brother slapped him on the back with another laugh then left him to find the emcee.
Valentin hadn’t been wrong about the stampede. All their female cousins together with several women he’d never met before tonight, mostly Peyton’s guests, jostled for the moment she released the bouquet. The scramble was both undignified and highly amusing, but Galen was shocked when he saw his nerdy IT expert cousin, Sophia, emerge triumphant at the end. He took advantage of the ensuing chaos to take Peyton by the hand and, calling out a good-night to everyone, lead her away.
“Ellie knows we’re coming back for her, right?” Peyton looked worried.
Galen was touched at her concern for a child she’d only just met. “Of course. Her suitcase is already in the chopper. She knows I won’t leave her behind. Ilya, my cousin, and his wife, Yasmin, will bring her to the helipad just before we’re due to depart. For now she can party it up a little with my younger cousins.”
“You do have a big family,” Peyton commented.
“Yeah, I do. And you? Brothers? Sisters?”
She shook her head. “Just me...and my dad,” she added.
“He couldn’t come today?”
Her lips firmed into a straight line. “It’s difficult—we barely talk. I’d rather not discuss it.”
He wanted to press for more details, but one look at her face made him file that away for another time. Bit by bit, he was learning there were going to be a hell of a lot of layers to peel through to get to the core of what made up his new wife. It was probably a good thing that he was a patient man.
Peyton pushed her hair off her face for the hundredth time. The onshore breeze delighted in tangling her hair at every opportunity, but it wasn’t all bad. At least the wind was warm and gentle, not damp and biting cold like it so often was back home in Washington. After their arrival last night she’d been bone weary and had barely paid any attention to their luxurious surroundings. She didn’t know what she’d expected exactly, when Galen had said they’d be honeymooning at a Horvath resort, but this certainly hadn’t been it. It wasn’t a hotel, although there apparently was one here somewhere in the many sprawling acres of the complex, but a large and airy house that faced the water and was full of dazzling sunshine. She’d been relieved to discover they each had their own bedroom, too, along with their own private beach, where Ellie was busy digging holes and creating roads and moats and tunnels, and squealing happily at the rising tide as it demolished her hard work.
“Can I braid your hair for you?” Galen asked from the sun lounger beside her.
“You?” Peyton was surprised by the offer.
“I’ll have you know I’ve become quite adept at styling long hair. I don’t even have to use a vacuum cleaner hose to get Ellie’s ponytail perfect anymore.”
“A what?”
“Check it out online. I tell you, YouTube is king when it comes to learning new skills.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Galen even knowing how to use a vacuum cleaner, let alone having the skills to use a vacuum cleaner to tie Ellie’s hair in a ponytail. But she was always up for a challenge and, heck, let’s face it, she was curious to see how he proposed to tame her tangled locks.
“Okay, then. Show me your talents,” Peyton said, sitting up on her lounger and turning her back to him.
“Now, there’s an invitation I don’t get every day,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.
She couldn’t help it; her body reacted with a shimmer of desire. She had no words to describe it, this stupid reaction to a tone of voice, but suddenly she was hyperaware of the man as he moved closer behind her. She dug into her beach bag for her hairbrush.
“You might want to use this first,” she said, passing it back to him. “There’s a hair tie on the handle, too.”
He took the hairbrush, and the next moment his fingers were working their way through her hair, touching her scalp and skimming the back of her neck as he eased the hairbrush through the knots. She’d never in her life believed that having her hair brushed by a stranger could feel erotic. But there was something deeply sensual about the way Galen followed each stroke of the brush with the touch of his fingers on her scalp. It made her want to sigh with pleasure.
When he was done, she was on the verge of becoming putty in his hands. She felt a moment’s relief that she was facing away from him so he couldn’t see the way her nipples had become taut peaks against the thin fabric of her one-piece swimsuit in response to this most innocent of touches. But then he started to run his fingers through her hair again and every muscle in her body clenched.
“You okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?” Galen asked.
He was so close she felt his breath on her shoulder and shivered a little.
“I’m fine,” she said in a voice that was tight with control.
He was simply doing her hair, for goodness’ sake. Not seducing her. How this normal, everyday act could be playing such havoc with her senses was beyond her but she needed to get herself under control. She focused her gaze on Ellie and for a moment envied her the freedom of not caring who she was or what she looked like or what hurts had been visited upon her. Instead, she could just be carefree and in the moment. Industrious one minute, lying flat out on the sand the next, then laughing as she got to her feet and plunged into the water to wash off the sand five seconds later.
Galen began sectioning her hair.
“Do you want under or over?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your braid. Under, so it sits flat, or over, so it sits on top?”
“I never knew there was a difference.”
“Your mom never did this for you?”
“My mom was sick for a long time, and my dad, well, let’s just say he didn’t have the benefit of online videos when I was growing up.”
She swallowed against the surprising wave of emotion that choked her. There’d been days when her mom could meet her at the front door of their rented home with a smile and then there’d been others when she couldn’t even raise a hand to wipe a tear from her cheek. The disease that had plagued her had taken its toll on everyone, and the fiercely guarded memories of those times always shook Peyton to the core.
“Anyway, does it matter?” she said a little more sharply than she’d intended.
“Over it is. And tomorrow we can go into the intricacies of the herringbone braid. Now, be still. I need to concentrate on this.”
He fell silent as he worked. When it was over, he rested his hands on top of her shoulders. His palms were warm and his fingers gentle, but to her they felt like brands on her bare skin.
“Admiring your handiwork?” she asked with a note of sarcasm.
“Something
