Page 2 of My Mountain Man Boss
A deep male voice calls out. “Are you ready, princess?”
Izzie breaks into a grin. “You can come in, Dad. We’re decent.”
The door pushes open and Mr. Laker strides into the room.
He’s not gray and hunched over or worn by grief. Mr. Laker is tall and immaculate in a tailored suit with a crisp white shirt pulled taut over the muscles of his chest.
Silver flecks streak through the sides of his dark hair, and his clean-shaven face is clear of lines. If anything, he looks younger than the grief-stricken man I last saw six years ago.
He holds out his boutonniere to Izzie. It’s a single white rose to match the bouquets we’ll be holding. “Can you…”
He stops when he sees me. His lake blue eyes rest on mine, and there’s a zap of electricity in the air.
Heat emanates from him as his gaze racks over my body. My chest heaves up and down as my breathing gets heavy. His gaze lingers on my over-exposed cleavage, then drags up to my face, pausing on my blood-red lips.
“Dad, you remember Amy.” Izzie takes the boutonnière and slips the pin out from the back of it.
Mr. Laker’s gaze returns to my eyes, and as eye contact resumes, my knees go weak and a pulse throbs between my legs.
“Amy?” It comes out as a question spoken in a deep purr.
Hearing my name on his lips makes my insides flip. My stomach clenches, and I grab the side of the dresser for support.
When did Mr. Laker become so hot?
I’m glad Izzie’s distracted so she doesn’t notice I’m having hot flushes over her dad.
Her dad.My best friend’s dad, I remind myself. Not someone to get hot and horny over. Especially when I’m only in town for a week.
Izzie’s talking as she pins the boutonnière to his lapel, but I have no idea what she’s saying. Time has frozen, and there’s no one in the room but me and Mr. Laker.
“I arrived this morning,” I manage to stammer.
Izzie finishes pining the boutonnière and looks up at her dad. For the first time, he drags his gaze away from mine.
His expression softens as he looks down at his daughter. One thick finger loops under the pearls around her neck. “They look good on you.”
He gives a sad smile, and it jolts me back to earth. He’s still Mr. Laker, my best friend’s dad, and the widower with the broken heart.
Not at all someone to lust after. He offers an arm to Izzie and leads her out of the room and to the chapel. I pick up my bouquet and follow.
2
LANDON
Amy Moray is no longer the brittle teenager who wore too much eyeliner and used to get Izzie into trouble when they were kids.
They thought I didn’t know they snuck out of the house. I had someone on my team follow them. The most they ever did was climb the ridge behind our house in the dark and drink a few of my beers while overlooking the valley.
Amy was a troubled teen back then, but she was good for Izzie when Carol died. I was too caught up in my own grief.
But Amy is not that troubled teen anymore.
Every eye in the room is on my daughter, the beautiful bride. But I can’t drag my gaze away from the bridesmaid. The dress clings to her hips, accentuating her womanly shape, which I don’t recall Amy the teenager having. She’s blossomed into a beautiful woman with curves in all the right places.
The dress is cinched at the waist, hugging her curves and falling just above the knee, showing off the tanned skin of her legs. But it’s the top half that makes my mouth dry.
The dress is too tight, causing her breasts to push up out of the top and revealing an almost indecent amount of cleavage, two plump mouthwatering mounds.
