Page 8 of Resist Me (Forget the Past 3)

“Dash!” My shout catches the attention of the dark-haired man who just passed by our window. His head swivels toward us, then he backtracks, grinning wide through the glass. He gives me a nod of hello, then smirks at his fiancée as she waves and tries to mime taking pictures at the front of the boat. Dash feigns confusion, giving an exaggerated shrug, then points at his ear and mouths:I can’t hear you.

“I know you can’t hear me, you impossible man,” Paige huffs. “That’s obviously why I’m doing charades.” She turns to the photographer. “I’ll round him and the Best Woman up, and we’ll meet you at the bow in five minutes.” Paige steps away, then glances back at me. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Promise. I’ll meet you out there.”

Finally, she and the photographer leave.

Five minutes. I utilize every second to shuffle my way to the front of the boat, grabbing on to anything that appears to be welded to the yacht in the process.

This is not my first time on the wild sea rodeo. When I was ten, my family went on a cruise, and for an entire week I stumbled around that ship like I’d broken into the all-you-can-drink bar. We were supposed to ride the cruise for an entire month while my mother worked as a musical act. I’d tried to white-knuckle my way into walking a straight line but just couldn’t manage it. When my parents realized my balance was an unsolvable problem, my dad and I disembarked in the Bahamas and we flew home to New Orleans.

The guilt that came along with our early departure ate at me. Mom and Dad had never gone more than a long weekend away from each other, but I made them spend three weeks apart.

Suffice to say, she never took another cruise gig until I left for college.

I will not let my aversion to boats ruin another important moment for someone I love.

When I reach the bow, Paige and Dash are already in the midst of their shoot. They stand with a beautiful sprawling view of Lake Pontchartrain in the background. From the way the two gaze at each other, it’s no surprise they’re days away from making a lifelong commitment.

“Great! Now let’s get a smile toward the camera.” The photographer adjusts a lens before raising the camera back up.

But I guess that was too long of a pause for Dash.

“Mr. Lamont, if you would look at the camera?” She calls out again.

Then a second later. “Mr. Lamont, eyes my way, please.”

Barely a moment passes before—

“Mr. Lamont—”

“Dash!” Paige growls as she cups his cheeks in both her hands. “Stop staring at me and look at the camera!”

The groom only smirks and leans in to kiss her deeply. The photographer shrugs and starts snapping what’s provided.

“He’s hopeless,” a wry voice mutters just behind me.

When I turn to find the speaker, I have to grab onto the railing with my second hand, and this time not because of the water.

There’s a woman. A striking woman.

She has a sharpness to her. Maybe from her neatly cut hair or the straight line of her brows. Or possibly from the piercing way she stares at the couple across from us.

“Love makes you goofy, I guess,” I offer, wondering what it might be like to have her intense focus on me.

Searing. That’s the sensation when she turns her head, meeting my gaze.

Even with all the angles to her, the ones that warn me I might get cut if I step too close, there’s nothing foreboding about her smile. And with that soft expression, I spy her curves. The way her lower lip is fuller than the top. The nicely sculpted curve of her biceps that alerts me to who would win in an arm-wrestling contest.

Her. No doubt.

And then there’s the round sweep of her hips, the shape emphasized by the vibrant red jumpsuit she wears. Plenty of people wouldn’t call the one-piece outfit provocative, with fabric reaching down to her ankles and a top sporting thick, flowing sleeves. What has my mind floundering is the knowledge that all the pieces connect, which means the outfit comes off all at once.

Fantastic. I’m officially a creeper.

“How do you know Paige and Dash?” The tempting woman runs her own appraisal over me. I wonder if I meet any of her dating criteria.

“I’m the Man of Honor. Paige’s best friend.” That’s got to give me some credit, right? That a woman as awesome as Paige likes me enough to include me in her wedding party.

---