“Quick, who did you just think of?” Avery asked.
Lori wasn’t sure she liked this game. “Reed. But we all know how that turned out.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Shannon said. “I think you need to give that another try.”
Lori’s jaw dropped.
“I agree,” Trina said.
“He really is genuinely sorry for his douchebaggery,” Avery added.
“And you would know this how?” Lori asked her.
Avery looked at the faces around the room. “I might have had a couple conversations with the man since he messed up.”
“You’re talking to him?”
Shannon raised her glass. “I’m guilty, too.”
“Oh my God.”
Trina lifted a finger but didn’t make eye contact.
“Seriously, guys. He made a fool of me, of all of us.”
“Do you love him?” Shannon asked.
She started to deny it.
“Do you miss him?” Avery asked.
Lori lifted her chin but didn’t answer.
“Would you be happier with him in your life?”
Lori looked at Trina, and her resolve started to crumble. “The point is moot. He hasn’t even tried to contact me.”
“Would you give him a chance if he asked?”
“A chance would depend on what he said. This hurts too much to go through twice.”
“If he messed with you twice, we would run him out of town,” Trina teased.
“This isn’t Texas.” Shannon cut off a chunk of cheese and stood. “But I’ll endorse that rule.”
Trina took her glass, which was sitting on the table, and stood.
Next, Avery unfolded from her chair and put her pen and paper down.
“Where are you guys going?”
Avery pointed toward her front door. “Out . . . side. I heard a knock, did you hear a knock?” she asked Trina.
The three of them scrambled to the door.
Reed.
His hair was too long, and he’d grown out the hair on his chin and lip just enough to . . . just enough to make her heart skip a little more than it usually did when she saw him. He wore a button-up shirt, slacks, and a splash of humility as he leveled his eyes to hers.
She set her glass down before she dropped it, and wiped her hands on her jeans.
Avery moved past Reed. “Make it count.”
He nodded and thanked all three of them before closing the door.
“You orchestrated this?” she asked.
“I had to try something. I can’t close my eyes without seeing you. I swear I hear your voice ten times a day. I stare at the pictures of you on my phone while I’m at stoplights.”
Lori felt a smile inch onto her lips.
“It’s not funny . . . I’ve gotten two tickets for distracted driving just this week.”
Now she laughed.
He dodged a grin and dropped to his knees in front of her. He placed his hands on her legs, the warmth caught her breath. “I screwed up, Lori. What I did was unforgivable. No matter how I pushed the facts around in my head, I never came out on the side of right. And I know I don’t deserve you.” His voice cracked.
Moisture filled her eyes.
He caught her hands in his. “But I love you. And I can’t breathe another day without trying to get you back. I started with Avery. She seemed the most against me. Then I called Trina. My apology to Shannon might have resulted in some kind of blood pact to name my firstborn after her.”
Lori smiled through her tears.
“I love you. I’m not giving up until you give me a second chance to prove we belong together. If you tell me to leave, I’m just coming back tomorrow, and the next day. I’ll start leaving notes and flowers.” He smiled into her eyes. “I’ll probably be taken to jail for stalking you, but it will be worth it if you give me a chance. One chance, please.” He kissed the backs of her fingers.
She released his hand and brushed aside his hair.
He leaned into her touch, and she leaned in with her lips.
Reed caught his breath and gasped before wrapping both hands around her head and sealing their second chance with a soul-shattering kiss.
Lori leaned back, took a breath. “One.”
He kissed her again.
She pulled back again. “Complete honesty.” She stared into his soul through his eyes.
“Deal.”
“All right.” She smiled.
He lifted her off the couch until her body was molded to his. “You won’t regret this, Lori. We’ll be fighting over turkey legs when we’re seventy.”
She choked on a laugh. “A turkey has two legs.” But good Lord, how she wanted to plan on growing old with this man. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“What is it, baby?”
She tried to hold in her tears. “I w-want to fight over turkey legs.”
Reed pulled her into his arms and let her cry. “Then we’ll throw one away and fight over the one that’s left.”
With her head buried in his shirt, she clawed at the back of him, soaking him in. “I don’t even like turkey.”
Reed’s chest started to quake until his laugh took on its own life. He picked her off the ground and spun in a circle.
Epilogue
Reed played with the tie around his neck, did the around thing, the under thing, and then the give up thing. “Babe?”
“It’s not that hard!” Lori said from the kitchen.
“Yes it is,” he muttered as he pulled it from his neck, turned the light off, and followed her voice.
He made it two steps into the room and froze. Lori in Christmas red with a crisscross of spaghetti strings where the back of the dress should be rendered him speechless. Tiny white lights glistened off the sparkle in the material and the diamond earrings that dropped from the lobes of her ears.
“No it’s not,” she said, turning toward him. “What?”
He had to catch his breath. “You’re stunning.”
Her heels clicked, and the material of the dress clung to her breasts in a wispy caress. Delicate fingertips took the tie from his hands and worked their way up his chest. “How can I deny you with your compliments?”
The scent of perfume stole his thoughts.
“There.” She patted his tie after pulling it close to his neck.
“How many single men will be at this party?” He wrapped both his arms around her waist, played with the back of her dress, teasing her skin.
The Harrison Christmas party would house more brass than the White House. Their wealth and stature didn’t concern him at all, what did was the amount of men who would be tripping over themselves to get to her.
“Not too many. Most of Sam and Blake’s close friends and family are all married or otherwise engaged.”
That made him feel a little better.
“What is it?”
“My inner caveman is raging.”
Her eyes drifted down.
“You’re insatiable, woman. That isn’t what I meant.”
She ran her hands up his shoulders and left them there. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated.
“Complete honesty.” Those two words had become their mantra for the past three months. The only time he’d pleaded mercy was when she asked if a dress she wore made her look fat. I’m not answering that question ever. That is a woman’s trick question, and if a man ever tells you otherwise, they’re high. She’d started to argue, and he stepped up and did what every man should when a woman asks that question. He slid beside her, pulled the dress off, and let his body show her how the dress made her look. Now, whenever she wanted to be late to work, she asked if something made her look fat.
“Reed?”
“I don’t want any of the men at this party believing you’re available.”
“I’m not available.”
“You know what I mean.”
She dropped her hand to his cheek. “Reed. I love you. I’m not
available to anyone but you.”
Those words never grew old.
He captured her hand in his, kissed her bare ring finger. “I want anyone who looks to know you’re mine.”
Her long lashes dropped to her hand and back. “Oh.”
And when her smile grew larger, he knew just how unavailable he was going to make her.
An hour later, Reed watched her from across the room as she socialized with Neil and his wife, Gwen. Kids of all ages meandered around the room decked in ties and dresses. He knew somewhere in the house a temporary nursery had been set up with a gaggle of babysitters and nannies at the ready.
Rick blocked his view and extended his hand. “Merry Christmas.”
They avoided spilling their cocktails while they shook hands.
“How was training?” Rick asked.
“They kicked my ass.” Reed had put aside his private investigator hat to join the security team Neil and Rick ran. Doing so required taking his police force skills to a new level. The boot camp–style training went for a week and ended with a commitment to return every few months for a year.
“Every man needs a good ass kicking once in a while.”
“If it helps me protect that woman over there, I’m in.”
“Speaking of women, I need to find mine. See you Monday.”
Reed zeroed in on Lori and heard his cell phone ring. He nearly ignored the call when a tiny voice told him to pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Merry Christmas.”
Sasha.
He stepped out of the noisy room and out under the bright Christmas lights that littered the loggia and backyard overlooking the ocean.
“You left without me saying thank you.”
“How sweet.”
“Well, I owe you.”
“Those IOUs are adding up. I thought you might want to know, word is that Petrov didn’t put a hit on your lady.”
“Really?”
“No. He did take out his hired hand, however. Can never be too careful on who you work for.”
Noise from inside drifted through an open door, he turned to see Lori walking toward him.
“Who hired you?”
Sasha laughed, low and deep. “Alice Petrov.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Before she died. I’ve been protecting Trina since before her husband died. Alice wanted me to find the truth behind Trina’s marriage and keep it from her ex-husband.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“While finding the truth and being paid from beyond the grave, I found a security team worthy of my talents. If Petrov ever finds me out, I’ll need to call in a favor.”
Lori moved within hearing range.
Reed lifted a hand to keep her quiet. “You won’t have to ask twice.”
“Good, now take your girl back inside. She looks cold.”
Reed noticed Lori shivering, her arms wrapped around her shoulders.
“I’m considering a little work on my Texas accent, what do you think?” Her last words sounded less Russian and more Texan.
“If you need our help, you know how to find us.”
“I’m counting on that.”
When Sasha hung up, he shrugged out of his jacket and placed it over Lori’s shoulders. “Who was that?”
“Sasha.”
“Really?”
He turned her back toward the house. “It appears Trina’s mother-in-law has been hard at work beyond the grave.”
Lori paused.
“She hired Sasha to keep your secrets.”
Lori’s jaw dropped. “Why did Sasha tell you that now?”
“For our protection . . . well, Neil’s team’s, in any event.”
They stopped under one of the patio heaters and warmed up from the crisp December night.
“Should I be jealous of this woman who keeps calling you?”
Reed couldn’t help it, he laughed. “There is only room for one woman in my life.”
She lifted his left hand and kissed the back of it. “I feel the need to go cavewoman on you.”
His eyes lit up, his hand moved under his jacket and dipped his fingers past the back of the dress. “Isn’t that out of your comfort zone?”
“I heard once that life begins when you step out of that zone.”
How he loved this woman. “Cavewoman . . . I like it. Next year’s Halloween costumes.”
“Already on to next year?”
“Baby . . . I’m planning the next sixty years.”
She lifted her smiling lips to his, kissed him. “I love you.”
Without breaking their lips apart, he said, “Love you more.”
Acknowledgments
So many people to thank, and only one page to do it. First, and probably most important, would be my readers. You crazy kids kept asking me for an eighth day of the week so that I could extend the Weekday Brides. Even my publisher asked if I could pull that out of my hat. But alas, there are only seven days in the week, and as much as I tried, an eighth day didn’t manifest. Someone mentioned a Holiday Brides Series, and I thought . . . I might be able to do that. Then I thought, let’s make this a divorce bride series. Since yours truly has had the real-life drama of her own divorce in the past couple of years, I realized I could add some depth to the plot line. Thank you, readers, for wanting more, and thank you, Montlake, for seeing my vision.
Now on to the name-dropping.
Thank you, Jane Dystel, for always being there for me, not just as my agent, but as a dear friend. Between a divorce, fire, and floods, you’re the one who always checked in.
Everyone at Montlake for their understanding and compassion with all my delays and personal drama. Kelli, my dear, you are a rock.
Denise, aka Divorce Attorney Extraordinaire . . . thank you for taking care of me, and my friend, during that . . . ah-hum . . . little issue we had to deal with.
To Cecilia, my unexpected travel companion. Your suggestion of that cruise to the Mediterranean is forever in print. Now let’s do that shit and have a blast!
And now back to Tracy Brogan.
There are very few stressors we have in this life that top getting a divorce. We cry and laugh . . . and then cry some more. The roller coaster of emotions isn’t something you can describe in any clarity and truly make the reader understand. Yet once you’ve gone through it, even if it’s what you wanted, you feel as if you’ve gone through a battlefield, and those standing beside you when it’s all said and done are people you hold tight for life. You, Tracy, are one of those people for me. We have a unique bond by our profession, and again by our personal journey. A divorced romance author almost sounds like an oxymoron. But to me, it sounds like a strong woman who refuses to live an unhappy happily ever after.
To the next chapter in our lives. I love you, m’friend. Let’s kick some ass and take a few names.
~Catherine
About the Author
Photo © 2015 Julianne Gentry
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author Catherine Bybee has written twenty-seven books that have collectively sold more than three million copies and have been translated into twelve languages. Raised in Washington State, Bybee moved to Southern California in hopes of becoming a movie star. After growing bored with waiting tables, she returned to school and became a registered nurse, spending most of her career in urban emergency rooms. She now writes full-time and has penned the Not Quite series, the Weekday Brides series, the Most Likely To series, and the First Wives series.
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Fool Me Once (First Wives Series Book 1) Page 31