The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) (19 page)

Hop across the country to Florida. Sheesh. Now
there
was an idea she’d never considered. Yeah, right! It was pretty much all she thought about now.

“Let’s see how things go. Okay, Mom? We can’t make any plans until they get back from their honeymoon anyway, but I will see what I can do.”

She let a good half hour go by before calling Andi. That way it wouldn’t look like they were playing phone tag with Sam’s mom.

“Morning, bride!” She chirped so cheerfully that even an animated Disney character would gag from the sweetness. “Who’s ready to become a wife?”

“Took you long enough,” Andi grumbled.

Oh, damn. Playing passably at dumb, she burbled a confused-sounding, “Huh?”

“Give it a rest, Samantha. Judy called you. Don’t pretend she didn’t.”

She had to laugh. This was what happened in a decades-long friendship. No use in blowing sunshine up her BFF’s skirt for no good reason. “Of course, she called, silly. Her second daughter is getting married today. Did you imagine she’d pass up such a golden opportunity to rub my nose in it or remind me yet again that I’m circling spinster-town?
Pfft.
Get real.”

Andi’s snort of laughter took the anxious air out of Sam’s lung. Thank goodness.

“Spinster-town is it? Is that anywhere near the Twunty Mother cul-de-sac?”

“Thankfully,” she said dryly, “it’s not. ‘Cause if it was, a certain stick-up-her-butt bitch would be running for cover.”

“Guess what,” Andi asked. Sam heard the smirk in her voice.

“That same stick-up-her-butt bitch you’re referring to has a bit of a surprise coming her way if she doesn’t watch her ass.”

“Seriously?” This was news.

“Mmm-hmm. Kyle was such a darling when I went batshit crazy. He can’t stand her either. Just when I thought I was going to explode, he tells me that Steve was seen sneaking out of Barbara West’s room yesterday. With the dawn.”

“That early?”

“What surprises you more?” she asked. “That Steve was seen or when?” Then she paused a beat and added, “Wonder who the hell was skulking around at that hour? Let me think. . .”

“Oh, shut up.” She laughed. “I already told you we had breakfast.”

“Well, we’re damn glad you did because knowing Steve and Barbara probably got their freak on is all that’s standing between me and a private jet flying my mother’s poisonous ass away from here.”

Good way to look at it, as far as she was concerned. “Hey. Thanks again for the massage. Nalani’s got magic hands.”

“Just getting you primed for the wedding night.”

Sam laughed. Wait. What? “Wedding night? What are you talking about? That’s all you guys. My job is done at ‘I do.’”

Andi’s roaring laughter made Sam chuckle. “There’s a thirty-six pack of premium ultra-thin condoms in your possession. If the juju magic spell Kyle and I put on you and Ryan works, then girlfriend, our wedding night is going to blow your mind.”

“I love you,” she happily declared. “And I wish you weren’t such a wicked instigator. If I get pregnant or end up with a broken heart, it’ll be all your fault, ya know.”

She heard Andi gasp. “Oh god, Sami. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“What? You want me to get my heart broken?”

“No, silly! You know Kyle and I just cleared the deck for some ardent baby making. If you got pregnant too, then we could have babies together! Oh, my god. How awesome would that be? And it’d be just like with Ryan and Kyle. Our kids could be like siblings, Sami!”

“Andrea Eleanor Frank,” she drawled. “I want you to stop that nonsense right now. Ryan and I just met, and this island getaway could very well end with me toting thirty-six unused condoms home in my luggage. And what friend, by the way, wishes a pregnancy on their unmarried BFF? Huh?”

“Just sayin’.”

Sam groaned and squinched up her face. Dammit. Now, she was going to be thinking about what Andi said.

T
he packed dance floor erupted in an explosion of approving whistles and claps when the DJ queued up “Twist and Shout” by the Beatles. With the older generation showing them the way, the wedding guests broke out some hilarious twist moves made downright sexier due to the bare stomachs of the bridal party and their hip-tied sarongs.

Ryan hadn’t stopped grinning since he first saw Samantha strolling along the flower-strewn walkway in a custom-made sarong and halter-top with a gorgeous orchid lei and flowered headpiece. The color of the orchids coordinated with Kyle’s tie. A small touch that did not go unnoticed.

But the thing that hit him like a Taser set to stun? She wore silver jewelry on her feet that jingled softly as she walked. The result was a quirky and charming combination of a harem girl and island beauty. All of the ladies carried off the elegant, if slightly risqué, outfit with award-worthy aplomb.

Ryan took special delight when the memorable Beatles classic fired up because his mom and dad were twist masters extraordinaire. Anytime Chubby Checker came on TV, his mom would jump up and twist away, giving the grand master of the dance phenomenon a run for the money.

It went without saying that the Sommerfields took their twisting seriously!

To his everlasting delight, Samantha also had some pretty serious Twist moves complete with twirling arm waves and a hip shimmy that threatened his sanity. Not to be outdone, their turn on the dance floor became a competition when Andi and Kyle joined in, and a space around them cleared. The whole crowd clapped in rhythmic unison as they put on a hell of a show.

And it was probably on YouTube or Facebook before they finished catching their breath.

Thankfully, high-energy dance floor gymnastics wasn’t the only thing the DJ had up his sleeve. It was the slow dancing where things got interesting for Ryan.

As they swayed to Eric Clapton singing “
You Look Wonderful Tonight
,” he drifted his fingers on Samantha’s bare back and thanked his lucky stars when she relaxed against him and sighed.

They fit together perfectly.

“I thought men who danced were just an urban legend.”

She made the statement as her cheek lay on his shoulder and her warm breath landed on his neck.

Ryan tightened his hold and feathered a slow caress on her skin. “Then you’ve been hanging out with the wrong men.”

Her head popped up, and she winked at him. “Men being the operative word.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he sure as shit hoped that was her way of saying she hadn’t made the jump from stupid twenty-something boys to a flesh-and-blood man. Yet.

His flesh throbbed at the prospect of being the man, the only man, to show her the difference.

Though he held her hand in his and clasped it close to his chest, when she spoke, he lifted them and traced a fingertip across her forehead and down her cheek.

Searching for something meaningful and profound to say, he blurted out, “I like the harem-inspired foot jewelry. Very much.”

He closed his eyes for a second and inwardly grimaced at how lame he sounded.

Samantha hugged him tighter and giggled. “Ah! So the slave girl thing revs your engine, then?”

He was certain at that moment infatuation made a slow U-turn to love.

“Well, let’s see,” he answered with mock seriousness. “Would this slave girl take commands without comment?”

“What kind of commands?” The uncertainty in her voice turned him on. Go figure.

Ryan chuckled. “Now see? You’d make a lousy slave because already you’ve got a comment.”

“That wasn’t a comment,” she quipped. “It was a question.”

“Oh. So does that mean this is a negotiation? Are we hammering out the terms of your surrender, golden girl?”

She gave him the funniest look and said, “How do you know it’s not your surrender on the table?”

Oh, my god. As if! He taunted her with a line that he hoped was at least halfway original. “You’ve heard the expression let the alpha roar. Right?”

Her smile got so big it practically jumped off her face. “Am I correct that you see yourself as an alpha?”

It didn’t dawn on Ryan that she was messing with him until after he replied.

“Well, yeah,” he scoffed. “You don’t?”

He loved every second of her laughing in his face, and for the second time in his life, he contemplated the nuances of a sexy spanking.

“See the floor?” he innocently asked.

She glanced down and then looked at him in confusion. “Uh, yeah.”

“You like the floor?”

“I guess.”

“Good to know since that’s what you’ll be looking at when I put you over my knee.”

Their dancing stopped so fast, he almost toppled them to the floor when his feet kept moving and hers didn’t.

“Excuse me?”

There was no need to be concerned by her reaction because Ryan heard the unmistakable sound of curious excitement in her voice.

He gathered her close again and danced on. “You heard me.”

“Is that the sort of stuff you’re into?”

“Not until now,” he answered truthfully.

She appeared to consider his answer then cuddled against him and said, “Oh. Well, okay then.”

How the hell was he supposed to take that? Did that mean, ‘Well, okay then—I’ll rip your face off if you try a stunt like that?’ Or was she saying, ‘Game on?’

“You’re a curious little thing,” he murmured into her hair surprised as much by his words as she was ‘cause he had no idea where they came from.

“Is that good?” she asked in not more than a whisper against his neck.

One answer. Straightforward. Direct. No ambiguity. “Yes.”

“Butthead,” Ali sneered when Ryan dropped into a chair at the family table.

“Snitch,” he growled in return.

“Ah,” his dad quipped as he sat forward and folded his hands together on the table. “The dulcet tones of my progeny.”

Ryan turned to his sister and in mock outrage asked, “Did he just call us progeny?”

“He did. And with a straight face too.”

Ted Sommerfield looked at them with an arched brow and the family smirk. “Eat my dust, children.”

Laughing, Ryan snatched Ali’s water glass as she was reaching for it, stuck his tongue out at her big sister’s yelp of offense, and drained it in one, long mouthful. “Ahhh,” he goofed dramatically while slapping the empty glass back into place.

Ali chuckled in her good-natured way and shook her head. “Gawd! You really are a butthead.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Using the universal hand gesture for ‘Blah, blah, blah,’ he rolled his eyes and relaxed on the chair with the body language of someone who owned the place.

Were all sisters natural troublemakers ‘cause the second she had the chance, Ali scooted her chair closer and started to stir the family pot. “Mom’s got you in the headlights,” she smugly taunted. “You just wait, Ry. When she gets back to the table, you’re in for the third degree.”

His father heard and nodded in agreement. “I’m afraid she’s right this time, son. Better buck up ‘cause Hurricane Hannah is ready to rumble.”

“What the hell did I do?”

Ali wagged her eyebrows at him over the rim of her tropical drink. “Busted!”

He looked at his dad for clarification when all his sister could do was chuckle.

“Anything you want to tell us?”

He didn’t care how old he was because no matter how far he got from his childhood, Ryan still dreaded that tone his parents used. The one that said, ‘You’ve got some ‘splaining to do.’ It was a kid’s worst nightmare—especially when there wasn’t a clue what they were getting at. Had he made some horrible public gaffe without realizing it?

“Uh, I changed my voter registration to Independent?”

Ali’s amused chuckle accompanied a dry comment. “Butthead and a smartass. Way to score points, Ry.”

Before some simple clarification cleared things up, his mom caught sight of him at the table and descended like the wrath of motherhood with astonishing speed.

He swallowed hard and sat up straight. Uh-oh. “Mom,” he murmured when she walked right up to him and stopped at his knees.

She blew right past his timid hello and fixed him with a withering scowl. “We do not keep secrets in this family, young man.”

“Yeah, Ryan!” Ali snickered in agreement. Their mom could just as easily have announced that red was white, and his stupid sister would’ve agreed just to score points.