Page 63 of Bordeaux Bombshell
“If I could have your attention, everyone. I’ve got a best man here with something to say, and a maid of honor who’s right behind him.” The DJ hands his microphone over to Nate, who clears his throat nervously before pulling his phone out to read off it.
“Evening, everyone. On behalf of the bride and groom, I wanted to welcome you all tonight. I’ve had decades to plan this speech, so of course I waited to write it yesterday.” A few groans sound from the gathering.
“Good luck, sugar!” a female voice shouts from a table on the other side of the dance floor from me. Craning my neck, I spot Kel’s ex, June, and her southern-fried wife Shelby, who’s bouncing Jordan on her lap. The crowd chuckles at the good-natured heckling, including Nate.
If that’s not a sign he’s changed, I don’t know what is.
“Anyway,” Nate continues. “Some of you might not know the story of how Kel and I met. It was the first day of first grade, and I was assigned to sit next to this skinny little guy, Mike A., who started grumbling about how many Mikes there were. In his defense, there was one for almost every letter of the alphabet. There was Mike A., Mike C., Mikey D., Michael N., Mike N.” He lets the chuckles die down before continuing. “You get the idea. So I suggested he go by Kel. And then we discovered a shared appreciation for the Blazers and digging for worms, and the rest, as they say, is history. What I didn’t truly understand back then, is that Kel wasn’t just destined to be my best friend. He is my brother.”
There’s a pause as he swallows hard and then looks directly at me. “I don’t mean he’slikea brother to me. Heismy brother in every sense of the word. His family is my family, and mine is his. He took care of my parents and my home when I was gone without ever being asked. We’ve fought with fists and words. He’s called me out when I needed it, and forgiven me, even when I thought I was unforgivable.”
Tears prick at my eyes, but I don’t dare blink in case I set them free. A small smile graces his lips, and he dips his head in the tiniest of nods before turning to look at the bride.
“Maggie, I’m so glad our first impressions of each other turned out to be wrong. I can’t imagine a better partner for my brother. He certainly smells a lot better these days.” That gets him another chuckle, even as his voice thickens with emotion.
Instead of speaking, he raises his glass to all of us guests. I grab mine, and that’s when I notice new bottles have been put on the table. “If you’ll all raise a glass with me. You’ll see some bottles on your tables, which are my gift to you and the bride and groom. We have a tradition at Sunshine Cellars—we celebrate family milestones with a special bottling.”
Jackie, sitting across from me, grins as my mom bursts into tears. At the high table, Kel is holding Maggie while she examines the bottle in her hands, wiping at her eyes. I snag the one closest to me, and the lump in my throat is back. The usual label has been replaced with a black-and-white photo of Kel, Maggie, Olive, and Jordan.
Clearing his throat, Nate continues. “This is an extra-special bottle of pinot. This vintage was made from the grapes we harvested the day Kel told me he was going to marry Maggie one day. Allow me to welcome Maggie into the family properly, with her own vintage, a perfect pairing to the best of all the Michaels. Congratulations, you two.”
We all lift our glasses and cheer the happy couple before Ophelia stands to take the microphone from Nate.
Instead of sitting beside Kel, Nate strolls behind the tables and plops down in the empty chair beside me with a sigh.
“Good speech.” I lean close and whisper to not be rude, patting his knee. “Did you really use the pinot from that day?”
“Yup. Kept it in a separate barrel and everything. Hard as fuck to keep it a secret.” His beard tickles my ear, and I squirm, pressing my thighs together to relieve the flash of heat that hits my core, remembering how it feels between my legs.
The circles he’s tracing on my shoulder while Ophelia talks don’t help. The awareness I’ve had of him all day zeros in on the patch of skin he’s touching. When we all raise our glasses again to toast, I miss the trails of heat from his fingers, even though it’s a relief to be able to think straight.
He keeps the tiny touches coming as we move toward the center of the space for the couple’s first dance. His fingers glide over my spine, the back of my arm, and my elbow, until they finally settle at the curve of my waist. And even though I’m here for my brother, all I can think about is the man standing beside me. The way he smells like rich earth and cologne, the funny observations he’s whispering in my ear.
He’s particularly amusing during Kel’s dance with my mom. But when she wipes a tear away, he doesn’t make fun, just pulls me closer to rest his head on mine. When they finish and the DJ opens the floor, I move toward my seat, but Nate stops me.
“Will you dance with me?”
I lean away to laugh in his face. “You don’t dance.”
Eyes wide and face pulled in mock outrage, he presses a hand to his chest. “You don’t knoweverythingabout me. How do you know I don’t?”
I raise an eyebrow. “In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you dance.”
“That is a lie, and you know it.” He grabs my right hand and tows me onto the floor. With a tug, he pulls me against his chest, slipping a hand around my back and immediately moving in time to the music. “I’ve danced with you before.” Dean Martin’s “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head” croons around us as he smoothly leads me around the floor.
“That was karaoke nights and fucking around—it’s not the same. When did you learn to move like this?” I peer at him, tall enough that we’re nearly eye to eye, nearly tripping over my feet in outrage at his smirk.
Releasing his grip on my waist, he guides me out and then back in with a twirl, ending with my back pressed to his chest. “We’re not kids anymore, baby, and I’ve learned a lot in the last few years.”
We stay there, swaying from side to side, his cheek pressed to mine as the song continues. “Although,” he continues, “I think I’ve learned more about myself in the last few months than I did in the years before that. I think the most important thing I’ve learned—”
He pauses to swing me back out, twirling me under his arm until I’m facing him again, his hand wrapping around my waist to hold me securely. “Is that, given the choice between living my life with you in it or with you out of it…I definitely prefer the version where you’re around to give me shit on a regular basis.”
I burst out laughing at his declaration. “You only want to keep me around to give you shit?”
His eyes drop to my lips. “I mean, I love a lot of other things about you too. But the part where I get to argue with you with the possibility of make-up sex afterward is currently my favorite.”
“Hmm.” I add a little extra swing to my hips, my left hand sliding from his shoulder to rest against his chest. “I do enjoy a good argument, it’s true. But what about all the non-disagreement times? How do you feel about those?”
