Since You Happened by Holly Hall
Chapter 13
The bridal suite is a whirlwind of activity the next day as two hairstylists and a makeup artist move among the bridal party, working their magic to transform us into more glamorous versions of ourselves. I vaguely wonder what Landon’s up to back in our cabin—the bridal party and their dates are all staying in a group of quaint cabins on site at the venue—but there’s plenty going on in this room to keep my mind occupied. Mostly.
Next, we don our sage-green gowns and begin the process of taking bridal party photos. It’s overcast outside, but there’s no sign of yesterday’s rain, and Mallory has managed to stay calm and collected thus far. The photo process is lengthy as it is without having bad weather and an anxious bride to contend with. There’s no hint of the worry I saw last night on her face, and though we make a beautiful bridal party, she outshines us all in her mermaid-fit, organza gown.
Just as we’re enjoying the last of the champagne, the wedding coordinator peeks her head into the suite and announces that they’re ready for us to begin lining up. Mallory squeals and grabs my hand, and I squeeze hers back and give her a reassuring smile.
We line up beside our designated groomsmen outside the open doors of the little white chapel. The place has been transformed into a garden of hydrangeas and roses, and lanterns line the aisles, casting the chapel and its guests in a romantic glow.
Tyler and I take our walk and part ways just before the altar, and I take my place in line with the rest of the bridesmaids. While Jenna walks the aisle, I have about thirty seconds to take in the entire scene of smiling onlookers, when really I just want to catch sight of Landon. The music fades and the doors are closed for a few moments to await the bridal march, and that’s when I see him.
He’s observing the proceedings along with the rest of the guests, so I get a few moments of shameless staring in before he notices me. I liked his hair before, but when I see it now, styled and fresh from the haircut he got this week, I decide I like it better this way. The shorter length of the sides gives him a polished look, so unlike the unruliness of his curls when we first met. Combine that with the slim-fitting navy suit he’s wearing, and I nearly melt right there in my stilettos.
The doors open to admit Mallory and her father, and when all the guests stand, he finally meets my eyes. While everyone else turns to watch the bride, his gaze stays on mine. One side of his mouth lifts up in a sexy grin, and his eyebrows raise salaciously. I flush, and my smile grows that much broader.
The ceremony is short and sweet, and as previously planned, we all raise our bouquets while the groomsmen raise their fists as Tom and Mallory kiss for the first time as husband and wife. I’m sure that photo will be blown up to an eight-by-ten and placed on the mantle. Or at least, it should be.
Scott and I manage to avoid each other during group photos, helped in part by the size of the bridal party. And he still hasn’t taken off those ridiculous glasses. I’m grateful when the photos have all been taken without any awkward moments occurring, and I spot Landon chatting off to the side with someone who looks like another date while he waits for us to finish. When I join him, he offers me the extra glass of white wine he’s holding.
“Making friends?” I ask after the guy pats Landon on the back and walks over to join up with Olivia, another bridesmaid.
“Of course, it’s one of the best parts of a wedding.”
“Besides the random hookups?” I joke, remembering our conversation in which he persuaded me to bring him along.
“Well, I’ve already got the best looking date here, so I don’t have to worry about that part,” he says, pulling me closer by the waist and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I have to admit, his dedication to this whole date thing is pretty impressive. I’m sure we make a believable couple to anyone who’s watching.
“You do look beautiful, by the way,” he adds, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity normally reserved for when our clothes are off, or about to be. I wave him off good-naturedly and lean up to where my lips graze his ear.
“Think anyone noticed I’m not wearing panties?” I ask innocently, before doing a little spin. Landon just bites his lip and turns away from me, taking a swig of his beer. “What are you doing, Farrar? Hors d’oeuvres are this way,” I tease him.
“And to think, I spent the whole ceremony wondering what color they were,” he growls, and I tug him by the elbow toward the expansive covered porch serving as the cocktail area.
I’m not sure my feet have ever felt better than the moment I slide out of my heels during dinner. The short time seated at our table is absolutely heavenly for my aching soles, but my hopes that it will last just a little longer are vanquished when dinner and the father-daughter dance fly by and the music begins. With Mallory as a bride, I won’t be able to stay seated for long before I’m yanked onto the dance floor.
“I need to be good and drunk before the real music starts,” I announce, standing and holding out a hand for Landon’s empty glass.
“Want me to come with you?” he asks, preparing to stand.
“That’s okay, you got all the others.” I gesture for him to stay, and make for the bar at the corner of the reception hall.
“Two whiskey and Cokes, please,” I tell the bartender, leaning my elbows on the bar top to relieve some of the pressure on my feet. As I’m waiting for our drinks and humming along to the music, I become aware of a presence just behind me. When I turn my head slightly, I catch a glimpse of Scott waiting for the bartender to return.
“Long time no see.” He catches my look, leaning forward on the balls of his feet when he speaks.
“Yeah,” I say shortly, focusing on the bartender.
“You look . . . really good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I scoff, silently willing the man to return with my drinks so I don’t have to converse for long.
“Just a Coors Light, please,” Scott says to another bartender. He turns back to me, propping himself up with one elbow on the bar top. His tie is still flipped over his shoulder from dinner. “I’m not surprised. It’s just strange how much someone can change over five years.”
How much someone can change after freeing themselves from an oppressive relationship, I think, but I bite my tongue. I gave him an earful when I found out he cheated on me. I would be angrier at myself for wasting any more of my breath on him.
“It is impressive, right? Thank God we all grow up. Anyway, good seeing you.” I accept my drinks from the bartender and turn to make my way back to our table. I feel a grip on my elbow, and the abrupt change in momentum makes my drinks slosh in their glasses.
“Wait—how about a dance? For old time’s sake?”
I want to overturn what remains in the two glasses over his head, and I would if it didn’t mean I would have to return to the growing line at the bar for refills. Just before I can answer, a hand grazes across my lower back and grips my waist.
“There you are. Now, are you finally going to dance with me, or do I have to beg some more?” Landon says in my ear, just loud enough to overhear, before dipping his head to kiss the side of my neck. I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning at the perfection that is this moment.
“Oh, who’s this?” he asks when he draws back, as though he’s just noticed Scott, and he smiles innocently between the two of us.
“Landon, this is Scott. He went to my high school. Scott, this is Landon—”
“Blake’s boyfriend,” Landon finishes confidently, extending a hand. Scott grasps it after a beat, rendered speechless by Landon’s abrupt arrival. I’m a little speechless myself after that introduction. It feels like my lungs are struggling to catch up to my racing heart.
“Great to meet you, Scott. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I’m trying to sweep the most beautiful girl in the room off her feet,” he says, steering me back toward the table. He takes my glass from my hand when we arrive at our seats, setting them down before taking both my hands and leading me toward the dance floor.
I allow him to lead, because I have no idea where this is going. I didn’t even know he enjoyed country music, but he places my hand on his shoulder while his grips my waist, and he sweeps me into a two-step without missing a beat.
“A country fan? I would’ve never guessed.” I follow Landon’s steps around the floor, changing directions and speed on cue with the slightest changes of pressure from his fingers at my waist. We wind through other couples, and when he finds open floor, he spins me around, which sends my long curls fanning out around me along with my gown.
“Well, you don’t know much about me,” he answers next to my ear when he draws me close.
I fight the urge to ask him whose fault that is. I think we are both well aware. “I do know that you have impeccable timing,” I murmur, and his arm tightens around my back.
“I have great instincts. Or I could have seen him watching you from down the table, standing when you did, and following you over to the bar. Our friend Scott is pretty transparent.”
I draw my head away from him, pegging him with an accusatory stare. “I wish I could say the same about you.”
He smiles down at me for a moment before shaking his head. “Little Blake. I think we both know that isn’t true.”
Luck is on my side when it comes to the bouquet toss, as everyone is too wrapped up in the fanfare to notice Landon and I ducked close together in our seats, getting sufficiently drunk and making a running commentary on the other guests. When one of the bridesmaids catches the bouquet, Landon plucks a blush-colored lily from the centerpiece and hands it to me. It’s sweet, but it’s moments like this that fog my brain and make it hard for me to focus on why we’re really here together.
When Mallory first asked me to be a bridesmaid a year ago, I immediately said yes, though not without a second thought. I love Mallory to pieces, but the thought of rummaging up enough excitement to celebrate anything at that point was difficult to wrap my head around. As Landon and I leave the reception hall with a flock of other guests, I’m filled with gladness to be here. I’m well aware that an unexpected, unpredictable, and super sexy date may have helped.
Outside, the clouds that have held off raining all day finally let loose in sheets, and we watch beneath the porte-cochere as Mallory and Tom make their grand exit, passing between lines of sparklers to the awaiting Rolls Royce and leaping inside. They wave to all of us as it pulls away, then kiss passionately while everyone cheers them on. Landon shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it around my shoulders, drawing it tightly around me. The jacket probably looks comically large on me, but it smells of him and holds some of his residual warmth, so I’m not complaining.
“Ready?” He asks, glancing from me to the downpour.
“Yes. No, wait. Just one sec.” I slip out of my shoes and reach down to grab them. Landon takes my bouquet and offers me his free hand. With a shriek from me, we dart through the rain and down the winding flagstone path toward the cabins.
When we arrive on the little porch, rivulets of water drip from our hair, and we’re both sodden to the bone. We’re breathless from laughter and our mad dash, but our eyes meet and his gaze darkens, and my giggles fade from my lips. I think I hear someone approaching from behind me, but I’m too distracted to worry about it as Landon pushes wet tendrils of hair behind my shoulder, pressing his lips to my jaw.
He doesn’t even attempt to keep his voice down when he says, “I can’t wait to get you out of these wet clothes.” I look around, wide-eyed, to see what poor soul overheard Landon’s dirty talk, praying it isn’t someone’s sweet, old grandmother.
The only person in sight is Scott, hurrying past. Whether to escape the rain or the foreplay that’s undoubtedly about to continue, I’ll ever know, but I don’t care enough to worry about it, and my lips collide with Landon’s before he can even get the door open.
We stumble inside, pausing just long enough for Landon to toss the room key onto the side table and for me to drop my shoes and bouquet on the carpet, before he slides a hand to the back of my neck and kisses me hungrily. His hands skim over my shoulders, pushing his jacket off me and onto the ground. Then my back meets the door, and I’m pinned there between him and its hard, unyielding surface, helpless against the onslaught of kisses and sucks he’s scattering down my neck and across my chest. His lips and tongue are warm in contrast to the raindrops and the cool air of the cabin. I keep my fingers in his hair, enjoying the thickness of it, and he runs his hands up my arms to my wrists and pins them above me against the door.
The AC unit kicks on and I shiver automatically, despite the heat of the moment. At the sight of my chills, Landon draws back, rubbing his hands more insistently over my arms.
“We forgot to turn the AC off,” I say to him, catching my breath.
“I have a better idea,” he says, taking my hand and leading me toward the bathroom. I don’t register what he means until he leans over and switches on the water in the shower. I quirk an eyebrow at him. This is a better idea.
I turn toward the mirror and hold my hair off my back to await his next move. Warm fingers graze the skin at the top of my dress as he finds the zipper and pulls it down. I watch him in the mirror where his eyes are focused on my back, feeling the fabric parting and the trail of his fingers down my skin. I shudder again, but not from the cold. Still facing the mirror, I adjust my body as he peels the fabric down, making it easier to separate the wet organza from my skin.
“Well, you were not lying,” he murmurs, in reference to my missing panties.
“Have I ever been a tease?” I counter.
When I turn, focusing my attention on the buttons of his shirt that’s nearly see-through in its dampness, his hands find my waist and hold me close to him. I purposefully slide each button through the holes slowly, a teasing smile forming on my lips as I go, but Landon just stands there, poised and watchful, like a predator relishing the moment before the pounce. I push his shirt off his broad shoulders and he tugs his arms from the sleeves, then my hands drop to his pants.
Once every last garment has been left in a puddle on the floor, Landon lifts me to where I can wrap my legs around his waist and walks us into the shower. I’m not sure how we don’t run out of hot water, but I’m almost positive I’ll have marks from the grids of the tiles indented into my back for weeks to come.