Page 25 of Fore Better or Worse (Return to Starlight Bay #16)

T he same dinner cruise boat that changed my life three years ago rocks gently beneath my feet, but this time, I’m not gripping the railing. Now, I’m Mrs. Hays Granger, and the only thing making my pulse race is the way my new husband keeps looking at me as if he wants to devour me whole.

Six weeks. That’s how long it took us to plan this wedding once Hays won the U.S.

Open. Not because we were rushing, but simply because we’d already waited long enough.

And when I called to book the date—exactly three years from the day we met, smack in the middle of our birthdays—and the boat was available, it felt like the pieces falling perfectly into place.

The overhead string lights cast the same magical glow they did that first night, but now, they’re celebrating us.

Champagne flows freely and laughter echoes across the deck.

Everywhere I look, our two worlds have blended seamlessly.

Hays’s buddies are sharing stories and, from the looks of it, tongues soon, too, with my friends.

A server appears at my elbow with a familiar drink on a silver tray. "Rum and Coke with a lime for Mrs. Granger. Compliments of your husband."

I laugh, accepting the glass. "Thank you."

Barely a second later, my husband approaches with a wide smile.

"The drink that got me to follow up with you that first night," I say, lifting the glass as I smile at the memory. "I was so nervous."

He presses a kiss to my hair. "And now?"

I look at him, even more devastating than I remember. "Now I know exactly where I belong."

“Glad you finally realized it.”

“Hey, I agreed that night, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” he admits, taking a sip of his own drink, “but it was touch and go there for a little bit.”

“True.”

I look around and spot Hays’s mom, deep in conversation with Tabitha about something that has them both doubled over with laughter.

But it’s the sight of Rory, today’s best man, leaning against the bar, completely captivated by whatever my gorgeous maid of honor is laughing about, that makes me smile the widest.

“Look at that,” I murmur, nodding toward them as Hays’s arms slip around my waist from behind.

“About damn time,” he says, his breath warm against my ear.

“She’s been asking about him since that first night.” I lean back against his solid chest, the soft fabric of his mint green dress shirt smooth against my bare shoulders. “Though, I think your matchmaking skills need work, hotshot.”

His laugh rumbles through me. “My matchmaking skills got me you, didn’t they?”

“Sean’s taking credit for that.” I lift my chin toward where his brother is regaling a small crowd with the story of his proposal night, complete with a dramatic reenactment of his popping the question.

“He’s not wrong,” Hays murmurs against my temple, a smile in his voice. “Without his romantic dinner cruise idea, we never would have found each other.”

“Because I certainly wasn’t to be found at the Harbor course.”

“Come with me,” Hays says suddenly, taking my hand and swiping a half empty bottle of champagne from a nearby ice bucket as he leads me away from the crowd.

I follow without question, my heels clicking against the deck as he guides me to the exact spot where we made our impossible pact three years ago. The same railing, the same view of the harbor stretching out toward the lighthouse, the same feeling that anything is possible.

But everything else has changed.

“You’re even more gorgeous tonight than I could have imagined,” he says, his voice dropping to that velvet tone that still makes my knees weak.

“Wait until you see me later…in white.”

He hums under his breath. “Please tell me you ordered all the colors.”

I chuckle. “You remember that?”

“Sweetheart, I remember every word you’ve ever said to me.” His thumb traces along my collarbone, and I suppress a shiver. “Especially the dirty ones.”

“Hays,” I warn, but there’s no heat behind it.

“What? I’m just appreciating my wife.” The word ‘wife’ rolls off his tongue as if he’s been waiting his whole life to say it. “My brilliant, beautiful, perfect wife who looks like an innocent angel in white, but who likes things as spicy as I do.”

"About that," I murmur, pressing closer. "I've been working on something new. Something that makes that birthday letter look tame."

His grip on my waist tightens. "How tame are we talking?"

"Let's just say it captures the very thorough celebration of your major championship win. Remember? That night after the party at your house…in the bathroom?"

"Fuck," he breathes against my ear.

I trace a finger along the platinum wedding band on his finger.

"Any regrets?" he asks softly, his sea-glass eyes serious, despite the smile playing at his lips.

I pretend to consider the question. "Well, I did always picture myself having a longer engagement."

"Three years wasn't long enough for you?"

"I meant officially engaged." I lean closer, lowering my voice. "Though I do need to rewrite the ending of my second book now."

"The mystery project?" His eyes light up with interest.

"Turns out my golf pro hero and the small-town heroine he falls for at first sight end up together after all."

"Well, of course," he says with that trademark grin. "You had me as source material. Poor fictional girl didn't stand a chance."

"Modest as always," I laugh, shaking my head.

His voice drops to that velvet tone. "I hope your fictional hero makes his girl scream his name just like you scream mine."

"Actually, I've been documenting all your best moves," I say with mock seriousness. "That thing you do with your tongue? Definitely going in chapter twelve. And the way you make me beg? Chapter fifteen is going to be very educational."

He looks amused. "That so?"

"I'm nothing if not dedicated to my craft. Though I might need some refresher sessions to make sure I get all the details right."

“Good things come to those who wait,” he murmurs, pulling me closer until there’s no space between us.

“And great things,” I reply, thinking back to that first night, “come to those who take risks.”

The truth of that statement settles deep in my chest. Three years ago, agreeing to marry a stranger felt like the craziest thing I’d ever done. Now, standing here as his wife, it feels like the sanest decision of my life.

“Thank you,” he says suddenly, his expression growing serious.

“For what?”

“For saying yes. For wearing my ring. For believing in us.” His thumb traces across my wedding band. “For making me the luckiest bastard alive.”

Tears prick the back of my eyes, but they’re the good kind. The kind that come from being so completely, utterly happy your heart can barely contain it.

“You know what I realized today?” I ask, straightening his tie.

“What’s that?”

“That night when you said when you know, you know ? You were right.”

His smile is brilliant, transforming his entire face. “And now?”

I rise on my toes, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that tastes like champagne and promises and the rest of our lives. “Now, I’m ready for more adventures. As long as you’re there with me.”

“Always, sweetheart.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out something that makes my heart skip. The pressed penny, worn smooth from years of use, catches the glow from the string lights overhead. “I carried this for good luck today. Figured if it got me you once, it might keep you forever.”

I close my fingers around his, the warm metal pressed between our palms. “Forever’s a long time, hotshot.”

“Not nearly long enough.” He grins that same cocky smile from our first night. “But, speaking of growing old together, how does it feel to be almost twenty-eight, Mrs. Granger?”

“Ask me tomorrow,” I tease. “For now, you’re the old man who’s twenty-eight and married.”

“I am,” he confirms softly, his chin falling for just a minute before he meets my eyes. “And it feels amazing to be alive. And even better to be yours.”