Free The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) by Suzanne Halliday

like an idiot. “Besides, I am here in my official capacity as M-O-H, and we have stuff to. . .”
    “M-O-H? Does that mean I’m a BM?”
    Her spontaneous screech of uncontrollable laughter at his outraged tone and calling himself a BM nearly put Sam on the floor. Ryan, for his part, picked up the menu and perused it as though his breakfast companion wasn’t in the middle of a giggling meltdown over bowel movements.
    She managed to get it together and behave like an adult until the need to blow her nose from all the laughing made her honk like a duck into the tissues she pulled from her purse. The sound hit her like a starting gun, and the laughter started all over again.
    Because why not—the waitress appeared and gave Sam the sort of side-shade that felt like a water cannon blast of icy slush. Good lord. She was laughing—not screaming. Stuck-up bitch.
    She’d put up with far too many divas in her job to let this twit’s attitude slide. Sitting up straight, she crossed her long legs and swept both hands on either side of her face to push her tumbling hair away. The arched brow death glare she answered the waitress’s shade with was Sam’s best move.
    She wasn’t dumb. The other woman wouldn’t have bothered with Sam if Ryan hadn’t been so yummy.
    The waitress froze.
    Ryan cleared his throat.
    With her expression, Sam made absolutely certain the resort staffer who dared to cross the line understood who held all the cards.
    As though none of that had happened, Mr. Charming rattled off an order of breakfast food that seemed to Sam like enough to feed a family of four. As he neared the end of a seemingly endless string of requests, it dawned on her that he was deliberately messing with the waitress.
    And then he topped off this banging day with a big, red, shiny cherry.
    With a satisfied smirk, he mumbled, “Not enough sleep.” Sighing heavily, he suddenly demanded. “I’d like a double shot espresso and my companion,” he drawled while reaching across the table to snatch up Sam’s hand, “would like a cup of chamomile tea. A bit too much energy last night, eh, my love?”
    She nearly swallowed her tongue.
    Their slack-jawed observer got the message loud and clear.
    After another minute of requests, the waitress scurried away, and Sam extricated her hand from his warm grasp. Time to return fire with some teasing of her own.
    “Double shot espresso, jeez.” Her head swung dismissively. “So I was too much for you last night, hmm? Sorry—not sorry.”
    Ryan stared at her long and hard and then said, “I don’t care for deliberate rudeness.”
    His tone was icy. She hung on his next words.
    “When you’re with me, Ms. Evers, you will be treated accordingly.”
    There was a message in his expression—she was sure of it—but since she lacked practical experience with such things, she was stumped by what it meant.
    “And as for last night,” he murmured in a deep growl, “you have my mother to thank for not being pinned to the door of your room.”
    “Say what?” Pinned to the door of her room? What did that mean?
    His eyes had a warm glow. She fell deeper into his gaze as he effortlessly hypnotized her with his charismatic magnetism.
    “Hannah Sommerfield on the subject of how to treat a lady is a four-alarm barn burner. And Ali only makes it worse.”
    “Your sister. Has she arrived? For the wedding?”
    Chuckling lightly, he nodded with a serious expression. “Oh god, yes. Her and Aunt Mel are probably raising hell in the spa at this very moment. So you can thank her for why you got away from me last night without being molested.”
    Sam felt her brows bump together. She was looking at him like a bug under a microscope. Was he flirting? Was that what this was?
    “You look like you don’t believe me.”
    “Oh, oh, no,” she stammered. “I’m sorry; it’s just that I can’t figure out when you’re teasing.”
    “Why would I tease about something like that?”
    She startled at his