Dangerous Exes (Page 46)

It was a warm rain.

I lifted my arms and did a little twirl while he walked around to open my door.

“Sorry.” I grinned.

“Do it again,” he breathed.

I tilted my head. “Do what again?”

“Twirl in the rain.”

“I wasn’t twirling,” I lied.

“It was adorable.” He pulled me into his arms and then very slowly twirled me. “And you looked so damn free and happy in that moment that I wish I could have captured it.”

“This guy,” I said out loud, pressing a hand to his chest. “What am I going to do with you?”

He leaned down and brushed a warm kiss across my cheek. “Whatever the hell you want.” He kissed my chin, then my neck. “But if you’re in the market for suggestions, I have a few.” His hands wrapped around my waist and inched higher to my breasts, right there in the middle of the street.

I didn’t care.

“Oh? What kind of suggestions?” Goose bumps broke out across my skin as his teeth tugged my ear.

“I’m finding I have this fantasy of you in red—all the time. It gets me so hard I can’t even think straight . . . but there’s a lot of lace, and I use my teeth to pull down your lingerie, and the sight of your ass facing me, well, let’s just say it’s enough to drive me insane . . .” He tugged my ear again. “But first—”

“First?” My body was ready for him, hell, I would have said yes if he asked for a quickie in the back seat.

“First”—he pulled away and sighed—“we have to find a place to get married.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Goo-Poh gave us six hours, what are we going to do?”

“You’re going to tell me your dream wedding . . . and I’m going to make it happen.”

My heart thudded against my chest so hard I could swear he heard it. “But, Jessie—”

“Let me give this to you.”

He looked so earnest, so sincere, his eyes never left mine as I nodded and then whispered, “Okay.”

Chapter Forty-Nine

JESSIE

We were closing in on the eleventh hour, and we’d yet to find an available space. Numerous texts from Goo-Poh kept coming in, reminding us that we needed to get married on that date for the blessing to take place. It sounded ridiculous, but the more anxious Isla became, the more I knew it was important. Besides, the public was going wild with the fact that I was getting married again, this time to a woman who made it her job to help celebrities break up their own marriages.

We had one more stop. I could tell Isla was doubtful, but the place was new, and after texting Colin in a panic, he’d suggested it since he knew the owners.

It helped that I was willing to pay anything.

Hell, I’d give them my spleen if it meant Isla had a smile on her face.

It made no sense.

My reaction toward her.

My feelings.

The way my gut churned in protest whenever I thought of not having her in my life, the panic that ensued when I imagined walking into my kitchen and finding it clean.

I shoved the thoughts away and pulled up to the building. On the outside it looked like a plain warehouse.

“Are we meeting the mafia?” Isla joked while I wondered if I had the address wrong. I double-checked the text as Isla balanced on her heels, walked up to the one and only door in the front of the building, and rang the bell.

The door opened, revealing an elderly woman who looked like she could be Goo-Poh’s sister, only older. She had gray hair at her temples and small, black spectacles that matched her black pantsuit.

“I’ve been expecting you.” She held out her hands to Isla and tugged her inside, then eyed me up and down as if to say silently, Eh, you’ll do.

I followed them into a large lobby with huge chandeliers, which opened up into a banquet hall that could hold at least five hundred people. White curtains covered the walls, lights of every blinding color filled the room.

Three weeks ago this would have been my own personal hell.

Lights everywhere.

Color.

Chaos.

Instead, it made me smile.

The universe had a weird way of doing things. My first wedding had been huge, everything was white—Vanessa had wanted it to be black and white and even instructed guests on what to wear.

And yet here I was, staring at what looked like a leopard-print orange light on a white backdrop.

Of course.

Isla was off chatting with the woman in hushed tones, and then Isla hugged her and practically bounced over to me.

“So?” Her excitement was contagious.

She did a little jig. “She said they can fit us in on our date and at a discounted rate.”

“Discount?” My eyebrows shot up. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“She thinks her daughter-in-law is cheating, we made a sort of trade.” She put her hands on her hips. “So instead of paying ten grand for the day”—I shrugged at the amount—“you’re paying three!”

“You didn’t have to do that.” I tugged her into my arms.

“Just like you didn’t have to offer to pay, or propose, or—”

I silenced her with a kiss, I didn’t want her remembering those things, the things I was forced to do, when if I could do them all over again I would have savored them more, I would have made them better.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled away with irritation and reached for it.

Why the hell was Blaire calling me?

“Who is it?” Isla must have noticed my confused expression.

“Your best friend.” I sent the call to voice mail. “I’ll call her back.”

Isla’s phone started ringing.

She pulled it out of her purse and sighed. “Blaire again, hopefully everything’s okay, I’ll just answer really quick.” She tapped the screen. “What’s up?”

Her eyes narrowed at me. “Yeah, he’s right here, yeah, we were actually heading back to the house and—” She made a face. “Yeah, just meet us there.”

She hung up and stared at her phone while crushing anxiety washed over my body, paralyzing me to my spot on the floor. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, she just sounded . . . pissed.”

Fuck.

“Did she say what about?”

“Nah, probably a client or something. You ready?”

“Yeah.” I stopped walking and pulled her against my chest. “Tell me again that you’re going to marry me.”

Isla felt my forehead. “Kind of don’t have a choice there . . .”

“Promise me.” I refused to let her go. “Promise.”

Isla frowned. “I promise.”

I kissed her hard on the mouth and prayed that it wasn’t the worst, prayed that it wasn’t Danica.

And that I wasn’t going to lose the only woman I’d ever really been myself with.

The only woman I had ever truly loved.

Chapter Fifty

ISLA

Twelve.

The number of times Jessie grabbed my hand and kissed my fingertips while we drove home.

He took the long way.

He stopped at yellow lights.

And every few seconds his eyes would dart to mine like he was waiting for a bomb to drop on our car.

Maybe he was nervous about getting married?

He’d made me promise, so maybe he thought I was backing out?

I was doing it again.

Analyzing.

Maybe he liked holding my hand.