Protecting the Bride

by Shelley Munro

  “Took me a while to settle, but Ashley came into my life and needed me. Call me if you want to talk. If I’m not available, call Dillon or Frog.”

  “Thanks.”

  Josh thumped him on the back. “I like your lady. The canceled wedding is a sign. Don’t fuck it up.”

  Cullen grinned, lifted a hand in farewell, and stalked over to Grace. “Cupcake,” he said and placed his hand around her shoulders in a possessive statement. He angled his body a fraction and eyed the man attempting to make a move on Grace. “You busy making friends?”

  Grace frowned, blinking at him. Oh, yeah, she was well on the way to drunk, and this guy was ready to take advantage.

  “You ready to go home, cupcake? The babysitter will want to leave on time.”

  The balding man on the barstool next to Grace straightened. “You have kids?”

  “Two boys. They’re little hellions like their mother,” Cullen said smoothly.

  Grace’s eyes opened even wider, and she swayed a fraction. “I-I-that’s not true.”

  Cullen slapped his hand over her mouth before she blurted out anything else. “You’ll understand I have to get my lady home.”

  “But I bought her drinks,” the man spluttered.

  Cullen stood straighter, rising to his full height and removed his hand from Grace’s mouth. “Did you lead this man on?”

  “No!” she snapped, spoiling her militant glare with a robust hiccup. She reached for her glass and swallowed the last of her wine, hiccupping again. Wine sprayed across the bar and the man’s shirt.

  “Time to get you home, cupcake.” It wasn’t far from her house, and he could carry her, but she might get upset if he carted her out of the pub in that manner. “Grace?”

  The balding guy retreated with a peeved expression. He’d thought he had a sure thing in Grace, and Cullen was glad he’d been there to step in even if his interference irked her. The barman had kept a close eye on Grace, which Cullen appreciated.

  “Don’t wanna go home,” Grace muttered. “Not a child.”

  “You’re acting like one,” Cullen countered. “Come on. Time for you to go home.” He glanced at the barman. “Grace is my neighbor.”

  The barman nodded. “Thanks for taking care of her.”

  Cullen gave a head jerk in response and lifted Grace off her barstool.

  “No,” Grace shrieked, drawing attention.

  Cullen whispered to her, his mouth hovering near her ear. “Do you want to add an apology to your list for tomorrow? You continue like this, and you’ll be too embarrassed to come back here. A pity because as local pubs go, it’s great.”

  “Stop,” Grace said, still wriggling.

  Cullen sighed. “I was trying to avoid a scene.” He lifted her with ease and draped her over his shoulder, then grabbed her handbag. “Time to go home, Gracie.” Long strides took him to the door, and Grace fought him the entire way, screeching at him to let her down. “You wriggle much more, and those men over there will get a fine view of your bared backside.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “They’ll see me spanking you.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  Grace spluttered and fell silent as Cullen stalked out the door, held open for him by the helpful barman.

  “Thanks,” Cullen said. “Appreciate it.”

  The walk home was considerably quieter.

  “I feel sick,” Grace said without warning.

  Cullen let her down and directed her to a leafy bush. She fell forward on her hands and knees and vomited her heart out. Cullen lifted her hair out of the way and waited for her to finish.

  “Okay?” he asked after a long period of silence, where she hiccupped once and breathed hoarsely through her mouth.

  “Yeah.” She wiped the back of her hand across her lips.

  Cullen helped her to stand, and this time supported her with an arm around her waist.

  “Sorry.”

  “No apologies necessary.” Cullen guided her down a side street and directed her toward an alleyway that joined two roads and exited on a reserve near their homes. When they left the alley, Cullen spotted a car parked outside Grace’s house. Instinct had him halting in the shadows.

  “What is it?” Grace asked, swaying on her feet.

  Cullen hauled her against his side to provide her greater stability.

  “Shush.” Cullen couldn’t tell what had caused him to stop, but something struck him as odd. The vehicle idled as if waiting for someone. A man exited the car and melted away into the shadows. They were too far away for Cullen to identify or get a description. “Do you know that car?”

  Grace glanced in the direction he pointed and blinked several times. “Which car?” she asked finally. “There are three, and they look almost identical.”

  Cullen held back his laughter with difficulty. His cupcake was well and truly sozzled.

  The car pulled away from the curb, did a three-point turn, and drove away, disappearing into the darkness. Cullen nudged Grace into motion, and soon they arrived at her house. A light shone in her bedroom, and another in the kitchen. Through the window, Cullen watched a man cross to the fridge and open it to study the contents.

  “Your man is still in your house,” he said.

  “Not my man. Not any longer. Hate cheaters. Refuse to marry one.”

  “Good for you,” Cullen said. “No problem, you can stay with me tonight, and tomorrow, we’ll see about getting him to leave.”

  “Bastard,” she muttered.

  Cullen stilled, then realized she didn’t mean him. She was talking about the cheater, and he agreed. The loser hadn’t understood the treasure he’d had in Grace. He’d tossed her away without a second thought. Cullen wasn’t stupid. He knew a second chance when it stared at him, and he wasn’t about to waste his opportunity to win Grace.

  Only a fool would let her go twice.

  4

  THE MORNING AFTER

  The thump-thump-thump of a jungle drum woke Grace. She stirred, her head shifting a fraction to release the taut pull of her hair. Immediately, jagged pain pierced her skull, advising her to exercise caution. She swallowed hard and discovered her mouth was as dry as an Auckland dam during a drought. The room—perhaps a bedroom, since the softness of a pillow cushioned her head—lay in complete darkness. Cold pushed goosebumps across her bare arm and leg while heat seared her back.

  Cautious about setting off the excruciating spikes in her head again, she used her other senses. The sweet, spicy, and faintly musky aroma scenting her mindful breaths wasn’t familiar. Jeff didn’t—

  “Go back to sleep. It’s still early,” a masculine voice whispered in her ear.

  Grace shrieked and whirled, her legs tangling in the covers. Panic roared through her while lights flashed behind her eyes and resounded through her brain. Bang-bang-bang. She groaned.

  “You gonna be sick, cupcake?”

  Only Cullen called her cupcake. Instead of relief, his presence raised more quick-fire questions. What was she doing with Cullen? She slapped her hands over her chest, relieved to find herself clothed, although what the devil was she wearing?

  “Why are you in bed with me?” she demanded.

  Cullen rolled away. A bedside light flicked on, and she reared back, raising her hands to shutter the brightness.

  “You’re in my bed,” he said, and it was difficult to ignore his smug amusement.

  “What?” That’d be why she recognized nothing and why she felt so discombobulated. “Why?”

  “Do you remember last night?”

  Grace peered at Cullen’s bare chest. Muscles. Gorgeous, touchable muscles. She swallowed hard and averted her gaze downward. Whoa! More skin. “Are-are you wearing anything?”

  “My birthday suit,” Cullen said. “I dislike sleeping in clothes.”

  “Oh.” Grace shifted her gaze to the pale blue sheet that rode low on Cullen’s abdomen. She gasped and wrenched her unruly eyes off
the expanse of tanned male skin. Her head jerked upward. Ow! Thump, thump, thump. Bang. Grace cradled her skull and willed the throbbing to cease.

  “Problem?” His voice radiated mischief. No doubt, those baby blues of his would gleam in concert as they did whenever he teased her.

  “Noooo,” she said, frowning. Sluggish thoughts took time to slot together until her mind seized on one jigsaw piece.

  Oh, yeah.

  Jeff.

  She’d caught the ratfink having it off with her neighbor.

  The wedding was off.

  Today, she had to fix the mess that came with canceled nuptials. But that didn’t explain why she was in Cullen’s bed.

  “Why am I in your bed?” She scowled at him when he merely lifted a brow. While she’d been out of it, he’d tamed his beard. Now he wore designer scruff rather than sporting the mountain man version. It made it easier to spot his masculine arrogance. Grace sniffed and raised her chin. “My mind is a little fuzzy about yesterday.”

  Cullen had the gall to grin. “You walked in on your boyfriend—fiancé—with your next-door neighbor.”

  “Yep, remember that part. Unfortunately,” she muttered. “What happened after that?”

  “You stopped at the pub and got drunk.”

  “But I don’t drink. Not much.”

  “You did last night. Glasses of wine with fine Scottish whisky chasers.”

  “Oh.” That accounted for her pounding headache. She never mixed her drinks and limited her intake because she didn’t cope well with alcohol.

  “When we arrived home, your fiancé was still in your house. I figured it was better if you stayed with me rather than encounter him. You need to be sober for that meeting since he ripped you off and stole your money.”

  Heck, yes. She remembered that part. The bastard. “Is he still at my place?”

  “Don’t know.” Cullen stretched his arms above his head, and her gaze followed the graceful move like a tame puppy. She stared, drank him in because he was so pretty. Were those muscles as hard as they appeared? Her mind roared toward lusty sex, and she silently willed the pale blue sheet to slip lower, just to appease her curiosity.

  Cullen’s earthy chuckle jerked her to good sense. Grace averted her gaze, but not before she glimpsed knowledge and amusement in Cullen. Carnal knowledge.

  Grace! What are you doing? You babysat this man.

  She wrangled her gaze when her inner wild child teased her with a second peek. Grace rubbed her cheeks, suddenly adrift. This wasn’t the way she’d envisioned her life. She wanted marriage and a family, and Jeff had made her believe he’d coveted those same things. A dog and a house in the suburbs—eventually. Camping trips during the summer holidays. She ached for the carefree fun she’d had as a child when she’d raced around the countryside with her cousins. Her grandmother had taught her to bake, and life had been so simple.

  Now, she was thirty-something with a failed engagement and no money because the creep had stolen from her too. Maybe she needed a Plan B.

  “I need to find a sexy man and have a passionate affair. Have sizzle-your-socks kind of sex and enjoy myself. If that even exists,” she muttered to herself.

  Cullen propped himself up on his elbow and regarded her with amusement. “There is so much to unpack in that statement.”

  Grace pressed her lips together and ignored him. “I’m getting a glass of water.”

  “I’ll make coffee.” Cullen moved as if he was rising too. The sheet covering his lower half slipped dangerously low.

  “No,” Grace shrieked. “Stop. Don’t move.”

  His blue gaze fixed on her. “Why?”

  “You’re naked!”

  “Yeah, so are you under that T-shirt.”

  Belatedly Grace became aware of her unbound breasts and the air circulating her nether region. “What? How?” Why? That was the question that grabbed her most of all. She always wore panties under her nighties. It wasn’t as if Jeff noticed what she was wearing to bed, which should’ve been a big sign right there. Gah! She was such an idiot.

  Another question occurred—one that required an immediate answer. “Who undressed me?”

  His eyes smiled when he spoke. “I did because your coordination was off, although you did your best. Well, I removed your outer layers because you’d vomited on your T-shirt and skirt. You wrangled yourself out of your underwear. Something about plain cotton not doing it for you any longer. You told me you were donning your sexy stuff in the morning.”

  She hid her face in her hands, and the heat that suffused her cheeks was nuclear-hot. “You saw me naked?”

  “Yup. Why are you hiding, Gracie? Your breasts are gorgeous.”

  “Gah!” she half-shouted as she rose with caution. Once clear of the covers, she tugged down the T-shirt she was wearing. It barely covered her arse-cheeks. Mortified, she scuttled to the toilet and took care of business. In the bathroom, she stared at her raccoon eyes. Sighing, she did her best to wash her face.

  Cullen appeared in the doorway, fully dressed and carrying a robe. He handed it to her. “Why don’t you take a shower? You’ll feel better. Clean towels are in the cupboard there. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “My suitcase is in the laundry.” She had difficulty meeting his gaze. His genuine smile and easy humor at her expense didn’t help.

  “I’ll bring it up for you and leave it in the bedroom.”

  “Thanks, Cullen.”

  His brief nod told her he understood she was thanking him for everything he’d done last night. He disappeared, and she closed the door. She considered locking it but decided that was overkill. She trusted Cullen implicitly, and while he was happy to tease her, he’d never cross the line between right and wrong.

  Cullen was correct. While her headache remained, the hot water eased her fatigue. It couldn’t, however, scrub away her embarrassment at her behavior. Grace gave a heartfelt groan. She had so much to do today, all of it horrid and mortifying. Once she’d dressed in shorts and a tee—again new clothes—she picked up her phone to discover messages. Many texts and voicemails.

  Grace inhaled and dialed her mother.

  “Hey, it’s me,” she said when her mother answered.

  “Grace, are you all right?”

  “I will be.”

  “What happened?”

  “He cheated on me. I caught him in bed with another woman,” Grace said, not sugarcoating the truth.

  “Do you want us to come home to help?” her mother asked.

  “Thanks, but no. I have a week off work, so I’ll take a break.”

  “You shouldn’t be on your own,” her mother said.

  “Mum, I’m not suicidal. Sure, I’m sad, but mostly, I’m angry at myself for making a stupid mistake and trusting him.”

  “On the plus side, at least you found out before the wedding. That makes things simpler.”

  “Yeah,” Grace said, her mood turning bleak.

  A quick tap on the door heralded Cullen’s arrival with a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks,” she mouthed. “Mum, I’ll be fine, although if you could spread the word to our side of the family about the wedding cancelation, I’d appreciate it. You still have the list of the guests?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m happy to do that for you. Really, Grace. Dad and I should be with you to help with the other details.”

  “Mum, honestly. I’m fine. I will be fine. If you could contact those on the list for me, that’s all I need. Tell them I’ll return the wedding presents soon. That it’s on my to-do list.”

  “Oh, Grace. I’m so sorry.” Her mother hesitated. “Your father and I never thought Jeff was good enough for you. Oh, he was charming, but this cheating behavior shows we were right to worry.”

  Grace gritted her teeth and did a swift count to ten. “Hindsight is always easy. Mum, I appreciate your help. I’m going to keep my phone turned off. Text me if you need me, and I’ll call back.”

  “Are you truly okay?” Now her mother sounded wor
ried.

  “Yes. I’m an adult, and I won’t do anything stupid. Bye, Mum.”

  She hung up and turned off her phone before it rang again.

  Cullen cast her a sympathetic look. “That bad?”

  “Yeah. Evidently, Mum and Dad didn’t like Jeff but didn’t tell me.”

  “I’m sorry. That must suck. How are you? Really.”

  “Now that I’m over the initial shock, I’m pissed. And I feel stupid because Jeff conned me. If he didn’t want to go ahead with the marriage, I wish he’d told me.”

  Cullen’s big shoulders—still bare—moved in a shrug. “Do you want something to eat?”

  Grace shuddered. “No. Definitely not.”

  Cullen nodded. “Scuzzball is still at your place.”

  “Really?” Grace scrambled to the bedroom window and peered outside. “Oh!”

  Jeff was sitting on the deck with a coffee and his feet up. He’d propped his phone between his shoulder and his ear, and his casual repose indicated he had settled in for the duration.

  “Bastard. He’s carrying on as if he’s done nothing wrong.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll wait until he goes out and get the locks changed. That should work.”

  “After you’ve had your coffee, we’ll buy new locks for the front and rear doors. I can change them for you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It will give me immense satisfaction to lock the idiot out of your house,” Cullen said. “Have you drunk your coffee? I’ll make you another one, and you can keep me company while I eat breakfast.”

  “I need to ring the caterer and the marriage celebrant. The hall owners, etcetera.”

  “You can do that downstairs while you have another coffee or at least a glass of water. You’ll be dehydrated after last night.” He eyed her closely. “Do you still have a headache?”

  She nodded and immediately wished she’d used her words. “Yes.”

  “Headache tablets are downstairs,” Cullen said and walked out.

  Grace stared after him. Some lucky woman would explore all that golden, masculine real estate. She sighed, picked up her empty mug, her phone, and handbag, and followed Cullen downstairs.