Leila should be on her honeymoon.
Instead, she’s sitting on my porch in her stained wedding dress.
I should tell her to leave.
Because I’m done cleaning up my prick of a brother’s messes.
Her eyes, rimmed by long lashes, burn with outrage.
Her thick auburn hair conceals the thin line of grief spread across her beautiful face.
Her naturally rosy lips turn in my direction.
Then she passes out with a bottle of vodka in her hand.
My brother is looking for her.
Her parents are worried sick.
I am the only person she can trust.
I fold over and cradle her curvy body in my arms.
My stone-cold grumpy heart melts.
And suddenly, I’m prepared to protect her from anyone, including her ex-fiancee.