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“You need to fix your hair.”
Is she freaking serious? I grab her by the elbow, dragging her away from Tiller and River. “I’mnotdying my hair for a wedding you’re forcing me to be a part of.”
Alexandra stares at me, her bony face tensing. She can’t believe I’m going against her. “Your hair doesn’t go with the bridesmaid dresses.”
“Then count me out.” I push the packet back at her. “I’m not doing it.”
Her anguish almost overcomes her control. “You know I need you or the groomsmen will be off.”
“Well tell Vander I’m not walking with him and he can sit out too.”
“Damn it, Amberly.” She presses her hands to her face convulsively. “Stop being like this.”
“You stop. I’m not dying my hair.”
We stare, locked in a battle of will. If Ava were here, she’d intervene at this point and try to make us hug it out, but she’s not, and we’re forced to collide. I catch Tiller’s eyes on mine when Vander comes up behind me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Hey, girl. Looks like we’re dates this weekend.”
Oh no. Tiller’s jaw tenses, his eyes flaring in anger. His protective side stirs and when Vander asks, “Where’s that little girl?” And looks around for her.
Behind us, Tiller picks River up for the first time and holds her. Then she asks to be on his shoulders.
I’m so caught up in the image of him holding River, I forget everything else around me and stare at the two of them. She rests her chin on his head. How precious is that? My heart soars, my pulse racing. I don’t know the expression on my own face, but the one on Tiller’s screams dominance. He’s letting everyone in this small lobby, not only is River taken, I am too because the next thing I know, his free arm is around my shoulder and he knocks Vander’s arm aside.
“You’re not her date this weekend. I am.”
River fists her hands in Tiller’s mop of crazy hair. “Yee-haw!”
It’s like she thinks she’s riding a horse, but it’s enough to at least break up the awkward silence in the room. Alexandra pushes Vander away and regards me. “Fine, you don’t have to change your hair, but please be on time for the rehearsal dinner at least. You were supposed to be here three hours ago.”
“She’s here,” Tiller notes, staring down Alexandra. “Relax and pull the stick out of your a—”
I slap my hand over his mouth. “We’ll be there.”
Looking at him, I mouth, “Knock it off.”
He bites at my hand, glaring at me.
I drag both Tiller and River upstairs, the key in my hand Alexandra gave me in my packet. There’s all kinds of crap in the envelope and I hand it to Tiller.
He carries River up to the room, telling her to duck every time we go through a low hanging beam.
All the guestrooms at the inn are different from one another. They have queen beds, bathrooms, and little sitting spaces, but I have no idea how all three of us are going to fit in that bed.
Luckily there’s a sofa-bed and River’s already digging out her stuffed animals from her bag and arranging them one by one. Tiller glances at me, then the bed, but his words don’t match the playful yet possessive expression he holds as he asks, “How well do you know Vander?”
I shrug, the burn of my cheeks not from the question, but from the idea of sleeping in the same bed as Tiller. “Not well. His parents are friends with mine. He was one of Cullen’s friends.”
At the mention of her dad’s name, River looks up at me curiously, but then returns to her animals.
Tiller leans in, whispering, “He touches either of you and I’ll break his fucking hand.”
Look how fucking tense I am. Whose idea was this? I should never be at a wedding. Asking me to a wedding is like asking a priest to a strip club. It’s against my religion, if I have one.
But I go, not because Amberly asked me to, okay, maybe a little bit because she asked me to, but mostly to make sure every other guy here kept his hands off my girl. Or girls. It should be plural, shouldn’t it?
“This is a bad idea, isn’t it?” Amberly points out as we’re walking down to the conservatory, sensing my mood is off since meeting Vander. And while we’re at it, what kind of name is Vander?
I don’t say anything, but I do grunt at her and reach for my cigarettes. We walk into the room that looks like the forest threw up in it. I light my cigarette, keeping my eyes locked on Amberly’s grandmother staring at me in horror that I’m smoking in the conservatory.