by Nina Lane
Mari Beadie’s singing career is on the rise, and too often, she’s flying in the wrong direction from her ex-NHL hockey star fiancé, Chase Miller.
Chase prefers to stay at home in Wardham, where he’s gingerly getting involved with local politics.
Neither of them is happy, and the ridiculous wedding being planned by the entire town isn’t helping matters.
It’s time to reconnect—with the door locked and their clothes off.
WARNING: This book overflows with sexy hockey players, frothy wedding details, and frivolous sex scenes. And it's not just the bride and groom who are getting lucky!
Forever Begins With a Kiss is a short story sequel to No Time Like Forever, part of Zoe York’s Wardham series. It can be read on its own as the culmination of a HEA romance.
THE WARDHAM SERIES
Between Then and Now
What Once Was Perfect
Where Their Hearts Collide
When They Weren’t Looking
Beyond Love and Hate
Perfect No Matter What
No Time Like Forever
Beneath These Bright Stars
Forever Begins With a Kiss
All That They Desire
www.zoeyork.com
— FOREWORD —
This book is a departure in writing style for me—for the first time ever, I’m including “point of view” scenes from characters who are not the hero and heroine of the story. As anyone who has been caught up in the swirl of excitement that is a big family wedding knows, there are often other stories going on around the happy couple’s nuptials—and for this wedding, two of those other stories are the start of a new adventure. So there are snippets in between Chase and Mari’s story from their siblings, Audrey and Sam.
This story, Forever Begins With a Kiss, is the second last book in my Wardham series. Wrapping up this series is bittersweet, but it’s time. The next novel, All That They Desire, will conclude the story lines introduced in my very first novel, What Once Was Perfect. But it won’t be the end of romance in this small town, not by a long shot. If you want to read more about Audrey and Heath and Sam and Gillian, as well as their friends and a whole new generation of people falling in love, look for my next series set on the shores of Lake Erie: Whisper Beach, coming in 2016.
For now, enjoy the little side dramas that happen when two people throw a massive party to celebrate their love—and how none of it matters nearly as much as how they maintain their special connection when everyone else is occupied. Chase and Mari are two of my favourite characters, and revisiting them was a lot of fun.
As always, you can keep up with my books by joining my newsletter, or Facebook reader group!
All the best,
Zoe
PS Join my mailing list to hear more about Whisper Beach and all other new releases! www.smarturl.it/ZoeYorkNewsletter
— DEDICATION —
the whole is greater than the sum of its parts
For the InkHeart Authors, a wonderful collective I’m proud to be a part of
— ONE —
The lights in Ak-Chin Pavillion dimmed, and the Phoenix, Arizona crowd roared.
Chase Miller knew that sound in his bones. It had been two years since he’d heard it, and it hadn’t been here, in this outdoor concert venue, but close enough to make his gut tighten with anticipation.
Now he was just one of easily twenty-thousand people cheering for the next act. He grinned. He was pretty proud of the songwriter about to take the stage, so it was a good thing everyone sounded excited. Otherwise he’d have to knock some heads together.
The sun had just finished setting to the west, and the heat of the day was fading into a comfortable late summer warm night. Perfect for an epic concert, and the crowd was buzzing with excitement. The opening group had been a local band with a sizeable following, so even though most people were there to see Alaskan Nights, the headlining act, they were in a good mood and happy to be entertained by the Canadian riding the middle of the playbill.
Her first chord happened in the dark. Then a spotlight lit up centre stage, where she was perched all by herself on a stool. Long, dark waves spilling over her shoulders. Giant smile. A girl and her guitar.
“Hey y’all!” she called out. “I’m Mari Beadie. You havin’ a good night?”
Chase surged to his feet, hooting and hollering before settling back in his seat. Even though she was a hundred feet away, this was the closest he’d been to his fiancée in three weeks, and that was reason enough to make a ruckus—even if it wasn’t usually his style. That she was about to play her biggest concert ever? That called for a wolf whistle and him pulling out his phone to take a video. Maybe five.
“My guy lived here in Phoenix for almost a decade, and every time I visit, I’m stunned at how beautiful it is here. Makes me a little…jealous, especially in the winter.” She flashed a quick smile then dipped her head as she strummed the familiar opening strains to a top forty country song about envy and desire that she brought her own edgy, angsty vibe to—Chase was biased, but he thought her version was perfect.
It needed to be. She only had five original songs, about to release on her first EP, and her set as the middle act called for nine songs. So she was kicking off with two covers, before sliding in to her own stuff.
He could still hear the warble in her voice from four months earlier, when she’d curled up in his arms and talked out which songs she wanted—and which songs the label had approved.
They weren’t always the same.
As an ex-professional athlete, Chase got the circus element of the entertainment industry better than most people Mari trusted. He tried to use that knowledge for good and not evil—it would be too easy to snuff out the bright spark of excitement at her first record deal, her first tour, with his well-earned cynicism about celebrity and performance and business.
“Wow,” she breathed into the mic, lifting her head for the first time since she’d started singing. “You guys are fun to play for, I’m telling you. Okay, so that was good to get the first song out of the way. Because…I need to tell you a secret. Are you ready?” Another grin, and Chase was pretty sure his heart was going to explode. Cynicism be damned. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever performed in front of.”
A huge cheer went up at her admission, but Chase only cared about the tiny frown between her brows. He wanted to smooth it out.
He should have called her when he landed. He didn’t because she’d turned into a superstitious performer, with a rigid pre-show routine, and he didn’t want to knock her off her game.
Rookies were often like that. Hell, some league all-stars were still like that at the height of their careers. He got it.
“This next song was written by a good friend of mine, Bren Getson, who was supposed to be here tonight…”
Chase leaned back in his seat as she started to play.
Life had a funny way of working out. Here he was, back in Phoenix, where he’d played NHL hockey for nine years, and he was sitting on a hard plastic seat, watching his soon-to-be wife perform for a crowd of thousands. A lucky break she’d gotten because she shared a label and a manager with Bren, who’d needed to bow out of the tour because he was having surgery on his throat.
It meant their wedding would take place smack in the middle of the tour. She’d only be home for five days before flying out again, but when she did, he’d go with her for a few days. Honeymoon on a tour bus.
When Chase left the NHL, he thought his days of buses and planes and living out of a suitcase were done. The joke was on him.
He didn’t mind that this was possibly the rest of his life. Most of their time would be at home in Wardham, in the new house they’d built on the lake—he’d even built Mari a recording studio so she didn’t need to fly to Toronto or Vancouver or Nashville to lay down tracks.
But when she needed to tour, or travel for promotion or collaboration…either he’d go with her, or meet her on the road.
&n
bsp; Sometimes as a surprise.
He grinned to himself. This had been a good idea. When Mari got home, it would be go, go, go. They wouldn’t have a ton of time together, but tonight once she was done, they’d be alone. Thousands of miles from mothers or sisters or best friends. One very persistent bridesmaid who was both a sister and a best friend. And a self-appointed wedding coordinator.
Audrey wasn’t going to let him have a moment alone with Mari until their wedding night. So if he had to fly to Phoenix to make some quality time happen, it was the least he could do. He’d used his contact in the Coyotes media office to get him a ticket to a sold-out show, and now Mari was one song away from being his for the night.
As she started strumming her guitar for a ballad about finding home, he quietly got out of his seat and headed for the exit. He’d have the best luck getting back stage by finding a roadie that knew him rather than trying to get past the local security guard.
At the bar, someone did a double-take and called out. “Hey!”
If it were anywhere other than Phoenix, Chase wouldn’t have even slowed down. This didn’t happen to him much anymore. He hadn’t been a huge hockey star to begin with, but in Phoenix the odds of being recognized were better than anywhere else outside of Wardham. This had been his city for nearly a decade, and fans were the engine that made it possible for professional athletes to play the game they loved at the highest level. He nodded back. “Hey, man. Great concert, eh?”
“Yeah…” The other man searched his face, trying to remember who he was looking at. “You’re….You used to play hockey here.”
“Sure did. Loved being a Coyote. Always will be, man.” Chase held out his hand and they shook.
“Man, this is cool. They traded you, right? To the Rangers?”
And just like that, the bro-bonding moment was over. “Sorry, bud. That was Petr Gunterson.”
“Yeah. Big blond guy.” The fan—Petr’s fan, maybe—squinted, then turned red. “Oh. Shit. My bad.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Names don’t matter as much as scores, right?”
“Sure…hey, I am a fan!”
Chase just smiled and nodded. He didn’t mind, but now he just wanted to get backstage. “Howl on, my brother.”
The fan turned away. You win some, you lose some. It didn’t matter, in the end.
He pulled the VIP badge Mari’s manager had mailed to him out of his pocket and slung the lanyard around his neck. A security guard stood by the crew entrance, but Chase didn’t even need to explain himself before a big, tatted-up guy with an impressive beard caught sight of him.
“Well, fuck right off, if it isn’t Mr. Hockey in our midst.” Beard Guy waved off the security guard and held out his hand as Chase stepped through the gate. “Steve Brand, crew manager. We met briefly in Toronto, but I recognize you from Miss Mari’s bunk on the bus. We didn’t know you were coming out to visit.”
“It’s a surprise, actually. You think you can help me get backstage?”
“Absolutely.”
The other man led him through a maze of instrument cases and set boxes, up a metal staircase, and into the wings of the pavilion’s bandshell. His heart thumped a little heavier as he followed Steve into the dark shadows.
With a whispered thanks and a quick handshake, he was left standing next to the roadie who would take Mari’s guitar as she walked off stage—and into his arms.
On stage, she lifted her gaze to the sky and belted out the last line of her song. The lights fell as the audience exploded, and Chase had to squint to see her hop off the stool and skip toward them.
“Here you go, Mike.” She blew the roadie a kiss as she handed over the acoustic guitar and did the sexiest fist pump in the air, right in front of Chase.
And then she saw him.
“Ahhhh!” She leapt into his arms, and he braced his good leg and his core, catching her with arms he worked out every day for moments like this—because there was no way he wasn’t going to catch his bride when she was flying through the air at him. “Chase. Oh my God. Ohmygod.”
She peppered his face with kisses and he squeezed her tight. This felt right. Worth every second of air travel and every amused glance they were surely getting right now from the crew.
“What are you doing here?” She exhaled roughly as she slid down his body, keeping her arms around his neck. “Wait, I don’t care. You’re here. I’ve missed you so much…”
She trailed off, just shaking her head and grinning at him.
“Hi.” They both laughed at his single word answer. He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth, then glanced around. “Is there somewhere private we can go so I can do the R-rated version of this greeting?”
Her eyes flared wide and her lips parted. Oh yeah. They needed to be alone and pronto.
— —
Mari had already been flying from the performance. The adrenaline rush was insane, and it seemed to grow in proportion to the audience size. Normally she partied a bit with the VIP guests and called Chase to give him the run-down. Sometimes they had a bit of phone sex if she had a private dressing room. Sometimes she fell asleep on the tour bus, amped up and horny, wishing her man was there to do all the filthy, celebratory things her imagination could conjure.
And once in a blue moon, when she was very, very lucky, he showed up and swept her off her feet.
“Come on,” she whispered, weaving her fingers through his. God, she wanted to jump his bones right there, in the shadow of twenty-thousand people who’d just given her a standing ovation.
But public sex wouldn’t fly with Chase—and when she came down from her adrenaline high, it wouldn’t work for her either. Of course, right now she’d drop to her knees and rip his jeans open.
She wasn’t safe out in the open.
Flagging down the stage manager, she pointed in the direction of her dressing room, then grinned broadly as she pointed at Chase.
“They know what we’re going to do now, don’t they?” he growled in her ear as she shoved her dressing room door open and he crowded against her back.
“Wait until our wedding, and our parents are going to know and be grinning about the fact that we’re going to get it on.”
“Don’t be a buzzkill, baby.”
“Is that possible?”
He laughed and shook his head. His hands were everywhere, stroking up her belly and cupping her breasts, and roving over her hips and across the tops of her thighs, which felt awesome, but she was coated in a totally un-sexy layer of sweat.
“Shower,” she gasped, twirling in his arms, trying to get past his octopus hands to lock the door.
“Second round,” he mumbled as his mouth descended on the skin at her neck. “Door sex first.”
Now it was her turn to laugh, albeit weakly. “I’m not crippling you just weeks before the wedding.”
Chase was one of the fittest men she’d ever met—and even more so because he was training for his first triathlon. But he’d been in a career-ending car accident two years earlier, and still do physiotherapy for his left leg. He’d use a cane for a year, and when it rained, he still had a slight limp.
If she’d had a thought in her head when she first saw him backstage, she wouldn’t have jumped on him.
And from the dark way he was glowering down at her, he was thinking about the same things—but coming to a very different conclusion. “I can hold you up.”
Desire warred with concern, but the restless, heady thrum of hormones pulsing through her body would give in. She was weak and she’d missed him so much. Swaying against him, she let out a hungry little moan.
“Or…” He flashed her a wicked smile as he shifted his stance, sliding his bigger, broader body against hers, turning them both until her back pressed against the door—hard and unyielding steel against her back. Extra-hard and equally unyielding man flooding all her senses in front. She watched through lust-drugged eyes as his beautiful lips curved even further. “I could spin you around and fuck you from behin
d. Bend you over and make you scream.”
Oh, yes. Hands shaking, Mari undid the button on her jeans and unzipped her zipper. Chase’s hands closed over hers, his back curving tight against hers.
“I can do that.” When she nodded roughly, he kissed her neck in approval. “Good girl. Hands on the door.”
Ahhh. Her belly tightened in anticipation as she did as instructed. One of his palms flattened over the swell of her bare skin right above her panties, fitting into the open vee of her jeans. The other skated higher, stroking up, up, up until he found her right breast underneath her shirt. Squeezing her swollen, aching tissue through her bra, he worked her up with his fingers at the same time as his words. He whispered how much he’d missed her and how amazing she’d been on stage. She rocked back against him, helpless to give back but still wanting to work him up the way he was playing with her.
“Fingers,” she gasped as he squeezed her tighter.
“Where?” He nipped at the curve of her ear and she turned her face. She meant to kiss him, but she froze when she saw the look on his face. Lust, yes, but the deepest kind. Layered with so much love it stole her breath.
“Inside me,” she whispered, closing the gap between their faces. Their noses brushed as she exhaled softly against his lips. “And I think you promised me an X-rated kiss.”
He grinned and tugged her hands free from the door, turning her around again. “Kick off your boots. It was only an R-rated kiss, but I’ll make an exception if you ask me nicely.”
“Pretty please with a cherry—” His mouth crashed onto hers, cutting off her words. His teeth scraped against her lower lip and his tongue stroked deep, strong and hungry as he claimed her mouth. Against the small of her back, the door was cold, and that sensation spread as he tugged her shirt up, baring her bra. With only a bit of flailing, she managed to kick off her cowboy boots, sending them flying as she danced on her toes. And still he kissed her.
He devoured her whimpers as he removed her bra and palmed the weight of her breasts, teasing her nipples in hard, desperate peaks with his thumbs.
He licked away her pleas for him to go faster, instead slowing down and wedging his thigh between hers. Through two layers of jeans, she could still feel every throbbing inch of his erection, reminding her she wasn’t the only one who’d been going without. Not the only one who’d missed this connection terribly and needed this rough, demanding scrabble to satisfy that itchy hunger for one’s mate.
