Garters & Groomsmen (Wedding Season Series)
Page 1
Garters & Groomsmen
Kim Loraine
Copyright © 2019 by Kim Loraine
All rights reserved.
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.
Contents
Also by Kim Loraine
About the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Also by Kim Loraine
About the Author
Also by Kim Loraine
Contemporary Romance
Until the Stars Fade Get this FREE by joining my Facebook Group: Loraine Lovers
FLIRT CLUB COLLABORATIONS
The Cocktail Girls
His Whiskey Sour (A Stand Alone Rock Star Romance)
The Halloween Honeys
His Wicked Witch
Santa’s Coming
Mistletoe Magic
The Resolution Pact
Resolution: Baby Fever
The Matchmaker Series
Dear Mr. Right Now
Forever Ireland
Forever His Baby
Wedding Season
Garters & Groomsmen
The Royal Virgins
The Virgin’s Playboy Prince
The Virgin’s Royal Guard
The Virgin’s Forbidden Lord
The Virgin’s Royal Secret
The Virgins
The Virgin’s Fake Fiancé
Rescuing His Virgin
His Hollywood Virgin
The Golden Beach Series
Restoration
Renovation
Foundation
Resonance
Redemption
Resolution
Devotion
Remnants
Paranormal Romance
The Blackthorne Vampires
Blood Captive
Blood Traitor
Blood Bound
The Watcher Series
Waking the Watcher (FREE)
Denying the Watcher
Releasing the Watcher
The Siren Coven
Eternal Desire
Cursed Heart
Wicked Temptation
Immortal Flame
Reverse Harem
Their Vampire Princess (A Reverse Harem Romance)
Their Shadow Queen
Protecting Their Shadow Queen
Returning Their Shadow Queen (coming soon)
About the Author
Kim Loraine writes steamy romances in both the contemporary and paranormal genres. When not writing, she’s busy herding cats (raising kids), trying to keep her house sort of clean, and dreaming up cute ways for fictional couples to meet.
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1
Chloe
* * *
This weekend is going to kill me.
I sit in my car outside of the gorgeous B&B where my cousin Georgia is getting married. It’s so perfect for her. The vineyards surrounding us, the sprawling scenery. Her level of rustic whimsy is right up there with Joanna Gaines. White roses climb the facade of the picturesque storybook home, blooms so fragrant I can smell their slightly sharp floral scent through my slightly open window. I haven’t seen my cousin in years. Not since we both went away to college. Me to Central Washington University, her to Sarah Lawrence. When she called me and asked if I’d be a bridesmaid in her wedding, I expected it to be somewhere on the East Coast. Nope. She’d chosen our home state, a location three hours from our hometown, because of all the men she could’ve met, she found her future in a guy we’d grown up with.
So far, I’ve struck out in that department. Two serious relationships. Two serious heartbreaks. Lots of meaningless flings to fill the emptiness in my heart.
Pushing aside thoughts of my situation, I step out of the car and walk around to the trunk. My small bag is heavy with everything I need for this epic wedding weekend Georgia has planned. Wine tastings, a bachelorette party, dinners, and of course, brunch.
I grab my garment bag from the backseat of my trusty little honda, the weight of the three dressed on the hangers making me laugh. It’s ridiculous. I’m at home in jeans and cowboy boots, not lace and stilettos.
“Chloe!” my aunt Karen squeals from the garden path to my left. She rushes toward me, holding out her arms. My hands are full, but I let her engulf me in her abundant embrace. She’s just as I remembered, soft, comforting, and smelling of every flower you could possibly mix to create perfume.
“Aunt Karen,” I say through a cough as the overpowering perfume assaults my senses.
“We thought you’d never get here.”
I frown and start to argue, but let it go. I’m an hour later than the earliest possible check-in time. “Traffic was a bitch,” I mutter.
“Oh, watch your language, young lady.”
“I’m thirty-two years old.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You’ll always be younger than me.”
“Am I the last one to arrive?”
One hand goes to her ample hip, and she rolls her eyes. “Not by a long shot. We’re still waiting for two of Porter’s groomsmen.”
“Oh, good. That’ll get me off your shit list then.”
She opens her mouth, likely to scold me, but stops and grins. “My list is long enough for all three of you. Come on, I’ll show you where your room is.”
I pull my suitcase behind me through the gravel driveway, past the main house until we reach a smaller structure. It looks like a two-story cottage with stairs on the outside leading to a door on the second floor. I’m really hoping I get the upstairs so I won’t have to hear my neighbor.
“We put you in the upper suite. It’s bigger than the rooms downstairs.” She hands me a key then stares at my cut-off shorts and cowboy boots. “I hope you brought some different…more appropriate attire for the next few days.”
I bristle, but only a little. I was prepared for this. “What do you mean? Cowboy boots go with everything.” Her face blanches because the woman thinks I’m serious. So, I put her out of her misery. “I’m kidding. I’ve got everything I need. Promise.”
She sighs. “This wedding is going to be the death of me. Between you and Porter’s friends, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to look at a pair of cowboy boots without having a stress reaction again.”
That piques my interest. “Porter’s friends are cowboys?”
“A few of them work on a ranch or something. They had the nerve to ask if they could wear their boots with their tuxedoes. Can you believe it?”
Excitement builds in my chest. Maybe they will be people I can talk to. Porter is in the financial business. Investment banking, I think. I expected most of his friends to be part of that same crowd. Rich, polished, perfect. It’d be nice to be able to explain my job, my passion for training horses, to someone who’d understand.
“Chloe?” Aunt Karen asks, pulling me from my thoughts. “One hour. Cocktails in the parlor. Then dinner.”
I nod. “I’ll be there.”
Sh
e walks away, and I climb the stairs, stopping on the deck to admire the view. In the distance, a truck rumbles down the driveway toward us, and I wonder if this might be the wayward groomsmen.
In forty-five minutes I’ve cleaned myself up from the three hour drive and am dressed in a tightly fitted black dress that hits me an inch above the knee. Tasteful and elegant are the words that come to mind, but I’m sure Aunt Karen will find something wrong with it. I put a jeweled headband in my hair and pin my long dark waves to the side. Deep plum lipstick finishes off my look, and I have to admit, I’ve gone from country girl to city siren in short order.
My shoes are too tall and I wobble as I walk, which is a problem considering the flight of stairs and gravel path I’m about to navigate. So, I slide my feet into the pair of moccasin slippers I brought with me and carry my shoes in one hand as I head to cocktails and dinner.
The warm evening air of June heat in Eastern Washington is a welcome change. It’s been colder than usual back home across the mountains. Tonight, I don’t need a sweater to keep me comfortable. My arms are bare, with just the smallest straps of my dress draping across my skin. When I reach the paved path that leads to the main house, I remove my slippers and step into the black pumps I’ve been dreading. Immediately I wobble. My steps are slow and careful, but damn it if I don’t catch my heel on an uneven part of the path and before I know it, I’m going down.
I let out a short squeak of dismay, but instead of hitting the ground, I’m caught in strong arms from behind.
“Whoa, there, darlin’,” he says, his voice a low rumble that hits me in places it shouldn’t.
He puts me back on my feet and I turn to thank him, but my mouth runs dry. Colton Hayes has me in his arms. He looks the same as he did when I broke his heart so long ago. That’s a lie. He looks like a man now. A man who would shove me against a wall and have his way with me rather than the nice boy he had been. Dirty blond hair, carelessly tousled, sun bronzed skin, ruggedly handsome features, and green eyes I haven’t seen in five years all hit me at once.
“Colt?” I ask when I can finally speak.
“Chloe?” He looks as shocked as I am. “What are you doing here?”
“My…my cousin is getting married.”
“Georgia is your cousin?”
Shock rolls through me at his question. How could he possibly know her? She didn’t live here when we dated. “You know her?”
“I’ve known Porter since we were kids. I’m a groomsman.”
Shit.
His hand is on the small of my back, and I don’t hate it. I’d been head over heels for him when we were together. “We…we need to get inside,” I say, stepping away from him.
He doesn’t move to touch me again, but there’s tension between us strong enough to make the air crackle. When we get inside, I immediately spot Georgia, looking gorgeous in a chic red dress and matching heels. She pulls me in for a hug and I don’t stop her, welcoming the distraction from Colt’s presence.
“Oh, good, you’ve met Colton,” she says, looking from me to him.
“Yes, we ran into each other outside,” Colt says.
“Good, that makes everything easier.” Georgia smiles and snags a glass of champagne from the bar to her right. She hands it to me and winks. “He’s good looking, right?”
I take a long drink, letting the bubbles burn my throat while nodding. She has no idea how much of Colton I’ve seen. How his lips have explored every inch of me.
“So, we’re doing things a little…unconventionally with the bridal party,” she says.
“What do you mean?” I ask, a frown pulling my brows together.
“Well, we’ve got an uneven number of groomsmen. So…you get two.” She says it like it’s a blessing and not something that’s going to be super weird.
“Two?”
“Yes. Colton and...” She looks around and smiles, waving someone over. “Oh, here he is. Sean, come meet your bridesmaid.”
Everything stops when the sound of another masculine voice hits me. “Chloe, is that you?”
I turn my attention from Colt to find Sean McClain striding toward us. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
I’ve only loved two men in my life, and I’ve got to walk down the aisle with both of them this weekend.
2
Chloe
* * *
“You know each other?” Georgia asks.
Before I can answer, both Sean and Colton say, “We dated.”
Then the two men look from me to each other, then back to me. Georgia’s red lips form a perfect O of surprise. “You dated them both?”
Colt frowns, his head cocking to the side just a little. “You dated this guy?”
Sean crossed his arms over his chest and stands up a little straighter. “I could ask her the same thing about you, asshole.”
I’m starting to sweat. My stomach twists and the thrum of my pulse in my ears has me wondering if I’m going to pass out. After downing my drink, I shove the glass into Georgia’s hand and turn on my heel. I have to get out of here.
“Chloe!” Georgia calls. “Wait.”
But I don’t listen. I need some space, some room to breathe. Colton being here was bad enough, but now to be here with Sean too—I can’t take it. I walk outside, willing the sharp scent of the roses to overtake everything else. Of course, it doesn’t work. All I can focus on are the two pairs of eyes that I never thought I’d see again. One a pale green, the other deep blue. Colt and Sean are my biggest regrets over the last decade. Each one was special. Each one terrified me. They still do.
I stop when I reach the gazebo on the outskirts of the neatly manicured lawn. Stars wink into view as the sky deepens to a dusky violet. It’s perfect out here. But I can’t appreciate it right now. Not when old heartbreaks have reopened in the span of a few moments.
“Running again?” Sean’s smooth deep voice holds a hint of accusation, and I don’t blame him.
I turn to face him, my breath catching at the sight of this man I’d loved returning like a ghost from my past. “One-hundred percent.”
He holds out a champagne flute and waits for me to take it from his outstretched hand. “Thought you could use this.” Our fingers brush as I take hold of the glass, and I can’t deny the spark that ignites at the contact.
I raise my glass in a mock cheers, but with his other hand, he holds up a highball half-filled with amber liquid. “Switching to the hard stuff?”
“One-hundred percent,” he echoes with a sad smile.
We clink glasses and he tosses back his drink while I drain half of mine. “This is—” I start, but he interrupts me.
“Look, I didn’t—” We both stop, laughing at the awkwardness between us.
“It’s been five years, Sean. Maybe…maybe I overreacted.”
He shakes his head, those thick dark waves of his, now peppered with gray at the temples. The man is also sporting a dangerously sexy beard, trimmed to showcase his strong jaw. It’s a hot beard. And that’s saying something, because I loved him with a clean-shaven face before. “Not gonna lie, Chloe, this is not what I expected this weekend. But, I think we can make it through.”
“Don’t you hate me after how I ended things?”
He raises his glass to take another sip, but the drink is gone. Then he locks gazes with me, hurt still shadowing his blue irises. “I don’t hate you. I never hated you. I just…don’t understand.”
I think back to the night I broke things off with him. He’d proposed. I had to say no. Rehashing it wouldn’t do either of us any good. Especially this weekend.
“I’m sorry.”
A shrug lifts his shoulders, then he looks past me. “Fucking gorgeous out here, isn’t it?”
“It’s very Georgia.”
He laughs. “You know, I never thought Porter would settle down. But Georgia is exactly right for him.”
“How do you know him?”
“We worked together one summer. Then we became g
ood friends.”
“Small damn world,” I say, staring up at the sky.
He takes a place beside me, his body heat making me wish we had less baggage between us. A night with a man like him would certainly make this weekend go by faster. “You look better than ever, bunny,” he says, that old nickname making my heart squeeze.
“Don’t call me that.”
I feel his tension rather than see it. But I know him. His shoulders have gone rigid, jaw tightening. “Sorry. Just slipped out.” He glances down at his drink again. “God, I wish I had another one of these.”
“Me too.”
He offers me his arm and cocks his head toward the hotel. “Come on. Ready to brave the group?”
“No.” I’m honest at least. I don’t want to go in there and face Aunt Karen or Colton.
“You’ve got to see them sooner or later. We’re grown ups now, remember?”
I set my now empty glass on the rail of the gazebo and straighten my dress. Then I grab the champagne flute and take his offered arm. “Fine. But there’s something I need to tell you first.”