“We’re going to be late,” she whispered, even as her hand curled around his neck and her fingers delved into his hair.
“Shall we?” he asked, going for gallant, but, no doubt, looking like the kid from Idaho that he’d always be.
“Yes. Let’s.” The excitement in Ashley’s voice was a quivering livewire of need that jolted straight to his groin. If she even hinted at stepping out of that dress, he knew damned well they’d be late.
But now was not the time. They had some place to be, and they couldn’t miss it. Not today. People expected them, especially them, to be on time.
Fighting a primal need to undress Ashley, Tripp held her winter coat while she slipped her arms into it. While she buttoned up, he shrugged into his leather jacket. His pistols stayed home today. He couldn’t wear his two-pack holster under the get-up he’d soon change into. The small pocket pistol tucked in his inside jacket pocket would have to suffice. Tripp flipped his jacket collar up, because, today… baby, it was cold outside.
It took a half-hour to get to the chapel on Prince Street, Alexandria. After he parked his truck in the rear lot, Ashley went her way, carrying a garment bag with all her essentials. The next time they met, they’d be different people. They’d be—
“Hey!” Jameson called from the open back door Ashley had just disappeared into. “Been waiting for you. Hurry your ass up, McClane!”
“Coming,” he replied, on the run now.
Hurriedly, Jameson showed him where to change, then helped him dress. Adeptly, he straightened the front of Tripp’s pin-tucked dress shirt while Tripp stuffed its long tails into his pleated, black, dress slacks. Jameson tied Tripp’s bow tie as he slipped into the shiniest damned dress shoes in the world.
“What’d you do, spit polish these shitkickers?”
Jameson laughed, deep in his throat. “Leave it to you to call patent leather slip-ons shitkickers. Nope, just dusted them off while I was waiting for you. There. You look sophisticated enough.”
Yeah, right. How would Jameson know what he looked like?
Tripp turned to the mirror, lifted his chin, and ran a quick hand over his clean-shaven chin. They said clothes made the man. Well, that was not him in the mirror. Looked more like a blond James Bond wannabe. But he’d paint himself and go naked if it pleased Ashley.
“How do I look?” Jameson asked.
The man was uncharacteristically nervous. He wasn’t wearing his dark glasses. Tripp almost wished he were. Jameson’s brown eyes were forever unfocused, his pupils small, never dilated. But friends didn’t diminish friends, and Tripp wouldn’t say or do anything to dampen his buddy’s confidence. He cuffed Jameson’s shoulder. “Who cares what you look like? You do know this day isn’t about you, right?”
“Yes, but…” Jameson straightened his tie, then smoothed a hand down his sleeve. “A man can’t afford not to make a good impression.”
Tripp flicked a tiny string off his buddy’s lapel. “Come on, Romeo. The music’s playing.”
“You first.”
“Of course.” Even best men knew when to step up and lead. They were in their place at the front of the chapel when the real music, the here-comes-the-bride tune, started. Tripp fastened his gaze on the back of the chapel. There she was. Ashley. The woman he adored and would spend the rest of his days worshipping. His heart scampered up his throat like some bonkers chipmunk at the sight of her.
“Well?” Jameson whisper-prompted. “How’s she look?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Tripp cleared his throat. “Maddie’s beautiful—”
“I already know that,” Jameson hissed. “I need to know—”
“Settle down. Ten more steps, and she’ll be right here. Three, two… Okay, reach for her.”
Maddie stepped onto the raised dais and put her tiny hand in Jameson’s outstretched fingers. “Hey there, handsome. Are you ready to do this?”
With a quiet groan, he tugged her into his side. “Been waiting my whole life for you,” he whispered.
Man, the guy was smooth.
Tripp reached for his woman then, and Ashley folded under his arm like she’d always belonged there. At least, momentarily. The ceremony demanded a little more distance between groomsmen and bridesmaids, which Jameson had just realized as well. When Maddie separated herself from his side, Tripp escorted Ashley over to where the other maids-of-honor were standing and returned to his best buddy’s side.
Tripp’s hands were shaking, partially in support of his friend, but mostly because it should’ve been him standing with the minister, him announcing his marriage vows today. Him promising to love, honor, and obey the amazing woman who’d dropped into his life that dark Friday night. She thought he’d saved her? Not even close. It was Ashley Cox who’d turned everything she touched into gold, including him. He was just a hard, dumbass grunt who’d finally seen the light, and that light was the loveliest sapphire blue. God, he loved her.
Poor Jameson stuttered through his vows, until Maddie reached across the gap between them and took his hands in hers. His chin hit the front of his fancy ruffled shirt. He sucked in a deep breath. Something inside Jameson changed once he had a hold of his bride. His chest heaved with a full cleansing sigh. His broad shoulders squared, and he snapped to like the ninja warrior Tripp now knew he was. As usual, Jameson’s head tilted down at the woman he’d never be able to see. The crazy-in-love guy poured out his heart in the longest romantic marriage vow Tripp had ever heard. When he finished, Maddie’s eyes were bright and brimming.
She whispered her much shorter vows to him then. The minister declared, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss
