room.” Then Moni went on with, “Do not make me spit my margarita on my new Vera Wang linen. I will cut a Canary if you make me ruin my pants.”
But it was Jenn’s sweet, “Oh, y’all, this is just the best thing that ever could’ve happened. I’m so happy. We can have the weddin’ in the garden at the Manor.”
Pulling back when I realized that, (A) My loving friends were not going to go quietly into that good Bailmore. (B) Although Tank was kissing me like I was the very air he breathed, there were a ton of questions flying around that amazing brain of his that only I could answer. And (C) If we took our kiss any farther, it would be porn, and Clementine Sue Cooper is no porn star. Have I mentioned that dumb luck is all I have?
Once again, forcing my eyes open, the smile that crossed my face felt goofy, silly, and insanely wonderful. So much so that I didn't even try to hide it or look away. This was my man. I was his girl. This was forever. He might as well get used to the goofy that was Clementine Sure Cooper, 'cause he was stuck with me like taffy on the bottom of a tennis shoe forever and then some.
"How long have you known?" I whispered. "I've been trying to come up with a way to talk to you about all of this." Twitching my finger back and forth between us, the heat of a blush on my cheeks was a little distracting, but when the voices of all my old insecurities started fighting for attention in the back of my brain, it was more than I could handle. Shaking my head and tucking my chin to my chest, I laid my palms on Tank's pecs and pushed. I needed space, lots of it, and right that very minute.
But my T-Rex was having none of that crap.
Holding me tight with one muscled arm still around my waist, he slid the index finger of his free hand under my chin and lifted my head until I was once again looking into his dark, hypnotic eyes. (In case you were wondering, I am a sucker for love stories. Used to read Harlequin romances by the box full. Watched every damn chick flick ever made…twice. I eat that shit up with a big ole spoon. So, I was happier than Peggy Piggenhauer in poop to have the starring role in my very own love story. It was the best thing ever to happen in all my very long life. No, that did not stop me from freakin' out. It only delayed the inevitable. Thank the Goddess for Tank.)
(And, I've already told you not to ask how long my life has been so far. Asking is not polite, and I'm not givin' up the info on my own. Got it?)
Giving me a sexy wink that made me weak in the knees, my Mate, my man, my hunka-hunka-prehistoric hotness, murmured, "Hey, pretty lady, there's no need to freak out. We're in this together, from now till all of forever, you're stuck with me. Good, bad, scaly, and feathered, we got this."
Before I could even answer, the bossiest Crane ever created by the Almighty Goddess of All appeared at my side and stuck her nose right between my terrific T-Rex and me like it was where she belonged, or at the very least, we'd asked her to intervene. (It most assuredly was not where she belonged, and we did not invite her, but I’m sure you’ve figured out that Cora does not care. Cora does what Cora wants. She says she’s old enough to have earned that right. And, before you ask, I have no clue how old she is. My momma taught me manners.)
While slapping us both on the back, she spoke as sweetly as an old Crane from New York who lives on cigarettes and vodka tonics can while pretending to be from the South. "Now, this here is about the sweetest damn thing I've ever seen. No, really." Shaking her head, she thankfully removed her hand from my back and held up her index finger. "I'm serious, I couldn't be happier." Turning to Tank, my shameless mentor laid the tips of her fingers to the side of her face and, while trying to shield her mouth even though every damn person in the whole building had supersonic hearing, whispered, "Do you have an older brother,