Page 172 of Tangled Kisses
He groans and steps back, waving his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I never agreed to wear a tux.”
“But you will.” I counter with a wink.
Piper cuts between us with a dramatic flourish. “Can we move the wedding conversation somewhere else before I drown in the syrupy sweetness?”
Griffin jerks his hand toward the door. “Capri’s throwing a celebratory lunch downstairs. Didn’t plan on it being a going-away party, too.”
Piper’s smile falters, but she lifts her chin. “You two could always visit me abroad.”
“We might be able to make that happen,” I concede, although I’m not sure when we’d find the time with Griffin starting his business.
That was the beauty of Piper and me being in the same town for the first time since high school. She was here. I could talk to her, dance with her, hug her.
I’m not ready to let her go again. Seems I’ve spent my life watching her leave in search of new places. New people. New opportunities.
But that’s Piper.
She never wanted roots, but her free-spirited ways brought me home.
For that, I’m eternally grateful.
I grip my sister’s hand in a tight squeeze. “Promise me you’ll come back for the wedding or I’m locking you in the closet.”
Her lips twitch, eyes glistening. “Deal.”
Griffin excuses himself from the room, leaving me alone with my sister.
She shakes her head and grins. “You look so happy. You’re glowing.”
Warmth spills through me, so big it aches. “That guy finally helped me figure out what happiness is.”
Epilogue
Griffin
The valley yawns open beneath us, bathed in amber and violet as the sun sinks low. Golden grasses ripple in the wind, asters and late-blooming daisies scattering their color along the ridge. The lavender’s gone. The sunflowers too.
Reese exhales beside me, soft, wistful. “My flowers are gone.”
I curl around her from behind, my palms flattening against her stomach, my mouth brushing the slope of her neck. Her skin is warm from the sun, and I press a kiss there, breathing her in. “They’ll come back.”
She melts into me, so trusting in my embrace. “I hope so.”
“Or maybe,” I murmur, my lips dragging up to her ear, my voice rough, “we make something better here.”
She turns her head, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. “What do you have in mind?”
I back her against the old oak tree, its bark rough against her spine. The wind catches her dress, and I fist the fabric, dragging it higher.
Her eyes go wide. “Griffin, what if someone sees?”
“So what?” My breath rips out of me, already shaking with need. “I don’t care.”
The truth is brutal in my chest: I want the whole world to see. To know she’s mine. That I’ll never let her go again.
I drop to my knees, the damp earth cold through my jeans, and shove her dress higher, baring her to me. My shoulders wedge between her thighs, spreading her open. She gasps, fingers pressing into my scalp like she can’t decide whether to pull me closer or push me away.
“I don’t care about anything but you,” I reply, and then my mouth is on her.
