Page 132 of Truck Stop Tempest

I stepped up to the glass, watching his form. He was graceful despite his bulk, angelic despite his demons.

A blessing despite my transgressions.

I dug a tube of all-day-wear lipstick out of my cosmetic bag, and in a gorgeous shade of dusty rose, wrote the three most important letters of my life.

Y.E.S.

YES. Scrawled on the shower glass, and again on the bathroom mirror.

Three simple letters that held the power to raise a man above the sky. I stalked through the bathroom, a herd of elephants stampeding through my chest cavity.

I grabbed my phone and shot off a group text.

She said yes! Get your asses over here.

Tuuli stood, back to me, bent over the bed, rifling through the suitcase I had packed. “You won’t find what you’re looking for in there.”

She whipped around, a fucking blinding smile on her face. “How do you know what I’m looking for?” She pulled out a pair of denim shorts and dangled them on her finger.

“Don’t put those on.” Fuck. I could lock her in our room and keep her naked for the rest of our days.

“Why?”

“Because we’re expecting company. And they’re bringing your dress.”

“My dress?”

I nodded. As if on cue, a boom, boom, boom rattled the door. Tuuli jumped, then snagged a T-shirt out of her suitcase, holding it against her chest. The damn thing did little to cover her intended parts, and I laughed at the innocent, panicked eyes flashing my way.

I hooked an arm around her waist and slammed her against my chest, dropping a kiss on her head.

She planted her hands on my chest, arching away from me. “What’s going on?”

“Can I kiss you?”

A huff and an eye roll. So damn cute.

“Tell me something about yourself. Something big,” she said, a small quiver to her voice.

“I’m getting married today.”

Before she could react, I smacked her bare ass and scooted her toward the bathroom. “Go take a shower. The girls are here.”

“Girls? What—”

“I love you, Bunny!” I shouted over her protest, closing her in the room.

I pulled a pair of sweats over my wet body and yanked open the door. Aida barreled through and captured me in a painful embrace. “Fuck, Tits. I can’t believe you’re actually going through with this.”

Slade sauntered in behind, waited her turn, then hugged me long and hard. “Where’s our girl?”

“Shower.” I pointed a thumb over my shoulder.

“Good,” Aida chimed in. “The guys are in my room, waiting. Now, go.” She faked a kick at me. “We have lady shit to do.”

Barefoot and bare-chested, I scrambled to the suite three doors down and let myself in. Tango and Tucker sat on opposite ends of the sofa, each holding an icy glass of amber liquid, each still sporting bed head and different versions of pajama pants. “The fuck you losers doing?”

Tango lifted his glass to the sky, his grin forced, his skin pasty. “Bachelor party.”

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