Mike glances over my shoulder. “Update: he’s pacing like a jungle cat.”

“That’s what I say!”

“Panther.”

“Yes!”

He grins and does a dip with me in his arms, making me cling to him. “He doesn’t like it when I touch your hair, and I bet I’ve only got a few minutes left.” Glee colors his voice. “Just don’t let him hit me. I’m an upstanding pillar of the community now and have a reputation to uphold, but I’m about to get all the tongues wagging. Me and Devon Walsh and you will be all the talk when school starts. I can’t wait to call my buddies in Louisiana and tell them how I messed with him . . .” He trails off. “The song is almost over. I mean this sincerely: if you decide he isn’t the one, call me. I’m not interested in picket fences, but I’d love to see you at my door.”

A week ago, I would have been interested.

“I need a friend,” I tell him frankly. His hand skates to my lower spine and presses me against him.

“I’m a good friend. Remember that.” His other hand slides inside my hair.

“I . . . what are you doing?”

Mike lowers his head, his lips inches from mine. “Trust me. Close your eyes and think of England—or Devon.”

Realization hits, and my startled gaze finds his. “No, Mike, no—”

“The lady said no,” comes a deep voice behind Mike as a hand clamps on his shoulder. Devon wrenches him away from me and scowls, biting out his words. “Little handsy there, man. Not cool. Just walk away. While you can.”

Caveman. Can’t say I’m mad about it.

My throat dries as Devon puts me behind him and never takes his attention off Mike, who’s currently digging around in his pocket and murmuring something about the chance of a lifetime.

Mike’s brown eyes twinkle as he sweeps them over Devon. “She used to write my name in her diary with little hearts.” He gives me an apologetic look. “Cynthia told me.”

“Not shocked,” I say.

“We’re just friends,” Mike says in a sly tone. “Like you and her. Only I’ve known her longer.”

“Touch her again, and I’ll punch you,” Devon growls.

“You have no idea how exciting that drama sounds, but unfortunately I’m a teacher. Now, before I go”—Mike holds up his phone, and in a movement that reminds me of his athletic grace playing baseball, he takes a step toward us, putting his face next to Devon’s—“I just need some proof.” He tells me to smile, and I grimace as he takes a selfie of the three of us, then flips around and moves back, pocketing his phone. “A Maserati,” he says while grinning, then waltzes off, making a beeline straight to Cami.

Devon turns back to me, eyes ablaze, all hard muscle and barely leashed temper. “Did you let him touch Red?”

It’s too much—the champagne, Cami’s sly barbs, Mike’s antics, Devon’s obvious jealousy—and I giggle. “He was messing with you.”

“Did you want him all over you?”

I lift my chin, my gaze defiant. “I believe it’s apparent who I want.”

The moments tick by, the air thickening. “I need to go say hello to everyone,” I say and turn, but he grasps my hand, pulling me back to him, pinning me with a mesmerizing look.

His lips part. “Giselle—” He pulls me into an embrace, his arms around my waist as he leans his head down to my ear. “There are things to say, that I need to tell you, but I can’t say them here, not with everyone, your mama, watching.” He runs his nose up my neck, his fingers brushing against the back of my dress, sliding under the lace as my stomach flutters. His hands drift and dig into my hips, his obvious arousal against me as he presses a deep kiss to my neck. Need flashes over me, curling inside as I melt into him. His scruff edges down my throat, and I gasp.

He groans. “Dammit, who cares where we are. I want you, Giselle. In my arms. In my bed. And I . . . I won’t walk away.”

My heart swells. “Oh.”

He searches my face. “I’m close to dragging you out of here right now. Tell me not to.”

“To fuck?” Heat flashes over me.

His lips twitch as he tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear. “Bet on it, baby. Do what you have to do with your guests, but later . . .”

I straighten my hair and dress, and my wobbly legs find the strength to turn and leave, past a gaping Mama and Aunt Clara and Elena. I catch Jack’s eyes, and in spite of his obvious glower, I send him a smirk and keep going.

I bump into Mr. Pig—er, Lance—and smile brightly as I shake his hand and thank him for coming. “Mama adores you,” I tell him. “You should call her. She can be a bit domineering, but some men like that.”

His eyes light up, and he glances over at Mama and heads that way.

“One score settled,” I say under my breath and wave as I see Myrtle and John arriving.

Chapter 20

DEVON

“You should have called me,” Jack says as we sit at a table under the tents.

“Didn’t want to bother you on your honeymoon,” I reply, my eyes on Giselle as she flits around the room, greeting people and chatting. At some point she went inside and put her hair back up, and she appears cool, as usual, but I know what’s underneath: a hot-blooded female with a luscious mouth and long legs—

“Are you even listening to me?” Jack asks in a dry tone, pulling me back to the current conversation. “What’s the plan for your dad?”

“Lawrence is checking with local bookies to see who he owes,” I tell him.

Lawrence and I had a quick meeting before coming to the party—but part of me was still thinking about Giselle. I can’t stop this, us, any longer. I’ve been pushing her away for days, turning off that internal voice in my head, the one that wants her. She’s going to be mine. Having her with me at my dad’s was a turning point—her acceptance, her kindness, her words that made my heart seize.

You are the best person in all my universes.

How often does a man find a woman like that?

My eyes find her near the food, chatting with Myrtle. She’s a delectable vision in her sexy black dress, her pearls resting in the hollow of her throat, those “Fuck me” heels on her feet. I picture her in nothing but creamy skin, splayed out—

Jack makes a tsk noise, and I look back at him.

His eyes are hard. “Look, let’s get this out of the way. I don’t approve of you letting Giselle stay with you. You need to get her out of the penthouse.”

She’s not leaving.

“I don’t have to say it, do I?” he adds.

“Say what?” I snap as Giselle sets down a piece of birthday cake and makes her way toward the house. Most of the crowd has left, and my leg bounces under the table. How much longer until we can leave . . .

“Dev. You and Giselle. You can’t go there.”

I swing my gaze to him. “I get why Giselle was angry when she found out what you told me. It’s not cool when your friends try to manage your life.” A grunt comes from me. “In a way, this is all your fault. After you told me, she was pretty much all I could think about.”