Anna Keebler makes a living being unconventional. A wedding planner who specializes in more…unusual ceremonies, Anna’s client list includes everything from nudists to paintballers to Little Red Riding Hood enthusiasts. So when her photographer up and quits during a wedding blitz in Hawaii, Anna makes an unconventional decision. She hires a hot Marine to be her new photographer.
Little does she know, Grant Patton is the best man in one of her weddings. He’s so perfect he’s practically a Boy Scout—if Boy Scouts were big, ripped Marines with gorgeous gray eyes, and good at, oh, everything.Especially sex. In fact, his only flaw seems to be that he hates marriage as much as she does. But Anna suspects the sexy Boy Scout routine is a cover, and if he wants this thing between them to be about more than sex, Grant must reveal the dark past he’s fought so hard to hide…
He stood up and hesitated a moment, then turned west and started walking. His pace was brisk, but he couldn’t outrun his thoughts.
Best man? In what world could you possibly be the best man for anything?
Grant kicked his toes through the sand and began to run. The sea air felt good on his arms, and the sand was soft and warm underfoot. He passed a couple playing Frisbee near the water and offered them a friendly smile.
“Afternoon,” he called. “Beautiful day.”
He kept running, his pace strong and even. Rows of condos gave way to thick palms, and soon he’d lost sight of any other human life. This was his favorite part of this area of Kauai, his favorite spot on any of the Hawaiian Islands, really. It was possible to lose yourself completely.
He’d been running at least thirty minutes when he spotted a cluster of people. Odd, considering few people even knew this section of beach even existed. The tourists sure as hell didn’t know about it, and most locals stayed away on weekdays. He slowed his stride, frowning. Was he imagining things, or were all of them buck naked?
No, not all of them. His eyes landed on a woman in a bright yellow sundress. She had shoulder-length hair that glinted reddish-gold in the sun. As she turned toward him, her grass-green eyes lit up with something that looked like relief. Grant kept moving forward, almost without realizing his body was carrying him toward her.
For the first time in his life, Grant’s brain tuned out the naked breasts around him and zeroed in on the one fully clothed woman in sight.
“Thank God you’re finally here,” she said, grabbing his arm.
Grant blinked at her, too stunned to reply.
Not that he had a chance to get a word out anyway. She kept talking, her words coming out in a jumbled rush.
“We were starting to get worried. Well, everyone except the rest of the groomsmen, who were all taking bets on whether the best man would make it, but now that you’re here—”
“Best man,” Grant repeated, his brain trying to wrap itself around her words.
“I don’t mean to rush you, but you’ve got three minutes to take your clothes off and get oiled up,” she said. “You can use that tent over there if you want, though I don’t really see the point since you’ll be running around naked for the next few hours.”
He stared at her. He knew it wasn’t polite, but it was hard not to admire the lush curve of her breasts beneath the yellow sundress, and the taut muscles in her calves. Her toes were bare and tipped with bright orange polish, and the inside of her right ankle bore a small tattoo of a feather. Her arms were long and pale, but shapely. He looked back up at her face, which was framed by straight, shoulder-length hair the color of carrot cake.
She frowned at him and spit out a lock of it, and Grant wondered if it tasted like cinnamon and nutmeg. He was thinking of running his fingers through it when a gust of wind blew her hair across her face, showing two bright blue streaks mixed in with the auburn strands.
The woman tightened her grip on his arm, and Grant lost his breath for an instant.
“Come on, buddy,” she said. “We’ve been waiting on you. Off with the clothes already.”
Another woman joined them, wearing nothing but a short veil and pair of sunglasses. She touched the redhead’s arm and leaned close. “Actually, Anna, this isn’t—”
“Sure I am,” Grant said, and reached for the hem of his shirt.
About Tawna Fenske:
Tawna Fenske is a fourth-generation Oregonian who writes humorous fiction, risqué romance, and heartwarming love stories with a quirky twist. Her offbeat brand of romance has received multiple starred reviews from Publishers Weekly, one of which noted, “There’s something wonderfully relaxing about being immersed in a story filled with over-the-top characters in undeniably relatable situations. Heartache and humor go hand in hand.”
Tawna lives in Bend, Oregon with her husband, step-kids, and a menagerie of ill-behaved pets. She loves hiking, snowshoeing, standup paddleboarding, and inventing excuses to sip wine on her back porch. She can peel a banana with her toes and loses an average of twenty pairs of eyeglasses per year.
To learn more about all of Tawna’s books, visit www.tawnafenske.com