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“Mmmhmm. I get the impression he was too nervous to ask you to listen directly.”
I stared at the side of his face, trying to wrap my head around all this. Reed didn’t talk to strangers. He barely talked to his family. Miles had wormed his way in on Sunday, badgering Reed in his signature way, teasing him and bombarding him with questions until he cracked. Not a lot, but more than I’d gotten out of him in ages.
And now, this song.
“Thank you,” I squeezed out. “I love it so much. Don’t tell him I got choked up or he’ll never let me hear another one.”
He shot me a crinkly-eyed grin. “No worries. I’ll play it cool for you.”
I clutched his forearm. “I was twelve when he was born. He’s my brother, but a little bit my baby too.”
He nodded. “I got it, Cupcake. I’ll be careful with whatever he gives me, and I’ll share it if it needs to be shared, all right?”
“I trust you, Spreadsheet.”
It was surprising to admit it, since for me, trust had always been hard won. Miles had wormed his way under my defenses too, and I hadn’t even noticed it happening.
The house was far beyond any place I’d stayed before. It blended with the mountains and Evergreen trees of Breckenridge, with its rustic, log-cabin-esque interior, but the inside was pure luxury. In the living room, there was a two-story, gas-powered stone fireplace. With the flick of a switch, it ignited.
Miles and I got the house ready for everyone to arrive. He put welcome packages in each of the bedrooms, claiming this was one of his duties as Weston’s best man. I peeked in one, spotting fuzzy socks with this weekend’s date and location embroidered on the ankle. There was nothing dutiful about that, but if he wanted to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, I’d let him have it.
Coming from Miles Aldrich, it was more endearing than I’d been prepared for.
For my part, I brought a charcuterie board fit for a big party and a couple dozen cupcakes. I might’ve gone overboard, but when it came to feeding people, that was me. “Too much” was just right. I definitely inherited that philosophy from my mama.
Miles came up behind me as I was tweaking the prosciutto roses. His chest grazed my back, and he gripped the edge of the counter on either side of me, arms paralleling mine.
“Are you ready to be my girlfriend all weekend?” he asked.
I turned my head, looking up at him. “I think I can handle it. It’s not like we’re going to be expected to fuck in front of everyone to prove we’re real.”
He went still at my back, his breath catching on an inhale. Then, the weight of his head fell on my shoulder, and a rumbling groan from his chest rattled my spine.
“That’s a relief since I’m not into sharing,” he uttered, sending goosebumps down my limbs.
“You don’t have to share me. I’m all yours until this is done.”
He let go of the counter to brush my hair behind my ear. “You didn’t say anything about our bedroom.”
My tongue was stuck to the roof of my dry mouth. I had to swallow a few times to get it working again. “What would I have said?”
“There’s only one bed.”
The corners of my mouth twitched, matching the twinges in my belly. “I expected that. It’s a big bed.”
“As long as you’re comfortable.”
I leaned my shoulders against his chest. “I think we both know we’re playing a role in front of the others. When we close the door of our room, we’ll go back to being just us. It won’t be a problem.”
He trailed his knuckle along my jaw. “Nope. No problem for me either. I’ll build a pillow wall so you won’t be tempted to venture to my side of the bed.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not snuggly.”
“What? I don’t believe that.” He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me right off my feet in a tight squeeze. “Look at you being snuggled.”
Then his face was in my hair, sniffing and growling, all while swinging me back and forth, my legs flopping like a rag doll. I…giggled. He had me giggling as he manhandled me.
“Is this not snuggly?” he teased. “I don’t feel any prickles coming from you. It’s all softness and light.”
