It doesn’t take long for her to catch me staring. With a sly smile, she nods her head toward the door leading into the stables and gives me what I can only call bedroom eyes.

How can I resist that invitation?

“Figures,” Graham mumbles, snapping me back to our conversation “You two couldn’t even last an hour.”

“What are you talking about?”

He levels me with a hard look. “Tell me you aren’t about to sneak off together.”

Shit. I guess my staring was a bit more obvious than I thought. “Uh . . .”

Before I can think of anything to say, Graham shakes his head almost mournfully and pulls a twenty-dollar bill out of his wallet. Matt appears seemingly out of nowhere, plucking his winnings from Graham’s hand.

Leave it to these morons to place bets on my wedding night.

“Gross,” Matt says, but the grin on his face is downright gleeful.

I roll my eyes and abandon my brothers to join Summer in the stables.

“Did anyone see you?” she asks between giggling kisses.

“Most definitely.” I sigh, dragging my lips across her neck to the delicate column of her throat. God, she smells like pine and promise. “But I don’t give a damn.”

“Me either,” she whispers, nipping at my ear and sending electricity surging through every inch of my veins.

It’s almost enough for me to forget that we’re in a freaking stable and about a hundred yards from all my family members. But I don’t care. I could be anywhere with Summer, and I’d be the happiest man on the face of the earth.

And who knows, maybe this is our thing? We once got busy up against a chicken coop. At least the stables are vacant—we’re not horse people.

But her lips on my neck distract me from those thoughts. My fingers work under her silky dress, venturing up her mile-long legs. There’s a lot of dress, but I finally manage.

A few quick steps to the right, and I’ve got her pinned against the wooden wall, pressed against me like a second skin. Who cares if we disappear for twenty minutes? Who cares if we come back covered in hay? All I give a damn about is her skin on mine.

I’ve never loved formalwear more than when Summer unzips me without a single snag. She pulls me out of my pants in all of three seconds, sending a shock wave of pleasure coursing through my veins. Why the hell do I wear jeans all the time when a quickie could be this easy?