And I know.
Just like that.
Something I’ve spent a lifetime fighting is all of a sudden knocked out by this defiant as fuck woman who owns the heart she showed me could beat again.
Fuck me. I just keep knocking ’em down one right after the other. Might as well tackle this bad boy while I’m on a roll.
My mind starts churning, ideas forming. The scavenger hunt of my life continues. I smile back at her as I stand and just stare.
My future.
My salvation.
The woman I want to marry.
Fuck. That grain of sand just became comfortable.
I guess the plus side is if marriage is sand, at least I know my dick is going to be covered in it.
The number one most requested scene of all the books. What a wedding looks like through Colton’s eyes.
I look at myself in the mirror, my thoughts a jumble of shit but my pulse steady, body calm. I shake my head.
Life is such a mindfuck sometimes.
The man I see looking back at me is not the same one I would have found a year or even six months ago.
It’s like each fucking day with her makes me a better person. A better man. Erases some of the demons bit by bit, moment by moment.
I splash some water on my face, the disbelief still riding high that I’m about to get fucking married. Me? Colton fucking Donavan. The self-proclaimed bachelor for life. The man who thought no pussy is good enough to want for a lifetime.
Fuck! I laugh into the empty bathroom. Talk about underestimating the power of voodoo.
How naïve I was. Always needing to mask the pain and hide the scars on my soul by burying myself in the next willing piece of ass. Never—never—did I think this day would come. That I’d wake up wanting a woman in bed with me and not just beneath me.
Fucking Rylee.
The woman knocked me on my ass like a three hundred pound linebacker. Talk about blindsiding my way of fucking life filled with tits, ass, Jack and Jim, and thinking only about myself.
Because now all I can think about is her.
Even now.
Right fucking now I should be hung over, puking my guts out with nerves over the ball and chain about to get shackled to my ankle. But fuck if I feel any of that. All I want is to see her. Kiss her. Make her mine in every way.
Ride off into the proverbial motherfucking sunset.
And all of this because I got schooled by Becks into understanding why the alphabet is so damn important. A to fucking Z of it.
“Dude, you gonna finish getting ready or what?”
Becks’s voice startles me. I glance down to my phone where Ry’s last text is on the screen still—I’ll be the one in white—to check the time and realize shit’s about to get real.
“Hold your horses, Daniels.” I lift my chin in acknowledgement to him through my reflection as I bring the tumbler of aged Macallan he bought for the occasion to my lips. “I’m just zipping up now.”
“Don’t pinch your dick. You just might need that tonight since she’s been holding out on you.” He chuckles as he pours himself a glass.
“No shit.” I tuck my shirt in, my mind wandering to just what’s going to be beneath her dress besides my voodoo pussy. Because fuck if it’s not torture to sleep beside the woman you want more than the air you breathe when she won’t let you touch her. “A month is a long fucking time, dude.” I groan the words out, my dick already stirring for the action it’s been missing.
He throws his head back and laughs at me. “For you that’s like a lifetime.”
“Fuck off.” He just raises his eyebrows at me, then I can’t help but laugh. “It’s been brutal.”
“Poor baby. You’ll get no sympathy from me. Welcome to how the other half lives, where snapping your fingers doesn’t result in any woman you want dropping to her knees.”
I laugh. “Not anymore, brother. Not anymore.” I’m on the please remain standing program now. I glance up from where I’m trying to put my checkered flag cuff links through the holes to meet his eyes.
“You really ready to do this?” He quirks his eyebrows up at me, like he’s waiting for the about face. For me to freak the hell out because I’m about to get hitched.
He’s fucking crazy if he thinks I’m walking away from Rylee. Not now. Not ever. That checkered flag’s only ever going to wave for me.
“I should be nervous right? Pacing and shit. But I’m not. Fucking scary but true … it’s Rylee,” I tell him with a shrug as if that it explains it all. The thought unnerving even to me.
But fuck if I’ve been able to make sense of the truths she’s allowed me to face, the man she’s given me the room to become.
“It is indeed Rylee, and shit, man, I don’t know what she sees in you,” he teases, “but, she looks incredible.”
What? “You’ve seen her?” So not fucking fair. So many things I want to ask him about her, but I keep my balls and retain my dignity. I’ll see for myself soon enough if she’s nervous or smiling or crying.
Being beautiful is a given.
“Had to talk to her, let her understand the big ass mistake she’s about to make … give her a chance to ride off in the sunset with the more handsome of the two of us.”
I snort out a laugh as I walk toward him. “Yep. We will be doing that in about six hours. Thanks for showing her the lesser so she knows she’s getting the more.”
“Cocky as fuck and you still end up with the girl.”
“Always.” I sit down on the edge of the chair across from him and flash him an arrogant-ass a grin. And fuck if I know where it comes from but all of a sudden there are so many things I need to say to him and not enough words to say them with. We may fuck with each other, ride each other’s asses when we can’t see what’s right in front of us, but I know the shove he gave me knocking my dick in the dirt is part of the reason I got my shit together. Is why I’m sitting here right now, about to marry the girl I sure as shit don’t deserve.
Well him and the defiant as fuck woman who grabbed me by the balls and said non-negotiable.
“Hey, Becks?”
“What do you need?”
And that right there gets me. His unwavering friendship.
I look down for a moment and take a sip of the Macallan. “That’s good shit. Thanks,” I say, stalling.
“A rarity for a one-of-a-kind type of day.”
Years of friendship come down to right now. Two young kids, now men, and the one that was fucked-up just might finally have it together. How the hell do I tell him that? Thanks for putting up with my bullshit and being my punching bag and wingman all at once?
“Thanks, man. For everything.” It’s all I’ve got, but I think he knows what I’m saying because he meets my eyes for a moment, a slight smirk on his face, and nods his head in acknowledgement.
“Always.” He sips his drink and then leans forward and taps it against mine. “And just remember to always end a fight with these two words: yes dear. Biting your tongue at the end of a fight will up the ante of her using hers later to make-up.”
I laugh with him and his fucked-up logic that makes perfect sense before tossing back the rest of my drink.
“You ready, Son?” My dad’s voice from the door interrupts us.
I sigh and fuck if I can’t stop the smile that’s on my face. “Yep, just putting my tie on,” I say, rising to get it. I meet my dad’s eyes and we had our father-son moment earlier but I still can’t get over that look he gives me.
The pride mixed with attaboy. The look the fucked-up little boy I was would have killed to have as much as something to eat and yet here I am, twenty something years later, and it means more now than I ever thought it could.