"I don't think we're supposed to do that," I say, checking my messages. Bailey and Libby are texting me, pinging me one right after the other. "Bailey and Libby will be here in an hour for hair and makeup. If they can get here. They suggested that guests arrive on dogsled. Do you think the wedding planner really got horse-drawn sleighs?"
"I hope that's the only thing she got," Caulter mutters.
"What?" I ask. "Wait. What does that mean? What aren't you telling me?"
"You know how Ella can get a little bit…enthusiastic," Caulter says.
"What do you mean by enthusiastic?" I ask, my voice dark. "If this wedding becomes a three ring circus…"
"Well, she wasn't trying to get a bear as the ring-bearer, at least," he says, half under his breath.
"I heard that," I squeak. "She's not getting a bear. That is not happening."
"She didn't get a bear," Caulter says. "I absolutely promise."
I narrow my eyes, looking at him. "What. Did. She. Get."
"She was talking about a tiger cub," Caulter says. "I told her you would hate the idea."
"A freaking tiger?" I squeal, my voice going up an octave. "Why would she get a tiger to carry the rings down the aisle? Your mother's sister's kids are doing it!"
"She couldn't get the tiger," Caulter says. "Remember, she's just trying to help. It's how Ella shows she cares. And I'm sure she wanted the wedding to photograph well."
Now I'm going to hyperventilate. "Photograph well?" I ask. "She did not call in outside photographers. Did she? If there are paparazzi at the wedding…"
"No paparazzi will even be able to get through the snow," Caulter says. He stands behind me and slides his hands over my shoulders. "You're tense. You should let me relax you."
"Damn right I'm tense," I say. "There's like three feet of snow in front of our door; the wedding planner thinks she's going to cart the guests over here in horse-drawn sleighs and snowmobiles; and you just told me there might be a bear or tiger at the wedding."
Caulter spins me around on the stool I'm sitting on, so that I face him, and he takes my face in his hands. "This is our wedding day," he says. "And it's going to be completely perfect, no matter what happens. I love you, and I'm marrying you today, come hell or high water. Or ten feet of snow. Now, I think right now what you need to do is come with me into the shower and…come with me."
He slides his hand up the inside of my thigh underneath my nightshirt, the tops of his fingertips reaching the crease of my bikini line. And despite the fact that I think I may well have an aneurysm thinking about the very real possibility that my wedding day will be a complete catastrophe, a tingle races through me at his touch.
"You're such a poet," I say, as his fingers find their way up farther, stroking my clit.
"Wait until you hear my wedding vows," Caulter says.
"Oh God," I say, as he finds my entrance with his finger, slipping easily inside. "Don't say anything inappropriate."
"I'm Caulter Sterling," he says, covering my mouth with his. When he pulls back, he looks at me with mischief in his eyes. "Would I ever say anything inappropriate?"
I sigh audibly, and not just because of what Caulter is doing with his fingers between my legs. "That's exactly what I'm worried about."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CAULTER
It's almost four, and Ella and her wedding planner have pulled it off. Even I have to admit that they've done a pretty good job. It's still snowing. In fact, the news is calling it the biggest snowstorm of the century for December. The snowplows have had a tough time keeping up with the snow, but true to her word, the wedding planner has been shuttling guests by sleigh back and forth from the hotel down the road to the lake house.
Ella texted me an hour ago:
The sleigh was a great idea! The guests think it's fabulous!
Two minutes later, I got another text from Ella:
I have a big surprise. You're going to love it!
When I texted her back asking her what the hell she did, she didn't respond. Knowing Ella, that bodes poorly, but I shrug it off and remain optimistic.
After all, today I'm marrying my best friend and the love of my life. What the hell could go wrong?
My phone buzzes and I get a text from Kate.
Are you ready to marry me? You're not getting cold feet, are you?
I type out my reply.
It'd be a little late for cold feet, seeing as how I already knocked your ass up.
My phone buzzes again with Kate's response.
Your spawn is trying to kick her way out of my uterus. You don't think she'll fall out of my vagina while I'm walking down the aisle, do you?
That could be awkward.
I chuckle, except the mere thought makes my heart race.
He's still incubating. He can't fall out yet.
P.S. I fucking love you, Princess.
My groomsmen barge into the room with a bottle of scotch, pouring glasses and passing them around.
"Scotch to calm the nerves," Bryan says. "And also because you'll need a glass of that so Joe can tell you what a fucking idiot he is."
"I'm not an –" Joe starts.