At Whit's End (Wells Ranch, #4)(112)
I do want him back. But it’s no longer my choice to make.
“It’s crazier not to.”
Colt
Holy shit.
Never mind a wedding dress; I want to marry Whit in this stunning forest-green dress that sweeps across the grass and skims over her delicious curves. The neckline leaves just enough to the imagination to be classy; thankfully I have a damn good imagination. It doesn’t take much to picture slipping my hand beneath the fabric and feeling her nipple harden against my palm while I kiss her.
I spent the entire ceremony in agony over only being able to see a small fraction of her, thanks to her dad blocking my view. I telepathically told him to scooch back, but either my messages didn’t go through, or they pissed him off, because the guy didn’t give me a single inch. Regardless, I didn’t need confirmation to know she’s the most gorgeous person here. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, period.
And I probably shouldn’t say that, considering we’re at a wedding, and all eyes should be on Blair. But I’m confident Denny would rather me eyeball his wife’s sister over his wife.
It was worth only having a partial view, because now I get my first real look at her with the sun filtering through autumn leaves and a slight breeze catching her hair…which I’m only now realizing has pink tips.
Her eyes bounce around like she’s searching for something, and when they land on me, she bites her bottom lip. With a quick course correction, she’s heading straight for me.
“Hey, Mama,” I call out, earning the smile I’ve been impatiently waiting all day for.
“Wow, wearing a buttoned shirt for the second time in less than two weeks,” she teases, strolling across the gravel to where I’m leaning against the front porch steps of the big house. “Let me guess—underneath the fancy exterior is a little bit of hootin’ and hollerin’?”
“Somebody has to be ready to get the party started at a moment’s notice.”
“Oh, thank God. Something about the tequila shots they handed everybody when we got here screamed ‘dull wedding reception.’ I had to drink two of them, because somehow my mom got her hands on one.”
“In that case, it might be time for some hootin’ and hollerin’ sooner than I thought.” I start unbuttoning my shirt, and she places her slender, soft fingers on my hand to stop me.
“Save it for later. You look really handsome right now.”
In that case, I’ll stay buttoned-up and dapper as fuck all night long.
“Damn it, you always beat me to the compliments.” I groan. “God, you look…I would give anything to be your date tonight, because you’re the most gorgeous woman here and somehow that’s still the least interesting thing about you.”
A blush that matches her hair blooms across her cheeks, and she hugs her arms around herself. “I might beat you to it, but yours are always better.”
Nothing is better than knowing the woman of my dreams notices me. She could compliment my choice in socks (they have kiwis on them and deserve to be noticed) or the fact that I trimmed my mustache today, and I’d be over the fucking moon. Whit calling me handsome? Put that on my tombstone.
“Did you get fired over the pink hair?”
“They don’t know. I’ve been hiding it in meetings.” She holds a handful in front of her, fanning out the pink ends to make a paintbrush. “Do you like it?”
“I love it.” And you. “It suits you.”
The rosiness in her cheeks descends to her neck and chest. And right when she opens her mouth to reply, Cassidy calls her name from the front door of the house.
“Sorry, wedding responsibilities are calling.” Taking one step, Whit smiles at me. “Thank you for all the compliments.”
“Save me a dance tonight?”
“I’d love to.”
I watch her walk away, already missing the flutter my heart makes when she talks to me. She leaves behind the faint smell of her perfume, and I breathe as deeply as I can.
After gripping the stair banister for a moment to regain composure, I head for the cowboys hovering around coolers filled with beer.
Cracking open a cold can, I move toward Red. He’s one of the only guys here who will understand what I’m going through.
“Shit, I got it bad for that girl.” My body falls rag-doll limp into a lawn chair.
Red clears his throat.
“Love. That’s what this is, I think. I love her. She’s making me lose my damn mind though.”
Red’s elbow drills into my rib cage, making me yelp. Shaking his head, he flattens himself against the seatback.
And I realize my big, epic fuckup.
Jonas slurps root beer through a swirly straw, staring wide-eyed in my direction.
“Oh, hey dude, didn’t see you there. That wasn’t too bad of a wedding, eh? I mean…as far as weddings go and all. The party’s gonna be better though—lots of pop, cake…”
“Are you talking about my mom?”
Red smacks the tops of his thighs and rises from his chair. “Well, I’m gonna go check on the baby.”
Traitor.
Now it’s Jonas and me and this empty black folding chair between us. There’s a ringing in my right ear, and the drum of my racing heart pounds throughout my skull. I tug at my earlobe, partially in an attempt to end the high-pitched tone and partially to make it seem as though I didn’t hear him.