Sweet and Salty (Marshall My Heart #1)

27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

J esse

It isn’t difficult to occupy myself. Despite Laura’s feelings about the owners, the resort grounds are gorgeous and well worth some contemplation time. The lawns are dotted with elegantly trimmed topiaries, shaped like hedgehogs and badgers and different types of flowers.

I stroll down to the lake, where a gaggle of geese swim in the water, the mama goose keeping her babies in a straight line.

Talk about attention to detail, though. No matter where I look, there’s no goose poop anywhere. What sort of resort hires someone to clean up goose shit?

“I don’t know you,” a stern, feminine voice says.

I turn from the geese to see a young woman who screams expensive . Not necessarily in the way Esme did, all flash and pomp and begging for trips to Fashion Week I couldn’t afford but worked my ass off to try to give her. No, this woman clearly has annual VIP passes to the best shows. She’s old-money expensive. Blond, trim, tailored suit and three-inch heels. “Yes. I’m here for the wedding. I’m with the wedding cake designer.”

The woman snorts and marks a note on her tablet. “Wedding cake designer? That’s a little expansive, if you’re referring to Laura Marshall.”

“Laura Marshall’s brilliant.” My hackles rise. “If you haven’t seen the cake yet, it’s a work of creative genius.”

She purses her lips slightly. “I didn’t know she was seeing anybody.”

Technically, she’s not seeing me, but I don’t think this woman needs to know that. “I’m new in town. Jesse. I work at Moe’s.”

Her left eyebrow twitches, but she either has remarkable self-control or Botox because her face betrays no other expression. “Clara Dryden. This is my family’s property.”

“It’s beautiful.” I gaze out over the lake. For all the hell of my first few weeks in St. Olaf, the area comes alive in spring. Out of muck rises beauty.

“Well, if you’re here for the wedding, you should head inside. They’re starting to seat people.”

She gestures toward the front entrance, where several well-dressed people gather.

Not having any reason to hang around, I move in the direction she indicated. I stay on the outskirts of the group, not wanting to enter without Laura. That wouldn’t be very fake boyfriendly of me.

It’s a good thing I’m on the outskirts, or I never would have seen them: Laura, looking radiant in her knee-length hunter-green wrap dress, and some asshole with fucking sideburns who’s clearly irritating her. Everything in her posture tells him to piss off, and the dweeb is not taking a damn hint.

Sideburns. Come on.

Without fully thinking through what I’m going to do, I stalk toward them both and slip an arm around Laura’s waist. It fits like it’s meant for me. She glances up, her expression full of surprise melting into relief, and I lean in and kiss her neck. Holy fuck, she smells so good. I thought her bakery smell was amazing, but she’s put on some sort of perfume that goes straight to my amygdala and sets every nerve alight. “Sorry I’m late, angel. Did you miss me?” Completely ignoring Sideburns Guy, I nip the fleshy part of her ear, feeling the warmth of her blush against my lips. My cock swells at her proximity.

“Um, hi.” Laura’s voice flutters. I’m having too good of a time to stop cuddling her, though. “Jesse, this is, um...”

“Chris,” Sideburns Guy blurts out.

Chris. The fool who dumped her. I tear my gaze away from the vee of her dress, which crisscrosses the space around her voluptuous breasts. Very un-fake boyfriendly thoughts race through my brain. I appraise her ex with nonchalance. “Hi, Chris. Are you from here?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Chris splutters. To watch a grown man with too much spittle is not the worst way to waste my time. It ranks around watching championship spreadsheet competitions on the internet. “Laura, who is this asshole?”

“I’m Jesse, and you don’t talk to her that way.”

Pasty-Ass Sideburns Chris feels the need to invade my space, and while Laura tries to take a step back, I keep my arm around her, preventing her from giving this dick any satisfaction. “I’ll talk to her any way I damn well please. She was my girlfriend.”

“You’ve proven your point with that past tense there.” I turn my back to him and give Laura my full deserving attention. “You look amazing, by the way. Twirl for me.”

“What?” She blushes, Rubenesque, her beautiful green eyes sparkling.

“Twirl. Come on, that dress was made to spin.” I take her hand in mine, reveling in how natural it feels, and twirl her three times. I planned on once to prove my point, but she seems to be having so much fun, I can’t stop.

Chris grabs my arm, and I pivot back to him with frigid determination. “Are you still here?” I ask.

“I need to talk to her. We have unfinished business. Who are you and what are you doing with her?” Sideburns Chris is getting spittle in his sideburns. I’d hand him a tissue if I gave a shit.

“I’m Jesse, as I’ve mentioned. And what I’ve been doing is giving her a ton of orgasms. She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

Laura chokes on a laugh and hides it with a cough. I keep my posture and energy even. No use escalating this asshole.

Ah, but I can never resist poking the bear. “Sorry, you probably don’t know what a female orgasm is. I’ll draw you a picture, if you like. Hmm. That might not help. Maybe if it was covered in cheese puff dust, although that’s not hygienic and very selfish of you.”

Sideburns Chris turns redder than an overripe strawberry. “You fucking—”

“Hey, it’s a wedding. We should watch our language. From what I’ve seen, there’s a very real possibility there are live tigers here. Wouldn’t want the bride siccing them on you for your behavior.”

“ My behavior?” The man can’t seem to avoid covering himself with spit. He should see a doctor.

Laura’s shoulders shake with laughter. She glances around helplessly before waving to someone over my shoulder. “There’s Frannie. I’m going to go. I’ll see you soon.” She says it like a foregone conclusion, full of gratitude. But what I most appreciate is how she squeezes my hand before she leaves. “I’ll save you a seat.”

Chris waits until she’s with her sister before advancing on me. Keeping my hands in my pockets, I simply turn in a half circle until he is the one with his back to the wall. I don’t touch him. I don’t need to. My jaw sets into a hard line.

“How do you come into my town—” he starts to say before I step even more into his personal space.

“No.” I widen my lips to show my teeth in a mirthless smile.

“No?” A vein pops out on his pasty forehead.

“No.” I raise my hand and he recoils. Fool. I’m not going to hit him. I run my hand across my jaw and then prop it on the wall next to his head. His eyes go wide, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming SUV. “You don’t talk to her. You don’t look at her. You forget whatever bullshit unfinished business there is. It’s finished. You don’t know me, and that’s great for you, because I can fuck you up. Normally I don’t, because I try to keep my head down, but literally everything about you, you ridiculous sideburnsed-out squirrel tail, bothers the shit out of me. So don’t give me a reason. I’ve been through hell and clawed my way here. I’m from Florida. Give me a gator-infested swamp and no one will miss you.”

He looks like he’s stopped breathing. It’s probably for the best. His breath smells like a mix of wood alcohol and bacon grease.

I step back and stick my hands in my pockets. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take care of my girlfriend. Over and over and over again until you aren’t even a single piece of lint in the fabric of her life. Keep in mind what I said. And maybe it’s best if you don’t stay for the wedding. I doubt anyone’s looking for you.”

With that, I turn my back on him and head inside the reception hall to meet Laura.