“Hey, Calder,” a husky voice boomed. He looked up just in time because the guy covering for Brody in the kennel was tossing a fake cow pie at his head.
Luckily, he reached out and caught it in midair before it smacked him good.
Mike strolled toward him with a huge grin on his face. “Nice touch, man. Fake shit.”
They shook hands and took up side-by-side on sentry duty. “Did you hear? Brody’ll be back next week. Just in time too. Pretty sick of not having much to do.”
The boredom in Mike’s voice came across loud and clear. While the renovations for the kennel and activity yard for the canine program progressed, Brody’s assistant hadn’t had much to do except shuffle papers and concentrate on the program’s infrastructure. He was trying to grade the younger man on a curve, but he was one of the thorns in Calder’s side where Finn was concerned. Close in age, the two, along with one or two of the clowns working at Whiskey Pete’s, were forming a social club. A social club for dickheads with more bravado than commonsense.
Maybe he should have a chat with Brody once the man was back on-site. Keeping Mike busy and away from Finn and his ongoing fuckery was probably a good idea if he wanted to keep the guy. Justice didn’t have time for stupidity.
“Hope for your sake that everything is in order. Brody has a lot on his plate right now. The Major won’t like it, and neither will I if he comes back to a shitshow.”
Mike scuffed his booted foot in the hard-packed dirt. “No worries, man. Told you—I’ve got this.”
Calder glanced at him sideways. “Do yourself a favor. Get with the program, son. You’re one of the few around here who doesn’t come with a military dossier. Justice is the big leagues. Straighten the fuck up and fly right or you’ll be sporting a hairnet and flipping burgers for a living.”
Mike’s heavy sigh was loud and shaky. “Made a mistake, Mr. Dane. Won’t happen again.”
Mistake. Hmph. Blowing up an ATV was more than a mistake.
Remembering it was a celebration, he let the other guy off the hook for the moment and gave him something to do. “Hey. Go check in with the guys at the chuck wagon. Make sure they’ve got everything they need, okay?”
“Will do,” Mike said. He took off at a fast sprint, as eager as Calder was to end the awkward moment.
“Here she comes,” cried an excited Tori St. John. “Oh my god, Calder! The stagecoach is awesome!” She was laughing and clapping her hands with delight. Next to her was Draegyn, who was pushing Daniel in a massive all-terrain stroller. The minute the baby saw him, he was all smiles and happy gurgles.
“Big D!” Calder growled as he went through the motions of baby-fist bumping the adorable kid.
For the thousandth time, Drae gave him a patented St. John sneer and asked, “Is today the day, you fucking pervert?”
Ready for the question, he just shrugged and said, “Eh.”
Calder noticed Tori wasn’t listening; she was completely focused on the approaching stagecoach. That left him in the bull’s-eye.
Muttering darkly, Drae let him have it. “Swear to Christ, dude. If you weren’t Alex’s uncle, I’d have to slap the smirk off your dumbass face.”
“I do not smirk,” he announced.
“Yes, you do. Every damn time Stephanie comes into view, your whole face says, ‘Mine.’”
No sense in arguing since he was right. “Well, she is.”
“Then marry her, would you? Shit, Calder. What the fuck are you waiting for?”
Without missing a beat, he shot the man a frown and snarkily replied, “I’m waiting for you, dick—for you and your wife to get your damn shit together. You think it sucks having to hear Tori bitch about me putting a ring on it? Well, fuck you, St. John. ‘Cause I gotta hear chapter and verse every goddamn day about what’s going on in your marriage.”
The shocked expression on Drae’s face quickly turned to one of complete confused innocence.
“Don’t know what you mean,” he replied stiffly. “Victoria and I are fine.”
Whatever. He didn’t have time for this discussion right now. “Save it for somebody who believes your crap. You let me worry about my lady, and I suggest you get your wandering ducks in a row before Alex gets back.”
“My ducks are not wandering,” Drae shot back as Calder surreptitiously gave him the finger and walked away.
Yeah, right. He’d known Draegyn for a long time. He wasn’t sure what was really going on with him and Victoria, but he was sure as shit giving off the vibe of a man wandering off the marital reservation. And if that was the case, Alex was going to kill him.
WHEN THEY WEREN’T far from the big house, Dan, the cowboy man, shouted ‘He-yaw’ as loud as he could, and with that, the stagecoach took off at an alarming clip. Stephanie grabbed hold of the seat beneath her bouncing butt and held on for dear life.
This is what’s called a dramatic entrance, she thought as her ride made a mad dash for the Villa’s stable. As the coach clattered along, she was turning this way and that, hoping not to end up on her ass at the bottom of the carriage and trying to take in the transformation revealed to her astonished eyes. Everywhere she looked, decorations and props made the stately Villa and outbuildings a colorful Wild West town.
She spied a large event tent, two enormous chuck wagons, ‘50’ signs of every size, shape, and color imaginable, a bunch of carnival-style games, and more people in costume than a stage production of Oklahoma. The carriage slowed down as it approached the distinctive horse barn and then picked up speed as they drove into the riding arena.
People were screaming, clapping, and cheering from all directions as they made several circles around the ring. Feeling like the Queen of England, she leaned out the window laughing happily and using her regal beauty queen wave.
That man! She was going to have to love him into next week for doing all this just for her.
When the stagecoach pulled to a hoof-stomping halt, Calder was right there to open her door and offer his hand to help her down. Right then, she didn’t care how many eyes were on them. Overcome with love for the man who was changing her entire life, she practically flew out of the carriage and launched into his waiting arms. As the assemblage of people hooted and hollered with obvious delight, she kissed him for all she was worth.
Drawing apart as he lowered her to the ground, Calder laughed and squeezed her tight. “Hello to you too, Duchess. I’m thinking by your reaction that I did good?”
“You did very good, Mr. Dane. Very good indeed.”
He leaned in close and whispered, “I’m glad you’re pleased, but you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Remembering what she had on, Stephanie whispered back, “Neither have you.”
Letting go as she found her feet, he reached for her hand, stopped, did a double take, and then slapped his free hand over his eyes.
“Oh my god, woman. What have you done now?”
“What?” she asked innocently. “I”—she made sure to cough—“obeyed. Right?”
She came damn close to laughing in his face when she saw his jaw tighten, and he grumbled, “That is so not the top I picked out.”
Clinging to her feigned posture of female innocence, she pouted as prettily as she could, rubbed her hand on his chest, and simpered sweetly, “But baby, my shoulders would fry in this sun. I didn’t think you’d mind if I avoided a nasty sunburn.”
She was aware that Tori, Drae, and Daniel were approaching. So were Lacey and Dylan. Oh, and from the other side of the arena, Parker and Angie were also headed straight for them.
“Goddammit, Duchess. You might as well be naked. That bra,” he growled. “Your stomach.”
“What? No good?”
The look he gave her left Stephanie in no doubt that her last taunt went too far. Instead of being worried, her entire body lit up with an exquisite blushing bloom of arousal that was better for her skin than a shit-ton of expensive creams. Nothing was quite as beneficial to a woman as having an agitated alpha get all
broody and jealous for no reason.
“We’ll discuss this later,” he told her gruffly.
She had to bite her lip when it started to quiver with laughter. “Promise?”
He looked at her long and hard. “I realize you’re winding me up for a birthday spanking, but darling’, I’ve got other plans for that ass of yours tonight.”
Stephanie barely had time to sputter and respond before people overwhelmed her with birthday greetings.
“Mom!” Victoria hooted with affection laced with humor. “In those shorts and those fantastic boots, you look more like thirty than fifty!”
Accepting the family’s best wishes, she endured the hugs, kisses, and teasing jokes with all the pageant-savvy aplomb she could muster. Everyone was talking excitedly. There was a caricature artist! And a mechanical bull. Betty’s BFF, Cheryl Prescott was all set up and doing face painting for the little ones present. Everywhere she looked, tables covered with red and white checkered cloths, hay bales, and cowboy hats decorated the area. The air was thick with the mouthwatering aromas wafting from the chuck wagons.
“First things first,” Calder eventually joked as he pried her away from the family. Taking her hand, he led her out of the riding ring and across the way to a vintage looking wanted poster with a cutout in the center for those having their photo taken.
With Tori and everyone else snapping away, she and Calder posed for a dozen shots—some serious, some wacky, and some just plain crazy. When they’d had enough, he palmed her ass in the tiny shorts, kissed her forehead, and murmured low in that deeply sexy voice he knew melted her panties, “I want you.”
Their eyes locked, and she knew every time she saw one of their pictures in the future she’d remember his words. Only Calder would use an old-fashioned wanted poster to make a point.
After that, the afternoon whizzed by. The rodeo portion of the festivities was nothing short of hilarious. As Ben handled the announcing duties, the construction crew dressed up like rodeo clowns and caused all sorts of mayhem. When it was time to present the awards, Calder escorted her to the center of the ring, slapped a headpiece and microphone on her, and let her have the stage.
She couldn’t believe that he actually had real belt buckles and trophies engraved with her name, the number 50, and a Justice logo for good measure. In the end, she gave everyone who rode or roped something for his or her efforts, managing to earn her a frown of displeasure from Calder when she planted a big smacking kiss on the champion’s cheek.
When it got too hot to think, they slid into the big tent, which was mercifully outfitted with some A/C. They ate, laughed, and schmoozed with everyone as if they were a couple making the rounds at a wedding reception.
As the time to cut the cake neared, Tori got everyone’s attention with one of those two-finger whistles she did that could shatter glass. A skill her father had taught her as a young girl.
Remembering her long, lost love, a strange calm settled over her. This was something new. Instead of feeling overwhelmed by all she’d lost when Daniel died, lately, she’d come to feel nothing but joy at his memory. She had Calder and baby Daniel to thank for the change. Something was deeply cathartic about replacing grief and loss with joy and excitement for the future.
“Okay, okay. Settle down,” Tori grumbled.
Stephanie looked around at the crowd pressed into the big tent. It was standing room only with everyone gathered in clusters.
Calder reached for her hand and kissed it. She liked the way his lips on her skin made her feel. Sometimes, he’d do it in the middle of the night if one or both of them got up for any reason. He kissed her hand every time she greeted him. He kissed her hand when she was being a twit. He kissed her hand across the dinner table. It was all good in her book.
Tori commanding the spotlight like a boss brought a wide smile to her mother’s face. She’d lucked out in the kid sweepstakes. Victoria was a spectacular human being, and she wasn’t just saying that ‘cause she birthed the girl. Not everyone could bounce back from a personal and professional crisis and land in a way that changed several lives for the better.
“Before we crack open the champagne and toast my beautiful mother’s birthday, we have to let two people who couldn’t be here today weigh in on the festivities.”
There was some activity at the table next to them, but she was too focused on her daughter to pay much attention.
“As y’all know, our intrepid leader, Major Alexander Valleja-Marquez and his Irish bride, the fantabulous Mrs. Meghan Marquez, are still honeymooning.”
Snickers broke out all around. “Is that what you call it?” she heard Parker growl to Angie.
Calder played surrogate Big Daddy and chastised him to, “Be nice,” which got the handsome lawyer an elbow in the ribs from Angie.
“But they sent along a video greeting that we’re gonna project on the tent wall to my left,” she announced as she pointed toward it.
Chairs moved as people jockeyed for position, and all Stephanie could do was laugh when Calder leaned in to whisper something. “Seriously? A video greeting?” he mocked. “Sheesh. What? No hologram?”
Tori pointed to a new face in the crowd. A girl named Remington, who Stephanie thought had the most beautiful black hair she’d ever seen, was at the next table fussing with a laptop and some other gadgets. All of a sudden, the theme song from Star Wars came booming through a PA system.
The thundering song ended, and Meghan’s voice followed. “Give it a rest, Major.” Then what was best described as Celtic river dancing music rang out followed by the Marquez bride giggling and saying, “Glenfiddich. Still for pussies.”
Everyone laughed and stared at the tent wall waiting for an image to appear. When it did, a loud gasp followed by gales of laughter filled the room.
A wide shot appeared of what looked like the inside of a trailer littered with clothes, empty pizza boxes, crushed beer cans, and ripped open bags of cookies and Cheetos strewn everywhere.
In the middle of the chaotic scene were two people sitting together on a sofa. As the camera zoomed in and the wide shot focused, projected on the wall had to be the funniest thing she’d ever seen in her entire life.
It was Alex and Meghan. Only, it was an Alex and Meghan that no one had ever seen before.
Wearing a ripped, dirty form-fitting tank top she heard commonly referred to as a wife-beater and his hair a complete mess was the big man himself. He had several days of beard growth on his face and a comical heavy gold chain hung with a garish looking ‘M’ covered in some sort of tacky bling. He was relaxing on the sofa, the top of his pants undone and a hand slipped just inside the waistband.
A couple of Cheetos were also stuck to his gut.
Next to him was Meghan. Or who she thought was Meghan. Hair looking more brown and dirty than auburn and beautiful, she was hulling peanuts over a brown paper bag with an honest-to-god cigarette hanging from lips smeared with some mighty awful looking fire engine red lipstick.
Alex took a swig from a beer can, turned a toothy grin on the camera, and let loose with a world-class burp and what sounded suspiciously like an answering fart.
His greeting? “Yo. People.” Which he growled through a series of near belches. Cramming a handful of Cheetos into his mouth, he chewed and wiped a hand across his lips a few times.
When Meghan took the cigarette out of her mouth and ashed it in a beer can wobbling precariously on a lopsided coffee table, Stephanie turned wide, disbelieving eyes on Calder who was slack jawed at her side.
“Baby,” Alex grunted to his wife. “Get Daddy another cold one.” Meghan pursed her lipstick-smeared lips but said nothing. When she rose from the sofa and stepped over Alex’s outstretched legs, he thumped her on the butt as she passed and grumbled, “Hurry it up, wife.”
Parker laughed first. Then Draegyn. And not just a small, amused chuckles. Nope. They immediately went for full-throated guffaws that spread like wildfire around the tent.
When Alex starte
d speaking again, the laughter died, and a hush fell over the gathering. Calder squeezed her fingers, and she swung her gaze to his. His subtle nod was full of meaning. Even if Alex Marquez was a deadbeat on Skid Row, when he spoke, people listened.
“So I hear you’re having a blowout party at my place. Really?”
The deadpan expression on the Major’s face and the sardonic edge to the question actually made the man holding her hand squirm a little. A quick glance at Drae revealed he too was looking a bit sheepish. Only Parker sat grinning like a loon.
Alpha men. Who can figure them out?
“Imma let that one go.” He paused for dramatic effect, burped again, then stared into the camera and added, “For now.”
Meghan reappeared and shoved a can of beer in her husband’s face. He looked at it, raised a brow, and then looked up at her. After a second, you could hear her sigh heavily before cocking her hip and cracking the flip top open on the can as all the while the cigarette dangled from her lips.
These two needed a web show! Their act would be a rollicking good time, if only for the amusement of Family Justice.
After Meghan stepped over her husband’s legs again, sat down, dropped the cigarette into a can, and resumed cracking open the peanuts, he took a long pull of the beer and smirked at the camera.
“Got ‘er trained up real good now.”
Meghan huffed and looked at him incredulously, shook her head, muttered something under her breath, and went back to what she was doing.
“Take note, Stephanie. This is what life will look like if that old fart gets off his lazy ass and asks you to marry him.”
At that, Angie started giggling uncontrollably. Her laughter was infectious because it only took a second for Stephanie to join. She heard Tori say, “Red! He’s ruined you, girl!”
Calder groaned, “Oh, for the love of god,” hung his head for a moment, cleared his throat, and resumed watching. What in the world was that reaction all about?
“Anyway, anyway …” Alex snorted while a sly grin appeared. “Bummed that I’m missing your big five-oh, Steph!”
Unchained Page 11
