Free Don't Tell the Wedding Planner by Aimee Carson

could be used to strip paint from wood.
    Almost.
    “Coming in?” she asked.
    He stared down at her, hands on his hips, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Promise this is the last of the LaBeau family torture?”
    “Last one, I swear.”
    “Okay,” he said.
    The woman clearly felt in her element. And while he might be a bit of a fish out of water in the backwoods of Louisiana, there were still some things that he controlled. Showing the lovely Ms. LaBeau a thing or two suddenly seemed incredibly important.
    And too much fun to pass up.
    After the years of worry and fear and sacrifice, he suddenly felt the urge to indulge in something just for himself. A moment to be something more than just a doctor, a brother and a stand-in parent. It had been far too long since he’d had sex, and today he was going to leave his many roles behind, save one: that of a red-blooded man in the company of a beautiful woman.
    He flipped open his snap. To her credit, she didn’t react except for a slight flaring of her eyelids as she continued to tread water. As Callie stared up at him, he struggled to keep the amusement from his face as he slid the zipper down. He waited for her to say something. A protest. A sound of encouragement. A mocking comment. Or, at the very least, a flicker of her gaze away from him.
    Nothing.
    Instead, Callie kept treading water, eyes on Matt as he hooked his hands in his shorts and shoved them down, kicking them aside. His briefs clung to his hips and, for a nanosecond, he considered shucking them, too. But he wasn’t prepared for the likely ending to a bout of skinny-dipping. For one split second he mentally kicked himself for not considering the need for condoms. But right now the sun beat down on his back and sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and the water looked cool. Even better, the expression on Callie’s face was inviting.
    He executed a shallow dive, slicing through the water, and broke the surface just two feet from where Callie continued to tread water.
    Her cheeks were flushed, whether from the heat or the sight of him in nothing but briefs, he wasn’t sure.
    “You know,” she said dryly, “I wasn’t kidding before. There are gators in these waters. So you best keep all your dangly bits inside your underwear.”
    He laughed, secretly pleased with the first words out of her mouth. “Thanks for the warning.”
    Matt fought the urge to cup her neck and drag her close for another kiss. Memories of their time in the fitting room that first night flooded his mind. The taste of her mouth, the feel of her hip.
    Good thing the water was fairly cool because spontaneous combustion felt like a possibility. Unfortunately, despite being a strong swimmer he couldn’t figure out how to follow through on the impulse to take that mouth in the way he wanted without drowning them both. Instead, he stretched out on his back to float, biding his time until she climbed out of the water and onto the dock. In wet clothes.
    Just thinking about the sight made his groin grow tight.
    Pushing the thought from his mind, he stared up at the canopy of cypress trees and the sunlight peeking through the leaves, letting the peaceful scene wash over him. For the ten years since his parents had died and he’d assumed responsibility of Tommy, he’d been living life on edge. The roller-coaster ride of Tommy’s addiction had worn him out, leaving him constantly braced for the next bad happening. Taking a moment to just relax was a revelation.
    “This is nice,” he said.
    He turned his head and met Callie’s face just a few feet from his, also floating.
    “I love Louisiana.” Her smile wrinkled her nose in a way that could only be described as cute. “Never want to live anywhere else.”
    What would that be like? To live where you wanted, instead of where you had to?
    He’d been stuck with Manford as his home base for so long, looking after Tommy, that he couldn’t imagine a life anywhere else. But nothing about