dina needed to be there for Immy.
Scott found Eric doing stress push-ups in his suite.
“I hope those aren’t cold-feet push-ups,” Scott laughed as he closed the door behind him.
“Not in a million years—have youseenImmy? I’d be a madman,” Eric huffed, sitting back on his knees. There had always been this ease between them. If Scott had had a brother, he imagined it would feel a lot like what he had with Eric.
“I got you a little wedding gift,” Scott said, pulling out his phone. Eric arched an eyebrow, as he re-centered his tie.
“Oh?”
“Here. Take a look.” Scott handed over his phone and watched in delight as Eric’s eyes widened at the picture.
“Is this what I think it is? Mate, are you serious?” Eric clapped an arm around Scott, pulling him into a hug. “A boat? A fucking boat?”
“You deserve it. How many years have we spent rowing in that shitty little rented pair.”
“Ah, I see. Really this is a present for you.”
“For you and me both. But there’s something else. Zoom in there.” Scott pointed at the left corner of the photo.
“Fuck off!” Eric exclaimed as he noticed it. Scott had named the new boat theImmy.“This is some seriously cheesy shit, but I love it. Seriously. Scott, thank you,” he said sincerely.
“What do you think Immy will make of it?”
“She’ll probably call us backward for deigning to do something so medieval as naming a boat after a woman, but I’m sure she’ll secretly love it.”
“Maybe you could even take her out in the boat once or twice,” Scott suggested.
“Ha. We tried that once. She counted the number of times I splashed her and then she wouldn’t speak to me for the corresponding amount of hours. My lovely wife-to-be does not enjoy the wet or the cold.”
“Not long until it’s just ‘wife.’ ” Scott smiled. “You ready?”
—
The double doors to the grand ballroom of Honeywell House swung open to usher them inside. It was the kind of room that people dreamed about for their wedding, with white wood paneling on the walls, tasteful chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the rolling hills and autumn-tinged trees of the estate.
In the corner of the room, a woman was playing a harp, the soft melody of “At Last” echoing through the space. Their cue to begin walking down the aisle.
From the ceiling, lanterns in sage green and robin’s egg blue hung like jewels, glowing gently. Flowers were gathered and tied to the seats that flanked the aisle: irises, bluebells, peonies. All of Immy’s favorite blooms, some of which weren’t even in season at this time of year. That had been a maid-of-honor task for Dina’s magical expertise. Immy had asked for multicolored sunflowers and Dina had made them for her.
“This is really happening,” Immy whispered through her veil, her arm linked with Dina’s. She was so glad her friend had asked her to walk her down the aisle.
Dina glanced over at Immy, but her eyes were focused on Eric, standing at the end of the aisle, his red hair ablaze in the sunlight cascading in through the window.
All the guests’ eyes were on Immy, their smiles wide, handkerchiefs dabbing away tears as they took in the beautiful bride.
Everyone except Scott. He met Dina’s gaze with a ferocity that took her breath away. The room fell away. The whole world fell away. It was just the two of them. His gaze held hers and she felt a tug, deep within her chest. A tug that was pulling her to him. It wasn’t just a desire to be near him, but to know him, his every oddity and penchant and habit. She wanted to see him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. She wanted to know exactly what he would order at every restaurant, what his comfort movies were, what songs he listened to when he needed to drown out the world.
