by Marie Force
It had been twenty long years since his father walked away from his wife and children, leaving Grayson and his mom to pick up the pieces for the others. Until then, he’d loved being the oldest in his family and had wallowed in the privileges that went along with being the eldest. Until he became the man of the family almost overnight, responsible for his distraught mother and seven younger siblings who were looking to him to make sense of something that still didn’t make sense all these years later.
Here he was now, a man of thirty-six, an accomplished lawyer, and the scene in his aunt Molly’s kitchen had taken him back to the long ago night that marked the official end of his childhood. He could still remember the panic, the despair, the fear, the rage . . . all of it congealing into a hot knot of anxiety in his gut that he’d carried with him for years afterward.
How anyone could walk away from their own kid, let alone eight of them, was beyond him. He actively hated Chloe, a woman he barely knew, for what she’d done to her son tonight. For someday, in the not-too-distant future, Caden would find out that his mother had rejected him, and he’d never be the same.
Grayson had never been the same. He took another deep sip of the scotch, letting the searing heat soothe him.
“What’s that stuff?” a little voice next to him asked.
He looked over at the girl with the red curls who’d sat next to him in his quiet corner that wasn’t so quiet anymore. “It’s scotch. You ever had it?”
She wrinkled her adorable nose. “Of course not. I’m a kid. Kids don’t drink scotch. My grandpa likes it, though, so that’s how I know what it is.”
“What do you drink?”
“I like apple juice, but Mommy says it has too much sugar, so it’s a special treat.”
“Your mommy is very wise.”
“She’s very pretty, too.” Pointing, the girl said, “That’s her right there.”
He followed her finger to the blonde he’d met the night before, and had to agree that Lucy’s sister, Emma, was indeed gorgeous. Her daughter took after her aunt Lucy with her red hair and pale white skin, whereas her mom was a willowy blonde with big blue eyes.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
“Who wants to know?” he asked, amused by the girl’s blatant matchmaking.
“I do.”
“And what’s your name?”
“Simone.”
“That’s a pretty name. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No! I’m nine. Nine-year-olds don’t have boyfriends. You’re like Colton. He knows nothing about kids.”
Grayson knew more about kids than any childless man his age, but he didn’t share that information with the girl. “What kind of stuff should I know?”
“Well, you should know that nine-year-old girls don’t drink scotch and have boyfriends.”
“I guess you don’t smoke then either, do you?”
She lost it laughing, and he lost a tiny piece of his heart to her. What a cutie. “No! I don’t smoke. Smoking is gross and it kills you.”
“That’s exactly right. Stay away from that stuff.”
“What do you want for Christmas this year?” she asked.
God, what a sweet question, and what did he want anyway? How about some peace and a whole new life? That’d be a great place to start. “I want a pair of socks. What about you?”
“Socks? Who wants socks for Christmas?”
“I do, and it’s my Christmas list, so you don’t get to make fun of it.”
“That’s true. Sorry.”
He nudged her with his elbow. “I was only kidding. You can make fun of me. Socks are a dumb thing to want for Christmas. What’s on your list?”
“I asked for a new American Girl doll, but they’re kind of expensive. Not sure that’ll happen. But it’s okay if it doesn’t. I always get lots of cool stuff.”
“I’m sure you’re spoiled rotten.”
“Not really. It’s just me and Mommy, so we have to watch our pennies. That’s what she says anyway.”
Grayson wanted to buy her the doll and any other damned thing she wanted to make up for the fact that her father wasn’t in her life. He was drawn out of that thought by the arrival of Emma, who’d come to claim her daughter.
“Are you bothering Grayson?” Emma asked.
“Your name is Grayson?” Simone asked, giggling. “What kind of name is that?”
“Simone!”
“It’s a smart, distinguished name, I’ll have you know.”
Simone covered her mouth, as if that could contain her laughter, and he was utterly beguiled by the glee in her mischievous eyes.
“I’m sorry about her,” Emma said. “The charm school wouldn’t have her, so I’m doing the best I can on my own.”
“I’d say you’re doing a pretty great job,” Gray said, looking up at her. She had a body that wouldn’t quit and absolutely stunning blue eyes.
“You should ask my mom to dance,” Simone said. “She loves to dance, and she doesn’t get to very often ’cuz of me.”
“Simone, honestly.”
For Gray, however, the thought of dancing with Simone’s sexy, embarrassed mother was far better than sitting in the corner drinking scotch alone while old memories resurfaced to prove they could still hurt him all these years later. “That’s about the best idea anyone’s had all day,” Gray said.
Simone’s expressive eyes widened with joyful pleasure. “Really?”
Gray stood and extended his hand to Emma, who blushed madly. “Really.”
“Oh, um, you don’t have to,” Emma said haltingly.
“I’d love to. Shall we?”
As she looked up at him and took hold of his hand, Grayson felt like he’d been struck by lightning or gut-punched or something equally unpleasant, except there was nothing at all unpleasant about it. In fact, it was the best feeling he’d had in longer than he could remember.
CHAPTER 23
And for me, the real world involves everything: risk, danger, beauty, energy, all we meet with in the real world.
—Christo
“Let’s get out of here,” Hunter whispered to Megan after they’d eaten and cut their cake and she’d tossed her bouquet right into Lucy’s outstretched hands.
“We can’t go yet,” Megan said. “Everyone is here for us.”
“They expect us to go as soon as we possibly can. Let’s get this honeymoon started.”
“Our honeymoon doesn’t start for six days yet.” They were leaving the day after Christmas for Bermuda.
“Baby, our honeymoon starts right now. I want to be alone with my wife.”
“Your wife,” she said with a sigh. “I do like the sound of that.”
“I love the sound of it, and that other sound you make, you know the one when you—”
She squished his lips with her fingers. “Stop it.”
“Take me home where I can talk dirty to you all I want.”
“If you’re going to be that way about it.”
“I’m going to be that way. I absolutely am.”
“What’ve I gotten myself into here?”
He smiled and waggled his brows at her. “You know exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“The best thing ever.”
“Glad you think so. Now take me home and make a decent husband out of me.”
“If you insist.”
“I do. I insist, and I’m the husband.”
The withering look she gave him only made him laugh. Nothing could get him down on the best night of his life. Their simple wedding at his parents’ home had been everything they’d hoped it would be, and now he was ready to get on with the rest of their lives together, beginning with the all-important wedding night.
Hand in hand, they went around the room to say their good-byes and took the expected r
ibbing about leaving early from his siblings, cousins and friends. Whatever. Let them have their laughs. He got to sleep with the exquisite Megan Abbott every night for the rest of his life. The last laugh was all his.
He’d never in his life seen anything more perfect than she’d looked tonight, glowing with happiness and smiling nonstop. Hunter loved her like that, free from the sorrow of the past and looking forward to the future with him. And he planned to make sure that she never again had reason to be sad about anything if he had anything to say about it.
His mother hugged and kissed him. “So proud of you tonight, my love,” she said. “Such a handsome groom and what a stunning bride.”
“Couldn’t agree more about the bride.”
“Love you, son,” Lincoln said when he hugged him. “And we love you, too, Megan. Happy to have you in the family.”
“Thank you both so much for letting us do it here, especially this week when there’s so much else going on,” Megan said. “But I pictured it here, and it was exactly what I wanted.”
“We loved doing it,” Molly said. “Our home is your home.”
Megan hugged them both. “It’s so nice to have parents again. I’d forgotten how lovely it is.”
She reduced his parents to tears with her sweetness.
“You okay to drive, son?” Linc asked, brushing at his eyes.
“I’m fine. I quit drinking hours ago.” To Megan he said, “Ready, sweetheart?”
“Ready.” They put on coats and hustled into the cold winter night to discover his brothers had decorated his Lincoln Navigator with strings of cans and had written Just Married in foam on the back window. Good thing they didn’t get any of the foam on the paint or he’d have to kill them.
Megan laughed at the spectacle they’d made of his vehicle.
“It’s not funny,” Hunter said, though he was deeply amused. He expected nothing less from his moronic brothers, especially Lucas and Landon, who were no doubt the ringleaders.
“Yes, it is.”
He held the door for her and helped her—and her dress—into the car before seat-belting her in and stealing a kiss. Lingering was not an option, however, because it was freezing and he didn’t want her to get cold. So he put his desire for his new wife on ice for the moment.
Megan giggled uncontrollably at the racket they made as they drove through the sleepy town of Butler on the way home. He’d wanted to take her somewhere special for their wedding night, but she’d said their home was special to her and that was where she wanted to go.
He loved that she was easy to please, and the happy sound of her laughter was a huge turn-on for him. When he thought about the edgy, distrustful woman she’d once been, it was hard to reconcile that woman with the joyful person he’d married tonight. She’d changed a lot in the time they’d been together, had rediscovered her joy and her ability to laugh, both of which had been stolen by the deaths of her parents her senior year of high school.
Hunter had changed, too. She’d lightened him up and shown him what really mattered in life. Though he’d been crazy about her for a long time before they ever went out, he’d discovered the reality of her was even better than he’d expected. He took hold of her hand and held it tightly as he drove them home.
“The neighbors are going to think they’re being attacked when we drive up,” he said.
She laughed again, harder than ever.
“I’m going to kill those stupid idiots,” Hunter muttered. “I should’ve done it years ago when I had the chance.”
“You love those idiots.”
“Not right now, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
Hunter squeezed her hand and let her win this round, because she was right. He loved all his siblings—even Lucas and Landon when they were being idiots. They arrived at home and he killed the engine, thankful to quiet the clattering racket behind the car before it woke the whole neighborhood.
“Hi, honey, we’re home,” he said.
“I think everyone in a one-mile radius got the memo that we’re home,” she said with more helpless laughter.
Maybe his brothers weren’t total idiots if their hijinks had given Megan such a good laugh. “Stay there. I’m coming around for you.” Hunter jogged around the front of the car, watching out for black ice as he went. Ice and dress shoes did not make for a good match.
Megan had removed her seatbelt and was waiting for him.
“Come to me, my love.”
“Always.”
With one word she made his heart beat faster and his body tighten with the kind of desire he’d only ever felt for her. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to the porch.
She punched in the code that opened the front door and he swept them over the threshold in keeping with tradition.
“Ahhh, home sweet home,” she said.
In the months since she moved in with him, she’d made subtle changes that had made his home theirs. Throw pillows and blankets to snuggle under on the sofa, her prized antique typewriter on the mantel, candles and new lampshades, her books mixed in with his, some of her favorite art on the walls. He loved every change she made because it meant she was there to stay.
Hunter put her down only long enough to shed their coats and then picked her up again to carry her upstairs. Their puppy, Horace, was spending the weekend with Aunt Hannah and Uncle Nolan, so Mommy and Daddy could have some time to themselves, as Hannah had said when she made the offer. The house was eerily quiet without the little guy to welcome them home.
“If you injure yourself toting me around, you won’t be any good to me on our honeymoon.”
“I’m not going to injure myself, and I’m going to be so good to you on our honeymoon.”
She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Did today really happen?”
“It really did, and we’ve both got rings to prove it.”
“Best day of my life.”
“Mine, too, honey. Best ever.”
“Every day that I’m with you is the best day ever.”
In their room, he put her down but kept his arms around her. “I love you more than life itself, Mrs. Abbott.”
“I love you more than that, Mr. Abbott.”
“No way.”
Smiling up at him in the darkness, she said, “Yes way.”
He kissed her nose and then her lips. “Hang on for one second.” Hunter went around the room, lighting the candles they kept on every available surface because she loved them so much. “There,” he said when he was finished. “That looks more like a wedding night.” Returning to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Now tell me how I get you out of this gorgeous dress that bowled me over the first time I saw it.”
“Did it really?”
“Oh, baby, you have no idea. I almost lost it when you came in with my gramps. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
“I hoped you’d like it. I wanted so badly to ask your opinion. You have better style sense than any woman I know.”
“Should I be offended by that? And P.S., I loved it.”
“You should not be offended because that was a compliment, and P.S. I’m thrilled you loved it.”
“About getting you out of this gorgeous dress I loved so much . . . What’s the secret?”
Smiling, she raised her arm and pointed to the zipper.
“Ahhh, thank you.” He unzipped her slowly, taking his time now that they had the rest of their lives to spend together. The zipper went all the way to her hip, and when it was open, he slid his fingers over the skin he’d uncovered, making her shiver in response. Nuzzling her neck, he said, “Take your hair down.”
She reached up to remove the pins that had held it in place and it dropped to her shoulders in sheets of fragrant golden silk. Then she went to work on his tie, unknotting and removing it. Her
fingers moved over the buttons of his shirt with determination. She spread the two sides apart and pressed her lips to his throat, making him tremble.
Hunter pulled off his suit coat, his dress shirt and the T-shirt he’d worn under it. He helped her out of the dress, which he placed on a chair while his own clothes landed in a heap on the floor. He didn’t care in the least about the suit he’d had made just for tonight. How could he when his gorgeous, sexy wife was standing before him in the most scandalous lingerie he’d ever seen.
“I thought you might like this, too,” she said, dragging a finger over the plump tops of her breasts that were contained by a lacy, sheer strapless bra.
Hunter took a step back to take in the full view of equally lacy panties, garters and sexy-as-hell stockings. “Dear God, woman. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Hardly,” she said.
“Let me see the back side.”
Turning, she looked at him over her shoulder as he took a long perusing trip down her back, swallowing hard at the sight of the thong that disappeared between supple cheeks. “Holy Christ,” he whispered. “I’ve got to be the luckiest guy to ever live.” He placed his hands on her hips and drew her ass in against his hard cock. Then he raised his hands to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples through the bra.
“Hunter,” she said breathlessly.
“What, baby?”
“I want you. Now.”
“Are you going to be a needy, demanding wife?”
“Yes,” she said, laughing. “A very needy, demanding wife.”
“Excellent. That’s just the way I want you.” Keeping one hand on her belly, he released his belt and unfastened and unzipped his pants, letting them join the growing pile on the floor. His boxers followed, and his cock snuggled into the valley between her cheeks.
Kissing her shoulder and the curve of her neck, he smoothed his hand over her flat belly down to cup her intimately, reveling in the shudder that gripped her and the moan that escaped from her lips.
“You’re not a very obedient husband,” she said gruffly. “Torturing your wife this way.”
“My wife loves this kind of torture.”