Page 83 of The Best Men
But I stay focused on winding him up, speaking in a barely audible voice, just for him. “You wanted to tell them, didn’t you? That I’m the guy who made you come harder than you ever have before?”
He swallows roughly, a shudder moving through his body before he collects himself. “Yes, Asher. That’s exactly what I wanted to tell my parents about you.By the way, I got laid last night by Flip’s superhot wingman, and it was epic.” He turns to face me, his blue eyes shining with heat. “And tonight I’m going to fuck him.”
“I’m holding you to that,” I say, then cross over the grass to join Mark’s parents. “The view is stunning, isn’t it?”
“Gorgeous,” his mom says.
“Mrs. Banks, would you like me to take a picture of you and your kids for your family mantel back home?”
Her eyes light up. “Would you?”
We round up the bride, then I call Mark over, and Flip joins us too. I take pictures of the five of them with his mom’s cell, the bay shimmering behind them.
When I show his mother the shots on the phone, she brings her hand to her heart. “Those are some of the best pictures anyone has taken of me. You can’t even see my crow’s feet.”
I shoot her a questioning look. “What crow’s feet, Mrs. Banks?”
She dips her head, smiling as she pats my shoulder. “I like you.”
“Want to see the goodie bags, Mom?” Hannah asks, then she corrals everyone else into the house.
It’s just Mark and me again at the edge of the pool. “I won them over,” I say to him.
“Was that your goal?” There’s doubt in his tone.
“Yes.”
“Why did you want to? To show you could do it?”
I shake my head. “No. For Hannah. But mostly for you.”
I leave him with that thought as I head off to join Flip.
Mostly, I go so I don’t tell Mark anything more.
Like . . .I wanted to win them over because I want your parents to like me.
I just do.
26
WET T-SHIRT CONTESTS
MARK
“Daddy!”
The sound of my little girl’s voice has me dropping the knife next to the wedges of cheese. Flip and Hannah did some shopping, and I agreed to set out a spread for everyone to nibble on for lunch.
But now Rosie is here, running through the gourmet kitchen, arms outstretched. “I LOVE Florida!” she shrieks.
Oh, boy. Someone has excess energy to burn off. I grab her just as she’s about to collide with my thighs. And I lift her up and whirl her around while she shrieks again.
“Turn it down a notch, Rosie,” Bridget begs. I stop whirling and catch sight of my ex in the doorway. She looks bedraggled.
“Long line at the rental car place?” I guess.Sugar on the plane?I mentally add. Bridget never used to have trouble saying no to our daughter. But everything is a little haywire this year since the divorce.
“The longest,” she says. “Then I got lost looking for the causeway.”
