Keep It Together

by Matthews, Lissa

  KEEP IT TOGETHER

  Lissa Matthews

  www.loose-id.com

  Keep It Together

  Copyright © April 2013 by Lissa Matthews

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  eISBN 9781623003333

  Editor: Jana Armstrong

  Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

  Published in the United States of America

  Loose Id LLC

  PO Box 809

  San Francisco CA 94104-0809

  www.loose-id.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

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  Prologue

  Six months earlier…

  “What do you mean he’s not here?” Chrissie asked. The calm inquiry belied how she really felt, but they were in a church, and it was her wedding day, and her mother would flip her shit if Chrissie lost her cool. Not that her mother would ever cop to the phrase flip her shit, but Chrissie knew that was the best wording for the fit her mother would throw if Chrissie threw one.

  Hers would consist of screaming, hollering, and making threats of bodily harm. Not her body. His. Russell’s. Her wayward groom.

  Only she wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t there. Not really. She understood that she should’ve been. He was her fiancé, and they were supposed to be getting married, right now, but something about him not showing up didn’t affect her the way it should have. She was pissed off, she was hurt, and she’d even go so far as to say she was heartbroken, but shouldn’t she be devastated? Shouldn’t her world be coming to an end? But she didn’t feel those things, and that set the warning bells off in her head. That she’d expected this, on whatever subconscious level, was what pissed her off the most.

  Amber, the messenger bridesmaid and the groom’s half sister, lowered her gaze to the floor. She was also shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Gone for a moment was the brilliant, put-together businesswoman. That wasn’t a good sign. Russ’s opinion of Amber was that she was unshakable, at least in the boardroom. Maybe when dealing with personal matters she wasn’t as calm. Chrissie could relate.

  “He…” Amber hesitated for a moment, but then shook her head and looked Chrissie in the eyes. “Colt is looking for him.”

  Colt was Russell’s older half brother. Chrissie had only met him a handful of times, but he didn’t seem to be anywhere close to irresponsible, so losing Russ was likely not what happened at all. “Wasn’t he with Colt last night? How could one brother lose another?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure he’ll show up. He probably just slept late. He—”

  Chrissie nodded and patted Amber’s hand, more because she needed to do something with her own hand than for Amber’s reassurance. Chrissie felt a little brittle and figured that if she reached out to someone else who was having trouble with this, she’d be able to hold herself together for a while longer. “I’m sure he didn’t just sleep late, but we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.” She didn’t even try to muster up a smile. She didn’t feel like smiling. She didn’t feel like being reassured, and she didn’t feel like doing the reassuring. She didn’t know Amber all that well but from the few times they’d met had gotten the impression the woman was a straight shooter. “Even though he should have been here an hour ago.”

  Amber nodded. “I know.”

  Chrissie stood from the vanity chair and took her new friend and almost sister-in-law into her arms. Amber hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d just had the unfortunate job of going in search of her brothers and having to return with the not-so-great news. “I’m not mad. Not at you, at least. Russ is another story.”

  “Christina?”

  The decisive sound of her mother’s voice forced Chrissie’s spine straight, and her heart filled with dread. She let go of Amber and turned toward the door of the bridal suite.

  The First Baptist Church was the largest in town and not only had a bridal suite, but also a groom’s suite. The old chapel where weddings were held had been completely renovated to accommodate any size wedding party. The church even employed a full wedding planning staff. It was incredible. Expensive but incredible.

  When she and Russ had announced their engagement, her mother had insisted the wedding be held at the First Baptist Church. Once that had been agreed upon, even under duress, her mother and the wedding planning committee had taken over.

  To be honest, that had been fine with Chrissie. She wasn’t much for pomp and circumstance, for big shows for society, for being the center of a lot of attention. She wasn’t much for frills, ruffles, lace, or anything even remotely close to feminine.

  Yet there she was, standing in the bridal suite, in a beautiful gown of lace and satin, looking across the room at her mother’s stern, unsmiling face. “Yes, Mama?” she responded as contritely and demurely as she could. She didn’t feel either way, but she made her best attempt to at least give the outward appearance.

  “It’s time we made a statement to your guests.”

  Chrissie bit down on her tongue and counted to ten before she spoke. It wasn’t the time or place for her sarcastic self to step into the limelight. “What type of statement would you like us to make, Mama?” She wanted to applaud herself. She was being jilted, left at the altar, and she was struggling to hold herself together. The hurt was trying to bubble up, and she couldn’t let it yet. The pissed off was trying too, but she was keeping a lid on that as well.

  There would be a time and place for her to let both emotions loose to run free and unencumbered by a church, a whole town, and a few small-time reporters. Being the mayor’s daughter carried with it a modicum of duty-bound dignity and poise.

  “Russell will not be coming to marry you today.”

  Chrissie bit down on more than her tongue at those words. “Has someone heard from him? Is he all right? Do we need to postpone?” She knew the answers to her own questions, especially the last one. Something had been nagging at her all week, but she hadn’t been able to put her finger on what it was. Every time she brought it up to her mother, the older woman had remarked that it was nothing more than nerves and cold feet. Chrissie knew it had been more than that, that the source of her unease hadn’t been coming from herself but rather from Russ. Even when she’d brought it up to him, he’d shushed her. He’d been as bad as her mother with the placating. Now she knew why she’d been feeling all that uncertainty. He never meant to go through with it.

  In that moment, she’d have given anything to be able to get her hands on that new Remington her daddy had given her as
a wedding present.

  “I don’t know, but the time for answers will come later. All that matters right now is that we present a calm and collected face to your guests. They deserve to be given some kind of an explanation and sent home with a good, positive feeling that this is for the best. We’ll be returning the gifts first thing on Monday.”

  “Calm. An explanation. Positive feelings.” Chrissie repeated those words to herself several times, hoping that for once she could be like her mother in a crisis. Myrtice Browning was all those things and more. Chrissie, on the other hand, was fly-off-the-handle, kick some ass, and get all kinds of dramatic. “I’m sorry, Mama. I don’t think I can do that.”

  “There is no think, Christina. There is only do, and that is what you will do. That is what all of us will do. Is that clear? You will not embarrass yourself or this family. You will also need to return his ring.”

  “Like hell I will,” she muttered under her breath. It would serve him right if she hocked it and went on their honeymoon alone and spent all the money on herself. She wouldn’t do that, though. She would return the ring. It had belonged to his mother, but the thought of returning it to Russ left a bad taste in her mouth. She wanted to hold on to it out of spite. Just, at the moment… No.

  “Mind your tongue, young lady. You’re in the house of God. You will return the ring to Russell, and in time we will forget this whole debacle. Now,” Myrtice said, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle in her midnight-blue silk mother-of-the-bride gown, “I will expect to see you in the chapel in five minutes. Pull yourself together, Christina.”

  The sunshine streaming in through the windows seemed a little out of place to Chrissie’s way of thinking. It should be dark and overcast with thunder rumbling in the distance. That would fit her mood better than birds chirping and clear skies and bright sunlight.

  There shouldn’t be someone knocking on the door either. It was only fuck-you-o’clock in the morning. Didn’t whoever it was know she’d been jilted at the altar? ’Cause her whole damn hometown of Pembroke, Georgia, a mere thirty miles to the west of Savannah, had been invited and had been there to witness her humiliation when her groom decided not to show up.

  She fumbled with the locks, and for good scare-the-shit-out-of-her-unwanted-guest measure, grabbed up her brand-new rifle, and threw open the front door. She barely stopped it from banging against the wall and shattering the leaded glass front. “Damn it’s cold out here,” she muttered, shielding her eyes from the early morning light.

  “Good morning, Chrissie.”

  Her visitor was in shadow, and she had to move to the left a little to get a better look at him, though she’d have known that voice anywhere. It was deep and warm, smooth like molasses. The first time she heard it, and each time after, her brain had latched on and committed it to memory. It flowed and caressed and wrapped her in comfort.

  Colt Fisher was the last person she’d expected to show up at her door. And that little thrill spreading through her at the fact that he was there? It was inappropriate, and for the moment, she was going to chalk it up to the whiskey still affecting her. “Colt? Do you know what time it is? What the hell are you doing here? How’d you know where to find me? I’m mad at you.”

  He nodded. There wasn’t a hint of his usual easy smile on his way-too-perfect lips, and she felt bad about her outburst. She— Wait. Too perfect lips? Why was she looking at his lips anyway? That little thrill was growing.

  “Yeah. I do know what time it is, and I apologize for waking you so early. I‘m on my way to the airport and… Well, I was concerned for you. I dropped by your parents’ house in Pembroke last night to talk to you, and they said you’d come back here to Savannah. I didn’t even know you lived here. It was important to me to see you and make sure you were all right. When you left the church yesterday, you looked…I don’t know, brittle I guess. And yes, I know you’re mad at me. You have every right to be.”

  What the hell was she supposed to say to that? “My place is a bit far from the airport,” she remarked, touched that he would go out of his way like that for her. They had almost been family, and standing there on her porch, she realized they hadn’t known each other as well as they should have for the commitment she’d almost made to his brother.

  And now Colt was being agreeable and kind and sweet and she was being a pill. She lowered the rifle to rest against her hip, and smiled a little at the way his gaze followed the move. “Don’t worry. I’m not planning to shoot you.”

  Colt nodded and his blue eyes once again met hers. “I suppose you were thinking I might be Russ.”

  “I won’t say it didn’t cross my mind.”

  He nodded again. “When Russ didn’t show up at my hotel Friday night for the bachelor party and didn’t return my calls…” He shook his head and turned the cowboy hat he held by the brim in a circle between his fingers. “I honestly thought he was just out with guys from his law firm and blowing off what he thought would have been a boring way to spend his last night as a single man. I figured he’d show up yesterday morning at his place with a hangover, and that’d be it. I never imagined he wouldn’t show up at all. I am so sorry.”

  Chrissie was stunned at the apology. Colt was a nice man and obviously cared deeply for the people in his life, even those on the edges and those he never need see again. “Crap,” she groaned and stomped her foot. “How am I supposed to stay mad at you now? You just ruined it with kindness.” She sneered for a split second and gave a huge sigh. “Apology accepted, but honestly, it’s not your place to apologize for your brother.” She didn’t like seeing him feeling bad for something that was not at all his fault.

  “All part of my charm, I suppose. If it’s all the same to you though, I’d rather you not be mad at me because Russ was stupid.”

  He smiled at her, full and genuine, and her heart skidded to a near stop. Chrissie shook her head to dispel whatever message her brain was trying to send to the rest of her body and looked away. She’d never acknowledged to herself or to anyone else that she’d noticed how handsome he was, and there was no reason to start acknowledging such a thing now. No reason whatsoever to pay any mind to how blue his eyes were and how black his hair was except for right at his temples where it was starting to lighten. No reason to take note of his broad shoulders and long legs or to remember how stunning he’d looked in his suit at the church yesterday. “Maybe I should’ve married you instead,” she said absently, barely realizing the words she was speaking.

  “Maybe you should have.”

  His easy agreement had her gaze flying up to meet his. His smile, while gentle at first glance, understanding that her brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, was also indulgent. It was unnerving, tempting even, and it wasn’t doing a damn thing to keep her from wanting to invite him inside and rut on the floor like a pair of animals.

  This wasn’t what the jilted bride thought about when the brother of the groom came to check on her, but she couldn’t seem to rein her thoughts in. Was it finally hitting her that she was alone now? There was no fiancé, no husband. There wasn’t even a boyfriend.

  No. That wasn’t it. Being alone didn’t bother her. She’d spent enough time that way since she moved away from Pembroke, and well, Russ worked so much that she spent more evenings alone than she did with him. Loneliness wasn’t her issue. Sure, she was still pissed at being left like that. She would probably be pissed for a long time to come. Sure, she was still hurt. She’d cared about him, loved him, would have married him had he shown up…

  She gave herself a mental shake. No, these thoughts, unbidden and unseemly given the circumstances, had nothing to do with Russ and everything to do with the man on her porch. Nothing could come of her thoughts though. She wouldn’t put Colt in that kind of compromising position.

  She had to go back to the subject of Russ. It was the only thing that could keep her from inviting Colt inside and jumping his bones.

  It was going to take a hell of a monumental effort on her part.
>
  “Have you heard from him?” She kept her voice and her gaze as steady as she could and was a little sad when Colt’s smile faded. The warmth that had sprung up between them was gone, and she realized she really didn’t want the answer to her question.

  “He’s in Vegas.”

  Chrissie’s eyes widened, then narrowed. Colt didn’t blink. “Did you say Vegas?” It was early in the morning, and it was entirely possible that her ears weren’t fully awake yet. She had also been deep in fantasy mode too, so… Colt nodded in response. Brow crinkled and lips pursed, she attempted to process that little tidbit. Cold settled in her middle that had nothing to do with the weather. “Do I want to know why he’s in Vegas?”

  “No.”

  She figured as much, but she plowed forward. She’d started down this road and she needed to get to the end of it. “Why? Did he marry a stripper?” She’d asked it with a smirk, but when he focused on something over her shoulder, her smirk dropped to a frown. “I see. Well…” What else was there to say? Christina Browning, daughter of a mayor in a small Georgia town, jilted at the altar by a man who flew across the country to Las Vegas and married a stripper, was, for once, at a loss for words.

  Her mother’s idea of how to handle life’s dramatic moments—calm on the outside while falling apart on the inside—might not work in this situation. But Chrissie would try.

  Seems she had a couple of revelations she needed to figure out how to process. After all, she had been ogling another man, her almost brother-in-law, less than five minutes ago. She was jilted, not dead, the voice inside her head whispered. But a case could be made for it being too soon for ogling.

  She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and hoped that the smile she attempted was, in fact, a smile of gentility and not that of a crazy person. Her emotions were all out of whack, and she had no idea what she was supposed to feel or think or say. So she simply tried for courteous. “Thank you for stopping by and checking on me and… Thank you for telling me about his…” She faltered and knew tears, along with some screaming, were inevitable. She had to make it back inside the house with the door closed and him miles away first, though. He’d seen her broken and mad, and he was on the verge of seeing her vulnerability. She was a proud Southern woman. Her mother’s voice started ringing in her head, telling her to keep it together, that she couldn’t let Colt see her cry. For once, she would have agreed with the stoic Mrs. Browning.