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The Best Man (Alpha Men Book 2)(3)

By:Natasha Anders


“Why aren’t you married and making babies yet?” one of them—he didn’t know which—demanded in an obnoxiously loud voice. “You’re not getting any younger, you know. And the older you get, the more your sperm loses its motility and desire to swim. I read that on the Google.”

“I, uh . . . I think my brother’s calling me,” Spencer prevaricated desperately.

“Nonsense, he’s too busy making cow eyes at our Daisy. So why aren’t you talking to anyone? You’ve been standing in this corner all evening, barely sparing a word for anyone.”

“That’s not true.” The most fairy-godmother-ish of the quartet spoke up in a sickeningly sweet voice that perfectly matched her snow-white hair and rosy apple cheeks. “He spoke with Daffodil.” She graced Spencer with a beneficent smile before adding, “She’s single, you know.”

Oh hell no!

“I really have to go,” he lied, trying very hard to keep the desperation from his voice.

“Where to?” Glasses asked.

“I wanted to tell Lia something.”

“She’s single, too,” Fairy Godmother offered.

“But she’s fragile.” This from Dentures. He looked at the other one with the hairy white eyebrows. She hadn’t said a word so far, and it made him hope for some kind of merciful intervention, but she merely gave him a measuring look in return, telling him not to hope for much in the way of help from her.

“She is fragile, so if all you want from her is sex, then stay away from her, mister,” Dentures warned him, and Spencer swallowed back a groan.

“Spencer, I see you’ve met my great aunts.” Daisy’s very welcome voice sounded from behind him, and he turned to face her with a relieved smile.

“We haven’t been formally introduced,” he said. They’d been too busy haranguing him to bother with social niceties like introductions.

“Oh, well then, allow me,” Daisy said, her eyes alight with mischief and laughter. “These are my aunts Ivy”—Glasses—“Helen”—Dentures—“Mattie”—Eyebrows—“and Gertrude.” Fairy Godmother.

“Nice to meet you all,” he gritted, forcing a smile when all he wanted to do was run for the hills.

“Aunties, I hope you don’t mind, but Spencer has promised me a dance.” She didn’t wait for a response but took his hand and dragged him away from the four old women and onto the dance floor.

“Oh my God, I think I’m in love with you,” he muttered fervently, and she laughed.

“That bad, was it?” she asked sympathetically, and he groaned.

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, trust me, I have an inkling.” The song playing was romantic and dreamy, and she stepped into his hold, fully prepared to slow dance with him. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her slightly away from him in order to achieve what he felt was maximum safe distance between their bodies. She laughed at him and wriggled under his arms to snuggle close against his chest.

“Daisy, I may be older and taller than my brother, but he was an elite soldier and is fully capable of kicking my ass if he thinks I’m getting too touchy-feely with you.”

“We’re just dancing.” She laughed. “Keep your hands off my butt—he’s possessive over it—and you should be okay.”

Spencer sighed and acquiesced. She was a nice armful, and once again he applauded his brother for spotting this gem when the rest of the town’s male population had been stupidly blind to her charms.

“So what did my aunts say to you?”

“Warned me not to steal the silver, asked me why I wasn’t married and producing babies, and then advised me that these are my best sperm-producing years. Kind of reminded me that both your sisters are single, but also cautioned me against hurting Lia. She’s very fragile right now, you see?”

“Jeez, they couldn’t have been talking to you for more than five minutes and they managed to offend you in how many different ways? That may well be a new record for them.”

“Awesome,” he deadpanned, and she chuckled.

“Don’t take it too personally, Spencer. We’ve all fallen victim to their so-called pearls of wisdom. They think because they’re older than time it gives them special license to say whatever they like.”

He was about to respond when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He sighed and removed his arms from around Daisy’s waist and turned to face his steely-eyed brother.

“Hands off my woman, Spence. Go find one of your own.”

“You’re being silly.” Daisy laughed. “I’m enjoying my dance with him.”

“Were you going to do the chicken dance with him?” Mason barked, narrowing his eyes at her as she grinned unrepentantly.

“I was considering it.” Spencer rolled his eyes when Mason growled and grabbed her against him. This weird thing the two of them had about that ridiculous dance was completely unfathomable.

“Thanks for sending her to my rescue, bro,” he said as he stepped away and allowed Mason to take over the dance.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Mason said, his face like granite while his eyes shone with repressed laughter.

“Sure you don’t,” Spencer retorted as he swiveled on his foot and strode away, making sure he was heading in the opposite direction of the old ladies. He wondered how long he’d have to stick around before he could leave. They’d already finished dinner—surely that meant he could make his escape without looking too obvious. He was tired after a long day at work, and while he was happy for his brother and Daisy, he’d had about all the family togetherness he could take with the McGregors.

He cast a discreet look around the room. Everybody was laughing and drinking and chatting. Daisy and Mason were so completely wrapped up in each other he doubted anybody would notice if he left now.

He edged his way toward the doorway of the large room and stepped out into the relative quiet of the big old house’s foyer. Nobody was out here, and he wondered where his coat had disappeared to. He didn’t have a clue and decided to get it from Mason in the morning. He made a beeline for the front door before anybody could come out of the other room and spot him. He gratefully stepped outside into darkness, relishing the cold, fresh air on his overheated skin.

There were way too many cars parked all over the lawn and front yard, but thankfully Spencer had had the foresight to park his 4x4 outside the farm’s front gate. It was a short walk to the gate, but at least he wasn’t blocked in. He didn’t even mind the sluggish drizzle, just happy to be away from all those people.

The farm was situated about three and a half miles outside Riversend, and the short dirt road that connected the farm to the main road was unlit. Because it was so dark, Spencer jumped and then cursed out loud when his headlights picked up a single slender figure walking briskly in the dark ahead of him. The cursing became more potent when he realized who it was.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She was literally the last person on earth he wanted to see right now, but he couldn’t in good conscience let her continue to walk into town alone. He slowed his car down when it was abreast of her, but she kept her gaze straight ahead and continued to walk, ignoring him as he kept pace with her. He let down his passenger window.

“Daff?” At the sound of his voice, she finally stopped, her pale face lit only by his dashboard display.

“Spencer.”

“Why the fuck are you walking out here alone in the dark?”

“My car was blocked.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Don’t you live at the farm?”

“No, I’ve been renting Daisy’s house since she moved in with Mason.”

“Get in, I’ll drive you,” he commanded reluctantly.

“That’s fine, it’s not far.”

“It’s a fifty-minute walk. Probably longer in this weather and in the dark. Get in.”

“Spencer . . .”

“Get in the goddamn car, Daff!”

“Hey, watch it! You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“I do when you’re being an idiot.” Her perfectly arched brows puckered into a frown as she glared at him. She wrapped her coat more tightly around her slender frame and continued walking. His car crept along beside her.

“Leave me alone, Spencer,” she huffed a few moments later.

“No. If you won’t get in, I’ll damned well keep driving beside you to be sure you get home safely. Of course that’ll take about fifty minutes when I could get you there in, what? Five? Less?”

She stopped again and, with a muttered curse, yanked the passenger door open and clambered into the seat.

“I’m only doing this because I’d rather not deal with you for longer than I have to,” she seethed, and he shook his head.

“No argument from me,” he agreed. “Fasten your seat belt.” He watched her do that before gunning the engine and heading toward town.

God, she smelled really, really good. He couldn’t quite place the fragrance; he wasn’t very good with stuff like that. Honeysuckle, maybe? Or was it vanilla? Did those two things even smell the same? He had no clue, but he couldn’t get enough of it. It made him want to lean toward her and bury his nose in the elegant, silken curve of her neck and just inhale her.