It wasn’t the most comfortable wedding I’d ever attended. The fact that I giggled at Jolene’s cousins while they wore the dresses—and the fact that I was in no way related to her family or the circus of crazy that was Zeb’s family—meant that I sat by myself.
But Dick was handsome in his tuxedo T-shirt, staring at Jolene and Zeb with this sort of wide-eyed wonder you normally saw in baby shampoo commercials. I swore I saw just the tiniest bit of tremble in his bottom lip when the vows were exchanged.
Dick Cheney was a true romantic . . . and it was sort of adorable. OK, it was completely adorable. As was the grin on his face as he walked Jane down the aisle during the recessional.
I waited for him at a table a safe distance from the buffet, because you did not get between were-creatures and food. Even if they were less than enthusiastic about the wedding, werewolves were always eager to get to Swedish meatballs.
“I brought you something,” Dick said, handing me a club soda with lime.
“Thanks. I didn’t see club soda behind the bar. And by ‘bar,’ I mean the back of Jolene’s dad’s pickup.”
Dick snickered. “I know, I dropped it off earlier. I know you like it, and I didn’t know if it’d be a good idea for you to be drinking alcohol so soon after nearly being drained dry. It can really mess you up when your electrolytes are out of balance.”
“And if I wanted to drink anyway?” I challenged him. “If I wanted to drink all of those fuzzy navel wine coolers currently being iced in a galvanized metal trash can?”
“I would gladly hold your hair back as you threw up,” he said. “Or possibly drive you to the emergency room when you eventually passed out from alcohol poisoning. But either way, I’d support you in your terrible, needlessly defiant choice.”
“Rather than try to stop me from drinking?”
“Yes, because you don’t respond well to people who try to control you, and you might drink more just to spite me.”
I smirked at him. “Oh, I wish you knew me less.”
“I’ll never be perfect,” Dick told me, leaning in slowly for a friendly peck on the lips. “I’ll leave that to you.”
“Better and better,” I told him, murmuring against his mouth. I gave him a longer kiss, making him grin happily when we parted. “But I’m not perfect.”
“No, but you’re as close as it gets. This should probably go without saying, Andrea, but I like you. So much. It feels silly to put it like that, but I know I don’t love you yet. I don’t know you well enough to be able to say that and have you believe me. But I could love you so easily. And I want you to love me, too.”
I kissed him, even harder this time.
“The T-shirts are going to have to go,” I said.
“Some of the T-shirts,” he agreed.
“Around seventy-five percent.”
“Sixty,” he countered.
“Done.”
Just as he leaned down to kiss me, we heard someone scream, “I’M KING OF THE WORLD!” We turned to see Zeb and Jolene standing on top of the Styrofoam iceberg in the classic Jack and Kate stance, arms raised, while one of Jolene’s male cousins piloted the craft across the pond with the trolling motor attached to the back.
“You know, at any other wedding, this would be weird,” I said, nodding.
“They’re happy,” Dick said. “Ridiculously, crazy-in-love happy. So you gonna be my girl?”
“No, but I might let you be my vampire,” I said as his lips brushed against mine.
“I do love your sass.”
“Good, because you’re in for a pant-load of it,” I told him.
And with that, I was kissed very thoroughly by the vampire Dick Cheney.