A Winter Wedding: A Five Senses Short (Five Senses series)

by Gemma Brocato

  The thought brought Pippa to his mind, not that she was ever far from it. Pain had kept her from sleeping well last night. She’d refused to take medication, so Clay had stayed awake with her. They’d passed the darkest hours of the night discussing the logistics of using the barn as a venue for a wedding.

  He’d always believed Pippa had skills as a planner, but his admiration had swelled once he began to experience what she’d been dealing with for the past four weeks, organizing the wedding.

  Jack disconnected his call and snapped his fingers. “My crew will wrap up today’s job and be here in a couple of hours. I had to promise overtime.”

  Clay shrugged. One of the perks of being a bestselling author were royalty checks that guaranteed he’d be able to pay twenty guys at triple pay. The cost would be a drop in the bucket, but it would go a long way in fulfilling his promise to Pip. That alone made it worth it.

  Rumbling from the highway distracted him. A huge truck emblazoned with Sal’s Moving And Storage on the side turned into the farm’s entry lane. Barren tree limbs screeched across the top of the trailer as it passed the oaks lining the driveway. Great timing. They’d drop the storage container out of sight behind the barn, take a fast break for lunch, then hit it hard when Jack’s workers arrived. The day was certainly shaping up.

  Pippa’s dad drove up the lane mere minutes after the semi driver had dropped the trailer then left. So far, Bruce’s job today had been to pick up burgers for lunch and deliver them. Clay hoped he’d stay. Not to work, but to keep them company and entertain them. He truly liked his future father-in-law. It was a kick in the pants to be obtaining in-laws at this point in his life. Most of his friends had done it years ago. But he’d chosen to live a vagabond lifestyle with the military, then free-styled through the years after he mustered out of the service.

  Finding and falling in love with Pippa Sanders hadn’t been on his agenda when he’d moved to town to help his mom. No one was more shocked than he over the development. And outside of maybe Pippa, no one was more pleased.

  The light mist they’d dealt with all morning slid into a cold drizzle. Clay hunched his shoulders as a couple of drops hit the back of his neck. The southerly breeze that had blown all morning intensified. He cast a critical eye at the sky. With any luck, the weather would clear by Saturday.

  Bruce stepped out of his SUV, then reached into the back seat. Pulling out two large white sacks stained with grease on the side, he set them on the roof of the vehicle and reached for more. Jack jogged to the lot to give Bruce a hand. The tantalizing aroma of fried food preceded them as they approached. Clay’s stomach rumbled. Seven hours of grueling, physical labor, with only a short water break, had depleted the bowl of oatmeal he’d eaten standing at the kitchen sink before the sun rose.

  “Looks like you’re planning to feed an army, Bruce.” He took the bags from him, and gestured for him and Jack to move ahead into the shop. “We’ll eat in here, out of the wind and rain.”

  “I thought you might have made some more progress than this.” Bruce glanced around the room, a wry look on his craggy face. “Are you sure about this, Clay? We can find somewhere else. It doesn’t have to be here. Hell, Eileen and I could do it at the house.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint Pip. I told her I’d make this work. You saw how excited Mia and Mason were last night.” The beaming looks of approval on the kids’ faces had cemented his decision to relocate the wedding here. “I’ve got this, Bruce. Jack’s bringing extra guys in to help, and Sam will be here after school gets out. Scott, Seeley’s hired hand, is coming as soon as the farm stand closes. Even Avery offered to come by with a couple of his friends once the café closes after lunch.”

  “I don’t know. There’s so much to do.”

  The skeptical look on Bruce’s face bothered him. Clay studied the interior of the barn. Tumbling stacks of dusty papers, wooden planks studded with protruding nails, and grime-covered walls surrounded them. He could understand why the man had doubts.

  Bruce continued, “I’m sure you’ll get it done, but can you do it before the wedding?”

  “Or die trying.” Clay exchanged looks with Jack, who jerked his shoulders up in a damned-if-I-know gesture.

  The older man nodded, a grin warming his faded blue eyes. “Knew you’d say that. Eileen wanted me to stick close to home to manage the twins, but I talked to Avery’s girl, Marisa, and hired her for the week to wrangle the kids. Frees me up to help you with this monumental project. Tell me what you need me to do and turn me loose. We’ll get this done.”

  The pressure Clay had felt when he got up this morning eased, like a slackening noose. The Kerrigan first responders had learned from the patriarch of the family how to band together to make great things happen. With Bruce’s help and Jack’s crew, Clay’s confidence level took an uptick. “Thanks. I told Pip she shouldn’t worry about a thing. It means a lot to have your help. But food first. We can discuss a divide and conquer strategy over lunch.”

  Bruce laughed and pulled a foil-wrapped burger out of the bag to pass to Clay. Jack spread a couple of napkins before upending the bag of fries on the counter top. They ate clustered around the cash wrap, the silence among them companionable, easy.

  Clay slurped the last of his soft drink noisily through his straw. After tossing the empty cup into the metal trashcan at the end of the counter, he rubbed his hands together. Looking around the shop, he mentally cataloged the vast amount of work left to do. The noose that had loosened cinched a little tighter.

  He swiped his lips with a napkin and shot a serious look toward Bruce. “If I give you a list and a phone, can you make some calls for me?”

  “Throw in a chair and it’s a deal.”

  Clay laughed. “God, you’re easy to please.” Pulling his list and his cellphone out, he shoved it across the counter to Bruce. “With you making these calls, I’ll be able to devote time to clearing this mess. We’ll get the space emptied this afternoon. That leaves tomorrow for cleaning. I swore to Pip she wouldn’t have to lift a finger and I meant it.”

  “Eileen was on the phone with Malin and the caterer sorting out the details when I left. You know how she is…iron fist, velvet glove.”

  Jack shook his head and snorted. “I’m glad Jem isn’t catering the meal. Being a bridesmaid has advantages. Speaking of meals, Clay, do you still think using the barn half for dinner is the right way to go?”

  “Yep. Since we only have to set up eight tables, it’s the perfect size, without being too cozy. Mom told Scott to cut enough trees to line the back wall. We’ll put a couple up front, too. She said the trees would look beautiful in the wedding pictures.” Clay snapped his fingers then pulled his list back. He scribbled one more item down. “Can you call the photographer first? Since we’ve changed the location, there might be lighting issues they’ll have to address. They should probably come out today if possible.”

  “Sure thing.” Bruce pulled his reading glasses from his pocket before twisting the list around. He started to dial but paused. Looking at Clay and Jack over the rim of his glasses, he arched an eyebrow. “You boys have a lot of work to do. You’d better get busy.”

  4

  It took ten men twelve hours to empty the barn down to bare walls. Every last thing, from an old, out of tune piano to an antique planer, had been toted to the storage container. When Jack’s crew and Avery and his friends arrived, they’d swarmed over the barn like ants on a mission. They’d followed one path going out to the trailer and returned on a slightly different track. The same way ants sought food then carried it back to their anthill. Seeley had stopped by after her physical therapy appointment bearing plates of Christmas cookies and a huge Thermos of coffee for the workers. But no one ceased their work—they simply consumed on the go.

  Clay stood at the front of the room surveying the results at the end of the day. In five, no, four, days, this was where he’d commit himself to his new family. The empty space was cavernous. Perfect for their weddin
g. He narrowed his eyes, picturing how Pippa and the twins would delight in the magic. The image would be easier tomorrow after they had cleared away years of accumulated grime and installed festive decorations. He was certain Pippa and the kids would love it. And he’d love watching them walk down the aisle toward a new life with him.

  Satisfied, he turned off the lights and shut everything down for the day, then raced to the farmhouse for a fast shower and shave. Pippa expected him for a late dinner.

  Thirty minutes later, he knocked and peeked through the window at Pip’s house, making a silly face at Mia. The little girl opened the back door, her expression somber. Although mostly recovered from the ordeal when Dewey Evans had held all of them hostage, Pip’s loveable daughter still harbored guilty feelings. She’d been the one to answer the door when Dewey had invaded their lives.

  “Hey, kiddo. What’s with the long face?” Clay swept her up and hugged her petite body close, planting a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. He’d pulled a giggle out of her. Finally! Mason skidded into the room, followed by Pippa, limping along on her crutches and looking gorgeous in a buttoned-up green sweater and faded blue jeans. Tiny red presents decorated her green socks.

  The grin faded from Mia’s face and she tipped her head to the side. “I have a question I need to ask you. But I’m a’scared… No, not scared. Mommy said I’m nervous.”

  Pippa stepped up, leaned her crutches against the table, and took Mia from his arms. She set the little girl on a chair and moved into Clay’s arms for a proper hello. This moment was exactly what he’d wished for two months ago. Giant hugs from the kids and endless kisses from Pip. His heart flipped over in his chest at the brush of her lips against his.

  He reluctantly released her, then sat down next to Mia. Mason scrambled up on his lap. Limping to the opposite side of the room, Pip grabbed a hot pad then bent to check contents of the oven. He swallowed hard and forced his eyes away from the tantalizing view of soft denim stretched tautly across her sweet behind. He directed his attention to the little girl.

  “So, what’s your question?”

  “Guess!” Mia prompted.

  He fake-groaned, then pasted a dopey grin on his face. “You’re not really going to make me guess, are you? I’ve worked hard today and I don’t think I have the energy for our game.”

  Mia shook her head, then folded her hands on the table and drew a deep breath. “Mr. Clay, when you marry us, will it be okay if Mason and me call you Daddy?”

  He’d thought Pippa accepting his proposal had been a defining moment. That day, his world had spun wildly on its axis, revolving between fear for their lives, pride in how the kids handled the dangerous situation, and jubilation when they’d all escaped intact. The joy of holding Pip and hearing her agree to spend the rest of her days as his wife had swelled his heart.

  Mia and Mason asking to call him Daddy represented another layer of icing on the already delicious cake of his life. He looked toward Pippa, who’d frozen in place, awaiting his response. Tears lurked in her eyes. This was a huge step for her small family. The twins had already begun referring to Pippa’s first husband as Daddy Mark. Except for pictures and videos of him, they’d never known the brave man Clay would have been proud to call friend. They’d never been cradled in Mark’s arms, or snuggled in his lap, the way Mason was at this moment. Peace and contentment flowed through him…a slow, easy river of love.

  He cleared his throat. “I’d be honored if you called me Daddy. Nothing would make me happier, sweetheart. You and Mason are precious to me.” He blinked to clear the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Now, I have a question for you. Well, two actually. First, do you mind if I call you my daughter, and Mason my son?”

  The glow on Mia’s face reached sunshine level. “Well, yes, you silly. You’re ’dopting us—that makes us family. You have to call us that.”

  Mason grasped his chin, turning Clay away from Mia and toward him. “Now when the Cub Scouts have a father-son campout, I can take you, not Uncle Sam. He snores.” Mason wheezed a comical breath in, then huffed it out, a great imitation of a cartoon character snoring.

  “Mason, show Uncle Sam some respect. He does not sound like that. He sounds like this.” Pippa snorted a breath in, then flapped her lips as she expelled it, halting mid-snore, then easing into a sigh at the end.

  Laughter burst from Clay’s lips and rumbled around his chest. He adjusted his grip on Mason when Mia tugged on his sleeve. “Mr. Clay, I mean…Daddy, what’s your second question?”

  “Oh, that.” He smiled and patted his belly. “Well, see, I’m hungry enough to eat a hippo. I kind of wondered, how long until dinner?”

  “It sounds like you’ve made progress today. Did you really empty the entire barn?” Pippa laid her crutches on the floor by the bed before tossing pillows into the corner. Clay helped her roll back the comforter and blankets before handing her a flannel nightshirt and helping her take a seat on the mattress. She’d winced more than once tonight when she’d forgotten about her ankle and put weight on her foot. The concern she’d read in his face firmed her resolve to try harder to disguise her discomfort.

  “Sure did. We had a lot of help, though. But I have to say, Mom’s late husband could easily fall into the hoarder category. I can’t believe Mom didn’t clear a lot of that shit out before now.”

  When he reached for the buttons on her sweater, she batted his hands away. “Clay, I can undress myself. Really.”

  “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

  “Oh.”

  “I love this sweater, but I think I’ll like it better on the floor.” His grin turned wicked as he reached for the nightshirt she clutched and pulled it from her hands and tossed it to the foot of the bed. Capturing her lips with his, he resumed plucking the buttons open. When he reached the bottom, he pulled the fabric open and swept his hands up her chest, settling on her shoulders. He toyed with her bra straps, the sensation ticklish. Sliding his thumbs together over her collarbone, the green of his eyes turned smoky. “Pretty,” he said, as he regarded the pink lace covering her breasts.

  A delicious tingle pulsed between her legs as he pushed the wool from her shoulders and down her arms, staring intently at her face. She recalled the first time they’d made love. She’d had to ransack her underwear drawer for something even remotely sexy to wear under her clothes. It had been so long since she’d needed anything sexy. The last few weeks, shopping with Jem for beautiful intimate apparel had become something of a sport for Pippa.

  Clay’s lips closed over her nipple through the bra, snapping her back to the moment. As soon as he freed her hand from the sleeves of her sweater, she reached for his belt buckle and tugged it free. He ran his hands around her back and released the clasp on her bra, then pulled the scrap of material from her arms.

  She greedily pulled his shirt from his waistband and ran her fingers over the muscles defining his hips. It only took her a second to work the heavy cotton fabric up and over his head. She tossed it to the other side of the bed, then gazed at his chest. Oh Lord, she hoped she wasn’t drooling. When he dropped his hands to the button on his jeans, she chewed on her lower lip and scooted to the middle of the big bed they’d been sharing almost nightly.

  The quiet of the room was broken by the rasp of his zipper as he lowered it, and the swish of the fabric as he pushed the jeans and briefs down his long legs. His erection jutted proudly away from his body. His eagerness swelled the love in her heart to epic proportion. In the blink of an eye, he joined her on the bed, stretching out on top of her, his hips nestled in the vee of her legs. He braced himself on one elbow and covered her breast with the palm of his free hand, lowering his mouth to the other. Pippa moaned at the intense, moist heat surrounding her nipple as he tugged it between his lips.

  It had always been like this. Sweet, hot, instant. Running her hands down his back, she caressed his buttocks, then worked one hand between their bodies to fondle the hard length of his cock. She smil
ed as he sucked his breath in sharply. “Clay, stop being a tease and get me out of my jeans. Now.”

  Yes, ma’am.”

  His grin in the dim light was hot enough to melt ice in Alaska. Holy cow, when he turned the force of his smile on her in the privacy of their bedroom, and occasionally in front of others, she had to fight the need to fan herself.

  He jumped off the tester bed and reached for the button on her jeans. In an instant, he’d pulled the heavy denim to her knees. Taking care, he gently worked the jeans over the tape around her ankle before pulling the material free of her other leg. Her socks came next, and he pressed a kiss to her instep, his breath tickling the sensitive skin there. It only took him a second to resume an upward trajectory. As soon as he’d swept her panties off, he ran his calloused hand over her belly, following closely with his tongue. His tenderness melted her heart the way a marshmallow melts over a campfire.

  Sighing, she speared her fingers into his hair, tugging him upward. His lips formed into a smile against her skin, and he lathed his tongue in the hollow of her navel before pushing himself upright. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her forward until she was perched on the edge of the bed, his penis poised at her opening. He pulled her right leg up and rested it against his hip, his warm fingers supporting her knee.

  “This is new. What are you doing?”

  He bent to kiss her, sweeping his tongue between her lips, stroking against hers. “Better this way. No pressure on your ankle. You aren’t going to complain, are you, spitfire?”

  Her love for him flared when she understood he wanted to spare her further pain. In response, she wriggled closer to the edge of the bed and gasped when he put his hand on her pubic bone and dipped his thumb to her clit. Desire turned molten with the first brush of the digit. She melted when it swept over her a second time. Rocking her hips against his, she moaned quietly when he entered her, filling her completely, emotionally, and physically.