Read On the Way to a Wedding for Free Online Page B

pushing. Now she was pressing her sleeve-covered hands to her forehead.
    Pro made his exit, closing the door behind him. And, knowing Pro, he’d give them a little time before he carried in the cooler.
    “Who is that guy?”
    “My lawyer.”
    “Your lawyer?”
    “Well, he’s my friend. And he does some work for me.”
    “What are you doing?” She tried to push him away again. “Let go of me.”
    “Take it easy, tiger. You’ve been sleeping with me all night.”
    She quit struggling. “I have?”
    “Yeah,” he said, still not releasing her. “I’ll carry you to the bathroom. You can have the shower first.”
    “I can walk.”
    “No. You can’t.”
    “Yes, I can.”
    “All right. Have it your way.” He kept holding her, watching her green eyes. “Hop to the bathroom. But give me my shirt first.”
    She looked down at her shirt. His shirt. And she noticed the buttons.
    “I didn’t want Pro seeing you . . . like that.”
    She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. “Could this get any worse?”
    “Probably.” He let go of her and sat up. He could hear her moving behind him, rearranging the shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Then she was sitting next to him. After a moment, she stood up, then sat down again, holding her head in her hands.
    “Did those peaches have . . .”
    “Brandy,” he said. “Apparently, Aunt Tizzy makes a lot of interesting recipes.”
    Toria pressed her fingers to her forehead and groaned. Soft and wavy, her hair fell forward, covering her face.
    He leaned over and picked up her foot. She flopped back on the couch. Cradling her ankle, he unwound the loose tensor and set it aside. Her ankle was solid purple, but not too swollen.
    “What’s wrong with going to a hospital?”
    “I―I don’t . . .” She was pressing her hands over her eyes.
    “Let’s deal with one thing at a time. Would you like a shower? Can you stand up?”
    “Yes.” She sat up, carefully, then stood. Not so wobbly this time. Then she hopped and squeezed her eyes shut. “It hurts my head.”
    “I thought so. Come on.”
    He lifted her easily, brought her to the bathroom, and set her down. It was light in there now, with the light from the small window.
    “Stand still. I’ll get your clothes.”
    He did. Her shirt, and her jeans, and her bra. The lovely lacy white bra. He set her clothes on the shelf beside the stack of towels.
    “My shirt?” He waited.
    “You want your shirt?”
    He turned around, facing the door.
    With a brush of soft cotton, he felt the shirt land on his shoulder and felt her give him a little push out the door. Then the door closed behind him. He pulled the shirt off his shoulder and brought it to his face.
    Warm . From her sleeping in it. And a scent like . . . spring. Fresh and real.
    Pro cleared his throat. He was at the door with the cooler in his hands, looking over at the stove. Looking like he hadn’t seen what Ryder was doing.
    Slipping the shirt on, he decided his mind was playing tricks on him. Why else would he be smelling his shirt? He needed to focus, and to make breakfast.
    · · · · ·
    Half an hour later they were sitting at the table in the cabin’s main room. Ryder had made bacon and eggs and fried toast. Pro had rebuilt the fire and made coffee. And Toria had been a big help and poured the orange juice. Her purple foot was propped up on the chair across from her. Ryder sat beside her and Pro sat across from him.
    “I don’t need to go to a hospital.” Her hair was drying in cute little ringlets and she looked worried.
    Pro looked unconcerned. Like he was at a normal Tuesday morning business meeting.
    “Then what am I supposed to do with you?” Ryder asked her.
    “I’ll get a ride back to Calgary with your friend. He can bring me to my apartment.”
    “Not good enough.”
    “ Not good enough? ”
    “I’ll bring you to your parents’ house,” Ryder said. He scooped up the rest of his eggs with a piece of toast. “Except your