Midnight Valentine(102)

“C’mon, she’s worked really hard helping me put this party together!”

I caress her cheek, then bend and inhale against her neck. God, I love the smell of her skin. Warm vanilla and something sweet, like a cookie fresh from the oven. I wanna sink my teeth into her every time I get a whiff.

When I slide my hand up from her waist and gently squeeze one full breast, she warns, “Honey.”

I whisper, “I’ll be quick,” and use my hips to bump her back until she’s trapped between my crotch and the bathroom sink.

Her laugh is throaty. It sends a thrill of lust up my spine.

“No, honey.” She flaps her hands at me, trying to push me away.

Grinning, I grasp her wrists and wind her arms around her back. “Now what’re you gonna do?”

“Well, your balls are in the direct line of fire for a nasty jab from my knee,” she says sweetly, smiling. “I think that would do the trick.”

I pretend to glower. “Unfair.” Then I tickle her, because I love the way it makes her shriek.

“Stop! No! You asshole!” She squirms and wriggles in my arms, desperate to get away, but I’m too strong. I don’t relent until she’s helplessly laughing and has called me every curse word in the book.

Then I drop to my knees in front of her and rest my cheek on her belly. “Hey, little bean,” I whisper, framing the small swell of her stomach in my hands. “How you doing in there?”

Megan’s soft hands come to rest on my head. She combs her fingers through my hair, and I can feel how they tremble. “She’s doing great. She says she loves her daddy.”

I look up at her. Her eyes are soft and glimmer with tears, and are so full of love, it fucking kills me.

I say hoarsely, “I love her too. And her mommy.” My voice breaks. “So much.”

She presses her lips together and blinks really fast in that way she does when she’s trying hard not to cry.

From somewhere downstairs comes the sound of Suzanne’s aggravated holler. “Jesus Christ on a crutch, people, are you coming or what?”

I stand, give Megan a kiss against her laughing mouth, then grab her hand and lead her out of the bedroom. When we get downstairs, Suzanne, Coop, and all the guys from Hillrise are in the main parlor, milling around with drinks in their hands. There’s a bar set up in the corner, and two uniformed servers stand off to one side, holding silver platters filled with those tiny bites of food they serve at parties that you have to eat about a hundred of before you get full.

Everyone turns when we come in.

“There you are! Come over here and say a few words before the guests start to arrive.”

Suzanne has on a red dress cut so low, it might be illegal in some states. Coop—staring down at her with a huge grin and his arm wound around her shoulders—is too busy appreciating the view to look up at us.

Megan and I walk near the fireplace. Through the parlor windows, I see the valet stand set up at the curb on the street outside. More than three hundred guests RSVP’d for the grand reopening of the Buttercup Inn, but we’ll probably get more. People love free drinks.

Megan squeezes my hand, looking at me expectantly, but I shake my head. I still don’t like to talk around other people. Old habits die hard, I guess.

She turns to all our friends with a smile. “Okay, so we just want to thank you guys, so much, for everything you’ve done to make the Buttercup so amazingly beautiful. Honestly, it’s better than I dreamed.” She pauses to press a hand over her heart. I sling an arm around her shoulders and draw her closer, knowing she’s gonna struggle today.

The word bittersweet was invented for times like this.

She takes a breath and continues. “Coop, Suzanne…you’re our best friends. We wouldn’t have made it through all this without you. We love you.”

Suzanne swipes at her eyes. Coop nods his big head, his grin growing wider. “Love you too, marshmallow.” His eyes meet mine. More quietly, he says, “And you, brother.”

My chest gets tight.

Maybe one day, I’ll talk to Coop about what happened. One day when we’re old and gray and all our grandkids are running around our rocking chairs out on the back porch. But for now, we both leave it alone. He can tell I’m still processing. I’m damn lucky to have such a good friend.

Megan says, “To all the guys at Hillrise, tonight is a celebration of your hard work and talent. I know you’re as proud of the Buttercup as I am, because she’s perfect. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts. I’d toast you with champagne, but I’m not allowed.”

She rests a hand on her belly, smiling, and everyone laughs.