The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series

by Miller, Cassie-Ann L.

  I shake my head, trying to pry loose the disturbing thoughts currently assaulting my brain cells. “You and the nurse, daddy? That is so inappropriate, I don't even know where to start."

  “You’re a damn prude,” he scolds, stifling a laugh at my expense. Then thankfully he changes the subject. “Anyway, there was other good news today.”

  “Really?” I lean back in the chair, pulling all my hair over one shoulder and distractedly raking my fingers through the tangles as we speak.

  “Dr. Gallo says that her clinical study just received a shit-ton of unexpected money…They have funding to continue their research for the device.” His eyes glitter with excitement. “I’m gonna get to try out the device, Sadie!”

  My heart bounces in my chest. "That’s incredible dad."

  His body tremors on a breath of relief. "I’m really hopeful, Sadie. I think this clinical trial is the answer I’ve been waiting for."

  I don’t know why, but I just have this feeling. My gut tells me there’s more to the story. "Did Dr. Gallo mention where the funding came from?"

  Dad shrugs. "Yeah, she mentioned it was some foundation. She told me the name." He taps around on his keyboard and then turns the screen to me. "The Rochdale Estate Medical Research Fund. Seems like it’s a pretty new charity from some place called Ridgeland. You ever heard of it?"

  A smile breaks out across my face just as tears blur my eyes. Xavier’s gorgeous face beams up at me from the website’s home page. Stubborn jerk. Is he gonna set up a new charity every time I find myself in some sort of trouble? I told him time and again I didn't need him to save me, that I could fix my problems on my own.

  But I couldn’t fix this.

  I needed his help and he was there for me without me even having to ask him. And I’m so grateful that he stuck his nose in...He probably just saved my father’s life.

  God—I love that man. Even though he’s telling me not to. Even though he’s saying he doesn’t deserve it. It’s impossible for me not to love him. My guilt-ridden prince. The knight in shining armor I never knew I needed.

  I know for sure I’ll never get over him.

  I’ve got to find a way to get to him. I need to see him. To speak to him. To hold him.

  That night when I get home, I break my rule. I pull out my phone and open my Google app. Fingers shaking with nerves and excitement, I type his name in and hit ‘Enter’.

  The giddy smile drops from my face when I see the headline that all the European tabloid sites are blasting.

  A Royal Wedding for Ridgeland: Prince Xavier Announces Upcoming Nuptials

  The picture beneath the headline speaks a thousand words. It’s Xavier and a bubbly blonde, both beaming, her hand resting on his chest as she proudly shows off a mammoth of a diamond ring.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Xavier

  The wedding planner stands at the front of the room stiff and lifeless like a mannequin who pulled a prison break from a Karl Lagerfeld showroom. “And I was thinking that we could seat Baron Warchester here.” The tall, thin fortysomething woman in the sharp trousers says as she cracks her pointer stick against the whiteboard at the front of the room. She moves the pointer stick to another location. “We could seat Bishop Endelton here.” She shifts the pointer again. “And then we could put the prime minister right here…As far as I can tell, it’s the only way we’ll get through the ceremony without inciting the next Ridgish civil war.” She pauses and her blue gaze moves to Yolanda. When her eyes meet my harsh stare, her head drops meekly and she does a small curtsy. “But it is your wedding so of course you get the final say, Your Highness.”

  A team of assistants flurries around the room, sticking up fabric samples on the walls and setting out silverware options on a corner table and scribbling notes onto writing pads. All this movement is giving me vertigo.

  Next to me Yolanda sighs happily with a dismissive wave of her hand. “You seat them wherever you like. As long as Mother is seated on the left-hand side of the chapel, of course. She specifically asked that the cameras focus on the right side of her face because ever since that botched botulinum treatment, it’s become increasingly difficult for her to emote through facial expression.”

  The wedding planner nods in agreement and makes a note on her tablet. “Yes, we need to make sure the cameras get a good shot of her crying. The newspapers will love it. Her daughter is about to become the Queen of Ridgeland, after all.”

  Yolanda loops her arm through mine and rests her cheek on my shoulder, giving my bicep an excited squeeze. I just want to hurl.

  Am I really supposed to marry this woman? I’m supposed to spend my life with her? She’s annoying as hell. But according to Ridgish tradition, I need a bride to take the throne. Yolanda’s not opposed to playing that role even if it’s just a marriage of convenience. She’s attracted to the power even more than she’s attracted to my cock. As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t really matter who the hell is walking down the aisle toward me on my wedding day. Because I can’t have Sadie.

  She’s the one I really want but I love her too much to drag her into this life. I’m not fit for the throne. This is going to be a disaster. I’m going to fuck this up so bad. The way I fuck everything up. And when it all implodes, I don’t want her to get crushed under the rubble. That’s why it’s best to leave her alone. Even though it’s killing me.

  The wedding planner gives me a frightful tentative glance. "Speaking of emoting, am I going to have a hard time getting a smile out of you for the photos, Your Highness? The nation will be dying for happy, beaming, exuberant snaps of the royal newly weds.

  Yolanda jerks a shoulder indifferently. "Oh never mind him and his frowny pants." She leans close to me and whispers in my ear. "I'll spend the night before the wedding making sure you have lots of naughty memories to smile at during the ceremony." Under the table, her fingers skitter down the length of my deflated cock. Woman—this is not freaking foreplay!

  She doesn’t flinch at all when I lurch away violently.

  Her attention goes back to the wedding planner. “I want to talk about the candles. I know that the chapel is usually adorned with votive candles but I was thinking we could swap them out for pillars. What do you say?”

  I slump forward, propping up my chin on my forearms lying on the table in front of me. I tune the women out.

  My eyes are fixed on the measure of brandy sitting within arm’s reach. I want to drink it so, so bad. I’d give anything just to be numb to all of this. I just want to escape. I don’t want to fight this battle against my urges anymore.

  Because here I am, planning a wedding to a woman I can’t stand when the one person I love is on the other side of the Atlantic.

  Sadie…

  I should have kissed her. Why didn’t I fucking kiss her that night before I left? What if I never see her again?

  My throat closes up at the thought. I won’t ever get over her.

  Sadie Nichols has character. I knew that from the moment she stormed through the front door, tackling me like a football player who'd sniffed jet fuel. She was the opposite of all the cookie-cutter boot-licking brown-nosing toadies who live just to please me. She was a breath of fresh air when all I was used to was the foul stench of constantly being around bullshit.

  I think I’m losing my mind. I’m having a hard time breathing. I stick my thumb under the knot of my tie and grunting, I yank it roughly away from my throat.

  Yolanda elbows me subtly in the ribs and out of the corner of my eye, I see her giving the wedding planner a tight smile. “Yes, sweetheart. Tell us what you think. Should we go for sweet pea sprigs or lily of the valley in the bouquets?” She bats her eyes with faux adoration as she waits for my response.

  Okay, enough of this.

  The thick carpeting muffles the grate of my chair as I push it back and stand. “I need some air.” I grab the crystal decanter of liquor from the table and tuck it under my arm.

  Yolanda’s eyes go wide with emba
rrassment and her cheeks flush as she throws a subtle glance at the wedding planner. “But Xavier, we’re just about to—”

  “I’m sure you can handle it without me,” I say uninterestedly as I jog toward the door, unable to get out of that place fast enough.

  Out in the corridors, palace staff bustle about, making preparations for the quickly approaching royal wedding. With purposeful movements, I push through the madness back to my bachelor pad in the south wing. I brush past Thomas’s desk without even sparing him a glance.

  The little man raises a dainty finger in the air. “Your Highness, if I may have moment of y—”

  “Not now, Thomas,” I say in irritation as I bound toward the staircase leading up to my private swimming pool two floors above. At this point, I just want to get drunk. I want to guzzle this alcohol, strip down to my bare arse and jump into the pool. To see if I’ll sink or swim.

  But a husky, familiar voice rings out, stopping me dead in my tracks. “There’s really no fun in drinking alone, Your Highness. In fact, it’s kind of sad and pathetic.”

  I spin around slowly, blinking in disbelief at the long-limbed, shaggy-haired body slouched in the wheelchair now parked in the middle of the hall. My Adam’s apple bounces roughly as I swallow. “Stanley…I—is that you?” A rush of adrenaline moves through me.

  He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Of course it’s me, you tosser. Have you been seeing ghosts lately?”

  I descend the stairs, closing the space between us. My voice shakes. “No. At least not in broad daylight.”

  The guilt is almost unbearable as I stand there, looking down at my former friend. He used to be big. He’d always been a touch too fond of pudding.

  Now, as we’re here staring at each other, I see a broken man, not only physically. His spirit is broken. I can see it in his eyes. And it kills me, knowing that I’m the cause of it.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  His knobby shoulders heave beneath the wool of his knit sweater vest. “We need to talk, Xavier. It’s about damn time.” His voice is heavy with resignation.

  Nodding slowly, I dip both hands into the pockets of my trousers. “I agree.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Xavier

  A few minutes later, we’re sitting by the pool. With nothing but a small glass table with a simple brunch spread sitting between us.

  Stan looks pale. He hasn’t been getting out much and from the way he’s devouring his porridge, boiled eggs and toast, I have to wonder when was the last time he was offered a decent meal.

  He picks up an olive and shoves it into his mouth then makes an unpleasant face. “What is this rubbish? Did the palace’s food budget get slashed?” Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looks up and catches me staring. “And aren’t you going to eat? Started your pre-wedding slim-down regime early, did you?”

  I look away quickly. “Not hungry,” I say with a little headshake. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of that bottle of brandy and a different kind of hunger surges in me. I want a drink so damn bad.

  He drops his fork to his plate with an unceremonious clang and heaves a long exhale. He watches me with hard eyes. “Look—I could say that I’m here to congratulate you on your upcoming wedding and coronation. I could pretend that I’m really happy for you. But the truth is, I’m pissed.” His words have the effect of a punch to the chest. I recoil physically. “I’m angry, Xavier. I’ve been angry for years.”

  This is what I was expecting. It’s the nightmare that’s haunted me since that night. He has every right to feel this way. He lost his sister, he lost his mobility. I’m the cause of it…and I’m about to become his King. It’s completely unfair. His anger is justified.

  That’s why his next words completely catch me off-guard. “But I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of feeling jealous and screaming at god that you should have been the one who died instead of my sweet, innocent sister or that you should have ended up in this wheelchair instead of me. I’m tired, Xavier.” He bows his head. Pinches the bridge of his nose.

  My voice comes out so thick with emotion that it doesn’t even sound like me. “I am so fucking sorry, Stan.” A ball of emotion corks my throat but I push past it. “I’m sorry about everything. About everything that happened that night and about everything that happened after.” Even if I one day bring myself to accept that the car crash that killed Charlene and took away Stan’s ability to walk was an accident, my family’s actions following that night? I’ll never be able to accept that. The threats, the confidentiality agreements, the efforts to intimidate people who were already suffering so much. All in the name of protecting the fucking monarchy. That is completely unacceptable. “I don’t expect your forgiveness, Stan, but I am sorry.”

  I see a tear drop from his eye to the table in front of him. He rubs his eyes with his fist then looks up. “I’m here to forgive you, arsehole.”

  My chest expands on a surprised inhale.

  “I’m here to forgive you because it will finally allow me to move on with my life.” He adjusts his posture. Sits up straight in his chair. “I’ve met a woman that I love, Xavier. A beautiful, sweet, kind woman. And I’ve asked her to marry me. But she says she won’t do it as long as I’m carrying the yoke of my resentment with me. So, I’m forgiving you, I’m letting go of the past so that I can get my own happy future.” The faintest smile, a glimmer of hope sparkles on his face.

  I collapse back into my seat, a genuine grin swelling my cheeks. “I’m so damn happy for you, mate. In all honesty, I’m…relieved. I’m relieved.”

  I see specks of my former best friend in the creases around his eyes when he grins. “Don’t hold your breath waiting for a wedding invitation, though.”

  I chuckle. “Fair enough.” I’m just glad he’s found happiness after all the suffering he’s lived through. I’m glad love has given him a reason to smile.

  A moment of silence stretches between us and I realize that there are lessons I may be able to learn from this man. Here he is, confined to this wheelchair for the rest of his life, yet somehow, he’s found freedom. Meanwhile, I’m about to become a king and I feel absolutely trapped. “Tell me, Stan—how do I find peace like you have?”

  He looks up from the toast he’s nibbling on and eyes me. “First of all…” He grabs the bottle of alcohol from the table and wheels himself over to the edge of the pool. I watch as he draws back his arm and flings the drink into the water. He glances at me as he wheels back to the table. “First of all, face your bloody feelings. Or else you’ll drink yourself into an early grave. And if that happens, then your little sister will take the Throne and if the rumors are to be believed, the girl still eats crayons and shits in her underpants. So we’d all be fucked.”

  I dip my head to the side and chuckle into my balled up fist.

  “You’ve been drinking since we were kids. You and I both know exactly what’s bothering you. Face it. Get help for it. And move the fuck on.”

  Puffing up my chest, I try to lie through my teeth. “I’m fine, Stan. I don’t have any deep-seated mommy issues,” I say sarcastically. “I’m not the first bloke to grow up without a mother. Or to have a distant father.”

  “Keep telling yourself that lie and you’ll never move on.” He’s always been so damn blunt. And when I open my mouth to argue, he cuts me off. “Secondly, come clean. Tell the truth about what happened that night. If your family’s secrets are crippling you, keeping you from becoming the person you want to be, then shake off those bloody secrets and tell the truth.” He speaks quickly, not giving me the chance to argue or interrupt. “And finally, take a good hard look at the decisions you’re making. I see the big, smiling pictures of you and that flawless, soulless socialite all over the magazines but I know you. And I know that’s not the kind of woman you’d want to have by your side. I understand that you have duties to fulfill and things are expected of you but if you aren’t true to yourself, I don’t see how you’
ll ever become the great king you were born to be.”

  By now, my jaw is rigid, my muscles are tight. I’m so damned angry. I just want to yell at him. How dare he talk to me like that?! But I know that everything he just said is right. The guy knows me better than nearly anyone and everything he just said is right.

  Even though I hate all of it.

  Stan has finished eating practically everything on the table. He eyes the untouched blueberry scone on my plate. “Are you going to eat that?”

  “You can have it.” Pushing my plate in his direction, I rise out of my chair, unable to bring my eyes to his. “I need to process all this.”

  “Fine,” I hear him call after me. “But don’t take too long. You have an entire kingdom waiting on you now.”

  Don’t I ever know it!

  Chapter Forty

  Sadie

  The music is on louder than usual today. Steven Tyler’s voice shakes the glass of the display. Normally, I’d be restraining myself from climbing up onto the counter and popping my ass like nobody’s business. But lately, I’m just not feelin’ it.

  Everything’s a struggle. Just waking up and brushing my teeth uses up most of my energy reserves. Then, I have to come in to work and smile and be friendly and pretend I’m not crying inside, missing Xavier, aching over the fact that he’s gone and he’s getting married and he’s about to assume a life he doesn’t think he’s ready for. It’s killing me. All of it is killing me.

  Nat is on lunch break and I find myself working the cash with Reese and Vivian. I love my bosses. I really do. But I don’t have the energy to be ‘on’ right now. To be the model employee, smiling with the customers, laughing at their jokes, using grace and humor to deflect sexual harassment from creepy old guys.