Page 83 of Hooked on Trouble

He frowns. “Took off to the bathroom and never came back. Probably snuck in to see Lily.”

Or maybe not. Sawyer’s family could be solely responsible for Vancouver’s rising divorce rate. Their inability to commit and the fallout have chased him since he was a kid. He’s as devoted to Lily as Kolton is to Shay, but chances are his feet are on the ice-block side of cold. I nod to Kolton and slip out to find Sawyer, scanning the room as I go. Still no Raven. But flashes by the bar hint at a camera. As much as I want to see her, I need to make sure Sawyer isn’t face-first in a toilet.

He isn’t, but it’s just as bad.

The few stalls are empty, and he’s gripping the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror, his skin as pale as I’ve ever seen it. The man looks about to puke. “Should I bring the garbage closer?”

His shaky laugh doesn’t inspire confidence. Neither does his suit. I didn’t know they made tuxes in dark purple, but I’m not sure they should. Leaning down, he turns the tap on and splashes his face with water. “Is the building spinning? Because it feels like my legs might buckle.”

I lean into the wall. “Last I checked, we were stationary.”

He blots his face with a paper towel and tosses it in the trash. “What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve wanted this for months. I should be ecstatic.”

“You’re human, and your parents did a number on you growing up. Plus, your extended family is highly dysfunctional. I’d say what you’re feeling is pretty normal.”

“Thanks for the shrink session, Dr. Downer.” He tugs at his tie.

“Getting married is a big deal. If you were your usual obnoxious self, I’d be worried.”

Sighing, he rubs his eyes. “I better not hurt her.”

“You’re damn right, you better not.” Just like I better not push Raven away again. If I lose her, I’ll likely claim Sawyer’s spot, green and noxious and gripping the sink.

“If I hurt her,” he says, “I give you permission to paintball me in the nuts.”

“I might do that anyway, but glad to see you’re taking your commitment seriously. Do I need to stage an intervention, or are you good?”

He shakes out his body, drags his hands through his hair, then smiles at his reflection. “Fuck it. I got this. For the next sixty years, I will devote my life to making sure Lily knows how much I love her.” Face pinched, he turns my way. “I think your sappiness rubbed off on me.”

These assholes and their jokes. “Get your ugly mug outside before they send in a search party.”

Speaking of search parties, it’s about time I find a certain dark-haired beauty who’s inked herself on my soul. A woman who’s only had a taste of my romantic side. The guys can bust my balls all they want, but I’m more than ready to confess my feelings to Raven, tell her I’ve loved her since Aspen. If our talk goes as well as I hope, she’ll witness me in all my sappy glory.

The harpist is still strumming, the room now twice as full as it was. Mrs. West catches my eye, and I give her a thumbs-up. Waitstaff pass champagne as people enter. No, not waitstaff. Creatures. Dressed in slim black suits with slicked hair, the men and women carrying trays look like something out of Star Trek. Their cheekbones are raised, their colorful brows enhanced. It’s the type of makeup Josh will learn. Pride swells at the thought.

Then I see her.

The deep blue of Raven’s dress matches my handkerchief. Her strapless top hugs her curves, her long skirt flows to the floor, and something on it catches the flickering light. Every time she moves, it shimmers. And my throat burns.

If there’s an exotic creature in this room, it’s Raven.

A fresh bout of nerves keeps me rooted. She’s cagey at the best of times. Too worried her heart will get trampled, she keeps it under lock and key. She let me in twice, neither time ending well. My fault. Her fault. If we end up arguing, she might decide we’re not worth the drama.

Her camera is at her face, the flash strobing over the crowd. She floats around, capturing candid moments, even sitting on the floor to change her angle. I’ve never seen her so happy. Or so stunning. I itch to drag the zipper down the back of her dress and watch all that fabric pool at her feet. I want to kiss every inch of ink on her skin and fill in the gaps with my teeth, branding her. I miss having her at my family dinners and fighting over music.

Love this intense isn’t something you toss away at the first sign of trouble. Or the second. You argue, you make up, then you come back together, stronger. If Raven pushes me away, I’ll only fight harder. I stand by the side wall and watch her through the mingling guests.

Black hair. Sharp bangs. Full lips. Sultry movements.

Then her lens swings toward me, and her body jerks. She freezes, camera in place, and I stand taller. You’re mine, I want to say. Instead I release a shuddering breath.

She approaches slowly, never lowering her camera. She’s taken photos of me before, usually when I’m not looking, but we never got around to those naked pictures she’d talked about. I imagine this is how posing for them would feel: Sexy. Intimate. She works the lens and presses her finger until she’s a foot in front of me. There’s glitter or something on her chest and arms, making her skin glow. My skin feels too tight, hers looks too delicious.

I press two fingers on top of the lens and lower her camera. “You’re beautiful.” There’s glitter on her face, too, and colored makeup around her dark eyes. There’s probably a fancier way to tell her how gorgeous she is, but I’m at a loss.

She smiles at the handkerchief in my pocket. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“As good as I did in that Hawaiian shirt?”