An Uncommon Honeymoon

by Susan Mann

  The song came to a close. Quinn and Nicole bowed to thunderous applause and shouts of “Congratulations!” and “Happy wedding!”

  They bounded off the stage and slapped high fives with complete strangers on the way back to their seats.

  Quinn flopped in her chair. Hot and perspiring, she gulped the rest of her water. “I need more,” she said to Nicole and wiggled the empty. “You want one?”

  “Yeah.”

  Quinn went to the bar while two young men made their way to the stage for their turn in the limelight. After receiving the bottles and the bartender’s congratulations, she returned to the table and tossed one of the bottles to Nicole.

  Once Quinn was sitting again, Nicole twisted in her chair to face Quinn and tipped her head toward her. Her eyes flashed with aggravation. “The prick next to us is such a condescending crapweasel. I just heard him say the huge response we got was because you’re getting married and not our singing.”

  “I hate to tell you this, Nic, but he might be right.” At Nicole’s fierce frown, she quickly backtracked by adding, “My singing, anyway.”

  She immediately regretted giving the man the benefit of the doubt when she overheard him say, “I don’t know why any guy would get married in the first place. Why would I want a woman telling me what to do all the time? Besides, I can have any woman I want without all the nagging. I’m a stallion.” Heat crawled up Quinn’s neck and flamed hot on her cheeks when he snorted a derisive laugh and said, “Five bucks says the loser she’s marrying is totally whipped.”

  Nicole’s pique vanished with one look at Quinn’s face. “Q,” she said in a warning tone. “He’s not worth the breath.”

  Quinn eased her clenched jaw and exhaled. “You’re right. I don’t need to waste my energy on a troll.”

  The opening guitar riffs of “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” filled the room. She forgot her annoyance with The Prick when someone shouted, “More cowbell!” One of the guys on stage yelled back, “If you say so!” He lifted the front of his shirt and revealed the cowbell and drumstick stuffed in the waistband of his jeans. He whipped them out and whacked the bell in time with the song. The crowd roared in approval.

  The cowbell rang throughout the entire song, including the instrumental interludes when it should have been silent. No one cared. By the end of the song, everyone bobbed their heads to the beat.

  The two men took deep bows as they received a rousing ovation. Even after they stepped down and returned to their seats, the room still buzzed with energy as the next singer, one of the women from the large group, took the stage.

  She took the microphone in her hand and bowed her head.

  The murmurs of anticipation rolling through the bar fell silent when soft, languid notes from a piano drifted from the speakers.

  Quinn was drawn in by the rich, soulful alto who sang of a final night together before a breakup. When she sang the haunting chorus of “I Can’t Make You Love Me,” there was a palpable ache in the woman’s voice. Not once did she consult the monitor as she sang. The words flowed from her soul.

  Witnessing such raw emotion had Quinn blinking back tears. Glancing around, she saw she wasn’t the only one affected. The singer’s friends swiped fingers across damp cheeks. Some in the room lowered their gazes, unwilling to intrude upon a moment of gut-wrenching pain and vulnerability.

  Only the creep next to Quinn and Nicole seemed to be immune to the spell the young woman cast over the room. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest and squirmed in his chair. When Quinn saw Nicole’s head turn toward The Prick, Quinn was sure he’d received a laser-like glare capable of burning a hole in his skull.

  Quinn tried to block all that out and focus her attention on the woman on stage.

  The singer lifted her head and poignantly sang her acceptance of her circumstance. In the morning, she would do the right thing. In her subtle movements, she stood a little straighter and her shoulders squared. With increasing power in her voice, she declared to her friends, to herself, and to the world she was moving on.

  The final notes faded and the room fell silent. Spellbound, no one seemed to know what to do. Wearing a wistful smile, the young woman set the microphone down and stepped off the stage. One of her friends began to clap. Everyone in the room, save one, sprang to their feet and applauded her bravery and resolve.

  The young woman received hugs from each of her friends, and when she sat, the rest of the room did as well.

  It took a moment, but the constriction of Quinn’s throat loosened so she could speak again. She looked at Nicole, who was clearly battling a swell of emotions. “That was heartbreaking,” Quinn said. “It makes me realize how lucky I am to have a man who I know loves me as much as I love him.”

  “I know. Me too,” Nicole replied. “She was just so incredible though. It about ripped my heart out.”

  The Prick had apparently been eavesdropping. He guffawed and muttered, “Sure. It’s all about her.”

  Nicole bristled. With a dangerously arched eyebrow, she twisted in her chair and faced him. “Excuse me?”

  “No wonder he didn’t love her. She’s trying to make it all about her.”

  Quinn rolled her eyes at the guy’s gargantuan case of projection.

  “Dude,” his friend said to him. “Let it go.”

  “Look, you asshat,” Nicole spat. “The girl’s clearly going through some stuff. Give her a break and shut the hell up.”

  “Nic,” Quinn said in a cautionary tone.

  Nicole leaned back when he rolled forward toward her. “All you bitches are the same,” he said. For the first time, Quinn noticed how his eyes didn’t fully focus on anything. The guy was blitzed. “You’re always bossing us men around and then complaining to your friends about how terrible we are. I’m not gonna take it anymore. So you shut the hell up, bitch.” He shoved Nicole on the shoulder.

  Nicole jumped from her chair, her hands balled into fists. “Don’t you dare touch me,” she said in a scary calm voice. Quinn was on her feet in a split second.

  “See?” he said, swaying a little now that he was standing, too. “There you go, telling me what to do.” He shoved her again. Nicole sprawled back into her chair.

  Furious at the way he was treating her best friend, Quinn stepped right in front of him. He was at least a foot taller than her. She wanted to get in his grill, but having to stand on a chair didn’t exactly scream intimidation. “Step off and never lay a hand on a woman like that ever again.”

  “Who’s gonna stop me?” He stretched to his full height and sneered down at her. “You? You’re gonna stop me from doing this?” He raised his hand to give her a push.

  She clamped her right hand over his wrist, gripped his thumb with the other, and rotated the hand under his arm. When it forced him to bend over, she pivoted and put him in an armlock.

  “Ow! Let me go, you crazy bitch!”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  He grunted in pain when she torqued on his wrist. “You’re gonna bust my arm.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t knee you in the junk, too,” Quinn said in an even tone.

  Slack-jawed, Nicole gaped at her.

  Quinn moved her shoulder and said, “I took a self-defense class.” It was true. She just didn’t mention it was at the CIA.

  Her captive reached his free hand around and tried to claw at her. She cranked harder on his wrist and pushed up on his elbow with her other hand. From her own experience with the hold, she knew searing pain was radiating up and down his entire arm. He whimpered in distress.

  By the time a bartender arrived, all eyes were on them. He slung a towel over his shoulder and surveyed the situation. Fighting off a smile, he asked, “What seems to be the problem?”

  “He’s had a little too much to drink and wasn’t nice to my friend,” Quinn said.

  The bartender looked to The Prick’s friend. “I think it’s best you take him home.”

  He stood and tossed some money on the table. “
Sorry.”

  Quinn released the arm, but was fully prepared to put him on his back if he made any kind of aggressive move.

  He took a couple steps back and rubbed his wrist. Glaring at her, he asked, “What are you? Some kind of cop or something?”

  “She’s not a cop.” Nicole stood and, in a voice brimming with pride, said, “She’s a librarian.”

  Chapter Three

  Quinn pressed her palms against the front of the beaded bodice of her wedding dress to make some slack at the back. She hoped it would make it a bit easier for her mother, Marie, to fasten the two dozen cloth-covered buttons.

  “Halfway there,” her mother said.

  Since she would be immobile for a couple more minutes, Quinn figured she might as well put the time to good use. “Kelsey?” she called over to James’s sister, who was sitting on a sofa in the bride’s room of the church in Redondo Beach where James and Quinn were about to be married. “Could you do me a huge favor?”

  Kelsey came over to her. “Sure. What’s up?” James and Kelsey shared the same easy smile, but with her brunette hair and green eyes, she took after their father. James, on the other hand, had his mother’s dark blond hair and blue eyes.

  “With everything going on the last few days, I haven’t had a chance to give James my wedding present. Could you bring it to him? I’m hoping he’ll wear them today.”

  “Of course.” Kelsey’s eyes sparkled with mischief when she tipped her head closer to Quinn’s and lowered her voice. “It’s not a man thong, is it? That’s not something I need to know about my brother.”

  Quinn grinned. “How’d you guess?”

  Kelsey grimaced like she’d caught a whiff of skunk. From the first moment Quinn had met Kelsey, she’d known they would always have fun together. It was unclear how often that would be, though, given Kelsey was heading into her fourth year of veterinary school at Colorado State. Quinn and James were thrilled she was able to get enough time off from school to be a part of the wedding as one of Quinn’s bridesmaids.

  In the mirror, Quinn caught her mom fighting off a smile as she worked another button. To Kelsey, she said, “Just kidding. It’s a pair of Ferrari cuff links.”

  Kelsey bounced on her toes. “He’s such a car guy. He’ll love them.”

  “I think so, too. They’re in my bag over there,” she said, indicating its location with a tip of her head.

  Kelsey dug through the bag and took out a small box wrapped in silver paper. She held it up. “Is this it?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’ll be back.” She was across the room and out the door in a flash.

  “Where’s Nicole?” Marie asked.

  “She went off to hang out with Brian for a few minutes.”

  “While we’re alone, I want to talk to you about something,” Marie said.

  Quinn squinted at her in the mirror. “Um, Mom? We had the talk when I was in middle school.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, honey, not that,” Marie said, her cheeks now pink. “I mean about marriage.”

  “Oh,” she said and gave her mother a sheepish smile.

  Marie continued to work the buttons. “It’s all sunshine and rainbows for you and James right now, as it should be. But there will be times when it’s like a hurricane hit you. That’s when you hang on to each other for dear life.” Her mother raised her gaze and gave Quinn a pointed look in the mirror’s reflection. “Given what you two do for a living, you might be doing it literally, too.”

  Quinn swallowed and nodded. Of her immediate family, only her parents and grandparents knew she and James were covert operatives for the CIA. Not even her five brothers knew.

  “Good. Another thing. James isn’t a mind reader. Don’t make him guess what you’re feeling. Talk to him when something he’s said or done bothers you.”

  “Okay.”

  “And when hurtful things are said, you’ll need to say either, ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me’ or ‘I forgive you.’” Marie fastened the top button, blew out a breath, and said, “There.” She stepped around, stood in front of Quinn, and gave her a wry smile. “Your dad and I usually end up saying both to each other after an argument.”

  Quinn smiled.

  “And last but not least, say, ‘I love you’ every single day.”

  “You’ve done that?”

  “I have.”

  “What about when Dad was deployed and you weren’t even in the same hemisphere?”

  “I said it anyway, even if I couldn’t say it directly to him. That’s when I needed to say it the most. It helped me stay connected to him, especially when he was away.”

  Quinn hugged Marie and blinked at the tears welling in her eyes. “Thanks, Mom. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie. Dad and I are so proud of you. James is a good man and we know you two will be deliriously happy.” Marie released her from their embrace. She swiped a thumb across Quinn’s now wet cheeks. “Stephanie made a good call on using the waterproof mascara on you.” Quinn would be forever grateful to her sister-in-law for her wizard-like makeup skills.

  “Yeah. Totally necessary.” Noting the way her mother’s eyes glistened as well, she added, “I hope you used it, too.”

  “I’ve needed it every day for the past week,” Marie answered with a quiet laugh and ran a fingertip under each eye.

  The door burst open and in rushed Quinn’s six-year-old niece and flower girl, Bailey. Isabelle, another sister-in-law and Bailey’s mother, trailed her.

  When Quinn turned around, Bailey skidded to a stop. The little girl gawped at her, goggle-eyed.

  Quinn glanced down at her dress, fearing a horrible stain had spontaneously erupted on the front of it.

  “Aunt Quinn,” Bailey said in an awe-filled voice. “You look like a princess.”

  A smile bloomed. Quinn usually disliked wearing dresses. But this one was different. The moment she’d tried it on at the bridal shop, she’d known it was the one. With its sweetheart neckline and full A-line skirt, she really did feel like a princess. “Thank you, sweetie.” Bailey looked precious in her little white frock with the navy blue sash that matched the bridesmaids’ dresses. “So do you.”

  Bailey beamed up at her.

  “How are the guys doing?” Marie asked Isabelle.

  Before she could answer, Bailey’s brow furrowed. “Uncle Madison looks funny with his hair combed.”

  “Wow,” Quinn said with a smirk. “He combed his hair? It is a big day.”

  Bailey nodded somberly.

  Quinn didn’t have room to tease. Her blond hair was in a loose bun at her neck. Buns were anathema to her, the tiresome librarian stereotype she usually eschewed. But in the case of her wedding, she’d made an exception. She was glad she had. It was stunning and sophisticated.

  “The guys are all dressed and ready to go,” Isabelle said. “James looks fantastic, by the way. But you already knew that even though you haven’t seen him yet.”

  Quinn’s heart hammered. James was indeed handsome. Her sisters-in-law had gleefully shot her surreptitious “OK” signs upon their seeing him for the first time. But more than that, he was sweet and smart and brave and sexy and funny. And she marveled at the fact that in a couple hours, she’d be married to him. “I can imagine. Still, I can hardly wait to see him.”

  The door opened again. Nicole and Kelsey walked in together, laughing. Kelsey carried a present in her hand.

  “What?” Quinn asked, sounding suspicious.

  “Don’t be paranoid,” Nicole said, still laughing. “Kelsey was just telling me what’s going on in the groom’s room.”

  “Let’s say my usually unflappable brother is wearing a hole in the carpet.”

  Quinn’s stomach flipped. “He’s that nervous? Is he about to bolt?” She knew James loved her and wanted to marry her. In her mind, it was never in question. But even a spy who fearlessly dodged bullets on a regular basis wasn’t necessarily immune from a last-minute case of cold feet.

  “
Oh God, no,” she said. “Yeah, he’s nervous, but he’s more excited than anything else. He kept checking his watch and saying how he couldn’t wait to see you.”

  Quinn started to breathe again.

  “Trust me. I know my brother,” she said. “The only way he’s leaving here is with you.”

  Kelsey’s words were like a soothing salve. The tension in Quinn’s shoulders seeped away.

  “And apparently your brothers are teasing him to keep him loose,” Nicole added.

  “Great. If he does take off, I can blame my knucklehead brothers,” Quinn said with a mixture of sarcasm, affection, and relief.

  “He loved the cuff links, by the way,” Kelsey said. “He got this big goofy grin on his face the second he saw them. He couldn’t put them on fast enough.”

  Quinn pictured the scene in her mind. “I’m glad.”

  Kelsey held out the gift in her hand. “James gave this to me to give to you.”

  Quinn didn’t need to touch it to know it was a hardcover book. She took it from Kelsey, but hesitated, unsure if it was something she should open in front of everyone.

  As if reading her mind, Kelsey winked and nodded her encouragement. “Go ahead.”

  She tore off the paper, revealing what she had been sure it was, a hardback book. The title on the dust jacket read, When the Hammer Falls. She recognized James’s handwriting on the yellow note stuck to the front of the book. It read: “I figured you’d need something to read on the plane, so I picked up the most recent Edward Walker novel for you.” MI6 superspy Edward Walker was one of her favorite fictional characters of all time. “I hope you don’t mind if there’s’s a little writing on the title page.” She flipped open the book and let out a squeak when she saw the scrawling signature of the book’s author, Kendrick Smalley.

  “He got me a signed copy of the latest Edward Walker novel.”

  “Oh, sweetie, that’s wonderful,” Marie said. “Your grandfather will be so envious.” It was he who had instilled in Quinn a love of spy novels in the first place.

  “And James wrote notes to you?” Isabelle asked.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “They’re too frickin’ cute,” Nicole said to Kelsey under her breath.