Enduring (Family Justice Book 8)

by Suzanne Halliday

  His mother didn’t know it yet, but she was about to get a couple of shocking surprises from her sons. He might not feel like vomit threatened, but he was nervous. Ryan’s call a little while ago helped John’s nerves, though.

  In one fell swoop, Lloyd Global lost a receptionist, and John gave up his PA. It was ironic on some level—both of them falling in love at the same time.

  Mom is going to crap her pants.

  Then it struck him. Comically. For a guy who had such a hard time catching nuance and deciphering inflection, he got a loud and clear blast from Sam’s icy tone. Progress. Huzzah! She probably didn’t want to hear his drivel about how Connie would love her, so he went with option two.

  “You look beautiful, Sam.” He kissed her hand. “I like this color. It makes your eyes stand out.”

  “Do you?” Her voice had a sweetly uncertain and breathy quality. “I wasn’t sure. Your mother and her sister are so stylish.”

  They were in the back of his limo making the sometimes-slow trek out of the city to the quaint, old money enclave where he grew up. He didn’t know what Sam expected, but it certainly wasn’t Chesterfield Meadows—a picture-perfect 1950’s cluster of mini mansions and quirky homes.

  “There’s this completely badass treehouse in the backyard over by my dad’s greenhouse.”

  “Your dad had a greenhouse?”

  “Yes. Two. You’ll love it, but my point concerned Chelsea. I’ll make sure the thing is in good condition, and then it’s hers.”

  “Hers? Whatever do you mean?”

  He brushed some of her hair away from her face and stared at her lips. Dammit. What was he saying?

  “She’s the first grandchild, so the treehouse is hers to decorate.”

  “I’m definitely going to need a barf bag.”

  Her distress was real, so he did the only thing he could in the situation. He kissed her long and slow.

  “No second guesses,” he growled.

  She raised a shaky hand to her lips. “I’m not usually so nervous.”

  “Would you like me to tell you something that is sure to wipe away your anxiety?”

  “Is that even possible?” She chuckled. “I feel like you’re taking me to an audience with the queen. Being nervous is part of the deal. I’m glad we left Chelsea with her babysitter. I can only deal with one stressful thing at a time.”

  “Well, lucky for you then because I guarantee we’re a five-minute wonder. Ten, tops.”

  She didn’t appear easily convinced and asked, “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because, my love, as shocking and unexpected as we are, my little brother is packing one hell of a surprise. The kind that knocks socks off.”

  “Ryan? What’s he done?”

  John enjoyed the glint of humor in her eyes and leaned in to drop a kiss on her shoulder.

  “He’s gotten himself married. To my assistant.”

  “That Ryan.” Sam chuckled. “He’s such a … what? Married? When?”

  His mouth twitched with amusement. She was genuinely flabbergasted.

  “This morning. He and Jen visited an old friend of the family. A judge. He officiated.”

  “Wait. What? Jenna Carlton and Ryan Lloyd got married today? In a judge’s chambers? Are you sure he wasn’t pulling a fast one?”

  “Positive. It seems we weren’t the only frisky couple. They got, uh, carried away, and let’s just say there wasn’t any protection involved.”

  “Oh, my god,” Sam growled. “That dick! And Jen agreed to this?”

  John had a good laugh while Sam looked on with a bemused expression.

  “Ryan’s always been a direct route type of a guy. First, he draws the straight line between A and B. If detours or roundabouts are necessary, he deals with it. I gather that he made the marriage suggestion based on them each finally admitting what was obvious for years. They were meant to be together. Not only did Jen agree, but she proceeded to force the issue. Something about her mom being a pediatrician and how much her life would suck if a kid and a wedding band didn’t go hand in hand.”

  “Wowza.”

  “Right?” He sniggered.

  “So what you’re saying is maybe more grandchildren.”

  “Yes. A cousin for Chelsea.”

  “Do you want to have a baby, John?”

  He wasn’t entirely sure how to answer.

  “Being Chelsea’s dad is more than I ever dreamed of, Sam. A baby? Just saying the words makes me emotional.”

  She hugged his arm and put her head on his shoulder. “I was so alone when I had Chelsea. It still hurts thinking about it. You’re going to be an amazing father, John. I trust you with my little girl, and that’s saying a lot. So having a baby together seems like part of our destiny. Don’t you think?”

  “You have to stop,” he grunted.

  “Stop what? Oh, darling. Have I upset you?”

  “You have to stop being so wonderful. If you don’t, there are only two options available to me.”

  Samantha raised a brow. “Options?”

  “Yes. Option one is I start to cry. Option two is we make love in my limo on the way to my childhood home where my mother waits to greet us at the door.”

  “Okay.” She snickered. “But did you think both options through?”

  “Meaning?”

  “I know this is a limo and all, but there’s no place to recline and anything remotely cowgirlish will leave messy evidence.”

  “So option two it is,” he said with a husky laugh. “See that seat on over there? Well, you’re going to get on your knees and lean on it. Then I’m going to pull your dress up and bang the shit out of you from behind. A no-mess guarantee.”

  “Lower the lighting, you romantic beast, and help me wiggle out of these panties. Got any Luther Vandross on the sound system?”

  Oh, my god! He had to laugh.

  “Assume the position, love. And leave the panties to me.”

  She got on her knees. He shoved his pants down, stroked his cock as he got into position, and went on instinct after that.

  Throwing her dress up to reveal her panties, he shoved them aside, and put his fingers to work. When she was beautifully wet and begging, he did as promised and banged the shit out of her as the limo sped along.

  “John!” Constance Lloyd exclaimed as he helped his thoroughly fucked fiancée from the car. Samantha’s rosy blush had everything to do with the powerful orgasm he’d given her.

  He hugged his mom with one arm and kept hold of Sam’s hand.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he told her as he turned to introduce Sam. “Do you remember Samantha Matthews? I believe you’ve met a few times.”

  Samantha extended her hand. “Mrs. Lloyd. Thank you for inviting me.”

  He saw the merry, troublemaking twinkle in his mom’s eyes and wondered what was up.

  “Of course, I remember you, Samantha! I’d never forget someone who makes my son’s smile so bright. How’s your daughter, my dear?”

  “Growing up too fast,” Sam muttered. “Something we found out this morning. Kids think they know everything these days.”

  His mom pointedly looked at him. “This morning, was it?”

  Was that a blush moving onto his face? The sudden tightening of his collar and the heat on the back of his neck assured him it was. It didn’t help that his parent arched a brow when he coughed to hide his embarrassment.

  Conversation pivot. Yes. That’s what he should do.

  “Are Grace and Howie here?”

  “Are you asking because of the eyesore at the end of my driveway?” his mom asked with an infectious laugh.

  He and Sam turned and looked at the same time. She tried to suppress her snigger, but he let loose, asking, “What the hell is that?”

  His mother’s expressive face suggested irritation, but her voice was brimming with humor.

  “That, children,” she declared with a pithy snort, “is a 1967 VW Bus. Completely restored. Damn thing looks like it jus
t drove in from Haight-Ashbury. Uncle Howie paid a fortune for it.”

  John couldn’t believe what he was seeing and continued to laugh. “Was the paint job optional?”

  “Ah, so you noticed,” was his mother’s dry retort.

  He snickered. “Sort of hard not to, Mom. I mean, psychedelic swirls aren’t something you see every day.”

  Sam chimed in. Her teasing laughter made his heart sing. “I think it’s wonderful.”

  “Grace wants to murder him, of course. Or so she says.”

  Constance Nelson Lloyd’s signature sniff and the way she crossed her arms said so much about the insane, crazy relationship she had with her twin. It also did nothing to diminish the love.

  “Howie will talk your ear off, my dear,” she said to Samantha, “if he thinks you’ll be on board with his baby boomer nonsense.”

  Sam laughed gently. “I’ve always thought the sixties were fabulous.” She looked at him, and he started to drown in her eyes.

  “Let’s move inside. Your aunt wants to give you shit, and who am I to interfere.”

  John took Samantha’s hand. She searched his face, so he eye rolled and winked. They followed his mom, and after closing the front door behind them, he murmured, “Welcome to the Lloyd homestead. Prepare to be amazed.”

  He ushered her into what they jokingly called the front parlor—a long, useless room with a fireplace and a row of arched windows. Mismatched chairs, loveseats, lamps, and tables filled the odd room.

  John loved it because it was as quirky as his family.

  They found Grace Nelson Brewster holding court right in the center—standing, of course—while Uncle Howie lounged at her side, wearing his signature good-natured smirks.

  “Johnny! Stumble your skinny butt over here and give your old auntie a kiss hello.” She fixed her gaze on Samantha as he slowly weaved through the furniture to reach her.

  He hurriedly kissed his aunt on both cheeks, shook Uncle Howie’s proffered hand, and then reached for Sam.

  “Guys, this is Samantha Matthews.” He was about to say more, but she shook him off and finished the introduction with friendly hellos and handshakes.

  No bells were going off, but he sensed he was missing something obvious. Concerned, John carefully looked his fiancée over. Nothing stood out and then he noticed how awkwardly she clutched her small purse.

  She was deliberately hiding her engagement ring.

  He bristled and was about to say something when a bolt of common sense stopped him.

  “Excuse us,” he barked at his aunt and uncle. Grabbing Sam’s hand, she got roughly jerked when he started off in search of his mom.

  “Hey,” she yelped. “Slow down.”

  “Mom,” he hollered. “Where are you?”

  “Kitchen,” he heard her reply.

  Stomping off in that direction, he pulled Samantha along as he hurried to make things right. It wasn’t until they reached the kitchen and became the center of attention that he realized Grace and Howie had followed close behind.

  In front of the stove island, stirring a large pot of something, his mom looked up when he stormed the room.

  He took Sam’s purse from her hands and tossed it on a table.

  “Mom. Samantha and I. We’re engaged.” He showed his mom the gorgeous diamond sparkling on Sam’s hand. “Wanted you to be the first to know.”

  Sam wore a stunned but pleased expression. When his mom and aunt started shrieking like groupies at a concert, he had to quickly move out of the way when all three women joined hands and danced in a circle as laughter and squeals of joy filled the air.

  “I’m a grandmother,” his mom screamed with absolute delight.

  Tears twinkled in Sam’s eyes when she smiled at him.

  Uncle Howie thumped him on the shoulder and murmured, “Well done, son.”

  “Did I do all right?”

  “You did the right thing, and that’s what matters.”

  John chuckled and shook his head. “Didn’t mean to bark it like that, but it had to be said.”

  He was mildly surprised when the women moved away from them to gather at the kitchen table. The words wedding and Chelsea could be heard.

  Howie sniggered. “You’ll get used to it. When women engage the planning mode, us gentlemen can pretty much pound sand. Let’s open the bar, shall we?”

  That was where they were—drink in hand—a half an hour later when Ryan and Jen arrived.

  Before it drove away, Jen clamored from the big Town Car, pointed at her horny husband, and snarled, “Stay away, you. Arm’s length.”

  She was frantically trying to right her outfit and fix the hair she knew had to look as if she’d been mauled.

  Ryan half skipped around her and made things worse with his attempt to help. Smacking his hands away, she sniped at him like a shrew.

  “I can’t believe you just did that. Look at me! I’m a mess.”

  His mocking leer ignited yet another lust-fueled bonfire inside her.

  “If you wanted me to behave, you shouldn’t have said anything about your panties. Men hear the word and instantly revert to a caveman.”

  “All I said was that they’re new. It wasn’t an invitation to …”

  “To what?” he drawled. “Get you off with my fingers in a Town Car with a driver only feet away?”

  Stomping her foot despite never remembering having ever done so before, she fought to keep hold of her fragile control. “Unfair,” was all she growled.

  Her new husband grabbed her around the waist and hauled her against his hard body. “I can’t help it, so there will be no apology. You need to be made love to around the clock, and I’m the man who accepted the challenge.”

  She softened and sank into him. “All you did was make it worse, you know.”

  A slow, sexy smile started in his eyes and spread across his handsome face. “Good. Then every word and gesture from now till we get home will be foreplay. A public seduction. It’s not always about naked bodies and the bump and grind.”

  In a breathless whisper, she confessed, “I’ve never known anyone like you.”

  He caressed her face and ran his thumb back and forth on her bottom lip. “It’s mutual, baby. I’ve never felt this connected to anyone, and all I want to do is lavish you with love.”

  Jen wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him in for a sweet kiss.

  “Don’t forget we have to call my folks. Okay?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Your parents will love me.”

  She laugh-snorted in response.

  The sound of the front door opening shot into her awareness.

  “Showtime,” Ryan murmured.

  Running up the stone steps to the door, she followed him and mentally chanted, Just smile. Just smile.

  Engulfing his mom in a tremendous hug, he called her Mama Lloyd and got her laughing.

  “Jenna!” Connie exclaimed when the hug ended. “This is a surprise!”

  “Mom.” Ryan chuckled. “You have no idea.”

  She stepped up with her hand out, but Connie pushed it aside and drew her in for a hug. When they stepped back, Ryan’s mother slapped her thigh and laughed. “Why, I can’t remember the last time I was this happy.”

  “Is that VW Bus for me?” Ryan asked with an amused bark. He was pointing at what one could only describe as a magical mystery tour looking blast from the past.

  “I’m sure you can take it out for a spin, but you’ll have to ask Uncle Howie. It’s his.”

  Ryan perked up and looked past his mom into the house. “Uncle Howie’s here? Great! I want to talk to him about doing some renovations.”

  “Renovations?” Connie asked.

  Jen discreetly touched her husband and hoped he read the signal. She was relieved when he moved the conversation to another subject—only this subject turned her anxiety dials to turbo.

  “Mom, we have something to tell you. Wait till you hear.”

  Out of nowhere, his mom stopped, tu
rned, and looked at Ryan. Then at Jen.

  “Has Jenna met Goober yet?”

  On a scale of one to five for weird moments, this one hit five and bounced off the scale. Huh?

  Laughing with such natural good humor that Jen chuckled too, Ryan painted Connie a vivid depiction of the big, shaggy wolf dog acting like a quivering purse puppy and trying to fit on Jen’s lap.

  “Well, everything is working out lovely,” Connie declared and then forcefully shooed them inside the house.

  “Family’s in the front parlor.”

  “Do I look all right?” she whispered.

  She was hella relieved when Ryan scooped up her hand and held on tight. “You’re beautiful. Don’t be so worried. You already know all the players.”

  Before they left the foyer, Jen noted a round table on which sat a shallow bowl that held an orchid bloom. They rounded the corner and found everyone spread out around a long, rectangular room that resembled a living history of furniture styles. The unexpected mish-mash instantly charmed her.

  “Gang’s all here!” Connie happily chirped. “My boys.”

  She saw John first. He had a happy glow that made Jen’s heart fill. Good for him, she thought. Then she spied Samantha at his side wearing an enormous sparkler and a shit-eating grin. Jen’s inner cupid took a bow, blew a kiss, and flew off. Mission accomplished.

  Connie’s twin—the irrepressible Grace Brewster—and her husband waved but remained in the background like witnesses waiting their turn.

  When everyone gathered in a cluster, Jen grimaced slightly from the panic rioting inside her gut.

  Would they think them nuts? What if Connie disapproved of their rash behavior?

  “Now, what were you saying, sweetie? You have news?”

  Jen didn’t shy away when Ryan reached for her hand. She stepped closer to his shoulder and nervously smiled.

  Her bridegroom cleared his throat and focused solely on Connie. “This isn’t as sudden as it may seem,” he began gravely. “Mom, Jenna and I got married this morning.”

  There was a long, very quiet moment when she thought she might have an asthma attack from apprehension.