Read Flame (Fire on the Mountain #2) for Free Online

let’s go get you hitched.”
    At six o’clock sharp, the three of us follow Lady Hitler out of our dressing room and into the ballroom, taking our places at the front of the grandiose room, next to the minister. A sea of faces mixed with enough blue and white flowers to start a small nursery greets us when we turn around to wait for the ceremony to begin.
    I try to scan the crowd, looking for familiar faces of our friends from the motocross tour who are here to celebrate with Gunner, but before I make it to the third row, the music begins and Gunner’s parents start making their way down the aisle to be sat in the front row. Following my aunt and uncle is Emmy Sue’s mom, escorted by Emmy’s brother, and then the music changes as Meghan, the first bridesmaid, begins to make the trek toward us, exactly like we all rehearsed last night.
    Once she’s in her designated spot, I refocus my attention to the back, aware it’s Tori’s turn to strut down the aisle next. Except when the big wooden door opens, a familiar sassy-mouthed blonde appears in her place, wearing the dress Tori was supposed to be wearing, carrying the maid-of-honor bouquet.
    Sucking in a surprised breath through my teeth, her bright blue gaze locks on mine immediately and a wicked grin skirts around the corners of her mouth. Then, she lifts her chin proudly in the air and glides forward with the grace of a ballerina, every eye in the room staring at her. But hers never leaves mine.
    I shift as my clown pants become uncomfortably tighter and drop my hands casually in front of my crotch to hide the evidence.
    Her grin morphs into a smirk.
    Today might not be such a bad day after all.

SATURDAY, JUNE 16
    BEING IN SOMEONE’S WEDDING THAT you haven’t seen in five years is strange, to say the least. Forty-eight hours ago, I wasn’t even invited to this lavish affair. And by lavish, I mean oh-my-God-Emilia-I-knew-your-parents-had-money-but-this-is-fucking-off-the-chain kind of affair.
    The minute I stepped into the hotel lobby of the Ritz-Carlton earlier this afternoon, it felt like I’d fallen down the rabbit hole, directly into Wonderland with Alice and the Mad Hatter. Pocket watches, top hats, and croquet sets adorned the brightly colored room, where wrought-iron patio tables were set up, each equipped with a vintage tea set. Twinkly white lights hung down from the ceiling, adding the final touch to the awe-inspiring ambiance of the space.
    And then, when I met Emilia in the bridal suite which was fully decorated like the inside of Alice’s cottage, she told me the lobby would only be used for the cocktail hour between the ceremony and the reception, and I couldn’t help the stupefied expression that fell over my face. Somehow, I managed to keep my manners and not ask what kind of investment this wedding was, but seriously . . . what the fuck happened when they left Breckenridge?
    Now, here I stand outside the grand ballroom, the fanciest hotel in all of Summit County, dressed in a cerulean blue, floor-length chiffon dress, holding a bouquet of fragile indigo orchids and delicate white lilies, waiting for my turn to enter the ceremony. Chuckling to myself, I think about what a whirlwind of a day it’s been, and the wedding is just beginning.
    When Emilia called in a hysterical panic this morning, I wanted to help her out in any way I could. Little did I know that she’d want me to stand in for her ill maid-of-honor, but since I was planning on attending the wedding solo as it was, I figured why not? It’d be a fun way to be included in all the excitement of the festivities . . . and Lord knows I’m never one to turn down a good party. Realizing that would also mean more time around Mr. Button-Fly-Best-Man himself, who I haven’t been able to get out of my head since our meeting, definitely didn’t hurt either. So, I figured I’d help the girl out—and I’m referring to both Emilia and my pussy with that comment.
    Inching closer to the