Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4)

by Serenity Woods

  Persuading Spring

  The Four Seasons Book Four

  Serenity Woods

  *

  Copyright 2016 Serenity Woods

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Have You Read…

  Other Books by Serenity Woods

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The day started with rain.

  Bridget Hitchcock, known as Birdie to her friends, stood in front of the mirror in her wedding dress and tried to still the wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. It wasn’t an omen. For God’s sake, what had she expected when she decided to get married in October in Wellington? Spring in New Zealand’s capital was a season of rainbows—sunshine and showers. Wet weather wasn’t at all surprising.

  Not that she could call the current torrential downpour a shower. Even her glass-half-full mentality couldn’t stretch that far.

  It didn’t matter, she told herself. It didn’t matter that it was raining, and it wouldn’t matter if the guests didn’t turn up, or Mal’s best man forgot the rings, or if the restaurant they’d booked for the reception burned down. What mattered was that the man she loved was about to promise to love her for the rest of his life. Nothing else was important.

  Bending closer to the mirror, she ran a finger under her bottom lip to clear away a speck of gloss and pressed her lips together. Today’s going to be the happiest day of your life, she scolded herself. Stop worrying.

  The door opened behind her, and Rowan, one of her best friends, came in. They were in Rowan’s apartment where Bridget had stayed the night before. All morning, people had been coming and going—the hairdresser, the guy delivering her bouquet, a few of her friends come to give her their best wishes—but now it was just the two of them.

  “Ready?” Rowan came over and rested her hands on Bridget’s shoulders, smiling at her in the mirror. “You look so beautiful, Birdie.”

  “Aw, thank you.” She wore a long, elegant cowl-back gown and a matching veil that fell to her shoulder blades rather than all the way to the floor. “I hope he likes it,” she murmured. Mal had said she’d look gorgeous in anything she chose to wear, but he always said that, and she hoped he truly thought she looked beautiful in it.

  “How can he not? You look like a princess. Here, let me straighten your veil.” Rowan fingered the delicate lace gently to erase a kink, then stood back and sighed. “There. Perfect.”

  Bridget turned around and enveloped the other girl in a hug. “Thank you so much for being with me today.”

  “Thank you for asking me!”

  “I hope the others didn’t mind me choosing you.”

  In an ideal world, a bride had her mother with her for her big day, but Bridget’s parents had died when she was young, and her brother, Nathan—whom everyone called Hitch—had taken care of her until she was ready to go to university. She knew that was probably why she thought of her friends like her family. She ran a lingerie business called the Four Seasons with Rowan and two of their other friends, Callie and Neve. She would love to have asked them all to be her bridesmaids, but Mal had wanted to keep the day understated, so she had to be content that they would all be at the registry office. Because Callie had given birth to her first baby only a week before, and not wanting her to feel left out, Bridget had decided to ask only Rowan to be with her in the morning.

  “Of course not,” Rowan said smoothly. “They know we’re going to be sisters-in-law soon.” Rowan was marrying Hitch the following year.

  “Yeah.” Bridget checked her lip gloss again. She still wished she’d asked the others to be with her, but it was too late now.

  “Are you wearing the underwear?” Rowan teased. A few months ago, they’d launched a set of Rowan’s new designs. Called Snow White, the white lacy lingerie had been inspired by her visits to Iceland and Antarctica. After Neve had met up with a wedding planner on a course who’d asked to stock it for her business, the girls had decided to market it as wedding lingerie.

  “Oh yes.” Bridget grinned. “Basque and stockings. Don’t ask me to sit down though.”

  “Don’t give me that,” Rowan scoffed. “It’s designed to be comfortable as well as sexy. You should be able to do cartwheels in it.”

  “I probably could, but I don’t think I’ll put it to the test.”

  “Maybe not.” As her phone vibrated, Rowan read the text and smiled. “Hitch is outside. Time to go, sweetie.”

  Bridget’s heart immediately doubled its pace. Blowing out a breath, she smiled at Rowan, picked up her bouquet of red roses, and followed her out. Rowan walked to the elevator with her, making sure she didn’t catch her dress on anything. The two of them rode it down, walked into the small foyer, and Rowan opened the door.

  Bridget stopped and laughed with delight as she saw the huge silver car outside bedecked in white ribbons. “I was convinced he’d turn up in his Mini.”

  “I told him I’d never talk to him again if he did that. Luckily, he didn’t like that idea, so he hired this.”

  Carrying an umbrella, Hitch got out of the car and walked up the path to where she stood in the doorway.

  “Look at you,” he said softly, taking her free hand and admiring her. “You look a million dollars.”

  “Thank you.” Bridget lifted onto her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” He wore a dark-gray suit with a lilac-colored tie, and he looked gorgeous.

  “Ready to get married?” he asked cheerfully.

  A swell of excitement swept over her. She was getting married! “I think so!”

  “Come on then. Let’s get you to the church on time. Well, the registry office anyway.”

  Holding the umbrella over her, he and Rowan helped her into the car, tucking her dress in carefully, and Rowan closed the door before getting in the front beside Hitch. Bridget settled herself, trying not to compare her big day to her friend Callie’s. Callie and Gene hadn’t had a huge wedding or spent a fortune, but Callie had worn a gorgeous flouncy gown with her three best friends as bridesmaids, they’d married in church, hired professional photographers and a proper wedding car, invited a hundred guests, and had a marquee erected in the gardens of a nearby hotel
for the reception.

  It had been a wonderful day, and Bridget had dreamed of having something similar for her own wedding. But Mal had said it made more sense to save their money, adding what did it matter how they got married as long as they exchanged their vows? Why hire a professional photographer when her brother did it for a living, and why invite a hundred people they didn’t speak to from week to week? It made perfect sense, but a tiny part of her still wished she’d had all the pomp and ceremony.

  She pushed her dissatisfaction away though. She was getting married! Today! Screw the rain, and screw everything else. Tonight she’d be a married woman, on her way to Vanuatu for their honeymoon, and that was all that mattered.

  Hitch drove them through the Wellington suburbs to the registry office and pulled up right outside. “That’s Rhett’s car,” he said, referring to Neve’s partner. “And Callie’s already texted me to say she’s here. She says the foyer’s a bit busy—let me go and check everything’s ready and then I’ll come back for you.”

  “Okay.” Bridget watched him turn up the collar of his jacket and run up to Rhett’s car. He banged on the window and said something, then laughed and ran up to the building, where he disappeared through the door.

  “This damn rain,” she said, seeing it pooling on the pavement. “I knew I should have worn gumboots.”

  Rowan laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ll get a dozen umbrellas on you so you don’t get wet!” They watched Neve and Rhett get out of the car and run up to the building, Neve squealing all the way as she tried to protect herself from the rain. “I’m so glad the two of them got back together,” Rowan said. Her phone beeped and she took it out and swiped across the screen. “I honestly thought Neve would never talk to him again.”

  “Me too.” Bridget had been stunned when the two of them had returned from a course in Queenstown and announced they were back together. She didn’t know what Rhett had said to convince Neve to forgive him, but ever since then the two of them had been ecstatically happy.

  Rowan slid her phone back in her bag and looked out of the window, pressing her lips together.

  Unease prickled down Bridget’s spine. “What is it?”

  Rowan smiled. “Oh, nothing for you to worry about. There was another wedding before yours and nobody wants to leave because of the rain. They’re just trying to get rid of everyone so there’s plenty of space for you. I hope Vanuatu’s weather is better than this!”

  “There will probably be a cyclone there knowing my luck,” Bridget said distractedly. She scrubbed at the misty window. Figures were moving in the doorway—was that Callie? Yes, it was, and as Bridget watched, she saw her friend open an umbrella and run along the path to the car.

  “Something’s wrong,” Bridget whispered.

  Callie reached the car, wrenched the door open, and slid in beside her with the umbrella, quickly closing the door behind her.

  “Jesus.” She winced as a shake of her hand scattered droplets over Bridget’s dress. “I’m sorry. What appalling weather! Only you could have a cloudburst on your wedding day, Birdie.”

  Her voice was jovial, her smile bright, but Bridget knew her well enough to see behind the grin. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.” Callie patted her hair and tried to peer into the car’s rear view mirror. “Just clearing some space, that’s all. Thought I’d come and keep you entertained.”

  Her mother was looking after Ewan for the day. It was probably Callie’s first full day away from him, Bridget thought with some distant piece of her mind, and Callie wasn’t talking about the baby.

  “What is it?” Bridget couldn’t keep the sharpness out of her voice.

  Callie and Rowan exchanged a glance—long enough for Bridget to suspect the truth.

  “Mal’s not here.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. Both the other girls knew. That was what the texts had been about, and that was why Hitch had gone inside.

  “It’s probably the weather,” Callie said. “The traffic’s awful—we got stuck for ages. I’m sure that’s all it is. Hitch is ringing him now to find out where he is.”

  Bridget’s heart banged against her ribs. Rowan smiled and reached out to rub her arm. “Don’t worry,” she soothed, “everything’s going to be fine.”

  But something deep inside Bridget couldn’t believe that. Maybe it was the culmination of years of Mal carefully sidestepping any talk of commitment or the future. God knew their relationship had been on-off more times than a light switch. She would just start to think she was getting somewhere and then he’d let her down—not turn up at a function, or disappear somewhere for a day or two—telling her that he was a free spirit, and that it was wrong to tie him down. Every time, she walked away, and every time—like a mug—she let him tell her he loved her and convince her to have him back.

  Turning, she yanked open the car door.

  “No, wait!” Callie said, startled, but Bridget stepped out into the rain. Her sandaled feet sank into a puddle, but she ignored the cold and ran up the pathway to the registry office. It was only a short distance, but by the time she reached the doorway she was drenched.

  She saw Rhett first, and his eyes widened with alarm as she pushed past him. “Birdie, wait,” he said, but she marched through the foyer of the small building. She passed a few of Mal’s friends and his parents, who were clustered to one end of the foyer, talking in low voices, and strode toward her brother, who was on the phone at the other end of the room. Gene stood beside him, hands on hips, his face serious.

  Neve moved in quickly to catch her. “Hold on, honey. Hitch is talking to him.”

  Bridget tried to push her to the side, but Callie and Rowan had caught up with her, and they all held her back. “Where is he?” she shouted.

  Hitch turned at the sound of her voice, and from one look at his face, Bridget knew. Suddenly, her lungs ceased to function. She couldn’t breathe in or out.

  Hitch’s chest heaved. He listened for a long moment, his eyes fixed on hers. Then he said, quietly, into the phone, “You’re done, Wilkinson. If I see you anywhere near my sister again, I’ll fucking kill you. In fact, I might fucking kill you anyway.”

  He drew back his arm and threw the phone violently across the room where it met the wall and shattered into a dozen pieces.

  He was so rarely angry that Bridget jumped and clapped her hand over her mouth. Hitch put his hands on his hips, tipped his head back, and stared at the ceiling.

  For a long moment, nobody said anything. Everyone seemed frozen, jaws dropped, eyes staring, horrified. What was there to say?

  Bridget couldn’t catch her breath. He wasn’t coming. She’d been jilted at the altar.

  What a fucking cliché.

  Eventually, Hitch dropped his head to look at her, and his face was filled with anguish. “Birdie… I’m so sorry.”

  Her head spun. She was still holding her breath. She exhaled in a rush, and that seemed to jerk everyone into action.

  “Oh my God, Birdie…” Callie moved forward, Neve and Rowan immediately behind her.

  Bridget backed away though, holding up a hand as if to ward them off. “Don’t.” She shook her head. “Just don’t.”

  Their faces held such horror and pity that it made her want to curl up like a spider poked with a stick. They were all angry for her, all hurting on her behalf, and it was lovely that they were on her side, but she couldn’t bear it. She felt so humiliated. How could she have been so stupid to think he’d turn up?

  Poor Bridget. Poor, poor Bridget.

  She backed into the wall and then sidled along it toward the door.

  “Bridget.” Mal’s mother called out. She was a weak woman whom Bridget had never really liked, wearing a stupid pink hat that didn’t go with her outfit. “I’m sorry.”

  It was the last thing she wanted to hear. Beside her, the girlfriend of one of Mal’s mates was watching her with a kind of horrified fascination, the way people stared at a train wreck.

  She could
almost hear the gossip now. Did you hear that Mal stood Bridget Hitchcock up at the altar? It was so awful. I didn’t know what to say to her.

  They all knew. He’d rung them to tell them he wasn’t coming, but he hadn’t had the decency to warn her.

  “Birdie, wait.” Callie was the one to step forward, lovely, gentle Callie, only a week after giving birth, her face full of concern.

  But Bridget didn’t want their pity, their comfort. She wanted to crawl into a corner and die.

  Without another word, she turned and headed for the door.

  “Stop her,” someone yelled.

  “No, let her go.” Her brother, who knew her better than anyone else. They’d been through so much together. No wonder he was so angry.

  She went out into the rain and, without thinking where she was going, ran down the road.

  Chapter Two

  “Dad,” Mateo complained. “It’s raining.”

  Aaron rolled his eyes. “It’s a shower. The sun will be out soon. Stop moaning.”

  “Dad, it’s not a shower. It’s raining cats and dogs!”

  That made Aaron laugh. The boy wasn’t wrong—rain hammered down from the iron-gray sky. Raindrops peppered the water of Wellington harbor, which churned uneasily in the brisk spring breeze.

  “Where did you learn that?” he asked.

  “At school. It’s stupid though because cats and dogs don’t live in the sky, do they?”

  “Good point.”

  “Dad… Please, can we catch a taxi?”

  “Man up,” Aaron scolded. “It’s just around the corner, and a little bit of rain never hurt anyone.”

  “It’s not a little bit of rain. I’m soaked!” Mateo illustrated it with a sneeze.

  Aaron took the boy’s little hand in his and rubbed it as they walked. Sure enough, the seven-year-old’s skin was wet and chilly, his hooded jacket sodden. “I’m sorry, mate. Maybe we should have waited for the ice cream, eh?”

  Mateo had begged him for some chocolate fudge brownie, and, even though Aaron wasn’t a big fan of ice cream, he’d been in the mood for some cheering up, so he’d let himself be talked into going out. Now he wished he’d been firmer and waited.