Forty long minutes later, after a brief break for the wedding couple, I’m in his arms on the manor’s makeshift dance floor, swaying softly under his guiding touch.
My hair is still messy, my clothes rumpled and un-ironed since I didn’t have the time to change before the ceremony, and against Noah Quinn and his stunning, effortless perfection, I know I must look out of place.
Like a charity case next to royalty.
But before the first time since I can remember, I don’t care. Because the man holding me in his arms makes me feel secure.
At peace. At home.
I know in Noah Quinn, in my friends, in my brother, in my fondly-remembered Aunt Roberta, and my paints and passion and in the city that made me who I am—mess and all—that I’ve never needed anything more.
I wrap my arms around the suited man towering over me, breathing him in. I sigh.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue earlier.” I exhale.
“Thanks for coming to mine,” he rumbles. “I was seconds away from committing murder at The Alchemist.”
“Stephen would have been proud.”
“Stephen King writes about horror, Little Bear. He doesn’t commit it.”
I angle my eyebrows. “Can you be so sure? He has to have source material. Maybe he has a stack of bodies buried somewhere…” The babel of bickering nearby catches my attention, and I peek over to find Nancy and Drew on the dance floor, hurling hushed insults at each other with Lachlan in the background cracking quiet jokes. Shortly after, the trio fusses their way off the floor, still embattled in a war of wits and subtle jabs.
I shake my head, holding in a laugh. “And with friends and family like this, who could blame him? I’d thought about committing unspeakable acts against that fiancée of yours.”
“Ex-fiancée,” he corrects. “And I hate that she even showed up here in the first place.” His voice lowers as he leans closer. “I should have never left you in that bed by yourself. And I’m going to make up for the craziness I put you through when we get back to that bed.”
Noah grins, his eyes following the path of mine as our friends and family scurry away, expletives exploding in the air as the new three stooges argue their way out of sight. The man between my hands gives a shrug. “It could be worse.”
“How?”
“When Jase ultimately buries Lachlan for another inappropriate joke, at least it won’t be in a nearby Pet Sematary.”
I blink fast. “A nearby what?”
Noah shakes his head. “Pet Sematary? You know, the King novel? Dead family members?” He waits. “Resurrection? ‘Sometimes dead is better’?” He chuckles softly as I stare up at him blankly, none of his words registering. His grin is soft. “You have so much to learn…”
I grip him closer, loving the feel of him, wishing I could get him alone. I whisper to him only. “And I can’t wait for you to teach me.”
“Give me thirty minutes and a bucket of ice, and I’ll do just that.” His fingers curl around my waist, holding tight. “And speaking of source material…” his voice sinks to a quiet rumble. “I’ve got an idea for your next painting.”
“Oh do you?”
“Yes, I do.” He leans in, his lips hovering dangerously above mine, his woodsy scent flooding my senses. Heat curls between my legs at the nearness of Noah and his body pressing suggestively against mine. “How do you feel about nudes?”
My pulse tap dances all over the place, growing more chaotic as Noah puts his mouth to my neck and presses ever so lightly. I hold in a sigh.
“I’ve never done one before…” My voice is but a breath when I respond. “But I could be open to the suggestion.” I lean my head back, giving him greater access, my body humming with need as his lips move slowly, forming circles on my skin. “What’ll you give me for it?”
“Hmm.” Noah hums against my throat. “I was thinking… I still have your note, don’t I?”
“Are you blackmailing me? Again?”
“I like to think of it as payment, rather than punishment. And I am good for it, Miss Somerset.”
Hmm, sex at a wedding.
It wasn’t exactly the order in which most fairytales worked, but it would definitely do.
I had found my prince, after all.
Someone who knew his scotch—and when to put it down—and his way around a woman’s skin.
But most importantly, I found myself.
I’d once believed my sad little frozen-in-fear existence was enough. And in the end, it was one little note that linked my fate to a story I never wanted to stop living.
It wasn’t a love letter—this note. But it would be when I retold the tale to my eventual children.
Being Little Bear from the Goldilocks fairytale did have his perks, because instead of finding a little girl with ringlets in my bed, I was going to have the Big Bad Wolf there.
I’d leave that tiny part out from my future offspring for the re-telling.
Epilogue
NOAH
A few weeks later
There’s only one thing worse than going to a wedding rotten drunk. And that’s going to a wedding completely sober…and outrageously randy.
With little time left before Jesse Somerset’s wedding, I pace the length of my apartment’s dark-wooded kitchen, holding my phone close as I talk to my lawyer, Emily Armand, about my newly minted business partner, Barbara Fletcher of the New York finance tycoons, Fletcher Financial Group.
Their money was old, their patience was short and they too had once been bamboozled by Chris Jackson and his un-merry men of thieves.
Barbara was the president of the financial group and as classily ruthless as she was gray.
The confirmation of her partnership with Quinn Real Estate, Inc. had cleared away all of our debt, just under the two-week wire, but today?
I was lucky enough to confirm the terms with Emily, instead of the elder woman who was tough enough to shit barbed wire.
Clearing her throat over the line, Emily is the epitome of big-city sophistication as she recaps our entire conversation, her
