Not Your Average Vixen - Krista Sandor Page 0,77

Adonis of a man would look good, even hungover.

Soren took a few more steps inside the sanctuary. “I was told to be here.”

“By who?”

“The judge. He said you were up here doing wedding things,” he replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets as if that maneuver would protect him from the wedding things going on in the snug space.

He turned his attention to Lori and watched her a beat.

“Did you have something to tell me, Scooter?” her sister asked.

He glanced away. “Tom says you should probably head down to the mountain house. Everyone is getting ready to leave.”

Bridget gasped. “That’s right! You need to get back, so you’re ready to leave for the concert on time.”

“We’re not going?” Soren asked.

She crossed her fingers behind her back. “No, you were so late to RSVP, I wasn’t able to get you a ticket.”

Honestly, she’d totally forgotten about looking into getting him a ticket. But it was better this way. Thank the stars, the Scooter and Tom bro-fest last night didn’t sway Tom into calling off the wedding or doing something crazy that would upset her sister.

Still, the man had sent strippers—a ballsy move with everyone staying in the same location.

She cleared her throat. “And you wouldn’t be able to go even if there was an extra ticket. You have best man duties, and you’ll need to attend to me all night.”

Soren and her sister stared at her.

She twisted an errant lock of hair. “I meant that you have best man duties to attend to, with me. Duties that include helping me in the kitchen and other wedding-only related tasks that require us to be fully clothed. All wedding preparations and no holiday hanky-panky,” she finished, feeling her cheeks heat as she dug herself deeper into the hole.

Why did she let this man turn her brain into scrambled eggs?

“There you are, using that hanky-panky again. What’s up with you?” Lori asked with a crinkle to her brow.

Ah, crap!

Bridget pressed her hand to Lori’s back and guided her toward the door. “It’s a catchy little phrase. But never mind. You need to get yourself on that gondola, little sis. I’m going to tidy up in here, and then we’ll be down to get the kids ready for bed.”

“We’re babysitting, too?” Soren blurted.

She put her hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side, channeling a little vixen into this exchange. “Yes, see what fun it is to be a responsible best man?”

“Be good, you two,” Lori said, tossing her a confused glance, before continuing down the aisle, but she stopped when she got to Soren. “Could you help Birdie with this? I’m terrible with clasps,” she added, dropping the necklace into his hand.

The rush of mountain air entered the space as Lori left, and then it was just the two of them.

She crossed her arms, dredging up a little more vixen sass. “Rough night, Scooter?”

He started toward her, his long strides eating the hardwood.

Why did his walk have to be so sexy?

He was awful. He was about to kill off Cupid Bakery. He didn’t want Tom to marry Lori. If only the cavewoman inside her could get the memo and stop getting all tingly whenever he was within ten feet of her.

“I’ve had rougher. Turn around.”

She sucked in an audible breath. “Why?”

It was happening again. She could feel the rational part of her brain turning into oatmeal raisin cookie dough.

Something hard and dark flashed in the man’s eyes. “So I can bend you over that bench and have my way with you.”

She parted her lips, but not even the vixen part of her had a response for that.

A mirthless smirk twisted his lips. “I’m kidding, Bridget. It’s so I can help you with your damn necklace,” he answered, holding the delicate chain in front of her face as if he were preparing to hypnotize her.

“Right, yeah,” she swiveled around and waited, biting her lip to get herself under some semblance of control.

“Where’d you get this?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“The Kringle Cares group sent it as a thank you,” she replied as his fingers trailed across the base of her neck.

“That lady did call you her angel.”

She steadied herself. “It was no big deal. I was happy to help.”

“Always, the helper. There, it’s on,” he said, stepping away from her as heat again bloomed on her cheeks. But this time, she wasn’t embarrassed. No, she was angry. What kind of Grinch was against helping others?

“Yes, I like to help when I can.

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