Her thick rose sash tied in a big bow, with little matching roses sewn onto her tulle overlay, makes her the most beautiful baby flower girl. Well, not baby, she’s five now…as she likes to remind me every day. Her hair is perfect, with two tiny braids lying on top of her head, one on each side, coming together in the back and tied with a matching rose ribbon. As I approach her, she looks up at me and all I can see are her trademark dimples. She stands up and hands me the flower. “It’s for you, Mommy. You can put it in your hair, then you’ll look like a real princess.”
I accept her gift and slide it into my hair, right above my ear. “Better?” I ask her.
“Much better! Now you’re as pretty as Cinderella!” She hugs my leg, and then looks up at me with her huge brown eyes, brows pressed together in obvious frustration. “Mommy, when are you gonna marry Blake? We’ve been here forever! I’m ready to go home!”
Blake belts out a ridiculously loud cackle from behind me and I can’t hide my own smile as I run my finger down her cheek, then graze the top of her nose. “Well, I guess we should get started then, shouldn’t we?” The girls let out an excited shriek, jumping up and down. I happily point them in the direction where the guests are starting to take their seats. “Go to Harlow!” I yell after them adding, “And don’t run!” before one of them falls. That’s all we need right now, one of those little scratches that in their mind is a huge, gaping wound which will only be healed with a band aid and ice cream.
Not that I ever do that.
Turning back to Blake, I glance up at my sexy husband-to-be and reach for him. He saunters towards me with all the confidence in the world and takes my hand into his.
Just when I thought he couldn’t get any sexier…
As soon as I turn to lead us towards the lake, I’m suddenly whipped around and my body folds itself into Blake’s as he wraps his arm around my back. Dipping me gently, he brings his face to mine. My eyes once again find his perfect mouth, my lips parting to give him entry. He plunges right through them and when I feel the warmth of his tongue I let out a moan. Holding onto the lapels of his jacket, I pull myself closer to him, raising my body until my chest is flush with his. My tongue enters his mouth on a massive exploring expedition, claiming every single inch as my own. When I hear him groan in response, I figure it’s time to stop because I can feel his excitement, which reminds me that we really need to discuss the mandatory one-hundred foot policy during the nuptials.
He brings me back to a standing position and ends the kiss with a light, feathery soft peck to my lips. “Wow,” I sigh, still trying to catch my breath.
Blake raises his hand to move one of the curled sections of my hair off of my face. I reach back to make sure my bun in still intact, and find it’s still holding strong. Not that I’m surprised. Harlow put a whole package of bobby pins in the thing.
After a few seconds of gathering ourselves, Blake offers his arm, and I loop mine through, hugging his massive shoulder as we walk together.
“Last chance to back out,” I say smiling up at him.
“Nah,” he simply states. “I’ve been waiting to call you mine my whole life, and tonight I plan on showing you just how mine you are.” The air is sucked out of my lungs as I come to a standstill.
He says nothing else, just leans over to give me a sensual kiss on the neck before leaving me on my own to practically orgasm in front of our family and friends. I can hear him laughing as he walks away and a grin breaks across my face.
Jerk.
The ceremony went off without a hitch, surprisingly. Other than thoughts of literally tearing the clothes off of my husband entering my mind every other second, there were no other real distractions. The girls were the perfect flower girls, and the path to my new happy ever after was completely covered with beautiful red, dark pink, and white rose petals.
As it should be.
In typical bride and groom fashion, Blake and I were to be brought to the reception in a white limousine…alone. However, after the girls spotted our form of transportation, I knew we would have company. And I didn’t really mind…then.
Now, however, it’s a different story. Every part of Blake’s body is calling to mine. Every brush of his arm against mine, every graze of his hand on my leg, the delicate way his fingers caress the nape of my neck; every movement ignites a scorching, pulsating wave of want and desire that I just really need to extinguish. With him. Like, now.
Not helping with my overall frustration level is the damn window that keeps going up and down, up and down, up and down. I love how my children act like they’ve never been in an automobile before. It never ceases to amaze me. Maybe I should let them venture out in public more often.
“Mommy, where are we going? I thought we were going home,” Rylie whines, dragging out the last word.
“We’re going to a party,” Nycole answers with an exhale, the whining obviously grating her nerves as well.
“A potty? For me? Are there going to be presents?” Rylie excitedly starts bouncing up and down on the seat. I put my hand up to my mouth as I’m suddenly overcome with nausea due to the vigorous, extremely unnecessary movement.
Fire: extinguished.
“A party, Rylie. A par-ty.” Nycole answers back. “And not for you. For Mom and Blake. And no presents for you. Those are also for Mom and Blake.”
“Oh.” Rylie stops bouncing and looks up at me, batting those mile-long lashes. I know what’s coming before she even asks.
“Can I help you open the presents, Mommy?” She adds a tilt of her head and deepens her dimples with a smile. I know this technique. I’ve seen it used many times on both grandparents and unsuspecting strangers.
“If you stop bouncing on the seat, I’ll let you open all of them. How about that?” I hear Blake laughing under his breath while running his fingers across my bare shoulder.
Pilot light: lit.
“Aww, how come she gets to open all the presents?” Kyndall asks.
“I’m sure we can find a couple for you and Nyc to open somewhere.” I give her a quick wink and the frown on her little face transforms into a worry-free smile.
“Mommy, you already said I could open all the presents.” I exhale a deep breath knowing this is about to turn into a thirty minute argument and screaming match, most likely ending up with no one opening any presents.
Before I can answer, Blake chimes in, “How about we divide the presents and everyone gets to open the same number? That way no one gets left out.”
“Okay.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nycole and I exchange wide-eyed glances. Well, that was easy.
The limousine slows to turn into the parking lot where our reception is to be held, an upscale bar that Blake and Trace just purchased together. A business investment they called it.
Sure.
Blake ended up selling his business in Colorado, turning a nice profit and did, in fact, take over his father’s ownership of Morgan Construction. When he’s not scouting out the new duplex sites they’re bidding on, I can usually find him here, working on the bar. He just finished gutting the interior, replacing the bar tops with a beautiful dark, oak wood and the floor with tiles of a similar shade. A real man’s bar. It’s turning out beautifully, just as all of his work does.