The Best of June (32 page)

After he went to see Doctor Sanders and asked for June’s records, Sanders had disappeared. As it happened, the bastard had lied to June. His wife didn’t have ovarian cancer but ovarian cysts. Both showed the same symptoms. With Trey’s help, he’d found out that Sanders had been working and sleeping with the owner of Seattle’s Affordable Fertility Clinic. Sanders would find unsuspecting patients like his wife and tell them that they must freeze their eggs. He would recommend his lover’s clinic then they’d share the profit.

Henry didn’t know whether to thank Sanders for lying to June or damn him to Hell. After all, his lies had brought June to his life. “Hi, hon.”

“Hello. What’s up with the smile?”

She’ll make you fall in love with her.
“Just thinking about what someone said, Mrs. Colchester.” Craig was right. His wife had blindsided him. God, he’d fallen in love with her and he hadn’t even known it.

“What did this someone say?”

Henry took June’s hands, loving the feel of his signet right around her finger. “He said that I’ll fall in love with my wife without her even trying to make me. He was right.”

“I wonder how I even managed to do that.”

Grinning, he pulled June against him then wrapped his arms around her waist. “When she threatened to poke the man who gave me this scar with her heel. Then she kissed me. Right here.” Henry touched the scar above his right brow. “That day I fell in love with her.”

“Henry…”

Not minding their audience, Henry kissed June. He drank the sweetness of her mouth until Sam’s giggles penetrated his pleasure-induced brain. His wife, on the other hand, turned bright pink. If he were to guess, she’d also forgotten about their company. “Later,” he whispered.

June shook her head. “Anyone ready for dessert?”

“Damn. I’m dying to have some.”

“That would be awesome,” Julian and Nolan said simultaneously.

“Finally. I thought I’d have to raid the kitchen myself. That wonderful smell is killing me.” Trey anchored his arm around June’s shoulder. “I’ll help. Come on, June, before your husband starts mauling you again.”

“All right.”

“Trey, keep your hands off my wife or I’ll break your legs.”

“I’ll try, man. But if she starts attacking me, I’m not going to stop her.”

Everyone laughed.

“Mrs. Juniper Colchester,” he called.

“Yes?”

“You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“Same to you.”

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

The Blue-Eyed Four: Passionate Bid

Tierney O’Malley

Excerpt

Chapter One

Julian Ravenwood clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack from the pressure. But having cracked teeth was better than punching someone. He’d already humiliated his grandma and wouldn’t do it again in front of people eager to hear more gossip.

Son of a bitch. Standing inside this church was the last place he wanted to be—wearing a tuxedo, polished shoes and about to get hitched.

Damn wedding. In his opinion, however fucking insignificant it might be, marrying a very young woman was a high price to pay for one mistake he barely remembered committing. Too bad his soon-to-be father-in-law thought otherwise, a thought that his grandma shared.

How could she pick Saint Claire’s side? He couldn’t believe it. His own grandma, who knew him since birth, agreed that he’d acted foolishly and should face his responsibility like an honorable man.

I am a fucking honorable man. Never tried pot, never cheated on any of my
girlfriends, never cut in line. But, according to Saint Claire, I am the son of Satan who took advantage of his daughter’s innocence. Innocent, my ass.

Julian had been drunk. Joanie sober. Wasn’t it easy to see who’d taken advantage of whom? But no matter how hard he’d tried to explain that simple fact when the unthinkable had happened, they hadn’t believed him. What he’d received was a hard slap on the face. It was the first time he’d seen his grandma that angry.

How could they not see that Joanie had been an accomplice and not a victim?

“Bro, you’re scaring me with your fucking scowl.”

Julian elbowed his friend, Nolan. “I bet you’d do more than scowl if you were the one getting married right now.”

“Joanie’s not that bad. I talked to her. She’s cool.”

“And fucking seventeen.”

“Please, mind your language. You’re inside the church.”

Nolan turned around to grin at Father Keeley. “Sorry, Father, we have sinned—again.”

Julian groaned and rolled his eyes as the pianist played the old universal wedding tune,
Here Comes the Bride
. It was a reminder that he’d fucked up his life. Big time. He looked to his left where the old lady in her bright pink sweater hunched low in front of the organ. Her body spoke of excitement. She was practically dancing. Well, at least someone appreciated the occasion because he, the stupid groom, definitely didn’t care.

Yup, I don’t give a damn about this wedding.

The handful of guests, including his two other friends, Trey and Henry, turned in their seats expecting the bride to appear at the door. A minute later, no bride appeared. Good. Maybe she and her father had come to their senses and realized that this whole thing was a mistake and they’d both gone home.

Perhaps to cue in Joanie to take the spot by the door where she should be, the organist pounded harder on the keys, repeating the music’s intro, as she looked up and craned her neck.

Damn song. Here Comes Death would be an apt title for it
,
because this wedding was exactly that—a funeral
. A string of curses fell from his mouth. Damn, he’d never been this angry. He should feel ecstatic or at least nervous. After all, today was his wedding day, the beginning of a new chapter in his life. Today was anything but.

Standing by the altar with ornery Father Keeley breathing down his neck was the last place on earth he thought he would be right now. He should be getting ready for the trip with his buddies in Florida, to enjoy the beach, beautiful women in their skimpy bikinis, and cans of cold Coors beer, not sealing his doom.

“You still going to join us in Florida?” Nolan whispered.

“Hell yeah.”

“What about your bride?”

“What about her?” Julian flicked imaginary lint off his sleeve.

“What do you mean what about her? Tonight’s gonna be the night, man.”

“Shit, I’m not going to touch that girl with a ten-foot pole.”

“Dude, so cliché. So you’re just going to leave her?”

“Well, to start with, I’m going to Florida with you guys. What about you? Aren’t you supposed to spend time with Gypsy?”

“Yeah. She’s okay with me going to Florida, though.”

“You should just kidnap her, take her to Reno and marry her. What do you think her dad’ll do?”

“Gypsy will not agree to Reno. Her dad is hell bent on keeping her tucked in beside him all the time.”

“Man, that sucks. When are we going to meet her?”

“Maybe after Florida.”

“So she’s going to play Rapunzel while you play Romeo and climb her trellis forever?”

“We’ll make it work. I think you should too. Things happen for a reason. Give your marriage a chance. Don’t worry, we’re not going to replace your spot. Even married, you’ll remain one of the Blue-Eyed Four. It’s just you’re the first one to fall. I wonder who’s going to be next. Definitely not me. Not with Gypsy reluctant to leave her dad’s side.”

Julian met his friends’ gazes. Two pairs of intense blue eyes looked back at him. Blue-Eyed Four. It was what Remy, the brusque bartender at the Old Cabin Bar in downtown Seattle, had yelled while pointing his finger at the four of them when the police had asked who was involved in the fight. Since then the name had stuck. Among the four of them, Nolan had a girlfriend, one whom Nolan swore owned his heart.

His friend was lucky to find a woman he considered the one. Unlike Julian, who had been saddled with a woman he only knew by name. Julian searched deep inside himself for any signs of excitement or giddiness, anything at all, but there was nothing. What he felt was the need to escape and hot-boiling anger for not being able to.

Goddamn it. He’d rather be anywhere but here.

Trey gave him a thumbs-up while Henry pretended to be licking an imaginary ice cream. They’d been trying to cheer him up. But so far, none of his friends’ ridiculous behavior had worked.

Stomach sick, he kept his eyes focused on the church’s stained-glass window just above the arched doorway. Through his peripheral view, a froth of white appeared. His heart sank low in his gut.

“Your bride, bro.”

“Please don’t remind me, Nolan. This is a fucking nightmare.”

“She doesn’t have a maid.”

“Don’t care. I need beer.”

Nolan snickered. He shoved his friend, hard.

So the Saint Claires are still here. Fuckin’ A.
He kept his gaze glued on the rainbow-colored cross and ignored the hushed whispers that seemed to get louder every minute.

Father Keeley cleared his throat. The sound grated on Julian’s nerves. The priest had been doing it all morning, as though Julian was a child being reminded to behave. Julian bet the father would have a real sore throat when the ceremony was over. This time though, he knew why the priest made an even louder ahem.

But he didn’t need Father Keeley’s reminder. He knew what he was supposed to do—look at Joanie Saint Claire, the part that he found hard to do. No, not that he didn’t want to see her. He’d seen her around, and didn’t find any problems with that. It was what she represented that he didn’t like at all—a bride.

His bride.

Julian lowered his gaze to look at Joanie.
Oh. My. God.
He shuddered inwardly at the sight of his bride.

Joanie’s face was pale, her eyes swollen, and her lips trembled the way one would when left out in the freezing cold. Shit, he’d never seen a bride who looked ready to cast up her stomach’s contents. With Joanie’s father at her side, she walked with the speed of a snail, unsmiling, and she looked on the verge of tears. She held her bouquet like a heavy basket dangling at her side. Her old man, who Julian often referred to as Saint Claire, held her other hand at the crook of his arm.

Saint Claire looked twice as bad as his daughter did. His face resembled a dark cloud during winter—heavy and thunderous, as if a mere poke would make him burst and shower everyone, particularly him, with his wrath. Julian bet that if Saint Claire could have his way, he’d blast him with his .38 Special to the center of the earth for what he had done to Joanie. Or what Saint Claire believed he’d done. When Saint Claire had requested—no, demanded—that he explain what had happened, why his daughter had ended up in his bedroom, Julian had told him everything to the best of his ability. The old man’s sharp glance at Joanie, with his brows deeply furrowed, told Julian that he believed what had happened was consensual. However, Joanie was still seventeen, underage for legal consent, and Saint Claire had found a way to make him face the consequences—marriage.

One fucking mistake and his life had turned upside down.

Julian watched Joanie take baby steps.
Good
. The longer it took them to reach the altar the better. He needed every second to prolong his bachelorhood.

Change your mind, old man. Take your daughter back to your home, not to me.

But the aisle wasn’t long enough to give Saint Claire time to think about the stupidity of their situation. To Julian’s chagrin, Joanie and Saint Claire reached the altar.

Julian stole a quick glance at his grandma sitting on the front pew. Their gazes met. Grandma shook her head. A simple gesture, but it caused him a pain that wound its way to his heart. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had, and there was nothing he could do about it but apologize.

“
This is your fate, Julian. Accept it
.” Those were his grandma’s words. He liked to believe her, but he knew the truth. They were all gathered in this cold, gray church because he’d consumed too much alcohol, and it had fucked with his brain.

Willing himself to focus on Saint Claire, the old man gave him a chilling look, sending him a silent warning.
Oh, yeah, I get the message in that look. It’s the I-will-kill-you-if-you-hurt-my-daughter look.
Julian met the stare with his own hot glare. He would rather give Saint Claire an imprint of his knuckles, but the man carried a gun under his coat. Nah, he would never hurt an old man physically, but it felt just as nice to think about it. Besides, his grandma hadn’t raised him to be a disrespectful ass.

Saint Claire, Julian noticed, had to pry Joanie’s fingers off his arm. He heard the old man murmur, “It’s going to be okay, poppet,” before giving her a tight embrace that bespoke his unwillingness to give her away.

When Joanie finally let go of her father, Saint Claire turned to pierce him with eyes shiny from unshed tears.

Julian wanted to tell him, ‘Hey, I’m not the only one to blame here.’ But it wouldn’t do any good since the other person to blame wasn’t even considered an adult. Saint Claire broke eye contact and took his seat beside Julian’s grandma. They greeted each other with a short nod.

With his spirits sinking even lower, he let out a deep sigh while waiting for Joanie to face the priest. Joanie’s chin quivered and her eyes, like her father’s, were bright with unshed tears. But when she focused her gaze on him, he saw something he couldn’t exactly discern. Courage, anger, fear, maybe sadness? He couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. All he wanted was to end this lunacy.

He acknowledged Joanie with a nod, which made her already flushed face deepen into crimson. She lowered her lashes and began chewing her lips.

Lord, this is why virgins are supposed to stay in convents.

He faced Father Keeley, who showed his displeasure openly by scowling. Fuck, why was everyone looking at him as if he’d sinfully offered Eve an apple and ruined the innocence and harmony in the Garden of Eden? This Eve, also known as his future wife Joanie, might be young, but innocent she wasn’t.