Page 3 of Tangled Souls

Until her.

Oaklynn.

Our woman.

While we’ve been making Oaklynn our center, our heart, we haven’t taken her all together. I’m not even sure when we agreed to wait, but it happened with silent understanding.

Tonight, that is all changing.

“I’m about to throw her over my shoulder and run away with her, whether you fuckers follow or not,” Baker growls as he comes up next to me and nods toward the bartender as she delivers the whiskey I didn’t even need to ask for.

“What can I get for you?” The question is purred by the bartender as she leans over the bar toward Baker as if we’re not at our fucking wedding reception.

I glare at the woman, but her focus is completely on Baker. Fucking hell, we were all announced as the grooms.

Was she not paying attention? Or does she just not care?

Baker’s whiskey eyes darken as he looks over the bartender. She must think it’s a look of appreciation because she practically preens. It takes a special person to ignore the disgust in a man’s eyes, but she’s pulling it off without an issue.

I would cringe if I didn’t have such great seats for the entertainment.

“This is my wedding reception,” Baker’s voice is ice cold.

The woman scoffs and rolls her eyes before folding her arms under her tits to press them up while leaning fully against the bar. “It can’t be real. The four of you with only her?” She shakes her head with disapproval. “You should be able to find a little fun,” she tries to sound seductive but falls short.

Way fucking short.

“You’re out of fucking line,” Baker growls.

I can feel the anger coming off of him. The fact that this woman hasn’t backed off and apologized profusely makes herextremely stupid or just that desperate. I’m not sure which would be worse.

While taking a sip of my drink, I watch, enthralled, as a hand tipped with red fingernails appears over Baker’s shoulder. I almost choke on whiskey when Oaklynn’s face appears, her eyes trained on the bartender with a focus which should have the woman rearing back and putting her head down.

“Baker,” our woman purrs, “is there an issue over here?”

She may be directing her question at Baker, but her eyes never leave the woman. At least the bartender has the sense to stand up and drop her arms, no longer trying to make her tits spill out of the top of her uniform.

“Nope,” Baker pops the p, “no issue on my end. I’m more than capable of popping an over inflated ego and sense of self-worth.”

“Oh,” Oaklynn coos, “I know you are, but who doesn’t want to enjoy a show on their wedding day?”

She still doesn’t look away from the bartender who has now taken a few steps back. It’s the first smart thing she’s done.

Our woman practically glides around Baker to stand in front of him. “Have a little class,” she tsks while looking beyond disappointed at the bartender. “Hitting on the groom, no matter if there is one or more than one, during the reception? It’s just trashy behavior.” She narrows her eyes and leans forward, her voice dropping to a menacing tone, “Don’t you have work to do?”

The bartender scurries off only to be almost instantly replaced by an older gentleman. “Can I get you anything Mrs. Volkov? Maybe some champagne?”

Oaklynn’s smile turns kind and generous instead of predatorial. “I’d love a whiskey, and it looks like my husbandneeds one as well.” She nods her head toward Baker because the flirty bartender, who has no idea she’ll be blacklisted before the reception is even over, didn’t do her job. “Mixing champagne at this point will push me right over the line into messy.”

The man chuckles under his breath before quickly delivering our woman’s drink along with Baker’s. I can’t tear my eyes away from her as she takes a sip. My cock is so hard that it’s become painful.

The only thing preventing me from reaching down and adjusting myself is knowing the guys will give me shit for it. Talk about never hearing the end of it.

“Zolotse,” I murmur, “you have no idea how fucking sexy that was.”

She winks at me and leans back into Baker’s chest. He runs his nose up the length of her neck not helping how turned on I am as I watch her shiver in response.

“Little Bee,” Baker murmurs against her skin, just loud enough that I can hear, “you called me your husband.”

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