Winter’s eyes finally lift to mine. She swallows hard as we take a step toward each other, her toes touching mine, and she slides her hands into my palms.

Mounting fucking electricity between us.

“Sup,” I whisper, attempting to crack the ice.

She chuckles, then grins, blinking her big golden-brown eyes at me. “Whazzup,” she whispers back.

Victoria circles us, snapping pictures from every direction, but all I notice are the violet, orange, and red slivers of light dancing across Winter’s face, neck, and chest as the sun sets behind the ocean to our right. She watches me watch her, and tiny reflections of dancing water shine in her eyes.

I thread my fingers between hers, rubbing circles over her palms with my thumbs. Her grin settles into a soft line and her heart-shaped lips part slightly. So fucking slight, but I see it. I revel in it. I imagine slipping my tongue through it. I imagine wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her into me, erasing the short distance between us.

I imagine her.

Only her.

Fuck.

I lean in closer, not even sure if I’m deciding to do it, or if I’m being pulled by some invisible force she possesses. My heart thumps against its cage and for the first time in, maybe ever, I feel a flutter in my gut. An enormous, nauseating flutter, making my limbs feel tingly and my nerves feel electric.

Butterflies.

Filthy obnoxious little things, they are. And for the one millionth time since I’ve met Winter, annoyance pricks my brain like a vulture picking at a freshly deceased carcass. How can one emotion exist within the other? Annoyance and visceral excitement. I hate this feeling—I can’t control it. I can control attraction. I can control the way women feel about me by doing or not doing specific things. I can even control my attraction to her.

Control.

But this, this feeling is positively un-fucking-welcomed.

I clear my throat, snapping myself the fuck out of it, and take a deep breath. Maybe more oxygen to the brain will help this damn ailment I’ve come down with.

I smile curtly at Winter and separate our gaze.

She was right, it’s clear a little space is in order. Messing around with her, laughing with her, getting through this bullshit wedding crap by fucking her and only fucking her are all one thing. But coming down with feelings is another.

Fuck that.

* * *

Winter, Dottie, and Keith sit on the terrace laughing, drinking wine, and talking for the past hour while we wait for Preston and Sondra to arrive. I made it a point to say hello to everyone, but I’ve spent most of the evening sending out emails, making a few phone calls, and attending the conference call I had originally canceled.

Getting lost in my work is exactly what I need to distract me from the Winter storm I’ve been getting swept up in.

My phone vibrates, so I pull it from my pocket and see that Hayden is calling.