The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) by Suzanne Halliday Page B

I’ve said since the subject turned to sex.”
    With a hand on his heart as if she’d shot him, he chortled. “Give a guy a break, would you? Never been in a for-real sex shop.”
    “Too scared?” Samantha lightly taunted.
    “Men do not shop,” he drawled with manly affront. “We order. It’s only women who need the endcap displays and sale signs.”
    “Guilty.” Her face split into a wide grin.
    “What’s your favorite color?” he asked quickly.
    With no opportunity to censor or customize her answer, she blurted out, “Rose. Not red.” She shuddered adorably and stuck her tongue out. “ Blech! I’m not a stop sign. But a nice dusty rose or a bright rose—yeah. Love.”
    It would have been weird to continue to linger—they had places to be.
    “You’d look beautiful in rose. And my illustrious modeling career means I should know.” He smirked.
    She blushed and made his point.
    “Find something rose and wear it for me tonight.”
    She elbowed him and pushed Ryan aside. As she started to walk away with a wave and a smile, she laughed. “Dream on, Mr. Charming.”
    He watched her sexy ass walk away and grinned. Uh-huh. We’ll see .

T he golf cart zipped along as his and Kyle’s laughter rang out. He’d just read aloud a snarky text from Andi that should have been headed—Mom behaving badly.
    “Jesus, Ry.” Kyle chuckled. “Ali was on fire today! Did you slip her a bribe to stir up trouble?”
    As if that was ever necessary. Ali had a unique way of making people crazy without expending much effort.
    “My fingerprints are not on this fuckery, dude. This one’s all on her. Bet you anything she had her assistant research the quickest way to start shit. Luckily, the sex store turned out to be a high-end underwear shop.”
    A thundering bark of laughter erupted from Kyle as he shook his head. “Bet my credit card is shooting flames. When my fiancée leads the charge, no bits of silk and lace go unnoticed. Not complaining, mind you. Especially not when she needs an entire suitcase just for that shit.”
    Behind them, their fathers were laughing too. He’d bet anything that their moms were also texting. The Sommerfield family had a quirk when it came to laughing at the wrong stuff.
    “Sam’s a keeper, huh?”
    “Conversational whiplash much?”
    “At least I waited till the ‘rents weren’t listening. Aunt Hannah would freak if she thought for one second that you had your eyes on a girl.”
    Was that how Ky saw this? Ryan hoped his interest didn’t come off as casual. Or predatory.
    “I like her.” He had more to say, but the words didn’t come.
    “Wow,” Ky sneered. “Man of few words? Gotta tell you, bud. Your face last night when you first saw her was a surprise. I’ve never seen you like that.”
    “Never felt like that,” Ryan grumbled. After a tense second or five of silence, he mouthed, “Fuck,” took off his sunglasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thought that at first sight crap was just that. Crap.”
    He expected Kyle to give him a raft of teasing shit—but he said nothing. Because the silence struck him as odd, he swiveled his head to peer at his cousin.
    “Say it,” Ryan muttered. “Whatever it is, just let me have it.”
    Instead of a string of expletives about what a pussy Ryan had become, Kyle knocked him sideways with a blunt confession. Listening thoughtfully, the artist inside him created a visual to go along with the story he was hearing.
    “I was scoping out a course redesign at a club in Florida and being my usual jackass self. You know how it is—everyone from the valet to the golf pro treated me like royalty, and that particular day, my ego was definitely running wild.”
    Ah, yes. The ego-driven jackass. He remembered his own days as a public person and how easy it was to get sucked into the celebrity spectacle.
    “The club was hoping for my endorsement, so the management team was running me around, showing off their fancy bells and whistles.