not cover her face with war paint the way some people choose to or wear loud clothing that sirens out look at my most beloved assets, but she doesn’t have to.” My brows rise as I look to Sabrina because she’s the war paint princess with the dress that’s showcasing her tits. “Scarlett is a natural beauty.” I pull her hand to my lips and hold it there a moment. “Not to mention the fact she has a big heart.” It’s true. She only wants the best for her father, and right now, she’s not convinced that my mother is it. “Besides, you’re marrying her ex. It wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t want anything to do with the wedding.”
Sabrina gives a few blinks of disbelief at the audacity that anyone actually spoke up against her lunacy. “Scar Scar loves both Duncky and me. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s—right.” Scarlett deflates as if there were about a dozen other answers, but she wasn’t able to give them. “I’ve moved on to much greener pastures.” She rubs a small circle in the palm of my hand with her thumb, and my heart gives a few violent kicks because it just so happened to be a private gesture she gifted me.
Does Scarlett want this? My heat index spikes at her touch, at the thought of Scarlett having a change of heart toward me. God knows I’ve done a one-eighty when it comes to her. I try to plaster on a smile in an effort to keep the charade going, but there’s something in me that wants to stay right here in this sober moment and not cloud it up with any false pretenses. The feelings Scarlett Kent evokes in me are very much real.
Her thigh rubs over mine, and my dick perks to life.
Crap. If she keeps this up, the only one acting around here will be her. Scarlett is pulling me in, reeling me into her heart with those crimson locks and that pirate smile. I’m glad she seems genuinely happy for Duncan even if he is ending up with her psychotic sister. I’m glad she’s over her ex because I don’t want her pining over him. Deep down, I want her pining over me.
The idea hits me like a bus.
Holy crap.
My gaze drifts to hers, and I swallow hard at this Irish princess that’s swooped in and stolen my heart.
“I’ve really fallen for you.” My face lights up with heat when I say it. I’m not sure why I said it out loud, despite the fact this is exactly what I promised I would do tonight.
“What?” Her chest rises and falls as a slight look of panic takes over.
The music relaxes to an easier pace, and an entire herd of couples drift to the dance floor.
“Batter Bits”—Bradley stands and plucks his daughter out of her seat—“why don’t you and I indulge in a little father-daughter dance? I’d like to have a few words with you.”
“Same,” Mom strums the word out without the slightest bit of amusement over my most recent confession. I’m betting her newfound rage has to do with the fact she realizes how heartfelt my last sentiment was. I had always suspected my mother would see through our act, but now that there’s no acting involved, at least on my end, she’s in full panic mode.
I hold my mother at an arm’s length as we follow Scarlett and her father to the dance floor.
“Why do you insist on doing this to me?” Her eyes beg me to stop whatever the hell I’m up to. And, in the mother of all ironies, I could have never predicted, there’s no way I can get off this redheaded crazy train.
“I’m not doing anything to you.” I glance to Scarlett, who seems to be having an equally animated discussion with her father, and I want nothing more than to head over, take her in my arms, and make her mine in every single way. For whatever reason, the girl I couldn’t quite stand months ago has come to make me feel like I’m on top of the world when I’m with her. “Can I ask you something? How does Bradley make you feel?”
“Excuse me?” Her entire body shakes with irritation. The lines around her eyes struggle to cut into her delicate skin, fighting the Botox, the army of expensive serums she and my father once argued over. My parents had the power to make even the most insignificant detail the most newsworthy, war-worthy event.