Page 78 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

Through some quirk of fate, the woman who’d inspired it was standing in front of him now. Wearing a dress he wanted to rip off her with his teeth.

Swallowing heavily, he made a production of checking his watch. “I guess I should get going. I’ll see you at the end of the ceremony. You and Kyle can ride with me to the reception.”

“Sounds good.” Emma beamed at him. “I’m so excited! This is going to be so much fun.”

Garrett forced a smile that quickly became genuine at her enthusiasm. They had only been married for a few weeks.

“It’s early days yet,” he said aloud. “There’s plenty of time.”

She looked confused for a second. “Days? More like a couple of hours. And that becomes less true every minute. Now scoot. You can’t keep George waiting.”

She waved the brush in the direction of the door. Saluting, he went down to meet the car.

Chapter Thirty-One

GARRETT

What the hell is that kid doing?

Garrett forced himself to keep his seat as he watched Kyle flail, taking a wild swing that was probably supposed to be dancing.

The wedding reception was in full swing. The oceanfront grand ballroom of the Caislean San Diego was a three-hundred-person venue, but Rainer had wanted a more intimate celebration so he’d invited less than a third of that number.

The elegant room spanned the entire length of the floor, boasting views of both the ocean and the city. The Pacific-facing side had the traditional dining tables and dance floor, while the other end was set up as a chic conversational lounge serving cocktails and coffee against the jeweled backdrop woven from the city’s lights.

He was parked on a couch in the lounge area, watching Emma try to corral Kyle on the dance floor.

She was having a hard time with it. The kid was all elbows on a good day. Add alcohol to the mix—and someone unwisely had—and it was shaping up to be a disaster out there.

He has to stop trying to do the Renegade.Or whatever the TikTok that was supposed to be.

Good Lord, the boy needed help. Dance lessons, followed byweight training until he put on at least twenty pounds of muscle. It was like watching a scarecrow dance.

A hand clapped Garrett on the shoulder. “Did your wife bring a date to this wedding?”

He turned to shoot Ian a dirty look. His friend had recently returned from the complex protection detail he’d been coordinating for some obscure royal house.

Garrett had introduced Ian to his blushing bride at the church, just before the ceremony, which thanks to Georgia and Judy’s extensive planning had been short and sweet.

Georgia had been flawless in a long white dress designed by one of Judy’s friends. Rainer had been so proud and so damn full of joy Garrett couldn’t help contrasting it to his farce of a first marriage.

And maybe my second.

“Kyle is her work bestie.”

Ian laughed and twitched up his dress pants before sitting down next to him. “Bestie? Are we in high school?”

Garrett shrugged. “Emma wasn’t the one to christen him that. I think that was Stella.”

Ian took a healthy swallow of his glass. “And who is Stella? Don’t tell me—the future Mrs. Chapman the third? Or is this like a sister-wives thing where they run concurrently?”

Gross.“You know you’re old and slow when you’re relegated to supervising Auric missions instead of participating in them. That’s when a man gets sloppy.”

Ian snickered, hitting his rock-hard abs hard enough for him to hear the slapping sound. “Sure, it is.”

Signaling a waiter, he asked for a second Cognac, his drink of choice. When it arrived, he handed it to Garrett. “Looks like you need this more than me.”

Sighing, he took the glass. “I’m fine. This just didn’t go the way I thought it would.”

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