“I’ve got a better idea.” He gestured to Savannah and Erik. “How’s about your sister and her fiancé come to the wedding? We’ll make it a family affair.”
Savannah reached out and put her hand to my forearm, either to prevent me from punching him, which I desperately wanted to do again, or to connect with me.
“Dakota, I would love that,” she whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. Her being the smart one, she’d likely realized that this would be her only chance to see me get married. Not that it was a happy event. “Erik?” She questioned the quiet man at her side.
“Anything that will make you happy, Savannah,” he said, his gaze soft and gentle.
At least Savannah seemed to have gotten a gentleman. “Fine,” I snarled between my teeth. “We’ll all go.”
“Excellent!” Sutton clapped as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Shall we, friends?” He held his arm out toward the front of the building where a long white stretch limo sat idling. “Your chariot awaits, darlin’.”
“I still hate you,” I snapped, then pushed past him, hiked my dress up at the hips, clomped my booted feet straight through the exit, opened the door of the limo myself, and slid in.
“What is going on?” Savannah whispered from where we sat at the back of the limo heading to my own personal funeral. At least that’s what it felt like. My nightmare come to life. I should have been wearing black instead of this pretty purple getup that apparently I’d also be getting married in.
“Getting married. What does it look like?” I answered drolly.
“To a Goodall?” she choked, her eyes drifting to my intended who was chatting up her Viking.
“It wouldn’t have been my first choice,” I stated flatly. “You know the rules. We do not get to choose our husbands. That happens in reverse. Which is why we get paid millions for the deal.”
“You don’t have to do this. How can you even consider doing this?” She gulped, those pretty blue eyes filling with unshed tears once more.
I turned to the side and took her hands within mine. “You know why. The same reason you’re about to marry a Viking.”
“Viking?”
“The hot Scandinavian warrior god you scored.” I gestured with my chin down the line of the limo.
Her gaze flitted to Erik’s, and her cheeks turned a rosy color as she caught him looking. Except he beamed at her as though the sun had just risen on the first day of the rest of his life, whereas her expression was more guarded and shy.
The man was utterly smitten with her.
God, that made what I was about to do so much easier. At least if she was loved, or at the very least wanted, the next three years might be an adventure for her, not a death sentence.
Too soon, the limo came to a stop, and we were ushered out.
A man wearing a nice suit stood waiting at the entrance of the chapel. “Mr. Goodall, everything is ready as requested,” the host announced as we approached. “The venue has been cleared of any waiting parties and all is ready when you are.” He held open the door.
Sutton came over to me as I stared at the cute Little White Wedding Chapel with trepidation. He took my hand and brought it to the inside of his arm the way a gentleman might.
“As soon as we get this over with, the three-year timer starts,” he reminded me.
With that saving grace in mind, I straightened my spine, standing as tall as possible, lifted my chin, and nodded. “I’m ready to roll.”
Episode 20
You May Kiss the Bride
SAVANNAH
I stared in horror as my sister was handed a bouquet of roses. She hated roses. Wildflowers, sure. Sunflowers and daisies? Absolutely. Not the flower that has always been the quintessential flower for lovers, especially when she was about to marry her adversary.
My fingers fisted at my sides, and I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. “No amount of money is worth this…” I choked out on a garbled, emotional whisper.
The arm Erik had around my shoulders tensed, and he curled his fingers at my bicep. “What’s the matter, elskede?” he murmured, his chin tipping down so our faces were huddled together. My bottom lip trembled, which got his immediate attention. He lifted his hand and petted my lip, his gaze narrowing. “Talk to me?”
I cleared my throat. “This isn’t right. He’s part of the reason we’re here.” My voice shook as the misery of the situation made my heart constrict painfully.
“What do you mean he’s the reason?” His voice went from calm and collected to harsh in a second flat .
I turned in his hold and put both my palms against his muscular chest. “His family wants to buy out our farm, the land we’ve had for generations.”
He frowned, and I bit into my lip to prevent myself from crying.
“Your family farm is in trouble?” he clarified.
I nodded. “Debt up to our eyeballs.”
He shrugged. “Then as my wife, I will pay off your debts free and clear. Simple as that.”
My God. Erik Johansen was turning out to be a damn fine man. Honorable. Loyal. Ready to stick his neck out and put his pocketbook on the line for a woman he’d just met.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “We McAllisters pay our own way. It’s just our pa keeps putting us in trouble every time we get our heads even a little above water.”
Erik lifted his hand and rubbed at his bearded chin. I wanted to touch him there, feel whether it was soft or bristly.
Why wait?
We were engaged, technically.
Feeling emboldened by my logic, I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek, running my thumb across the soft hair at his chin before allowing my fingers to scratch lightly down his jaw.
Erik’s eyes closed, and he hummed in a way that almost sounded like a purr.
Jarod used to love when I’d run my nails down his scalp.
Guilt, sticky and hot, soured my stomach instantly at the realization that I wouldn’t be touching Jarod in this manner for a long, long time. If ever again. By the time I was available, he’d probably be married to some sweet girl back in Sandee who was able to give him the world. I snatched my hand away as though burned. Erik’s eyes flashed open. He reached for my wrist, then curled his fingers around mine. He lifted my palm to his mouth and kissed the center softly, which had the added effect of sending little pleasurable tingles racing up and down my arms.
“Feel free to touch me, Savannah. Any time you want.” His eyes were a mixture of melted caramel and newly grown grass. One side of his lips curved up into a crooked, boyish smile that had me grinning.
“Duly noted.” I dropped my hand and focused on my sister, whose expression was set at formidable yet venomous. Not a healthy combination to be sure. Growing up, I’d been on the other side of her fury, and it wasn’t a pleasant place to be. Sutton had it coming. Not only for what he was forcing onto our family, but with her as his wife.
He wouldn’t know what hit him. I almost felt sorry for the man. Almost.
“So what does the cowboy have to do with all of this?” Erik asked, his Norwegian accent making each word and syllable sound more interesting than the last.