Not the image I need in my head as I sit with my family for brunch.
“Good morning,” she singsongs as she approaches, all smiles and chipper disposition, like Snow White and her little woodland creatures.
I choose to ignore her, letting everyone else offer morning greetings. She takes a seat directly beside me, because, well, why wouldn’t she? It is the only seat left available, but also because she’s gunning to draw out this torture as much as possible. If there’s one thing I truly know about Freedom Rayne, it’s she’ll do anything to get under my skin. Including refuse a divorce.
“Hello, lover,” she whispers as she sits down and drops her napkin on her lap.
I inwardly groan, but my dick actually starts to harden with her greeting.
“Christ, Freedom, stop it,” I mumble, taking another long sip of my water.
“You know, Sammy, I totally get not telling everyone right now. It’s Harper and Latham’s day, right?”
“My name is Samuel, and we’re getting it fixed as soon as we get home,” I argue, hating I’m so riled up in front of my family.
Freedom just smiles at me over her water glass. It’s a smile I know too well, one that says she doesn’t believe me. One that screams We’ll see about that.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my stomach rolling and my head pounding. I’m pretty sure I should just head back upstairs and take a long nap. Maybe if I sleep long enough, I’ll awaken from this nightmare to find I didn’t actually get married in Las Vegas, that I didn’t actually marry my sister’s best friend.
Before I can get up and make excuses to leave breakfast, a commotion is heard at the door. We all turn at once, only to find my kooky aunt and uncle standing there, big grins on their faces.
“Orval? Emma?” Mom asks as she stands up.
“You didn’t think we were going to let our niece get married without us, did you?” Emma says, as she makes a beeline toward our table, moving faster than most people half her age. Orval is my mom’s half-brother from grandpa’s first marriage. We didn’t even know they existed until earlier this year, nor did I know Grandpa was married before Grandma Phoebe. “Look at this beautiful bride! Harper, you’re glowing! You’re not already knocked up, are you? You know, you can quickly become addicted to the sex. It’s too hard to resist, especially when you have man candy like that one,” she adds, nodding toward Latham as if he weren’t sitting right there.
Harper just giggles and gives Emma a hug. “This day is complete now that you’re here,” she says before turning to Uncle Orval and giving him a hug too.
Jensen jumps up and grabs two empty chairs from neighboring tables and brings them to our table. Of course, the most convenient place to add seating is at the end of the table. Right by me. I go ahead and give my younger brother a stern look, just for good measure, and his returning grin lets me know this new table arrangement was all part of his master plan.
Emma walks around and greets everyone, offering hugs and warm smiles. She makes her way over to where Freedom and I sit, her aged eyes dancing with mischief. I can already tell I won’t like this.
“Samuel, so good to see you again. And with the lovely Freedom, who looks like she enjoyed a few rides on the baloney pony last night too.” Emma smacks her lips together and pulls Freedom into a hug. For a tiny, frail-looking woman, she’s crazy fast and strong.
Freedom just snorts. “A lady never kisses and tells.”
Emma returns with her own smirk. “That’s why you come sit next to Aunt Emma. I’m no lady,” she teases, and suddenly, the thought of Freedom sitting next to my crazy aunt has me all sorts of twisted up. Freedom doesn’t need any of Emma’s influence, that’s for sure. She’s perfectly capable of torturing me on her own.
“And how about you, Samuel? Keeping that joystick active? Even if you have to use your hand, regularly firing your love gun will do wonders for your complexion, let alone your stress level.” She turns those big, innocent eyes my way, as if she wasn’t just asking me about my… gun.
“No comment,” I tell her, taking my menu and studying the brunch selection.
“Just ignore her, Samuel,” Uncle Orval says as he takes a seat beside his wife. “That’s not something you discuss at the table.”
Emma snorts her indignation. “What are you talking about? We talk about it every night.”
“No, we fire the gun every night. We don’t always talk about it before it goes off.”
My stomach is lurching. I’m stuck in a Twilight Zone hell with my crazy aunt and uncle and a woman who I married, yet don’t recall any of it. “Please stop talking about your gun. It’s a family establishment.”
Freedom leans toward me, her long hair dangling on my lap as she whispers, “You know, I always heard a guy could go blind if he messed with that too much.”
I groan.
“Oh, dearie, there’s no such thing as too much. It’s important to have a healthy sexual appetite. When you marry, you’ll understand what I mean. If you find yourself with a man who doesn’t make you want to drop your panties and grab your ankles on a regular basis, then you’re with the wrong fella,” Emma says, giving Freedom a decisive nod.
I concentrate on my menu and pretend I don’t feel Freedom’s gaze on me. I’m saved from any further discussion about ankles and grabbing them when our server arrives at our table and starts refilling coffee cups. A leg to my side slides against mine, whether by accident or on purpose, I’m not sure. I just ignore the way Freedom’s limb is pressed against mine and the way her fruity shampoo is permeating my senses and making it difficult to think of anything but her.
“And you, sir?” our server asks as
