Secrets of the World's Worst Matchmaker - Piper Rayne
I’m at the bar, waiting for my strawberry lemonade with vodka, when the guests at the Bailey baby shower start yelling about cars and hospitals and kids.
I look over my shoulder and Colton’s weaving through chairs and tables with a concerned expression. I roll my eyes and turn back around. Thankfully, before Colton reaches me, the bartender hands over my drink. I’m only three sips in before Colton snatches it out of my grasp and tosses the plastic cup in the trash.
“Hey, I paid for that,” I say.
“It’s open bar. Savannah just went into labor.”
“Good to know.” His hand grips my upper arm and I attempt to wrench it back with no success. “Shouldn’t you be with your fiancée?” My tone holds more of a sneer to it than usual.
“She had to go into the office. Mr. Beecher’s dog is in labor.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re more qualified than her.”
He huffs and leads me out of Denver and Cleo’s airplane hangar, where the triple baby shower is being held because my two sisters and sister-in-law all got pregnant at the same time. And my brother Denver is now engaged, so I have another soon-to-be sister-in-law. Harley, my other sister-in-law, is now pregnant for her fourth time.
“I have a lot of sisters-in-law,” I say. “They can handle it.”
Colton looks at me. “You’ve had more than I thought. I have no idea why you hang around that Trey Galger.” He shakes his head and scowls. Colton rarely scowls.
My heels push into the gravel, my balance wobbly for a minute before I can really anchor down. “Don’t scowl. You smile. That’s why all the ladies love you.” I pat his cheek.
His scowl turns into a smile, but his grip on my arm loosens at the same time.
I feel myself pitch over, my mind spinning. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.”
Colton has seen me through a lot, and unfortunately, he’s held my hair back so many times that he’s like the MacGyver of keeping me from getting puke in my hair.
“Hold on.” He moves us off the path.
When I see green, all the acid from the lemonade erupts up my throat and I throw up all over a bush.
“You should thank your buddy Trey for all the vodka he fed you today,” he says, his fist holding back my hair.
“Please, just take me home,” I mumble.
My cheek slides and grinds against the glass from the window being raised and lowered. I blink a few times and glance around. Colton’s truck is parked at the curb on Spring Street.
It was touch and go there for a while—I had my head out the window like a panting dog.
“You could have just nudged me awake,” I grumble.
Colton chuckles. “What fun would that be?”
I sigh. I don’t have the energy to roll my eyes.
“Don’t breathe in my direction. Your breath is noxious.” He waves his hand in front of his face, laughs at his own damn joke, and leaves me alone in his truck. I sit in solitude for ten seconds before he springs my door open. “Let’s go, you’re home.”
I step down onto the running board and grab a hold of the stability bar to climb out. “Stop holding me back,” I tell Colton, swatting my arms in the air.
“Jesus, Juno, your seat belt is on.”
I look down and see that he’s right. “Anyone can make that mistake.”
He bends down into the cab of the truck, his neck dangerously close to my lips. I inhale the scent of his soap and a smell that is just Colton. He’s never been big on cologne except that short phase of junior high when he discovered girls. Unfortunately, the smell of men’s Polo cologne will remind me of my first kiss forever.
“Did you just sniff me?” he asks, unclicking the seat belt and releasing the pressure on my chest.
“No.” I shake my head, dodging eye contact. “Come on, Colton, unless you want me to puke in your truck.”
He moves out of my space and I step out. My heel catches something on the sidewalk and my face meets the concrete.
“Oh, you are in rare form tonight.” Colton swoops me up into his arms as though I’m his bride, but I’m not. He has a bride now. Or a bride-to-be at least.
“I always knew you’d make a good husband,” I say, touching his stubbly five o’clock shadow. He leaves the house clean-shaven and returns hours later with scruff most guys try for nowadays. That’s just one of the many things I