Rockaway Bride by Pippa Grant

Author:Pippa Grant [Grant, Pippa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-28T16:00:00+00:00

20

Dax

You know the only thing worse than being dragged away by a guy on stilts?

That would be being rescued by a nun.

“Put him down and the Lord doesn’t have to get involved,” Sister Mary Biceps says.

Willow’s tripping along behind her. “Hey, Dax,” she calls, and despite being held so tight by four of the stilted guys that I’m wearing myself out thrashing, that breathless quality in her voice makes my gut stir.

In the I want to make her breathless kind of way.

“Madam,” the stilt leader says to Sister Mary Biceps, “we’re merely removing him from danger.”

“What kind of danger?” Willow asks.

Because she apparently hasn’t noticed the masses breaking past the rope back on the field.

Or else she doesn’t have a clue what a crowd that size can do.

Which is equally possible.

“Oh, fuck,” I mutter.

“It’s Dax Gallagher!” a woman shrieks. “Dax! Dax! Sign my breast!”

“Sign my pussy!”

“Can I have your love child too?”

“Oh,” Willow says. “That kind of danger.”

The nun van screeches to a halt on the cobblestone just past a giant oak. Sister Mary Leadfoot cranks the window down and waves a hand. “Get in! Quick!”

“Is thees your car?” the stilt leader asks.

“It is,” I confirm.

“You shall come fight with us next time you plan in advance,” he says. He snaps his fingers, and the four men holding me set me down.

Okay, they drop me. And they snicker.

But they also line up and form a wall, blocking our view of the stampeding women and pulling their stick-swords out of their belt loops.

“Come on, rocker man.” Willow snags my hand and helps me up.

I let her, not because I need the help, but because her hand is soft, and she’s being nice, and that smile—just fuck.

With her chest still heaving from running and her cheeks blushing with the exertion, those dark lashes framing her ocean blue eyes, she’s radiant.

She’s the sun.

And I’m getting sucked into her orbit.

Sister Mary Biceps hustles us into the van. The door slams, and we all topple all over each other while Sister Mary Leadfoot peels away from the church.

I end up with my face smushed into Willow’s ass.

Which is not at all a bad place to be.

She gasps, wiggles, and if she bends forward just a bit more, I could get my nose right up—

A hand grabs me and hauls me over one seat and into the next, where I suddenly have a face full of nun crotch.

Sister Mary Freckles shrieks. I roll and flail about and finally get up, only to be pitched back onto her, my chest colliding with her knees, when Sister Mary Leadfoot takes a curve too fast.

“Slow down, Sister Hazel,” Sister Mary Basketweaver chides. “You’re going to get us all arrested.”

“The Lord forgives the penitent,” Sister Mary Freckles reminds everyone.

“Well, damn,” Sister Mary Knits-a-lot says. “We didn’t get to stay for mass.”

“Next time, you’re coming with us,” Sister Mary Biceps informs me.

“Are you sure the church won’t catch on fire if he does?” Willow asks.

The nuns all titter.

And for the first time in days, I find myself laughing.

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