Haley & Bentley (Falling for Bentley #2.5) by Shawnte Borris

 
     
    I FINALLY GOT Emerson down for the night, and now I’m quietly waiting for Bentley to come home from his long day in the field. I stored his dinner in the microwave two hours ago thinking he’d be home then.
    I wander over to the couch to sit and notice a pile of toys beside it just before I sit down. Bending over, I put them away and pull out the wedding magazine sitting on the side table shelf. I flip through it and read an article on how to plan a wedding and all the necessary steps. I take careful note of the biggest rule: Don’t become a Bridezilla. Me, a bridezilla? I laugh to myself. Yeah, right .
    “The worst thing you can do is become a bridezilla. What is a bridezilla? A bridezilla is one ridiculous spoiled bitch that thinks she is the center of the universe just because her “show” (the wedding) is eighteen months from now. She thinks everyone else in the world has to stop and drop everything and come running in this prime-diva's mind. It is well known in the situation of a bridezilla the marriage will not last more than a couple of years, if the groom-to-be is lucky.
    “Man, get a load of that bridezilla. We should warn him that he will never have another blow job after getting married.”
    Laughing, I head to the kitchen and grab a pad of paper and a pen from the junk drawer to start making our guest list. I sit down and start the list, beginning with bridesmaids and groomsmen, or in our case best man and best man. Bentley couldn’t pick between Curtis and Travis, so he is having them both as his best men. I swear Bentley is the diva when it comes to this wedding.
    I write down the people that mean the most to us, making the list a total of twenty-five people. I think about whom else I want there, but realize I don’t want anyone else; I’m happy with this number. Bentley might want other people to attend, and as I try to think of who they might be, I start doodling hearts around the paper and decide I need a glass of wine.
    Pulling the open bottle from the fridge from last night’s romantic dinner Bentley made after I got home from work, I poured myself a steep glass and finished the bottle. Leaving the empty bottle on the counter, I went back to the table and doodled some more while I drank.
    I was so in tune with my heart doodles I didn’t even realize Bentley was home until he kissed the back of my neck.
    “Hey,” I smiled looking over my shoulder at him, “I didn’t hear you come in.”
    “I see this. What are you working on?” he asked, looking over my shoulder.
    “The wedding list, I thought maybe I’d start planning our wedding.”
    Bentley took the seat beside me and pulled me into his lap, “I like the sound of that. How far did you get?” I showed him the paper and he laughed, “Hun, you only have twenty-five people on here.”
    “I know,” I said, grabbing my glass and taking another sip.
    “I think we need more people than that.” He grabbed the glass from my hand and drank the rest.
    “Really, Bentley?” I pouted into my now empty wine glass.
    “Sorry, can I get you another glass?”
    “No, that was the last of it,” I grumbled as I loaded the glass in the dishwasher.
    Bentley came up behind me and kissed down the side of my neck, “Can I make it up to you?”
    “It’s okay, I drank most of it before you got here. Did you eat dinner yet?” I asked turning into him.
    “Not yet.”
    “Let me just heat your dinner; it’s already in the microwave.”
    “What did you make?” he asked before I pulled out of his arms.
    “Nothing exciting, just grilled salmon with fresh baby potatoes and salad.” I sat at the table and watched him eat. “How did your day go?”
    “It was okay. Travis and I went crop touring to see how our canola fields are doing compared to others, then we went to check the wheat down by Rupert’s road to see how much hail damage there was.”
    “Was there lots?”
    “Some of it was down, but I’d say the farmers farther north got the