Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,50
ran over my skin, head to toe. “You’re stunning.”
“Thank you. You look good too.” Good was an understatement. He looked like a men’s fragrance ad, all glittering blue eyes and sharp chiseled jaw. He wore dark dress pants, a white shirt, and a tie that matched the color of his eyes. “I like the tie.”
“Mariah chose it.”
I laughed. “I’ve been replaced as your stylist, I see. Is she down yet?”
“She’s coming down with my mom in a minute.” He shook his head. “I’m beginning to regret telling you to wear the dress. I’m not going to be able to keep my eyes off you tonight.”
“Good,” I said, perching on the edge of the bar stool and crossing my legs just so.
Again, his eyes did the thing I’d been waiting for them to do since I was twelve years old—see me.
And only me.
Eleven
Cole
I cornered Moretti at the bar after dinner. “Help.”
“With what?” He looked confused.
“I did what you said to do, and now I need help.”
“What did I say to do?”
“You said to have a little fun, and I did. I said things.”
“So?”
“So now she’s wearing that dress and I’m about to lose my mind!” I tossed back the rest of my bourbon and ordered another, although I knew I should slow down.
Moretti laughed. “Yeah, you’re toast, dude. I saw the way you were looking at her during dinner.”
Groaning, I glanced over to where she stood talking to Griffin and the wedding planner, and the wedding planner’s husband, who happened to be Tyler fucking Shaw. As a pitcher, I should have been over there too—I was a baseball fanatic and I’d followed Tyler’s career from the time he was a first-round draft pick right out of high school. But I couldn’t think about baseball. I couldn’t think about anything except Cheyenne in that dress and how badly I wanted to get my hands on her. At dinner she’d been seated right across from me, and I couldn’t even tell you what I’d eaten—in fact, I wasn’t even sure I had eaten—because I was so preoccupied with the tilt of her head and the curve of her shoulder and the glow of her skin.
“I’m a mess, Moretti. I fucking told her that we had to slow down, if not stop altogether, and now I’m a mess. I haven’t been able to think about anything but her for a week.”
“Jesus Christ, Cole. Relax.” Moretti sipped his whiskey. “If you get too worked up ahead of time, you’re gonna go off like a rocket, especially if it’s been a while.”
“Oh, it’s been a while.”
“Like how long?”
I had to think about it. “A few years.”
Moretti almost choked. “Years? Damn, that’s even worse than I thought. How do you live, man?”
“Look, it’s not easy for me, okay? I’m a cop in a small town, and everyone knows me or knows my kid or knows my mom. I don’t fuck around.”
Moretti shook his head. “You must have willpower of steel.”
I grabbed my new drink off the bar. “It’s never been this difficult to control myself.”
“I say go for it. All she can do is say no.”
“You think she’ll say no?” Panicking, I swallowed some more bourbon.
He shrugged. “Depends. I don’t think you should lie to her and tell her you’re in love with her just so she’ll sleep with you, but if you invite her back to your room and she says yes, I’d say that’s a pretty good indication she’s up for a good time tonight.”
“Is that what you’d do? Invite her to your room?”
“Definitely.” He looked around. “But where’s Mariah? Is she staying with you?”
I shook my head. “No. She’s with my mom, and she already went to bed.”
“Okay, good. So here’s what you do. Find out what she’s drinking, order her another one, and then say something like, ‘It’s so crowded in here, maybe we—oh, fuck no.’”
“Huh?” I frowned at him. “You lost me there at the end.”
“This cannot be happening.”
“What?”
“It’s her.”
I followed his line of sight and saw that Bianca DeRossi had entered the bar and was giving Blair a big hug. “Oh.”
“What the hell is she doing, following me?” He tipped up his drink again.
“I don’t know. Looks like she’s friends with Blair.”
He grimaced as Bianca made her way toward us. “Gentlemen,” she said smoothly, giving us a smile. “Nice to see you again. You’re quite the most dashing couple in the room, all due respect to the bride and groom.”
“Knock it off, Bianca. You know we’re not a couple.” Moretti glared