Love Ever After: Eleven All-New Romances! Page 11

  Chase Miller’s world-traveling brother stepped into the house, grasping Sam’s hand and pulling him in for a one-armed man-hug. “Fuck you, too, man. How’s it going?”

  “Yeah. Good.” Sam glanced over Davis’s shoulder. “Looks like people are starting to show up.”

  Three more cars pulled in, joining the two that had already parked. Men he didn’t recognize spilled out of them all.

  “Shall we get this circus underway?” Davis asked, slinging his arm around Sam’s neck as he spun around so they stood shoulder to shoulder, ready to greet the guests. “It’s going to be good.”

  It proved to be something, that was for sure.

  Good at times—Chase’s friends liked poker and weren’t particularly skilled at it, so Sam found himself up a few hundred by the time the pay-per-view boxing match started. And before too long, his brothers arrived, along with Ian Nixon and Paul Reynolds, two more local men. The balance was shifting again, and the tightness in Sam’s chest eased.

  But while most of the hockey guys seemed decent enough, one asshole kept rubbing him the wrong way. At first he couldn’t figure out what Zach Brenton was doing that pushed his buttons—he was just joking around and playing cards like everyone else. But he had this hard edge to him, and by the fourth negative retort, Sam realized the NHL forward literally had nothing good to say. And he was argumentative as fuck.

  “Come on, Manny!” Chase yelled at the television, urging his favourite boxer to get his head in the match.

  “This is gay,” Brenton muttered.

  Whoa. Sam snapped a look at Chase, then Evan. Neither of them said anything. What the hell?

  It’s not like he went out of his way to be an ally or whatever Mari called it, but that was childish, off-side name calling at any time. And maybe the guy didn’t know that Evan was gay, but still, he was a fucking grown up and should act like one.

  Plus he was a dick. Which made Sam want to stomp on him and take some of the overhyped swagger out of his step.

  Picking a fight the night before the wedding probably was a bad idea.

  “Hey, man,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Choose a different word, eh?”

  “Eh.” Brenton snickered. “Canadian homeboy gonna tell me how to talk?”

  “If you need a lesson, absolutely.” Sam shoved to his feet a split second after Brenton. The ass wanted to get in his face? Fine. Zach might work out with fancy trainers and throw down his stick from time to time, but Sam did real man’s work from sun up to sun down. He didn’t need weights or a gym, although every time he stepped in one he had no problem keeping up with his friends.

  If Brenton wanted Sam to demonstrate his ability to bench press Zach’s dumb-ass self through Evan’s window, Sam would happily oblige.

  “Break it up,” Davis said, shouldering between them. “The fight’s on TV and that’s where it’s going to stay. Come on.” He thumped Sam on the chest and shoved him toward the back door, grabbing two beers on his way.

  That would have been the end of it if Brenton had just sat down. But Chase was on his feet now, looking at them both in confusion, and apparently the other man didn’t have enough grace to just fucking say sorry.

  “You’ve got some rude friends, Miller.”

  Sam surged against Davis’s arm. He wanted rude?

  Chase held up his hands, one palm pointing at Sam and the other at his former teammate. “What are you guys doing?”

  “That fag—”

  Sam wasn’t sure who hit Brenton first, Evan or Chase, but they both went for him. Damnit, he wanted to be the one with the bruised knuckles. The girls would lecture the hell out of him if it was Chase.

  He, on the other hand, would buy his brother-in-law all the ice he needed. He rocked back on his heels and watched with undisguised delight as Chase hauled Brenton back to his feet.

  “One chance to say you’re sorry, Zach,” the groom ground out, clearly no longer in the mood to play peacemaker. “That kind of language isn’t on here.”

  “Sure. Sorry.” The worst apology ever. Brenton shrugged his shoulders back like he was shaking off a bad play instead of blatant hatred. “Too much testosterone. You know what? We should get some chicks here.”

  “Why, because a guy’s night threatens your sexuality?” Sam shook his head after sniping that across the room. Unreal.

  Brenton sneered at him. Could the guy be any more of a stereotypical douchebag? Why the hell did Chase invite him in the first place?

  “You want to send a car over to the inn to get your date, Zach? I don’t have a problem with that.” Chase had slipped on an easy half-smile, but there was an edge to his voice that said he wouldn’t be pushed.

  Like there was a history here or something that Sam wasn’t privy to.

  The two hockey players stared each other down, and it was Brenton that looked away first. “Nah. More poker, maybe.”

  Chase clapped him on the shoulder. “Good deal.” He turned to Evan. “Sorry about that.”

  Their host gave a brusque nod, and that was all Sam saw before Davis propelled him outside.

  Sam waited until the patio doors closed behind them to let loose. And his friend let him fly with his rant, but when he stopped, Davis didn’t hold back his advice to chill out.

  “You’re not going to change his mind, and tonight isn’t really the time or place.”

  “Fuck that, man. I don’t care about changing his mind. I’m not an activist or something. But he’s an asshole. I shouldn’t have to put up with that just because he’s some rich hockey player.”

  “Are you gay?” Davis squinted. “That might have come out wrong. I mean, cool if you are, and it’s not of my business. I’m just saying, why is this your fight all of a sudden?”

  “I think it’s more about being a decent human being,” Sam muttered, because fuck no he wasn’t gay, but that wasn’t the point.

  “You’ve been on edge since I got here. You sure him being an idiot wasn’t just an excuse to blow up at someone?”

  An instant rebuttal itched on the tip of his tongue, but it tasted like a lie. And given what he’d just said about being decent… He took a pull from his beer instead.

  Davis, also decent, didn’t say anything else. Point made, point taken.

  The door slid open as they were nearing the bottom of their bottles. Chase joined them, and he brought replacement beverages. “Cheers, my brothers.” He grinned. “I already did this with Gavin and Travis inside. To your gorgeous sister, Sam. I’m marrying her and gaining enough forwards to make my own shinny team.”

  Sam laughed. “Ready to get back on the ice, then?”

  Chase shrugged. “Maybe this winter. Don’t tell my dad in case I change my mind. Mari’s tour schedule is a factor, too. Did she tell you she’s been offered a spot on a tour to Australia?”

  No.

  Sam was pretty sure his parents didn’t know that, either. “Australia, eh?”

  He ignored the look Davis shot him. Okay, maybe he had some issues to work through. Didn’t change the fact that Brenton was an asshole. Or that his little sister was on the cusp of serious stardom.

  Shit. He tipped back his beer and reminded himself the latter was a good thing.

  The door slid open again, and Evan West, Wardham’s original man of mystery, stepped outside…trailed by Heath Edwards. “Sam?”

  Fuck. “Hey, Heath, you made it. Evan, this is Heath.”

  Their host gave him an amused look. “Yes. We’ve met at Danny’s many times.”

  “Right. Of course.” Sam needed another drink. And like forty-eight hours alone in his trailer where he could watch Netflix and read books and not have to interact with the outside world. Sam and other people were not a good combination right now. And that had to wait until after the weekend, so he took a deep breath and manned up. “But I asked Heath to come here tonight to talk to you, actually, if you’ve got a few minutes…”

  — FIVE —

  Mari woke up on the morning of her wed
ding day, no surprise, to Audrey’s gleeful face.

  “Morning,” her friend whispered, her eyes sparkling like she was already halfway through her to-do list for the day. “I brought you coffee, and we’ve got mimosas and some fruit and croissants downstairs.”

  “Uhmmm….” Mari swallowed hard, trying to get rid of her cottonmouth. “Okay.”

  “You’ve got lots of time for breakfast and a shower. The stylists are set to arrive in forty-five minutes. Stella’s here already, Karen’s on her way over, and I just texted your mom to let her know you were getting up. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

  “You and my mom are texting?” Mari shoved the bedding aside and padded across the room to the master bath. She trusted that Audrey would follow. She wasn’t wrong.

  “Of course. That’s how today is going to run like clockwork. Everyone has everyone else’s number. Except for you. No phone for you today.”

  “Just a strict timeline and orders?”

  “In you go,” Audrey instructed, reaching past her to turn on the shower.

  “I can do that myself.”

  “You weren’t.”

  Mari gave her friend an amused, half-awake smile. “I was waiting for you to leave the room so I could pee first.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be downstairs.”

  “Great.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mari found not only her new sisters-in-law and her best friend in her kitchen, but also her mother and Chase’s mother and a hairdresser and makeup artist that looked like they burst out of the same morning-people pod that Audrey was formed in.

  “There’s the bride!” her mother exclaimed, swooping in for an emotional hug.

  “Yep, here I am.” She pressed her hand to her fluttery belly. “Where’s the wine?”

  “It’s seven-thirty in the morning, dear.” Her mother nodded quickly when Mari gave her an are you kidding me look. “Right. It’s on the breakfast bar. Audrey’s thought of everything, hasn’t she?”

  Mari gave her mom a kiss on the cheek. “She really has. I didn’t even know you knew how to text. You don’t text me!”

  “Well, I will now that Audrey’s shown me how these app things work on my phone. Can I get you some breakfast?”

  “I’d kill someone for a waffle. We probably have pancake mix in the cupboard.”

  Her mother squeezed her hand. “I’m on it.”

  “Dad coming over later?”

  “He said to call him as soon as you’re done the getting in the dress in your lacy underthings photographs.”

  “Mom!” Mari blushed. Of course her dad wouldn’t even want to be in the house when there was talk of blue garters and squealing over the corset she’d squeeze into under her strapless dress. That didn’t need to be spelled out.

  “Oh sweetie.” Her mother winked. “Maybe you should have some of that wine after all.”

  No kidding.

  She kept it to a single glass of bubbly though, letting Audrey top it up with orange juice every so often, and by the time her hair and make-up were done, and the photographer had captured both her dress hanging in the bedroom window and the risqué corset back as she stepped into the dress, helped by Stella, Karen and Audrey, she was more than ready to have a moment with her dad. Sweet, chaste, real. Her father was her anchor, and she needed him.

  “Can you call him now?” she asked her mom.

  “Sure. Why don’t you girls head downstairs?”

  Mari had never thought of her parents as being playful. Maybe her mother had been, once upon a time, before she’d been abandoned, pregnant with twins with two crazy-ass young sons hanging off either leg.

  That kind of fucked-up bullshit would knock the playful out of anyone.

  Even after Mark Beadie quietly staked his claim and moved onto the farm, marrying Fern and adopting her young children, there remained a permanent undercurrent of responsibility. Mari couldn’t begrudge her parents that motivation to work hard and provide for their family—she’d learned through their example the value of digging in and doing the grunt work that got you ahead.

  So when her mother waved her off, refusing to let too many tears fall in front of her daughter on her wedding day, Mari took that at face value. She left her mom in the master bedroom and lifted her dress, carefully stepping onto the staircase that descended into the foyer.

  And that’s when her dad walked in the front door.

  “Oh my god,” Mari cried out, the tears already sliding down her face. “You were waiting?”

  He laughed and wiped his own suspiciously wet eyes. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  “Mom said you were at home…” she warbled. “And now my makeup is going to need to be re-done.”

  “Worth it,” he said, smiling broadly. “You are the most beautiful bride I have laid eyes on since your mother married me. Come here and give your old man a hug.”

  She carefully picked her way down the stairs, then flew into his arms. Screw propriety and stoicism. “I love you, Daddy. So much.”

  “Same, my ladybug. I’m so proud of you. And that fellow you’re marrying isn’t so bad.”

  She grinned and pressed her wet face tighter against his neck. “He has all the respect in the world for you.”

  “As he should. I’m his elder.”

  Now she was shaking with giggles. “Okay.”

  “Pull yourself together, now. Your brothers aren’t far behind me.” Translation: emotional moment was over because no way was he setting that example for his sons.

  Mari stifled an eye roll and tucked her arm through his, leading him into the kitchen where the makeup artist immediately descended and started the repair job.

  The morning started to speed up from that point. All three brothers arrived together. Travis and Sam were tight-lipped about the night before, but Gavin opened up as soon as they had a minute alone. The twin connection trumped any brother code.

  “Chase said that Sam got into it with one of the Coyotes last night,” she whispered as they were shifted into position by the photographer for a formal picture.

  Gavin laughed. “Yeah, I thought Sam was going to take his head off.”

  “Gav! Don’t encourage him like that.”

  “Nah, he was fine. And in the right, actually.”

  “I know. I just worry about him sometimes.” She flicked her gaze toward her oldest brother, who was leaning against the deck railing and staring out onto the lake. “He’s not happy.”

  “It’s a wedding, Mar. None of us are happy.”

  She elbowed him in his side. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do. And today isn’t the day to worry about that. Got it?”

  Nope. She didn’t get it in the least. “I’m going to talk to him.”

  “I’m standing on your train, so you’re going to stay right where you are and smile for the camera.” Gavin slid his arm under her hair and veil and slung it over her shoulder.

  “Perfect!” called out the photographer.

  Hardly, thought Mari. She was only home for a few days. So what if it was her wedding? Didn’t that mean she could talk about whatever she wanted and her brothers would have to like it? Or at the very least, put up with it?

  Next up was the entire family, with her parents on either side of her and her brothers fanning out around them. Then all the kids, and as soon as the photographer said they were done and Audrey pronounced she had almost two hours to chill before the ceremony—because reasons Mari didn’t really get, but also didn’t care about, as she loved her dress and sitting quietly with her best friends and family sounded like the perfect preamble to a crazy, whirlwind afternoon.

  The photographer departed first, then the make-up artist gave Stella and Audrey an SOS kit in case Mari started crying again.

  And finally her house was quiet again.

  “More wine, honey?” her mother asked.

  “Maybe half a glass.” She scrunched her nose at her father’s rai
sed eyebrow. “It’s a special occasion.”

  “You used to say that about pop, too,” he said. “Until you got a cavity and we had to go to the dentist for a filling.”

  “I don’t think champagne will give me a cavity,” she giggled.

  “Still. Can’t be healthy.” He winked, taking the edge off his lecture.

  Stella, ever the eager conversationalist, leaned in and asked Mari’s dad what he’d prefer to toast with at dinner if he didn’t like to drink alcohol, and that sent Audrey scurrying for her binder.

  Travis and Gavin followed their mother into the kitchen for drinks, and Mari saw her opening to talk with Sam.

  He saw it too, and stood up. “I’m going to head to the winery now, I think.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. Well, she’d bought a comfortable dress she could easily move in for a reason. Leaping to her feet, she said, “I’ll walk you out, then.”

  Waiting until the front door was closed behind them and they were alone in the front drive—except for the security guard at the road, but he couldn’t care less about Mari talking to her brother. He was just watching for paparazzi.

  Sam followed her gaze. “That’s something, eh?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, pressing her hand to his forearm. “You good?”

  “I think that’s my question for you, little sister.”

  “I’m not the one picking fights and being all squirrelly. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  She glared at him. “Do I look stupid?”

  “No, you look like a pampered beauty queen in a dress that cost as much as my truck.” Mari gasped and stepped back and Sam’s face fell as he realized how that sounded. “Shit—”

  “This dress cost me like, five hundred dollars off the rack, you asshole!” Name calling was probably offside, but so was him projecting whatever his issues were onto her. Gavin had been right. This wasn’t the conversation to be having today of all days. “You know what? I was just worried about you, but if you want to be like that—”

  They were talking over each other now, a jumble of offended sensibilities and half-apologies. “Forget I said that, okay?”

  “How can I forget it? You just said it.”