The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) by Suzanne Halliday Page A

her head slightly. When she reached for her glass and saluted Sam with it, she blushed in return but acknowledged the gesture.
    There were plenty of things worse than being a loyal friend.

“ J ulie,” a loud voice boomed as a ripple of manly laughter rang out.
    “Settle down, Joe,” Kyle drawled. “We all know she’s your wife. You’ve said it enough times. Right, guys?”
    A sea of heads nodded in agreement.
    “The idea of the picture flashcards was so everyone will know who she is. Give this group of cretins a chance to answer, okay?”
    Ryan was enjoying this pre-dinner prep that the groom insisted the men participate in. It was pre-gaming only without booze and everyone on their best behavior.
    “All right, guys. Here’s the clue. Don’t yell out until I show the picture. Ready?”
    Watching Kyle’s ludicrous attempt to prime his groomsmen with a basic knowledge of the ladies in the wedding party, Ryan reached for a bowl of Macadamia nuts and chuckled quietly at the antics of the other guys.
    Chuck Salter, Kyle’s longtime caddy, was an amateur caricature artist. Even though some of his technique was crude, he did an amusing job of mocking the golfers in the room. The first thing the guy did as everyone started gathering was to grab a stack of napkins off the drink cart and start drawing. For lack of a more polite way of putting it, he basically drew the golfers at play. Only instead of clubs and irons, they wielded their cocks in some fantastical ways. Ryan especially liked the one where the curved cartoon cock became some place to hang a golf towel.
    As Kyle struggled to carry on, Chuck would hold a napkin drawing above his head from time to time to the howling delight of the others. Right this second, he was displaying a raunchy cartoon of Kyle placing a tee on a green and offering his ass to a gallery of wagging penises.
    Chewing a mouthful of the soft, crunchy nuts, Ryan battled the hunger gnawing at his stomach and tried to join in.
    Giving up the next clue, Kyle gravely intoned, “She knows where the skeletons are buried.”
    No one called out.
    The gentlemen conferred. There were some muttering, some chuckles, and a few grunts. Finally, Joe answered for the group.
    “They need the picture, I’m afraid.”
    “Really, you guys? Are you trying to make me nuts? Y’know, it’s not too late to call in some strippers and a mobile bar. Your women would love finding all of you drunk as skunks and reeking of bachelor party pussy.”
    Sneering coldly, Kyle tapped on his phone and showed the group of snickering men who was the keeper of the skeletons.
    “Told you it was Lisa,” Stan DiNardo said. “She’s the one who has the tattoo on her shoulder with her kids’ birthdates.” He made a sneer worthy of an Elvis contest and drawled, “JoBeth took one look at it and said she was getting one.”
    Another of Kyle’s closest pals on the circuit weighed in. “What’s the four-one-one on that Tara chick? My wife thinks she needs an ass kicking.”
    Kyle glanced at Ryan and gave a half eye roll.
    Smacking nut remnants and salt off his hands, Ryan took the lead on this one and answered Miguel’s question. No use in shining these guys on. Chuck, Stan, and Miguel Santos were on the circuit with Kyle and knew all about the type of woman Tara Donner was.
    “In the best of terms, gentlemen, the lady is a shark. With teeth. The main ingredient in her face cream is the semen of virgin males. She eats nuts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and I’m not talking about the ones on each table. I’m pretty sure she has some sob story about her daddy not loving her that she uses to lure men in. From personal dealings with the lady ,” he croaked on a fake cough, “I can assure you she’s a living definition of the word succubus.”
    “Oh, Jesus,” Kyle muttered. “Come on. She’s not that bad. And she’s got more business sense than all of us nut-rollers put together.”
    Joe’s face screwed into a nasty