The Wedding Band by Cara Connelly

Author:Cara Connelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

“I’M SORRY,” SHE said again when he stepped out on the porch. “I . . . You . . .” She threw up her hands. “Okay, I admit it. You’re irresistible. Are you happy now?”

“Do I look happy?” He bared his teeth in a snarl that looked half serious. “If I’m so irresistible, why aren’t we bouncing on the trampoline right now?”

“We should talk first. Get to know each other.”

“And then we can do it?”

She smiled, noncommittally. If he still wanted to do it after she confessed, she’d strip on the spot.

“Is there a path along the shore?” Best to have this conversation away from sharp objects in the kitchen.

“Yeah.” He stumped toward the beach, and she followed behind him. She couldn’t blame him for not being a good sport. Even she was frustrated by the mixed signals she was sending.

It wasn’t her usual style. She liked to flirt as much as the next girl, but she wasn’t coy, and she wasn’t a tease. When she was interested in a man, she didn’t play games.

But with Kota she’d been hot and cold, her body and brain each wrestling for control. Whenever her body had her brain on the ropes, she let Kota see how she felt. When her brain got the upper hand, she retreated like a silly virgin.

It was as frustrating for her as it was for him. Maybe when the big reveal was behind them, they could start over. Maybe he’d still want her.

Or maybe not.

Kota led the way to a ribbon of trail. They walked it in silence, winding along the varied shoreline, around rocky outcroppings, across a sliver of beach. In places the path curved away from the sea and into the shadowy woods, a whole other world, only to emerge moments later into brilliant sunlight.

Again, Kota proved he couldn’t hold onto a bad mood. Even if he’d tried, the dogs wouldn’t let him. Cy bounded in and out of the water, shaking all over them each time. Tri rode on his shoulder, enjoying a bird’s-­eye view.

The ocean breeze washed over all of them. The sun splintered off the sea. And before long he was holding her hand and humming off tune.

“What’s that song?” She couldn’t make it out.

“ ‘Crazy.’ You don’t recognize it?”

“Um, no. It goes more like this.” She sang a verse.

“Okay, I got it.” He tried humming it again.

“Patsy Cline’s rolling over in her grave,” she informed him and sang it all the way through.

Then he mangled “Stormy Weather” until she set him straight. She cut off “Misty” at the first sour note.

By the time she caught on to his game, they’d covered miles at a gentle pace. “You’re a jerk,” she said. “And I’m a dope.”

“A dope with a gorgeous voice.” He kissed her knuckles resoundingly. “If you don’t want to sell it, how about donating it? The shelter’s having a fund-­raiser. They’re bursting at the seams. Too many animals. Too many misfits.”

Cy chose that moment to drop a stick at their feet, his jagged tongue lolling gaily over mangled lips.

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