Page 5 of The Growly Outcast’s Promise

Now is not the time to get a hard-on, I tell myself.

Finally, she reaches me and smiles up at me.

“Hi, stranger,” she whispers.

“Hey, darlin’. You look,” I have to swallow because it feels like I’m choking. “You look beautiful, Bella.”

She beams at me. My mama used to call that her Greyson smile because she said she never saw Annabelle give it to anyone else.

The preacher or judge or whoever the guy in the suit is stands by us. He talks to the crowd, and I grab my bride’s hands.

Something hard pokes into my palm and I realize she’s handing me something. I grab it, recognizing the shape as a ring and give her a nod.

Seems strange she’d want to marry me with another man’s ring, but there’s no time to ask questions right now.

The ceremony goes relatively quickly until we hit the vows.

I stare into Annabelle’s soft hazel eyes and repeat after the officiant. Despite the furious pounding of my heart, my voice comes out clear.

“I, Greyson Hendricks, take you, Annabelle Greer, to be my wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ’til death parts us.”

I put the ring on her finger, briefly noticing that it’s an enormous diamond. She’d probably laugh at the puny one in my pocket.

She repeats her vow, giving me the same promises I just gave her.

Then she slides a band on my left ring finger. The weight of the metal feels foreign, and right all at the same time.

“You may kiss your bride.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’ve imagined mine and Bella’s first kiss so many times, it’s ridiculous. Never in my mind did I think it would be at our wedding.

I cup her face and bring my lips down to hers. I intend to give her a quick, chaste kiss, but one touch from her soft lips and my intensions fly out the window. I slant my mouth across hers and deepen the kiss.

I will never get enough of this woman.

The officiant clears his throat. “May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Greyson Hendricks.”

I grab Annabelle’s hand and give her a smile.

chapter

three

Annabelle

“May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Greyson Hendricks,” the officiant says.

The clearing of the man’s throat is what reminded me that I’m in the middle of my own wedding. Greyson kissed the hell out of me, and I nearly forgot my own name. Probably best that the minister, or whoever he is, interrupted us.

Greyson cradling my face and finally—after years of imagining it—putting his mouth on mine was distracting to say the least. Thankfully I didn’t completely lose my head and climb his big, sexy body.

It’s been a hot minute since I’ve laid eyes on my Greyson in person. We video chat at least once a month, but it’s not the same. I’d nearly forgotten how he’s bigger than life. Imposing with this broad shoulders and thick, corded arms. The ink that runs down both arms and onto one of his hands. The thick, nearly bushy beard and those slanting eyebrows that frame his dark brown—nearly black—eyes.

Greyson Hendricks is gorgeous. Always has been. Even when we were younger, and he wasn’t such an intimidating figure.

Walking towards him down that makeshift aisle had been the stuff from my girlhood dreams.

But no matter how wild of an imagination I had, I’d never adequately pictured the man I’d just married.