The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series

by Miller, Cassie-Ann L.

  My father supports our cheapie wedding fully. Especially because we didn’t ask him to whip out his credit card to pay for it.

  Adulting, for the win.

  Some may say it’s kind of twisted for Archie and me to return to Vegas to get married. After all, it’s the scene of my almost-wedding over two years ago. But this city is where Archie and I started. So it feels right that we’d come back here to make it official.

  My flat-ironed hair flows down my back. Reese brushes it into place and sticks it with bobby pins. She stands back from the mirror and watches me. “Perfect! You look stunning, Soph.”

  My mother approaches from across the room with River on her hip. She lays her hand on my shoulder, so much pride in her smile. “Yes, honey. You make a beautiful bride.”

  “Thank you.” I accept the compliment. I feel it all the way to my soul. But still, I don’t need to cling to it like my life depends on it. I appreciate my family’s support but now, I’m strong enough to stand tall even without it.

  Because Archie’s got my back and I’ve got his. We’re an unshakeable team.

  There’s a knock at the door and Angie waddles off to answer it. I hear her high-pitched whisper carry across the room. “You can’t be here. It’s bad luck,” she warns.

  “I just want to make sure she’s okay,” I hear Archie’s voice say, his tone heavy with concern.

  My sister hisses anxiously. “She’s fine. Now, shoo!”

  By now I’m on my feet, inching toward the door. “Babe, what’s going on?” I ask him, my heart smiling at the sound of him. I’m careful not to let his see me as I stand behind the door.

  “There you are!” I hear the relief in his voice.

  “Of course I’m here.”

  “Cool.”

  “Cool.”

  My heart flutters, imagining him in his perfect tux right outside.

  “I wish I could see you,” he whispers, his voice so low and close to the door.

  “I’m sure you look very handsome,” I say, leaning my cheek to the wood.

  He chuckles. “I do look handsome. Panty-meltingly handsome. You’re just gonna have to take my word for it, though. Until we get to the altar.”

  A giggle escapes me. “I’m gonna be here, slowly dying until then,” I tell him.

  We stand there in silence for a while longer and I bask in the comfort of having him so close right now. It’s like he somehow knew how much I needed his reassurance in this moment. He always seems to know exactly what I need, when I need it.

  His fingers appear in the crack of the door, wiggling in my direction. I laugh as I reach out and take them, lacing our hands together. His voice drops low so only I can hear. “Daisy, I just want you to know that I’ll be there waiting for you, at the other end of the aisle. You don’t have to worry. You know you can count on me. Right?”

  My heart swells too big for my chest when he says that. I never told him about the irrational fear that’s been plaguing me, the niggling doubt whether he’d be there when I was ready to walk toward the altar. But because he knows me so well, he figured it out on his own and here he is, giving me the reassurance I need.

  Only in Las Vegas does a girl get so lucky…

  It might seem crazy that we’re getting married in Vegas after the trauma I experienced the last time I tried to do this. But this time, I’m with the right man. And I know it to the depths of my soul.

  “Thank you, babe,” I whisper. I refuse to cry because Reese worked hard to pull my bride-on-a-budget look together. I don’t wanna mess it up.

  With a kiss to my knuckles, Archie slips from the door. My doting friends put the finishing touches on my outfit. And then we’re on the elevator, then we’re getting in the car and driving down the Strip toward the chapel.

  When I step out of the taxi and walk through the archway, I see Archie standing at the altar, just like he said he’d be. His expression is full of excitement. His love beams my way. My hands clasp over my heart and I give myself a moment to absorb it.

  The handsome stranger at the bar is about to become my husband. He’s the father of my child. He’s the holder of my heart. He’s my future.

  Archie and I have come full circle. I’m living my dream come true.

  *

  *

  *

  Gah! The Blue Collar Bachelors Series is over! I can’t even believe it!

  Thanks so much for reading Dream Boy. I hope that Sophia and Archie were the love story dreams are made of. *Winky face*

  I’ve got some cool bonuses for you! Flip the page to read the Blue Collar Bachelors Series epilogue.

  Bonus: The Blue Collar Bachelors Series Epilogue

  Several years later…

  Nova & Charlie

  Nova

  My fingers splay wide across the feather blue bathroom tiles. I drop my head, chewing on my bottom lip to stifle a moan. Electric currents of pleasure shoot beneath the surface of my wet skin. The bite of Charlie’s fingernails digging into my hips barely registers.

  “Butterfly…” my husband groans out as his cock hammers through my spasming channel. He presses his lips to the tattoo on my shoulder. “God, I’m addicted to your pussy, Nova.” He pinches one nipple and then the other. “I think I need professional help.”

  Predawn light sneaks in through the tiny window high up on the wall. I close my eyes against the streams of water pouring down my face, snaking across my scalp. “Don’t you even dare!” I threaten and arch my back, slightly changing the position. So good.

  He growls at the heightened sensation. “Enabler.”

  I curve my spine a little more to goad him on. He responds by angling his hips and plowing into a bundle of nerves that has me hiccupping a moan.

  The sound goes straight to his ego. He chuckles and bites my shoulder. This man is going to drive me insane. With his cock.

  Yes, it’s been ten years and I’m still as manic over Charlie Hartley as I was the first night we kissed. I’m crazy about everything about him. The way his corded muscles bulge when he ropes his arms around my torso each night. The gritty rasp of his voice when he whispers my name first thing each morning. His corny jokes about my frightful attempts at cooking dinner. That protective streak he has for our kids.

  I’m addicted to this man and he’s an obsession I don’t want to quit.

  I reach one hand back and lock my fingers around the back of my husband’s neck. “Almost there, baby. Almost there,” I whisper. The orgasm builds like a storm in the pool of my belly.

  Then, a burst of quick explosions erupts against the bathroom door. Like an unending round of machine gun fire.

  Seriously?!

  I ball up a fist and pound it against the shower tile. “For crying out loud…” I whine.

  That tiny palm bangs again, demanding our attention. “Open door! Open door! It’s Aidie.”

  Charlie’s erection half-deflates and slides out of me. His forehead falls to my shoulder and he sobs. “Those goddamned little cockblockers.”

  I spin in my husband’s arms and he lifts his face so our eyes meet. The desolate expression on his handsome features echoes the disappointment I feel but I smile anyway.

  Pre-kids, we fucked on every surface of this five-bedroom stucco house. And all over the damn backyard, to be honest.

  Post-kids, we get a few early morning minutes alone in the small bathroom tucked away at the back of our master bedroom. If we’re lucky.

  But there’s noone else on this planet I’d rather share this crazy life with.

  Love pulses through me as I tilt my head up to him. Our lips meet and slide wetly against each other. “Look at it the bright side,” I say as he leans around me to turn off the shower, “We’re about to have one week—one glorious, romantic, kid-free week. Dinner on the beach. Whiskey on the beach. Sex on the beach.”

  One corner of his delicious mouth succumbs to a smile. “I love the way you think, Mrs. Hartley.” He stands there in the open shower stall door with his ta
ttooed, sculpted body on full display. It takes mucho self-restraint to keep from dropping to my knees and taking that long, veiny, beautiful cock into my mouth, just to tast—

  More banging. On the door, that is. “Mama—it’s Aidie! Open door!” My husband rolls his eyes. I snicker under my breath.

  I’ve already got a towel wrapped around me and one hand on the doorknob, ready to face our mob of children. “We need to be at the airport in two hours. Let’s just get through this morning and then, we’re golden.” Winking at Charlie, I yank the door open.

  And a half-naked two-footer wearing a soggy diaper and a Hartley-Montgomery-Jones Construction hardhat stumbles inside. Aidan’s our youngest. The Two-Year-Old Terror.

  Charlie yelps a very manly yelp and covers his junk with his hands but our toddler doesn’t even notice. He only has eyes for his momma.

  “Good morning, my offspring.” Gripping my bath towel closed, I lean down and drop a kiss on the little thing’s fat cheek.

  He bursts into giggles, tearing across the room and leaping onto the bed where his older siblings are already stationed. “What are the lot of you doing in here? Has no one taught you rascals about respecting boundaries?” I pull on a t-shirt and some jeans and start shoving shit into my suitcase. I should have probably dealt with that at some point last week but between finishing up my latest twenty-city tour, getting the ball rolling on the new animation project I have going on and managing this zoo of a household, I just didn’t have the time.

  Madalyn barely looks up from her sketchpad for long enough to spare me an indignant glance. “Grandma and Grandpa called. They’re on their way over to babysit. So you know what that means. An entire week of home renovation shows.” Her voice drips with more sarcasm than I know what to do with. “I. Cannot. Wait.”

  That girl is so much like me. Big hair. Big personality. Big talent. Her sketchpad is the first thing she reaches for in the morning. She slays on the guitar. The Instagram videos of her singing my songs have gone viral. Sorry, not sorry for the bragging—my kid is cool.

  Bryan? He’s the little smart-ass. Right now, he’s bouncing up and down on the bed, his wild curly hair leaping all around his face. “Mommy—were you and daddy in there doing the sex? Again?”

  Madalyn shrieks. “Eww! So gross, Bryan!”

  Oh-kay. We’ve reached my threshold, ladies and gentlemen.

  “Get out! Get out, out, out! Everybody out!” I call, waving an arm through the air to shoo them out the door. “Madalyn, help your brothers get some cereal.”

  “Child labour is like, against the law,” she informs me as the climbs out of bed. So much pre-teen sass. So much.

  “Ceweal!” Aidan proclaims as he leads his brother and sister out of the room and down the stairs.

  I hear Charlie’s low chuckle just over my shoulder and when I turn back, he’s standing by the bathroom door looking very amused.

  “Oh, cackle it up!” I mutter as a car horn honks outside. That’s our ride to the airport. I swoop a neon orange Speedo from the suitcase and fling it at him. “You won’t be laughing when you find out what I have in mind for you tonight, baby.” I toss him a wink and then yank the suitcase zipper shut.

  Angie & Ben

  Angie

  “Honey, look—they’ve got couples’ massages on the beach at midnight.” I jab my finger at the romantic image printed on the glossy page of the brochure. “We are so getting a couple’s massage on the beach at midnight!”

  I glance across at my husband, strapped into the seat beside me. A libido-tickling smile sprawls slowly across his handsome face. “Mmm. That sounds like a good idea.”

  Oh god. He’s giving me the look. Dark, blue eyes squinted and sparkling and focused squarely on my tits. My insides clench instantly. That’s the look that got me babies. Three babies, to be precise.

  I drop my voice to a low, warning whisper. “Stop it…”

  He folds his bottom lip into his mouth before raking the supple flesh with his perfect teeth.

  “No, Ben. Not here.”

  He says nothing. His entrancing eyes do the talking, caressing my body with his blatant lust.

  “We’re on a freaking airplane.”

  His smirk deepens. Oh boy, I see where this is going.

  I tilt my head to the side. “All of our friends are around.” Across the aisle, my sister is sound asleep with her head on Archie’s shoulder. I catch a glimpse of a slumbering Leo and Reese in the row ahead of them. I can hear Charlie snoring in front of me and I can see Nova’s big curls slouched to the side against him. Beyond the small oval window, there’s nothing but a dark sky dotted with twinkling stars staring back at me.

  Ben watches as I do my appraisal. “The coast is clear,” he mumbles, his voice low and seductive.

  “We can’t…” I whisper. But my defenses against this man are weak and I know it.

  At this point, I’m pretty much just trying to talk myself out of hauling his sexy ass into the lavatory and joining the Mile High Club on this chartered flight across the Atlantic.

  Even after all these years, I can never say no to Benjamin Riggs. My firefighter knows how to push my hot buttons without even lifting a finger. It’s insane. And despite the constant sleep deprivation that comes from us being parents to three young children and me being the chief of surgery at Copper Heights General Hospital and him being the captain of the Copper Heights Fire Department, the sex-inferno between us is still alive and roaring hot.

  “Come on, Angie,” he prods, leaning close to nip the lobe of my ear, “Don’t tell me you’ve never fantasized about doing it on an airplane, mid-flight. This opportunity may not come again.” He watches me, eyebrow hiked in challenge.

  My shoulders slump in concession. I chew on the corner of my lip. A small sound of amusement bursts free from his throat. He knows he’s won the battle.

  “Stop gloating,” I whisper roughly as I quietly unbuckle my seatbelt. I crawl across his lap and poke my head up and down the aisle, looking for members of the flight crew. Not a soul in sight.

  My eager husband holds me captive when I try to snake back into my seat. “Do you feel that, Gigi?” He lifts his pelvis slightly and I feel his rock hard erection beneath my palm. “You can’t deny you want it…”

  Goddammit, I can’t.

  I pop my head across to check the aisle again. The coast is still clear.

  Ben pokes me in the ribs. “Go! Go! Go!” His low voice causes prickles of excitement in the depths of my belly. Like when we were teenagers and he would try to sneak me out of my bedroom in the middle of the night while my parents were asleep.

  Crouched down, I hobble out of my seat and make a stealthy dash in the direction of the washroom. I’ve got tunnel vision. All I see is the narrow metal door at the end of the hallway with the green ‘vacant’ light glowing above it. My heart beats unreasonably fast as I go. I hear Ben’s muffled footsteps behind me. He gives my butt a little tap and I swat blindly to bat his hand away. Laughter bubbles up in my throat. We’re actually doing this!

  I breathe out in relief as I tear open the lavatory door…

  That relief is short-lived because I’m confronted by Clinton, down on his knees with Vivian’s ass in his face.

  Vivian & Clinton

  Vivian

  “It’s not what it looks like!”

  I struggle to spin around in the narrow space. I don’t have to peek at my face in the tiny mirror of the dimly-lit lavatory to know that my cheeks are red. Maybe even redder than my poor butt is.

  My husband rises swiftly to his feet. He angles his big body in front of me like a human shield, giving me a few seconds to smooth my dress into place and make myself look decent. God—I love this man. He always finds a way to come through for me in my lowest moments. He continues to prove his love for me, even all these years into our marriage.

  “Hey guys. What are you two up to?” I hear the suspicious inflection in his voice as he questions the married couple standing right outs
ide the washroom door. To satisfy my own curiosity, I peek at their faces over Clinton’s shoulder. Their matching guilty expression tells all. They were about to come in here for a bathroom hookup. I wish I were that lucky.

  Completely ignoring the question, Angie nudges Clinton out of the way. “Let me see that thing?” she demands, motioning for me to spin around. “Bend over.”

  My eyes go round in offense. “What?!”

  “Vivian—I’m a doctor,” she reminds me, “and Ben is a firefighter. We’ve seen crazy shit. Whatever’s going on with your ass—you definitely need to have it checked out.” She’s right. I know that. And I’m in so much pain that I don’t even mind her condescending tone.

  Still my eyes dart nervously between the three people standing in front of me. Rock bottom at 34 000 feet. Fantastic!

  Ben examines my expression and takes a step back. “I don’t think I’m needed here but holler if you think I can help.” He strolls off down the aisle, presumably back to his seat.

  And then, Angie’s the one on her knees with her head up my skirt. This is really, really awkward.

  Clinton stands at the door with his arms folded across his chest. Like a nightclub bouncer. “How bad is it, doc?” I’m so mad at myself right now. So, so mad.

  I wanted to do something special for Clinton’s to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. I mean—we made it. Against all odds. Despite our differences. In the face of our challenges. We made it. And I wanted to make a gesture to reflect that.

  Nothing says Baby, I’m yours like a butt tattoo.

  “I did my research. I chose the most reputable tattoo salon in the state of Illinois. I followed the after care instructions to the letter.” I sob tearlessly. “And now, I can’t even sit on my bum.” I glance down at the thing. When the tattoo artist suggested C-L-I-N branded on my left butt cheek in curved gothic script and T-O-N branded on my right—sort of like an homage to Adam Levine’s CALIFORNIA tattoo—that should have been my sign to get the hell out of there. Instead, I sucked in a breath and give him my okay. And now, I. Can’t. Sit. On. My. Bum.