The Kidnapped Christmas Bride (Taming of the Sheenans Book 3) (2 page)

“Another affair?”

“No, but with Callan.” Troy shot him a swift glance, brow creased. “When her dad passed, he didn’t leave the place to her. Or any of them.”

“
What
?”

“There’s some talk in town—just gossip at this point—that maybe he wasn’t their biological father—”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, why didn’t he leave the Carrigan ranch to his kids?”

“I don’t know. But Callan must have been pretty broken up. She loves that place.”

Troy was silent a moment. “I think Dillon knows something, too, but he’s not saying.”

“Those two friends again?”

“More friendly than friends. While you were gone they became drinking buddies. Every Friday night you can find them at Grey’s, playing pool and shooting the shit.” Troy’s lips curved. “Dillon practically lives at Grey’s on the weekends.”

“He’s not driving back to the ranch drunk, is he?”

“Usually he finds a warm bed in town, along with an even warmer woman.”

“Our Dillon is a player.”

“He’s certainly enjoying being a bachelor.”

“No little Sheenans on the way?”

“None that I’ve heard about.” Troy leaned forward, turned up the music and then halfway through the Martina McBride Christmas song turned it back down. “There’s something else I’ve got to tell you.”

Trey glanced warily at his brother. “Brock got cancer?”

“Um, no. Thank God.” He sighed. “But it’s not going to make you happy.”

Trey stiffened. “No?”

“It’s McKenna.”

Trey held his breath.

“I didn’t know how to tell you, or when to tell you, but seeing as you’re out today, now, you’re going to need to know.” Troy’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. “McKenna is getting married tomorrow.”

They drove another mile in deafening silence, snow pelting the car and windshield. Trey stared out the window blindly, seeing nothing of the Tobacco Root Mountains and Three Forks before them. Instead he fought wave after wave of nausea. McKenna getting married….McKenna marrying tomorrow…

Unthinkable. Impossible.

His stomach rolled and heaved. He gave his head a sharp shake. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t lose her now, not after waiting four years to make things right.

“Hey, Troy. Pull over.” Trey’s deep voice dropped, cracked. “I’m going to be sick.”

‡

T
hese weren’t butterflies
McKenna was feeling. They were giant wildebeests swarming with flies. So no, she wasn’t nervous. She was
terrified
.

Not terrified of marrying Lawrence, but terrified that if she didn’t marry him, the rest of her life would be just as hard as it’d been the first thirty-three years.

She was ready to lose the Douglas off her name. Ready to no longer be that tragic McKenna Douglas who’d lost five of her immediate family members as a not-quite-fourteen year old in the Douglas Home Invasion Tragedy nineteen years ago. People spoke of it like that, in newspaper headlines.

She was ready to stop being the brave girl folks hovered over, worrying about, petting, protecting to the point that McKenna couldn’t show fear or anxiety or everyone would hover more and worry more and suffocate her with the worrying that changed nothing, and the hovering that made it impossible to breathe. The only one who never hovered and worried was Trey and she’d loved him for it.

And hated him.

But that was neither here nor there. He was the past and today she was stepping into a bright new future as Mrs. McKenna Joplin, Lawrence Joplin’s wife.

She was more than ready to relinquish the title of ‘devoted single mom’. Of course she was devoted, she was a mother. And yes, like all moms, she tried to be a great mom, but she was ready for a partnership, ready for a daddy for her boy, and a warm, kind loving husband to help carry the burden…emotionally, physically, financially.

Lawrence would be a great partner, friend, and father for TJ, and just minutes from now she’d be walking down the aisle, joining Lawrence at the altar. But my God, the butterflies…

The wildebeests…

They were bad. She was shaking. She was this close to throwing up.

From joy, not nerves.

And okay, maybe a little bit of nerves and exhaustion thrown in there, too, as TJ had spent the last week sick with a virulent flu and she’d been up with him, night after night, fussing over his temperature, holding him as he heaved into the toilet, measuring out thimblefuls of fever reducer and pain killer since his five year old body ached and ached so that her normally busy and bright boy was a whimpering tangle of arms and legs against her.

She loved that boy to distraction. Some said she loved him too much. But how could you ever love a child too much? Children needed love…tons and tons of love. And fortunately, TJ was better—bouncing back the way five year olds do—and at this very moment, tearing away with her brothers in the groom’s dressing room. Even better, she hadn’t come down sick, herself, so everything was good.

Everything was fantastic.

Which was why her eyes burned a bit, and her heart thudded. The only thing that could make today perfect was if her mom and dad could have been here, and Grace, Gordon, and Ty…

There were days where she didn’t think about them, those who died at the house that day, and then there were days she couldn’t forget them. Today was one of them. But then, it was natural for a bride to wish her mom was there to help her dress, and her dad was there to walk her down the aisle…

She blinked hard, quickly, holding back the emotion even as the door to St. Jame’s bridal dressing room opened, and the delicate light bright strains of Vivaldi reached McKenna, the organist continuing to make her way through the prelude play list, and then the heavy oak door closed behind Paige Joffe, silencing the music.

“The church is full,” Paige said, hands on her hips. “The flower girls are in place. The bouquets are in the foyer. All we need is you.”

McKenna nodded and reached up to wipe beneath her eyes to make sure they were dry. “I’m ready.”

But Paige heard the wobble in McKenna’s voice and was immediately at her side, ruby red bridesmaid dress swishing. “What’s wrong, Kenna?”

McKenna shook her head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing!”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No!” McKenna’s voice rose, horrified. She didn’t have cold feet. Her nerves weren’t cold feet. Her nerves were an accumulation of emotion. Fear, hope, love, loss, longing.

But was there a bride who didn’t feel emotional? Was it such a bad thing to be a tiny bit apprehensive? She wasn’t a twenty-two year old virgin. She was a mother, and it’d been just her and TJ for years. Now she was moving her boy into a new home, another man’s home. Thank goodness Lawrence wasn’t like those testosterone driven alpha males who were all weird and territorial about raising another man’s child. He wanted to be a good stepfather. He wanted to do scouting with TJ and teach him to fish and how to throw a ball.

Not that Lawrence could actually throw a football. Or catch a pop up ball. But her brothers could teach TJ those things. Her brothers were tough and testosterone-fueled. What TJ needed was Lawrence’s quiet strength. His calm, his self-control.

So, no, Lawrence Joplin wasn’t a he-man, cowboy, athlete, bar room brawler. But he was invested in the community, and constantly giving back, which made him the right example for TJ Sheenan. The right example for a little boy who was growing up with his biological dad in jail.

“You look beyond beautiful,” Paige said, giving McKenna’s silk train a shake to make sure it didn’t wrinkle. “Simply gorgeous,” she added, adjusting the long veil to float above the gleaming white silk.

McKenna looked at her reflection in the antechamber’s oval mirror, thinking she’d taken so many photographs of brides in this very spot, doing one last make up check before leaving the dressing room for the church. It was a bit surreal being the bride herself today, and not the photographer. She was far more comfortable being in the background than in the starring role.

Paige kept up a steady stream of chatter to try to distract McKenna. “TJ looked adorable. I love tuxedos on little boys, so cute.” Paige had been McKenna’s best friend for the past two years, from practically the moment she arrived in Marietta with her two young children in tow.

“I hope he’s behaving,” McKenna answered.

Paige grinned. “He’s trying his best.”

McKenna smiled ruefully. “Are my brothers losing their minds?”

“Not too badly. And your brothers seem up for the challenge.”

“I think they wish he had more Douglas in him and less Sheenan.”

“But you love that little boy because he’s all Sheenan.” Paige leaned in and gave McKenna a warm hug. “Now don’t be sad,” she added, her voice dropping. “This is a happy day. You’re marrying your best friend. Lawrence is as steady as a rock. You know he’ll always be there to take care of you.”

Paige was right. Lawrence was exactly that—steady and reliable. A tad conservative, too, but she’d learned the hard way that conservative was better than crazy-ass wild. “I just hope that he’ll always be as patient with TJ as he is now, because a spirited five year old is one thing, but a sassy or sarcastic thirteen year old is another.”

“You’ll just have to work hard to make sure TJ doesn’t get sassy or sarcastic—”

“If he’s anything like his dad, he’s not going to be a saint, and you to have admit, he’s the spitting image of Trey.”

“I haven’t actually met Trey, but I know Troy, and yes, TJ is a miniature of his uncle Troy.”

“If only he acted like Troy…instead he’s wild. Wild like Trey.”

“Wild and adorable,” Paige retorted. “The cutest kindergarten kid ever, with an incredible sense of humor.”

McKenna smiled a watery smile. “He does have a good sense of humor.”

“Yes. He’s hilarious. And he just needs a good kind father figure, a father who is there.” Paige hesitated, picking her words carefully. “Is this about…Trey?”

“No!” McKenna shook her head. “
No
.”

“You’re sure? Because it’s not too late—”

“I’m sure.” McKenna’s voice hardened. “Absolutely sure. At least, with regards to him. He had his chance. He had dozens of chances. He’s not an option. At all. In any way.”

Paige reached for the box of tissues and pulled two soft sheets. “Look up,” she said, before dabbing beneath McKenna’s eyes. “I know you two had a stormy relationship, but he is TJ’s dad.”

“Then he should have acted like TJ’s dad. He should have been careful. He should have been responsible. He should have put his family first.”

The door to the dressing room opened, organ music swelled in the background, and Rory Douglas, McKenna’s oldest brother, stuck his head inside the dressing room. “I think they’re ready for you, Kenna,” he said.

And just like that, the butterflies were back. McKenna placed a hand across her stomach, calming the flutter followed by a wave of nausea. Coffee with weak toast probably wasn’t the breakfast of champions. “How’s TJ?”

“Looking sharp.” Rory crossed the floor, caught her in a quick hug. “And you, Kenna, you’re one hell of a beautiful bride. Mom and Dad would be so proud of you.”

And just like that, the tears were back, and the knot of hot emotion. She clung to her handsome big brother, fingers digging into his arms, needing the support. “I miss them,” she whispered against his chest. “I miss them so much, Rory.”

“I know, kiddo. I know.” His voice dropped low, his tone husky. “But I’m sure they are here with us today. I’m sure they’re looking down on you, as proud as anything.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, Kenna, I do.” He stepped back and kissed her on her forehead. “Now no more tears. You don’t want to mess up all that make up.” He glanced at Paige who was picking up McKenna’s heavy train. “Does this mean we’re ready?”

McKenna smiled through her tears. “I think so.”

“Then I’ll round up TJ and meet you in the vestibule.”

‡

T
rey sat in
his truck in front of Marietta’s St. James Church watching the second hand on his watch, aware of every passing minute.