The Barnes Family Romances: (Books 1-3)

by Normandie Alleman

  It warmed my heart to be able to do something nice for her, and I was pleased our marriage was off to a good start.

  When the reception was over Kay and some of the other ladies from the church insisted on cleaning up. “I insist. You and Chloe catch up with the Morley’s. We’ll take care of all that.”

  Chloe immediately kicked her shoes off. Sue smiled and did the same thing.

  “I picked a good one, didn’t I?” I asked the Morley’s, beaming at my bride.

  Chloe blushed but seemed to enjoy the attention.

  “We never had any doubt,” Rev. Morley said. “And I’m so glad we could be here.”

  “Yes, we wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Mrs. Morley gushed. “Fred has been somewhat upset since that business with that Barnes woman. This was just wonderful for you to get back on the right side of things.”

  I ignored Chloe’s quizzical look. “I can’t imagine getting married without you two here.”

  “We can’t either. And Chloe I’m so sorry your mother couldn’t be here with us today, but I’m sure she’s thinking about you.”

  “She’s with us in spirit,” Chloe said and I put my arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. It had to be difficult for her not having any family see her get married, but I was glad her friends could come.

  We visited for another hour or so, then we told them good-bye.

  Chloe changed out of her wedding dress into jeans and a shirt and we walked together, carrying some of the wedding gifts people had brought to the ceremony with us over to the cottage behind the church where I lived.

  “Is it weird for you to live here with me?” I asked. It was the one thing we hadn’t exactly settled in our pre-marriage negotiations.

  “Kinda.” She made a face.

  “That’s what I thought.” The cottage was the perfect place for a bachelor priest, but it felt like Chloe and I would enjoy living somewhere we chose together.

  “When we get back from Hawaii let’s start looking for a new place. One of my parishioners is a realtor, and I’m sure we can get her to show us some places you’d like.”

  “I’m just ready to get out of that dump I’ve been living in,” she said.

  “So, this will do for now?”

  She walked through the living space into the bedroom as though she had been here dozens of times, and I followed along behind. She set the gifts down on a dresser and collapsed onto the bed. Her hair fell over her face like a mop. Unable to help myself, I sat down on the bed and pushed her hair to the side.

  “This is fine,” she mumbled before falling into a deep sleep.

  I was tired too. It had been a long and wonderful day, but I didn’t dare close my eyes for fear that I would wake up and it would all be a dream—that Chloe would be gone, and I’d be alone again.

  So I busied myself doing things around the house. I washed some dishes, ran a load of laundry and made sure I had everything ready for our trip the next morning. I took care of early check-in for our flight online, charged every phone and device I could find. Finally, I lay down next to her and listened to her breathing.

  After a while I tried to wake her up to go eat dinner, but when she wouldn’t budge, I went out and had Evangeline’s make our food to go.

  I’d had many wedding planners at the church tell me a person’s wedding day was possibly the most exhausting day of a person’s life. One lady said a lot of brides got so worked up for the big wedding night that they slept right through it.

  I figured that was what was wrong with Chloe, so I let her snooze.

  But by the time I returned home with dinner and tried to wake her, her skin felt like it was on fire.

  “Chloe?” I asked shaking her shoulder.

  “Hmm?” She mumbled, but that was all I could get out of her.

  “Chloe, I think you have a fever. Let’s sit you up and get you some ibuprofen.”

  I brought her a glass of water and two pills.

  “I got us some dinner,” I said, practically forcing the medicine into her.

  Barely opening her eyes she managed, “Not hungry. Thanks though.” Then she flopped back down and fell back asleep.

  Well, this was not how I imagined my wedding night, I thought as I went to the bathroom, got a washcloth out of the cabinet and ran cold water over it. Then I wrung it out in the sink before going back in the bedroom and placing it on Chloe’s forehead the way my mother had done for me when I was small.

  Unsure what else to do, I went back into the living room, opened a TV tray, sat down, clicked on ESPN and ate my dinner. I put Chloe’s in the refrigerator.

  While I ate, I flipped through the channels until I found a basketball game. The Fresno Fever versus the Tennessee Tigers. This was the first time I’d seen Nick Barnes play since finding out he might be my brother. It made watching the game surreal.

  I couldn’t help but think “what if.”

  What if Nick and I had grown up together playing basketball as kids? It seemed far-fetched with my mother being a hidden secret tucked away on a ranch where she would never bother the legitimate Barnes offspring. But what if we had grown up together or what if I’d gone to live with the Barneses after my mother passed away instead of going to boarding school and living with the Morleys?

  Would I still be a priest? Would I have had enough advantages and training to help me rise in the basketball ranks like Nick had?

  That was probably wishful thinking. Nick was a freak of nature, and my basketball skills were only slightly above average. There was also the fact that he was six foot seven or something. While I was just over six feet. Those six inches made a difference.

  But as I watched him dunk the ball effortlessly and score thirty points I couldn’t help but daydream about what might have been. Watching Nick sparked my curiosity and I took out my phone and googled Dynassy Barnes and then the twins, Ivy and Leo.

  It seemed Dynassy was a rather controversial young woman. Last year she’d made an offhand remark, caught on video, about a homeless man. It came across as insensitive and there had been some backlash about that, but she had also fallen in love with the guy who had invented a sex machine and had a porn business. The whole thing sounded seedy as could be.

  But as I read a few more articles, I determined that the guy was a Navy SEAL who’d been injured in Iraq and had built the first machine in order to satisfy his fiancée, because he was afraid his own equipment was never going to work again due to the nerve damage he sustained from an IED.

  Huh. Dynassy was certainly interesting, I could say that for her.

  The twins, on the other hand were the media’s darlings. Ivy’s clothes and hairstyles made headlines. Everything I found about Leo praised his musical talent. The inevitable comparison with his father was made quite often, and from what I could tell, Leo came up being judged quite favorably.

  That had to be tough though, trying to live up to your father’s reputation when your father was basically considered a god of the music industry. There was nothing quite so certain to render you an immortal like dying in the middle of your prime. It was bizarre to think that happened to my own father.

  What had it been like for my siblings growing up without him? In some ways that was something we shared. No, I had not known him, but I’d grown up without a father too.

  This train of thought had me thinking—should I have invited my siblings to my wedding? Of course not. I didn’t even know them and I turned Lucinda away telling her I wanted nothing to do with any of them. But now I was starting to experience a small amount of doubt. Perhaps I pushed her away too swiftly. She had said all she wanted was to have me as part of their family.

  No. I changed the channel to some special on PBS about the aurora borealis.

  Chloe was my family now, she and the Morleys, and that was perfect. They would be enough for me. There was nothing a bunch of Hollywood stars could give me that I couldn’t get right here in New Orleans with my wife. There was always work to be
done to save people’s souls, to spread the word of God, and to help people. All you had to do was look around.

  The glitzy LA lifestyle wasn’t for me, I thought, getting up to go check on Chloe.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Chloe

  “Chloe?”

  Who was that talking to me? I tried to open my eyes but they were so heavy. “Mmm,” was all I could manage.

  “Chloe? Honey, how are you feeling?”

  The word honey got my attention and my eyelids popped up to find Eduardo staring down at me, concern written across his face.

  Eduardo, my husband. It all started coming back to me . . . I’d come home. Correction: We’d come home the night before after our wedding, and I promptly fell asleep. Not exactly the wedding night I anticipated, and probably not the one Eduardo had planned either.

  “I’m sorry. About last night . . .”

  “That’s all right. You had a fever.” He placed his hand on my forehead, and his cool skin felt good.

  “You feel hot still,” he said. “I don’t have a thermometer around here but I’m not sure you’re in any condition to be going to Hawaii right now.”

  “Oh, you silly, I’m going to be fine. I just need some acetaminophen or something. Then I’ll be good to go.”

  Actually, I felt like warmed over dog crap, but I was not about to ruin our honeymoon. I already felt like I owed him so much, the last thing I wanted to do was screw everything else up for him.

  No, I needed to go suck it up and get with the program. We were going to have a great time. I’d never been to Hawaii, but I’d always wanted to go so when Eduardo mentioned the islands as a possible destination, I jumped at the chance.

  Eduardo went to the bathroom and came back with a glass of water and two red and blue pills. I swallowed them down.

  “Hey, I really am sorry about last night.”

  He stroked my hair. “Don’t give it another thought. Let’s just focus on helping you feel better and getting out of here on time to make our flight. How do you feel about eggs?”

  I only had the energy to give them a thumbs up, but it worked because he went into the kitchen and made us a delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast with some sliced banana on the side.

  I showered under cool water hoping it would take some of the heat out of my skin and cool me off a little. As I dressed, the main thing I kept thinking was sleeping during the nine or ten-hour flight.

  We got to the airport and boarded the plane without incident. Eduardo and I were seated next to each other in business class. According to the flight attendant, we’d made it to cruising altitude, and just when I thought things were getting better, I was forced to reach for the motion sickness bag in the seat pocket in front of me, and promptly vomited my breakfast into it.

  Normally I would have been mortified, but I felt too bad to care.

  Eduardo rubbed my back when I needed it and let me collapse on his shoulder for most of the interminable flight.

  A couple of times I opened my eyes to see him watching a movie but I didn’t have any earbuds so I couldn’t hear it. Something with Will Smith.

  When we finally landed, I sat shaking on a bench while Eduardo gathered our luggage. I thought we were never going to get our bags, but he finally showed up with a cart and our bags. Instead of waiting for a shuttle to the hotel, he hired a car so I wouldn’t have to stand and wait any more.

  I don’t even remember checking in at the hotel. The only thing I recall was collapsing on the cool, white bed linens and sleeping the sleep of the dead.

  When I finally woke up, I wasn’t sure if it was the next day or if I’d slept longer than that. It sure felt like I had.

  “Hey, you’re awake,” Eduardo said.

  I squinted, trying to focus on him across the room. He sat at a table, flipping through a magazine, and I wondered how long he’d been fending for himself.

  “The hotel gave us this nice fruit basket as a welcome gift. Are you hungry? I can get you some pineapple or papaya, grapes, oranges—whatever you want, and if you’re hungry, we can order room service but in the meantime just to keep your blood sugar up . . .”

  As if on cue my stomach growled and I felt the corners of my mouth curl up. “Some pineapple sounds good.”

  While I scarfed down the pineapple, Eduardo filled me in on what I had missed.

  Apparently, we had been there for a day and a half already, and I had basically slept the whole time.

  “Have you been here with me the whole time?”

  “Most of the time, but I did go explore the hotel after a while. I got a little stir crazy after the first day, and I wanted to check everything out so that when you’re feeling better, I’d know the lay of the land.”

  I shook my head. “I am so sorry Eduardo. This has to be the worst honeymoon in history. I’m the worst wife so far.”

  “Well, you are a pretty important part of this honeymoon. I can’t really do it by myself, but I don’t mind waiting for you to feel better. In fact, how are you feeling right now? Do you need any medicine?”

  I shook my head. But he kept going.

  “I checked and they have a doctor on staff. You can either go to his office if it’s more serious or we can just call and consult with him over the phone if that would work.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t think I’m going to need a doctor. I’m feeling much better. In fact, I’m kind of starving. Even after that fruit.”

  I watched the relief wash over his face, and it struck me that this man who was now my husband had been really worried about me. It had been so long since I had somebody to care about me, much less to take care of me when I was sick the way he had. He was actually very sweet, and it touched me in a place deep inside that I’d forgotten was there.

  That afternoon we began to explore the resort. We ate a big lunch in the outdoor restaurant and took a walk on the beach.

  “The beaches are nicer than I imagined,” Eduardo said, threading his fingers through mine as we walked along the shore, the waves crashing lapping gently at the water’s edge.

  I giggled. “I love feeling the sand between my toes. Don’t tell the Californians, but I like this beach better.”

  That night we went to a luau and ate another big meal. This time we had a rum cocktail to go with it. On our way back to the room he asked me, “Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

  “Never better.” It was true. Whatever illness I’d had, it must have been one of those twenty-four hour viruses or maybe forty-eight-hours in my case, but I could barely tell that I’d been sick.

  I had a feeling I knew why he was asking. We couldn’t put off “the wedding night” forever. Soon it would be time to consummate our marriage.

  Originally, I had prepared myself for the wedding night. I reminded myself that my new husband was a terribly attractive man, that he desired me, I desired him, and my body would take care of the rest.

  I even recalled that when I gave him that lap dance that time at Lulu’s, I’d gotten a little turned on myself. This sex thing ought to be a snap, so why was I so nervous now?

  Putting it off had only made it loom larger and had probably increased his anticipation. If I was honest, I was little afraid I might disappoint him.

  His lust for me was the main reason we were here, the main reason he married me. He’d pretty much admitted that.

  He inserted the key into the door to our room then pulled it out and suddenly that seemed like the most sexually suggestive move he could’ve made. Pushing the key in and out. In and out.

  What was wrong with me? The poor man was simply opening the door. He wasn’t being rape-y or anything.

  Always the gentlemen, he held the door open for me. We stepped inside, the door closed behind him and he asked, “Would you like a drink?”

  I didn’t trust myself to speak so I just shook my head.

  Unable to stand the tension in the air between us a moment longer I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew his mouth t
o mine. And I opened up for him, letting him explore me with his tongue. His kiss was so intense that I felt dizzy and stumbled, but he caught me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, studying me, his arm around my waist.

  “More than okay.” Then I turned, giving him my back and placing his hand on the top of my zipper. “Go ahead. Unzip me.”

  As he unzipped me, the cool air from the air conditioning hit my skin and I felt a shiver that was more than just the breeze. Shrugging my shoulders I let my dress slide down my body to the floor, and I stepped out of my sandals. Still wearing my skimpy panties, I took a few steps towards the bed.

  “Take off those too.” His voice was husky. In one quick movement I wriggled my panties down to my ankles and stepped out of them. I stared at the floor, feeling uncharacteristically modest.

  “Look at me,” he said firmly.

  I swallowed hard. My throat was dry, and I wished I’d said yes to that drink, but I raised my eyes to his.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  “You are too,” I said, meaning it. “You’ve been so patient with me. I just hope I’m worth all this.”

  He had already started to unbutton his shirt, opening the neck to reveal bulging pectoral muscles and beneath that an abdomen with as many ripples as I’d ever seen.

  “Oh, you’re worth it, Chloe. And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Chloe

  “Let’s start in the bathroom,” Eduardo said.

  “The bathroom?” That sounded weird, but not wanting to be disagreeable, I said, “Whatever you say.”

  He continued taking his clothes off. As each item hit the floor, my mouth grew drier.

  Down to his shorts now, I could see the outline of his erection as it nudged against the fabric, desperate to be freed.

  My breathing had grown more shallow, and my nipples hardened.

  This was happening, and this man was my husband. Might as well embrace it. I took a step closer to him and whispered, “Let me do that.”