by Herron, Rita
GOING TO THE CHAPEL
OTHER TITLES BY RITA HERRON
Romance:
Marry Me, Maddie
Sleepless in Savannah
Love Me, Lucy
Here Comes the Bride
There Goes the Groom
Husband Hunting 101
Single & Searching
Under the Covers
Boxed Sets:
THE BACHELOR PACT—includes:
Marry Me, Maddie
Sleepless in Savannah
Love Me, Lucy
LOOKING FOR LOVE – includes:
Husband Hunting 101
Here Comes the Bride
Under the Covers
GOING TO THE CHAPEL
RITA HERRON
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2014 Rita Herron
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
e-ISBN: 9781477871447
Cover design by Jason Blackburn
DEDICATION
To Isobel Bent and mom (and agent) Jenny Bent for posting the photo of the Ken doll facedown in the swimming pool—you were my inspiration!
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
“No boy will ever come between us.” Seven-year-old Izzy Sassafras plunked her Ken doll facedown in Barbie’s plastic swimming pool.
She and her sisters, nine-year-old Daisy and eleven-year-old Caroline, had dressed each of their dolls in wedding gowns, but they’d been fighting over Ken for weeks. They’d finally decided that none of them would marry him. Their bond was more important than he was.
Daisy stuffed a Twinkie in her mouth and shoved the doll beneath the water. “Never.”
Caroline swayed back and forth as if debating on whether or not to agree to the pact. The oldest sister had been struck by the boy itch and had a crush on Bid Schmidt, but no way would Izzy let that snaggletooth farter get between her family members.
She pinched Caroline’s neck. “Say it, Caroline.”
Daisy licked Twinkie cream from her fingers. “Yeah, Caroline. You don’t like that dumb boy more than you like us, do you?”
Ever since Caroline had gotten those bumps on her chests she called boobies, she was acting different. She didn’t even want to climb trees anymore. Once she’d even snuck into Aunt Dottie’s secret makeup stash and put on her pink lipstick.
Caroline tugged at the strap of her training bra as if to remind them that she was almost a teenager.
Izzy planted her hands on her hips. “You wanna end up like Mama doing time in the pokey? Is that what you want? ’Cause that’s what happens when you fall for boys.”
All of them had been ashamed when their mother got locked up for killing their daddy. When the police took her away, the girls were left alone with only Caroline to watch over them till their aunt Dottie, with her famous How to Be a Lady rules, had showed up to take them back to her house in Matrimony. A house that Izzy had been sure was haunted.
She still slept with the lights on.
“All right.” Caroline dropped rose petals from the bush beside them into the water as if Ken had just died, and they were burying him. “No boy will ever come between us.”
They spit into their hands, then clasped them to cement the pact.
Izzy felt better already. The Sassafras sisters would always be best friends.
CHAPTER ONE
Twenty years later
Izzy Sassafras had lost everyone she’d ever loved in her life. She’d lost her sisters because of a man, when they’d sworn no man would ever come between them.
And now she was about to be husbandless.
But Ray LaPone had screwed her for the last time.
Literally and figuratively.
She stuffed the duffel bag of cash she’d found in the closet into the trunk of her ancient VW Beetle, set her keepsake box of memorabilia on the passenger seat, punched her favorite playlist on her iPod, and sped out of her driveway.
Heck, she wouldn’t be taking the cash, but she’d tried to hock the jewelry Ray had given her. He’d said the diamonds and stones were real, but she discovered they were all fake.
Just like Ray.
Even his gym membership was a ruse. The only body part he exercised was his penis.
The wind tossed the Christmas lights dangling from the front porch into a frenzy, then sent them careening downward, where they landed in a tangle on the rickety porch.
Half of the damn lights were already burned out, the other half shattering.
Perfect. Just like her life.
Swiping at her tears with the handkerchief her aunt had embroidered, she flew down the highway singing the blues.
Just as she crossed the state line from Texas into Louisiana, she belted out “All My Exes Live in Texas,” tossed her wedding ring out the window, and waved good-bye to the state—and the man who’d ruined her life.
To make matters worse, Ray wasn’t simply cheating on her, but he’d chosen to cheat with the widowed women at the country club. Women nearly twice his age.
What did they have that she didn’t have?
Other than money, blue-blood parents, and class . . .
As Ray had so unkindly pointed out.
Hoping to put as many miles as possible between her and Ray before he meandered home from whatever whore he’d decided to dip his dick into tonight, she glanced at the crumpled map on the seat beside her with a grimace.
The outline of Georgia appeared, triggering a pang of loneliness and regret that swelled inside her. Two days ago, when she’d discovered Ray’s indiscretions had spread from women to money, she’d decided it was time to cut bait.
When she’d started packing, she’d discovered the diary she’d kept when she’d lived at home in Matrimony, Georgia, and memories of her estranged sisters had returned.
She’d also found that column nosy Nellie Needlemyer had written.
Naughty in Matrimony
By Nellie Needlemyer
THE SCANDALOUS SASSAFRAS SISTERS
Once again, the Sassafras sisters have shown their true colors. Last night the three girls engaged in a catfight in the middle of the Dairy & Donut Delite.
Witnesses say the girls were fighting over rodeo star Blake Kincaid, who was rumored to be Caroline’s secret boyfriend.
Seventeen-year-old Izzy, who was wearing a skimpy fuchsia halter top and a pair of risqué short-shorts that showed her butt cheeks, threw her hot fudge sundae at her oldest sister, Caroline, when Caroline accused her of breaking into Kincaid’s hotel room to seduce him.
Middle sister Daisy, proud winner of the local cornbread festival cook-off for her jalapeño cornbread, who also had a crush on the star, jumped in
to break up the brawl, but four-letter words and fists were flying, and the three wound up nearly naked with ice cream and hot fudge sauce in places no respectable girl ought to have ice cream or hot fudge.
Sheriff Harper had to drag them apart, and got creamed with a slushy in the process.
Dottie Sassafras, the girls’ aunt and a pillar of the community, most known for her cotillion class on How to Be a Lady, had no comment on the arrest.
Emotions clogged Izzy’s throat at the reminder that ten years had passed since that disastrous day.
Thankfully, YouTube hadn’t been available back then, or the story would have gone viral.
Although surely by now, everyone in town would have forgotten about the debacle. Everyone except her aunt, because the sisters had broken her rules.
Suddenly she spotted an armadillo crossing the road. Izzy had a soft spot for any live creature, so she slowed and swerved to avoid hitting it, but she hit a patch of black ice and skidded.
Her car bounced over the ruts and slammed into a tree.
Thankfully she didn’t crash hard enough for the air bag to deploy. But the front end of her car was crunched. Bertha, her Beetle, had been with her since she’d left Matrimony, much longer than she’d been married to Ray.
Her cell phone buzzed, and she startled, sweat trickling into her bra as she checked the caller ID display. Ray.
Terrified he could somehow magically see her through the phone, she shifted into reverse and sped backward. Slinging gravel, she flew onto the road.
The box of keepsakes tumbled to the floor, her wedding picture, dried corsage, and garter belt spilling out. The map landed on top of the broken picture frame, a glaring reminder that she’d left home to find love and she’d failed.
Or maybe it was an omen that it was time to go home.
After all, she didn’t want to spend Christmas alone. She could curl up at Aunt Dottie’s and lick her wounds.
As long as her aunt didn’t ask too many questions . . .
Never tell an outright lie unless it’s to spare someone’s feelings: rule number five in Aunt Dottie’s How to Be a Lady list. Except sometimes a girl had to lie to protect the people she cared about.
Thankfully, though, her sisters wouldn’t be there, so she wouldn’t have to face them with her failure. And Ray knew the three of them hadn’t spoken in years.
He would never think to look for her in Matrimony.
“You have to find my wife.” Ray LaPone slapped a pile of cash on Levi Fox’s desk. “That’s nothing compared to what the little cheating, money-hungry witch stole from me.”
Levi, ex-cop now turned PI, stared at the crumpled bills with a silent curse. Was this what his life had deteriorated to?
Tracking down adulterous spouses for men like Ray LaPone?
Jeez. Instinctively his fingers touched the silver dollar in his shirt pocket. His father had given him the coin the day before he died as a good-luck piece. It also symbolized the name of the ranch he’d left Levi and his brothers—land that meant everything to the Fox men.
That silver dollar had saved his life when he’d been shot three weeks ago by catching the bullet that would have pierced his heart.
A gunshot wound he sustained when he’d screwed up on his last case.
Because he’d let his dick do the thinking, not his brain.
It would never happen again.
If not for getting involved with that sexy suspect, Tammy Finley, he would be lead detective by now, hunting real criminals. Kidnappers and killers. Doing good in the world as his father had expected him to do.
His father had been a man of honor and had drilled that code into his sons.
Which meant he needed more details about Ray LaPone’s wife. “Tell me about your marriage,” Levi said.
Ray tugged at his tie. The suit he wore looked expensive but slightly too large. Was it secondhand, or had Ray chosen not to have it altered when he bought it? “All you need to know is that we took vows and she broke ’em.”
Levi grimaced, determined to give the man the benefit of the doubt. Maybe his wife had hurt him.
“You mean she had an affair?”
Ray shrugged. “One, two, maybe. While I was working fourteen hours a day to build a nice life for us.” Ray paced, his shiny shoes clicking on the wood floor. “Women are spoiled these days. They don’t appreciate the hard work husbands do to take care of them.”
Ray fished a photograph out of his pocket and shoved it toward Levi. “This is a picture of Izzy the night we celebrated our last anniversary. I took her to this fancy restaurant and forked over a fortune for a hotel.” He pointed to a sparkling blue stone around his wife’s neck. “I even bought her that blue sapphire to show her how much I loved her.” Another photo, of a mansion in Houston, landed on the desk. “And I was planning to buy her this estate. How could a woman not be happy with all that?”
It was impressive. “How long have you been married?”
“Two years.” Ray swallowed, choking on emotion. “I thought we were happy, but . . . apparently nothing I did was enough.”
A pang of sympathy welled inside Levi. The man did sound brokenhearted.
“Did your wife work, Mr. LaPone?” Levi asked.
“Hell no. I mean, Izzy played at this little flea market, selling other people’s junk.” Ray sighed in disgust. “I never understood it. I showered her with gifts and tried to ingratiate us into society, and she went and dug through their garbage like a piece of trash.”
Levi’s gut tightened when he looked at the close-up of the couple. Golden blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face. Her blue eyes were a startling vibrant color, her face angled toward Ray as if she doted on him.
At first glance, she and Ray made a striking couple.
Ray was dressed in a three-piece suit, his hair styled like a GQ model’s. And his smile . . . women probably found it charming.
Although in his experience, people who wore shiny coats were usually snakes underneath.
“She’s a looker, isn’t she,” Ray said, as if he was accustomed to men ogling his wife. Maybe he’d married her to have some arm candy to impress his business acquaintances.
“But don’t let her fool you. That sweet-talking mouth of hers can turn sailor on you in a minute. And the lies . . . shrinks have a word for it. Compulsive.” Ray tapped her picture again for emphasis. “You can’t believe a word that comes out of her.”
Levi folded his arms. That part he did understand. Tammy had been hot as hell, too, but she was a pro at bending the truth.
“All right,” he said, deciding he’d take the case for all the men who’d been lied to and betrayed by sexy women like Tammy and Izzy Sassafras LaPone. “Do you have any idea where she’d go?”
Ray ran a hand over his gelled hair, as if to smooth it down. “No. I checked with her two girlfriends here in Texas, and they haven’t seen her.”
“How about family?”
“She had a couple sisters, but she hasn’t spoken to them in years, so I doubt she’d go back to that hole-in-the-wall town in Georgia. She even said it had some cheesy name—Matrimony.”
Still, Levi would check it out. For all he knew, Izzy Sassafras and her sisters could be cohorts, conning men across the states.
“Anyone else?”
A dark expression twisted Ray’s face. “She had an old boyfriend in Abilene.”
Levi pushed a notepad toward Ray. “Write down his name, along with her sisters, her friends’ names, and any men in her life.” Meaning lovers.
Ray grabbed the pad and sank into the chair on the other side of Levi’s desk. Once the man started writing, he didn’t stop for a full ten minutes.
When he finished, he handed Levi the page. Levi’s pulse jumped. Damn—there were a lot of men on that list.
Izzy was done with men, she thought four days later, as she turned onto Main Street. And she definitely intended to drop Ray’s last name. She w
as a Sassafras and always would be. Still, she was debating the wisdom of coming back to Matrimony.
But when she’d phoned Aunt Dottie, her aunt had said that she’d taken a fall and had to wear a leg brace for a week or two and could use Izzy’s help at home. Especially since Uncle Harry had gone on a men’s retreat, and she was alone.
Izzy rolled up to the WELCOME sign for Matrimony and stopped. The wooden post had rotted and broken off since she’d left, the metal sign mangled and dented from where it had been run over multiple times. Just as the state of marriage had been trampled on by cheating, lying spouses.
It sure as heck hadn’t worked out for her.
Men had a way of messing up her life. Just look at Ray.
And Blake Kincaid.
If only she could turn back time . . .
But that was impossible. She had to live with her mistakes and learn from them, as Aunt Dottie would say.
Ten years might have passed, but she wasn’t prepared to face the past just yet—let alone her sisters.
She’d always been the baby sister, the one who messed up. The last thing she wanted was for Daisy and Caroline, who were probably happily married and financially secure with their own careers and/or babies, to see that her life was a big fat bust.
Heck, they’d probably get a kick out of it, say she deserved to be dumped on for chasing after Blake.
She spotted a stray kitten shivering beneath the sign, threw the Beetle into park, and jumped out. Unable to resist any stray, she scooped up the orange fur ball and carried it back to her car.
The kitten curled up in her lap, and she stroked it gently, remembering the psycho cat Daisy had brought home from fat camp.
At fifteen, Daisy had been awkward and shy, and so self-conscious about her curves that she refused to attend any school social functions. When summer came, she’d run from the bathing-suit store at the outlet mall as if bloodhounds were on her heels.
Aunt Dottie had signed her up for the camp as soon as they’d gotten home from the horrendous experience.