Three Weddings And Forever (Wedding Season Series)

by Laney Powell

  Copyright © 2019 by Laney Powell

  All rights reserved.

  Three Weddings and Forever

  Spar Island #10

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For my fellow Flirt Club authors:

  You all are the best. I’m so grateful

  to be part of this wild ride!

  Contents

  Three Weddings and Forever

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  The Wedding Season Series

  The Flirt Club

  The Spar Island Girls

  About the Author

  Also By Laney Powell

  Three Weddings and Forever

  It’s amazing the difference a wedding can make…

  Mallory

  After my crash and burn with my long-term boyfriend, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t be trusted when it comes to picking men. And that’s fine. I’ve decided to hang up my relationship hat and just play the field for a little while. No strings, no commitments, no fuss.

  All it takes is a series of my best friends’ weddings to show me that I’m no good as a player because the king of all players, Sebastian Colton, is the first man who catches my attention. And I can’t seem to look away. How will I ever find my forever when I can’t pick something real?

  Sebastian

  I might have the reputation as a player among my friends, and I guess I’ve earned that. The fact is, I refuse to settle for less than absolute electricity. Which so far has resulted in me moving from girl to girl in search of that spark.

  So, when I see my old friend Mallory having a showdown with her ex at one of our friend’s weddings, I make my Gran proud and do the right thing, stepping in and whisking her off to the dance floor. Turns out she’s got moves like no other, and it doesn’t take long for lightening to strike. She’s made it clear she’s not looking for anything at all, especially with me and my reputation—how can I convince her that my bad boy ways were just trying to lead me to her?

  Mallory

  As I opened the heavy, cream envelope, I knew it was a wedding invitation before I even saw the card within. Upon inspection, it was my friend Leslie’s. The thought of her and Jason made me smile.

  There was something in the water this year. All my childhood friends were hooking up for reals. Casey, Nat, Cate, Nadia, Annalise, Elspeth, Harper, Lyssa, and even Jyn, the wild one of the bunch. It had been one right after another over the past six months or so.

  I’d grown up in Bristol, Rhode Island. We had all become friends first because of our parents, and later because it wasn’t that big of a town, and we found we enjoyed hanging out. Every summer, we spent as much time as possible out on Mt. Hope Bay, water skiing, tubing, and lounging on these little teeny islands. It was the coolest girl gang ever. We called ourselves the Spar Island girls, after those little islands. There was nothing better than being out on the water without parents, seeing guys shirtless and tan, and giggling and talking all day with friends.

  That had changed as high school and then college pulled us in different directions, but we all stayed in touch, like the never-ending Bristol girl gang. Except without the bad side of being in a gang. We didn’t have knives and guns—we had social media and direct messenger chats.

  Until now. All the gang seemed to be moving in a direction that I wasn’t. They were all happily coupled, and I knew that next summer, I would be getting metric tons of invites to the weddings of my Spar Island girls. This summer, all of my closest friends from college were getting hitched. My parents were starting to make noises about when it would be my turn, and my brother Matthew wasn’t even around much to share the burden. He was working out in Nevada, where he owned a hotel with his friend Elias. My parents didn’t have anyone to focus on other than me at the moment, even though I lived nearly as far away from Bristol as Matthew.

  I didn’t even have a prospect on the horizon. My last boyfriend, Chase, had cheated on me. Worse, not only had he cheated, but he and the other woman, Pam, stole from me. I’d been giving him money for our rent, and he had used it to feather the nest he was building with her. Meanwhile, he hadn’t been paying rent on our place, so we were evicted.

  When I’d explained to my landlady, in between tears and gasping, she told me she’d toss us both out but only report the eviction on his record. Then she offered to rent me a studio apartment she had behind one of her other rental houses.

  Her words had only made me cry harder. That had been right before Christmas. I moved out of my place in record time, although not fast enough to escape running into Chase with his new victim, Pam. She’d been pretty nasty, so it was probably time for me to stop thinking of her as a victim. She knew where Chase had been getting the money for her rent.

  I was happy for my friends, even as I found that six months later, I was personally struggling a bit. I would go to them, of course. I would look fabulous. It would be fun, light, and I’d leave each wedding feeling great—happy for my friends, and like I’d gone to a fun party.

  I knew that I was in at least three of the weddings. Talia, Cara, and Leslie. I’d been roommates with them all at one point or another, and we were all still good friends. I found that it stung still because I thought I’d be getting married this summer as well.

  But everything I thought would happen didn’t. I straightened my shoulders. I wasn’t the only person this kind of stuff happened to, and I would get through it. It was just still really painful at times. I thought about it, looking at Leslie’s invitation. I would know most of the wedding party in all of the weddings. Chase wouldn’t be part of them. They’d all assured me of that. But I was pretty sure he’d be there, no doubt with Pam, swanning all over the place like they were winners in some contest.

  At least next year, when it was Spar Island wedding season, I wouldn’t have this concern. Chase hadn’t met any of my Spar Island girls more than once or twice, and they had assured me over the last six months that they had never thought much of him, and they were glad Pam had taken him off my hands.

  It was his fault I missed my friend and fellow Spar Island girl Serena’s wedding earlier this spring. We’d still been together when he told me we just couldn’t afford it. Although given the way that wedding ended up—her fiancé running out of the church and leaving his parents to clean up his mess--it was better that I hadn’t been there. I might have killed the erstwhile groom. I made a note to invite her out here, away from the small town that Bristol could be. Change of scenery could be a life saver.

  Back to Chase—everyone said that Pam had done me a favor. And I was well rid of him. All nicely, of course. Except for Jyn, who told me good fucking riddance, and asked me if I’d gone to the clinic to make sure he hadn’t left me with more than a lot of bounced checks for the rent. At least Chase had dumped me before we got all involved in wedding stuff. I suppose there was that.

  It bothered me that so many people had reservations about Chase. But they all had. And weren’t shy of telling me now that they knew he was gone. What had they seen that I had missed?

  That thought was worrisome. And that thought, tha
t one right there, that my picker was malfunctioning, or maybe even broken—that was why I was going to flirt with all the groomsmen who were single, and I was going to go home all by myself and have nothing more to do with them.

  Because my picker was screwed, and I couldn’t take another mistake on my part like the one I’d made with Chase. I just couldn’t. I needed the time by myself, to work through whatever it was that had allowed me to put up with Chase for all the years I did and get my head together.

  Satisfied with my plan, I added Leslie’s date to the calendar, and went into the kitchen to fix dinner. I’d make it through wedding season. A jerk like Chase wouldn’t defeat me.

  But I still ate a pint of ice cream that night.

  Sebastian

  Jesus. Another wedding. Another wedding that not only was I invited to, but a groomsman in. At least I knew most of the wedding party. I should have known, however. With everyone graduating, the next step seemed to be sappy posts on social media, and me watching my friends get caught up in a whirlwind of flowers and fluffy fabric.

  I shrugged. It wasn’t like I was getting married. Decent eats, open bar, good music—it would be a good time. There might even be women there I didn’t know. I’d hung around with the same group of guys since freshman year. Hence all the weddings this summer.

  Mark was marrying Talia. Jason and Leslie. Cara and Brock. All of them had been dating for years. Marriage was inevitable.

  For them. Not for me. I had been the ever-single guy all four years we were in school. I had friends that… well, friends with benefits. We only hooked up as long as they wanted to. I was never a dick, and I always treated them nicely, even the ones who were mad I didn’t want a relationship. Eventually, they realized they were better off without me. I wasn’t relationship material.

  I knew that about myself. I’d seen up close and personal the disaster that being with the wrong person could bring. While I thought my friends were in good relationships, I didn’t see that for me. I’d never met the one who had that spark, that intensity, the part where I just knew. I was never dishonest with the women I was with. They didn’t always believe me. I sighed. It was a good bet a fair number of them would be at least one, if not more of these weddings.

  Which was why I was hoping that the brides and grooms had friends I didn’t know. I worked so much now; I didn’t have many chances to meet women. I worked with a lot of really attractive women, but even someone like me knew you didn’t casually date where you worked. That was a recipe for drama and disaster and having to find a new job.

  Not to mention, restaurants were full of the weird and flaky. As a chef, you couldn’t date the kitchen staff. That was messing with the chain of command. Which left the front of the house staff, and I wasn’t going near that with a ten-foot pole.

  I loved working in restaurants—I’d been doing it since I was fourteen. I put myself through college waiting tables, taking a bachelor’s in business admin, so that when I opened my own place, I would know how to run the joint, and not get scammed by some numbers jerk. Over the summer and during breaks, I worked in some of the best kitchens in Aspen. It helped that I went to school in Boulder. I could always find a place to crash. I’d gotten lucky right after graduation. I’d landed a job as a sous chef in Apicus, a restaurant named after a Roman nobleman who wrote the first cookbook. It was ten volumes, and every night, our executive chef prepared a dish from one of Apicus’ recipes.

  It was just the type of thing that drew the foodies of Aspen in. For me, I’d been at the right place at the right time. I’d basically been an apprentice all over Aspen for the last six years, and I was recommended to Caden, the executive chef and owner, when his last sous chef threw a butcher knife across the kitchen and started swearing in Italian. I’d started two days after that and worked like I owned the place.

  Which meant I needed to go in now and take time off. I hadn’t taken off any time since I’d started this job, right after graduation last year. I should have enough built up to take off the time needed for these weddings.

  It would be great to see my friends, to be able to relax, to not have to be the guy in charge—well, almost in charge—and seen as someone who was always having to prove himself. Being a chef can be a cutthroat profession, and I was an outsider. I had another year or so before people stopped thinking of me that way. But I worked hard at getting along with the guys who’d wanted my job and giving them the chance to shine—and gradually, things were smoothing out at work.

  I loved a challenge.

  I wondered what I’d do next—once work was in a good place; I didn’t have anything on the horizon. The voice of my last friend-with-benefits, Candice, rang in my ears.

  “You’re going to end up alone, which is really sad, Bash. You’re a nice guy. But you don’t give any part of you, and no matter how nice you are, even someone who doesn’t want to see will see that you’re just nice and empty.” She’d shaken her head, picked up her bag, kissed my cheek, and left.

  At the time, I’d thought she was crazy. Who was she, or anyone else, for that matter, to try to psychoanalyze me? I was fine.

  But now, six months after the door had closed behind her, I wondered if she was right. That I’d worked so hard to be pleasant, and given nothing away, keeping myself closed off and unable to be hurt that I had nothing left to give?

  Then I shook my head. What a load of crap. Obviously, I was just getting restless because I could feel that I was getting close to having work running the way I wanted. I just needed a new challenge.

  That was all it would take. After the wedding, I’d have to start looking around. I just needed something new.

  Leslie & Jason’s Wedding

  Mallory

  The day is here. Leslie is one of the chillest brides I’ve ever been around. This was the first time I was a bridesmaid, and her sister, Nora, who was the maid of honor, was frankly a little scary with her intensity. She was like a drill sergeant or something. But the end result was that we were all here, dressed in periwinkle tea length gowns that floated around our calves, with our hair in a tasteful updo and littered with flowers, getting ready to walk down the aisle and see Leslie marry Jason.

  Leslie was smiling serenely. I envied that calm, that certainty. I’d had it, once upon a time, but the whole Chase nonsense had chased away my serenity and belief in myself. I smiled as Dave, the groomsman I was paired with, stepped up, and we headed into the church.

  The service was lovely. Leslie and Jason both cried a little, and it was sweet to see how much they meant what they said. But now, here I was at the reception, staring at the other people dancing. Dave had ditched me as soon as our duties were over to go hang with his girlfriend. I knew most of the other guys, and they were all right. They were also all with someone.

  Chase was here, but Leslie had seated him far, far from the head tables. He’d brought Pam, who wore too much makeup and a black dress. At a daytime wedding. Tacky. They were dancing, and both were engaged in trying to throw major shade at me. When I’d figured it out, I rolled my eyes. Weren’t they supposed to be all happily ever after? I ignored them and pasted a smile on my face. I wouldn’t let them see my irritation if it killed me. It did suck that I was doing this all by myself, though.

  With that thought, my luck changed.

  Sebastian Colton, all-around playboy, candidate for underwear model, and generally a nice guy to women he didn’t date, landed in a chair next to me. “Mal!” He smiled.

  He really was beautiful. Honey red-gold hair that flopped just so over one eye, rich and warm brown eyes, and a smile that was broad and inviting. If there was a girl who hadn’t dated him, outside me, I didn’t know who she was. I think that even Talia had a thing for him before she met Mark. I couldn’t help but melt when that smile was directed at me. But I knew, even as a freshman, this guy was trouble. With a capital ‘T’. And all that came along with a guy named Trouble.

  “Sebastian, how are you?” I asked.

  “Lov
ing having the time off,” he said, shoving that one piece of hair out of his eyes. “I’ve been busting my ass since graduation, and this is the first time I think I’ve taken any time off.”

  This was a new side of him. I leaned back in my chair, interested. “Really? What are you doing?”

  “I’m a sous chef for this place up in Aspen,” he said. “I totally got lucky that the only chef flaked out and one of my old bosses recommended me to Caden, the owner. It’s a lot of work, though.”

  “I didn’t know you cooked,” I said.

  “Oh, I have many deep, dark secrets,” he said, smiling seductively.

  Good God. That smile should be registered as a deadly weapon to any woman within range. No wonder all the women went out with him even if everyone knew he was not looking for a relationship. I could do with waking up with that staring me in the face for a few mornings.

  “You must,” I said lightly, refusing to be drawn in, no matter how much my belly had just tightened, and I wanted to feel his hands on me. “I had no idea you cooked. I thought you were a business major, or something.”

  “I was,” he said. “I am. I plan on opening my own place, so I wanted to know how to run it. I’ve seen so many owners who were chefs go completely bankrupt. I don’t want to be one of them.” His voice got serious as he spoke, the flirtation fading from his expression. He looked off over the crowd at something only he could see.

  “Well, that makes sense. You must be good, to be in Aspen.”

  “I am,” he said with no false modesty. “But I’ve been working on it for almost ten years, so I should be.” At that, he looked at me again, dropping that smile on me. “Enough of me. You want to dance?”