Brynn couldn’t argue there. She’d never expect Jamie to drive in this even if he did sober up, and a free night in Amarillo would make up for the charge Jamie would most likely incur for canceling his reservation so late. Brynn rationalized that they wouldn’t be taking advantage of this nice couple since karma would win out in the way of them still paying for a room, even if it wasn’t the one they were staying in.
“Come on in the kitchen, and we’ll fill out some minor paperwork before we get you checked in. And this is a community residence, so don’t be shy around us.” Dora nodded to Brynn’s hand, still resting in Jamie’s. “I remember what it was like when we first got married. Couldn’t keep our hands off each other. A little kiss here or there won’t get anyone’s panties in a bunch.”
Dora smiled, and Brynn forced her expression to mirror the other woman’s despite the fact that she’d just said the word panties. But Dora didn’t move or say anything after that. She just—waited. And when Brynn’s eyes locked on Jamie’s, she saw that his were wide with recognition.
It had been ten years. Ten years and five months, but who was counting?
Brynn. Brynn was counting. Because it had been ten years and five months since she had thought she was going to kiss one boy but ended up kissing another. And here she was, about to do it again.
She pulled the afghan tighter, but the shaking wasn’t caused by her cold, wet clothes. Not even by the tequila still coursing through her blood. In fact, she wasn’t shaking at all.
She was trembling.
Chapter Seventeen
He could do this. For a free room, and probably a really nice one at that, he could give Brynn a quick peck and be no worse off. He did it all the time. Sure, it was usually on the forehead or the cheek, but this didn’t have to be any different just because they were playing bride and groom and had enough tequila and beer in them to last the rest of the evening.
He just had to stop thinking about it. Because they had a small audience now as some of the other guests started filing toward the door to see what the fuss was all about. An audience waiting for a show from the newlyweds, and they were failing miserably at playing the part.
Yet he hadn’t forgotten Brynn’s admission—finding him sexy on more than one occasion, which meant not just today and not just because of the alcohol.
Damn, even in his state he was still hesitating, still trying to figure her out before he made any sort of move. He had to stop worrying about what would happen when he hit the ground and just fucking leap already.
So he did.
It was meant to be quick. They’d pass it off as being shy in front of the onlookers. He even half expected Brynn to flinch when he lowered his head toward hers, deer in headlights as she was. But she raised her chin, a tacit agreement that they were going to do this. A wet curl was plastered to her cheek, and he hooked a finger under it, tucking it behind her ear.
She shivered as his hand came to rest on her neck. It had to be from the cold. But the hair that stood on end on Jamie’s arms? That had nothing to do with temperature. There was no turning back now that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his face. And when he leaned in to make contact, he heard her breath hitch, and he was sure of one thing—this kiss was going to ruin him.
The first thing he felt was water. Brynn’s hair was so wet, it was dripping down her face, her bottom lip catching the most recent drop, and Jamie had to steel himself not to flick out his tongue and lick it right off. This was his best friend, the girl he had loved since he was sixteen, and she was on her way to another man regardless of any admissions she made under the influence. His mouth would stay closed, and closed it was when he kissed the girl he pushed away so many years ago.
It was Brynn who did the unthinkable. She returned the kiss, soft and sweet. But when she should have pulled away, taken a bow because Show’s over, folks, she parted her lips instead and waited for him to join her for what must be the grand finale.
He only had so much resolve, and she had cracked right through it.
Yep, this was going to ruin him, but he was going to enjoy the short ride while it lasted.
Jamie’s tongue dipped inside where it met hers, and damn it if she didn’t let out a little moan. His eyes flew open long enough to see her drop the bouquet to the floor, and then her arms were around his neck, and she was kissing him like she did that night on her couch senior year, but this wasn’t seventeen-year-old Brynn emerging from a fever haze. This was grown-up Brynn, a woman who knew exactly what she was doing and who, with each flick of her tongue against his, was taking his long-protected heart and trampling it to dust. Everything he wanted—everything he’d been afraid to want for ten fucking years—was in his arms right now.
It was the applause and catcalls that reminded him that what was probably the biggest moment in his life was being shared with a group of total strangers, and the two of them parted.