Neanderthal Marries Human: A Smarter Romance (Knitting in the City) (47 page)

I shook my head.
“No. He knew.”

Quinn made a sound like a growl in the back of his throat
, and I peered at him. His face was stone, and he was watching me with a severe scowl.

Then he sighed
and just shook his head. He glanced at the table where his parents were sitting, and then his eyes darted to the door where Nico and Elizabeth had just walked in.

“
Come on,” he said, trying to give me a smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s order before we all get mobbed by Nico’s adoring fans.”

***

I was proud
of my fiancé for not finding my dad and punching him in the face.

I know that
’s a weird thing to be proud of, but there it was.

My father never showed. Quinn called him around 10:00
p.m. and found out that he’d gone to the hotel, too tired for dinner, or so he said. Also, he asked about reimbursement again. Quinn told him that he’d be reimbursed at the church, the morning of the wedding, after he walked me down the aisle.

I don
’t think I was meant to overhear that part of the conversation.

During the car ride after dinner and back to the hotel
, I sat tucked into Quinn’s side, his arm around me, our hands at my shoulder fitting together. I leaned my head against him and could feel the tension in his muscles.

I didn
’t try to explain or defend my dad, because…he was my dad. That’s just who he was. There was nothing to explain or defend. Instead, I allowed Quinn to seethe in silence.

He
was still seething when we arrived at the hotel. He was seething when we walked through the door of the room. He continued seething as he pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it to the couch, yanked at his tie, and undid the first two buttons of his shirt.

I trailed behind him, set my purse on the table by the door, slowly pulled off my shoes. I wasn
’t thinking about dinner. I was thinking about hemotoxins and the latest research I’d read on the use of snake venom in treating cancer, specifically tumors.

Quinn turned, glowered at me, gripped the back of the armchair closest to him, and said,
“You’re thinking about robots, aren’t you?”

I shook my head.
“No. I’m thinking about snake venom.”

My answer did nothing to improve his mood.
“I knew it,” he said and hit the back of the chair with his palms, then turned from me and marched to the bedroom.

A second later, before I could follow him in, he appeared at the door. He pointed at me
. “You. Bed. Now.”

My eyes widened and my feet faltered.
“What?”

He stalked to me and backed me up against the
chair he’d just assaulted. “Take off your clothes.”

I could only gape at him in stunned disbelief
“You want to…?” I cleared my throat because I was having trouble forming my question. “How could you possibly be turned on right now?”

His eyes flashed with irritation.
“I’m not,” he said, and then he pulled me against him, quite roughly, for a kiss.

A rough kiss.

Well, at first it was a rough kiss. Then it quickly escalated into a slow, sensual, hot kiss, the kind that made my knees weak and my stomach heavy. His hands were moving, lifting my skirt, and he was rocking against me in time with the movements of his mouth.

I pulled away, mostly because I lacked oxygen, and panted
for breath. Our eyes met and the heavy sensation in my stomach became a twisting need.

“
Now what are you thinking about now?” he asked, then bit my shoulder.

I shook my head.
“I don’t know…you. Your hands. Your mouth.”

His hot breath fell against my neck and I shivered as he whispered,
“Wrong answer.”

He tugged at the tie holding my dress closed and it opened to him, his hands m
oving at once to unfasten the clasp between my breasts so he could access more of my bare skin.

My fingers were moving as quickly as they could to unbuckle his belt. Every time they grazed the hard plane of his stomach a jolt of want shot
straight up my spinal column and down to my toes, electrifying everything in between.

“
What’s the right answer?” I asked, feeling a little frantic, mindless.

He nipped at my jaw
, and the backs of his fingers brushed against the center of my breasts, causing me to shudder.

“
I love you,” he said, kissing me quickly. “I adore you.” He kissed me again then pulled away, his palms moving to cradle my face.

The ferocity of his words matched the intensity in his gaze
, and both held me captive. “That’s what you should be thinking about,” he murmured in his kitten voice. “That you are loved and adored…that you
matter
. Not distracting yourself with robots and snake venom because your father is an asshole and is too fucking stupid to recognize how lucky he is to have a daughter like you.”

I pressed my lips together and stared at him
, how upset he was on my behalf, how desperate he was to show me my worth.

I covered his hands with mine and nodded
, “I know. I know you do.”

His jaw ticked, his gaze still fierce and determined.
“I’m not the only one. Those insane knitters that you call friends, they adore you. You matter to them. And they’re smart people…for the most part.”

I swallowed
. “I know.”

He frowned, his eyes searching.
“I love your preoccupation with facts and information and your insatiable curiosity. But it pisses me off when shit happens and you use it to hide. You should never want to hide.”

“
What if I promised not to hide for very long?” I gave him a small smile.

“
What if you never hide? What if you instead let me get you hot, show you how much I love you? Then you tell those assholes to…to….”

“
Eat shit and die?” I said.

His expression finally softened, a barely perceptible curve claiming his lips.
“Yes. That sounds about right.”

My eyes moved between his
, and my small smile grew. “I love you, Quinn. I love that…that you adore me…that I matter to you. But something you’ve taught me, and I don’t know if you did it on purpose, is that it’s more important that I matter to myself.”

He searched my expression
, and I took the opportunity to move my hands back to his shirt and pull it from his waistband. “So how about, instead….” I unfastened the bottom four buttons then moved to finish unbuckling his belt. “Instead, I’ll let you get me hot. Then, I’ll let you show me how much you love me. Then…”—I unzipped his pants and reached my hand into his boxers—“…I’ll get
you
hot and return the favor.”

The Friday before
the wedding was a blur—bridal brunch, last-minute errands, pedicure and manicure with Katherine and Elizabeth, meeting the ladies from the knitting group at the airport, dressing for and attending the rehearsal, then rehearsal dinner, meeting the first fringes of Quinn’s extended family, then collapsing on my bed. My key phrase during the day was, “Just point me where I need to go.”

Quinn, obviously recognizing that the next thirty-six to
forty-eight hours were going to be insanity, hadn’t gone for a run that morning. Instead, he stayed in bed with me for as long as possible, making love to me over the course of an hour until my head was in the clouds and I couldn’t stop looking at him without silly grins. That made all the insanity bearable as I floated through the day on a happy Quinn-cloud of afterglow.

My father didn
’t show up to the rehearsal dinner. I overheard Dan and Quinn discussing the fact that they would be paying him a visit that evening. I tried not to care. Either he showed up, or he didn’t. If he didn’t show then I was sure Elizabeth wouldn’t mind walking me down the aisle.

I
’d also given up hope that Shelly would miraculously appear. I wasn’t avoiding thoughts of her; I was just done wishing for things that might never be. She knew where we were, what we were doing. If she didn’t come to the wedding, I would eventually drive to her farmhouse and let her know she’d been missed.

But I wasn
’t going to waste this time of happiness or squander the opportunities to create lasting, joyous memories.

I was in the bridal suite sharing it with my ladies. It was fun to feel their happy excitement for the coming day, like something big was going to happen
, and I was at the center of it all. The thought made me nervous, to be the center of attention, but it was easy to be distracted when Sandra was telling jokes and Fiona was pretending to disapprove of her dirty limericks involving a man from Nantucket and his bucket.

Surprisingly, we all fell asleep at midnight
, and I slept straight through the night. I didn’t even have distressing dreams.

The next morning I was awakened by a group hug. Really, it was a group pile, and someone had morning breath.

I was pushed into the shower. Katherine arrived at around 11:00 a.m., bringing with her a room service cart and mimosas. Introductions were made and she fell right into the thick of things.

Marie had arranged for a hair stylist
and makeup artist to come. We all submitted to their capable hands. Katherine went first because she had to get to the church and greet family members who had flown in. I went last.

After seeing my veil, the stylist pulled my hair up in the most badass—sorry, but there is no other word for it—Victorian-esque mound of awesomeness. Sh
e tamed the snakes by exploiting the thick unruliness of my hair. It was big, dramatic, and something out of a fairy tale. She left several curls free behind my ears and down my neck, which added to the effect of whimsy.

When it came to getting my face done, I requested minimal cosmetics, opting for eye shadow, mascara, powder
, and lipstick. The makeup artist was going to add blush, but then noted with a wink that my cheeks were already rosy.

Admittedly, I was in a fog
, a very happy fog. I felt like I was drifting on this lovely sea, allowing myself to be carried by the current. A beautiful blue sky was above and the sparkling ocean was below.

My face and hair done, I pulled on my bridal lingerie,
and Elizabeth helped me with my dress. She was cognizant to keep it away from my face and hair. I emerged, hair and makeup unscathed, and she began the daunting task of fastening the endless row of buttons down my back.

When she finished, she stepped back, her eyes moved up and down
, and she said, “Whoa....”

I smiled.

“Whoa,” she said again, clearly impressed.

“
Can we see? Are you decent?” Marie poked her head in the room, her eyebrows wagging. Then she gasped. “Oh my…that is…wow.”

The rest of the ladies trailed behind her
, and I was gratified to hear their exclamations as they entered. I knew that the most important thing was that I thought I was beautiful, that I was happy with the way I looked.

Still, hearing their praise wasn
’t raining on my parade.

A knock sounded on the suite door and Kat left to answer it.

“Where did you get that dress?” Marie’s eyes were wide saucers.

“
I borrowed it. It’s by a designer named Donovan Charles.”

Sandra
’s mouth fell open.

Ashley said,
“Get out!”

Marie said,
“No shit?”

And Elizabeth
and Fiona said in unison, “Who’s that?”

Before I could answer, Kat reappeared.
“Quinn is out here and he wants to talk to you.”

Fiona frowned
. “Tell him he’s not allowed. In fact, I’ll tell him he’s not allowed.”

Kat smiled and shook her head.
“He said he thought we wouldn’t allow it, so he brought blindfolds for each of you to wear.” She held out a black scarf. The material looked like satin.