Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Right until the moment her ex, Nate Spear, sidles up behind her, putting an arm around her waist.
Nate, who ghosted her without so much as a “see you later,” break-up text.
Nate, who stares right through her when they pass on the street, acting like she’s invisible in a way she confessed drives her absolutely insane.
Nate, who she once thought was her person, the man who would deliver the happily-ever-after she’s wanted for so long…
Before I realize it, I’m on the move. I aim myself for the dance floor and Tessa’s now startled face.
I may not be good enough for her, but neither is Mr. Grabby Hands.
I’m usually a peace-loving guy, but sometimes you have to inter-fucking-vene.
So, I do. I inter-fucking-vene.
By the time Tessa turns, shooting Nate an incredulous look over her shoulder, I’m beside them. “Let her go,” I say, fighting to keep my voice low. I don’t want to cause a scene at my sister’s wedding, but I’m not about to let this man get away with touching Tessa without her permission.
Not after everything he’s done.
Nate’s bleary eyes widen my way, but the arm around her waist doesn’t budge as he slurs, “Wassup, McGuire? I didn’t know you could dance.” He snorts. “Thought you had too big a stick up your ass.”
“Let her go,” I repeat, prompting Tessa to hiss, “It’s fine, Wes. I’ll handle it.”
“See?” Nate flashes a smug, drunken grin my way as he tugs her closer. “She’ll handle it. Tessa can take care of herself.” He shoots a pointed glance down to where her bottom is pressed tight to his hips before looking back at me. “She’s a big girl.”
And that’s it. That’s all it takes to make me lose my damned mind.
Before I know what I’m doing, Nate’s dress shirt is balled in my hands. I charge across the room, dragging him with me until I reach one of the barn’s large support beams and slam him against it. I’m dimly aware of gasps of shock from the other guests and the band screeching to a halt, but it doesn’t stop my mouth from growling, “You touch her again, and I will destroy you. That’s it. That’s the message, Nate. Now take your drunken ass home, sober up, and start thinking about all the ways you’re going to make sure you stay away from Tessa in the future.”
He blinks, his dark eyes clearer than they were before as he sputters, “What the fuck’s wrong with you, McGuire? She’s my fucking girlfriend.”
“We haven’t dated for almost two years, Nate,” Tessa says, appearing beside me. “You’re drunk. Go home and email me an apology tomorrow morning. I’m open to being friends if you are, but the ghosting and grabbing has to stop. You also owe Melissa an apology. She invited you as a favor to her cousin, who is friends with you for some unknown reason, and you abused her trust and generosity.”
Nate hangs his head, muttering, “Sorry.”
I’m feeling proud of her when Tessa shifts her focus my way, her glare sharpening into a deadly weapon as she whispers, “And you… You’re even more ridiculous. I don’t need your protection, Wesley. I don’t need anything from you, except for you to leave me alone.”
My hands release Nate’s shirt with a spasm as my jaw drops.
Before I can respond, Tessa points a firm finger at my face and continues in a voice too soft for anyone else to hear, “That’s it. Enough of this embarrassing nonsense. I’ll stay on my side of the barn and you stay on yours. If you ruin another second of Mel’s wedding because of me, I will never forgive you. Never.”
She spins and walks away, smiling widely and waving to the band. “It’s fine. We’re all good. Just a case of too much wine and not enough sense. Play on, guys. We have a wedding to celebrate!”
The lead guitarist nods and lifts a hand, counting the band in for a cover of “Come on Eileen,” the anthem of Irish-American people everywhere. Anyone with more than a drop of Irish blood in their veins is helpless against the song, compelled to jump, shout, and belt out the chorus with abandon whenever it’s played.
The McGuires, being about as Irish as you can get without having shamrocks growing out of our ears, are easy prey to the tune’s magic.
In less than a minute, the party is hopping again, all my nearest and dearest bouncing on the dance floor while the old folks cheer them on from their tables and the various pets run around barking and oinking and…skunking with their happy people.
I have no idea what sound a skunk makes—Bella, Christian’s unconventional pet, is a pretty quiet lady—but the rest of the menagerie holds nothing back. Keanu Reeves, the dog, is barking his head off, Kyle the turkey and his family are warbling up a storm, and my cousin Theo’s pig appears to be singing along as she prances back and forth in front of the stage.