Well, damned if Liam wasn’t almost speechless. Finally, he managed to utter, “Thank you. Stupid bet and all. You are the one who sent me up here.”
“Hug it out, and get it over with,” Crosby said. He took his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling Estelle. I doubt she ran too far too fast.”
Liam snorted. Estelle was eight and a half months pregnant and glared at Crosby every time she had to get off a sofa. Or put on shoes. Not that Crosby seemed to mind. He adored her, even when she glared, and Liam had seen enough no know there wasn’t a drop of aggravation in those looks she gave Crosby. Those two were disgustingly in love, and no one had been late for that ceremony, either.
About the time Crosby lifted the phone to his ear, the door burst open. Claire, in her wedding dress. Running toward a wedding, not away. Liam didn’t even notice who she was with. He was too busy trying to swallow against that knot in his throat. She went straight for him, and he met her halfway down the aisle, not the least bit ignorant of the fact they were going the wrong way.
“You had me worried,” he said against her ear. He needn’t be so quiet about it, because murmurs rippled through the assembled guests, almost making it hard to hear.
“You were not worried,” Claire whispered, smacking him playfully on the chest.
“No, I wasn’t,” he admitted. “But you are late. And I love you. Desperately, but in the cool way. Not the way that requires a restraining order.”
She laughed “And I love you. Madly. But you don’t need to panic, because I wasn’t running. Estelle’s in labor.”
Only then did he realize Estelle was leaning heavily on her brother, Grady, and a bewildered Crosby. Kelsie and Rue were talking over each other trying to say…something.
“I am not in labor,” Estelle insisted, and not very convincingly.
Liam looked at Claire. “And she’s here?”
“That’s why we’re late,” Claire said. “We stopped by the hospital.”
“And no one called?” Alice Chase came up, concern obvious.
“And left?” Crosby said at the same time.
“Very early labor,” Estelle said. “Not even really labor. Not even a centimeter yet.”
“That’s more than I ever needed to know about your cervix,” Sawyer told her.
Kelsie gave him a startled look. “I didn’t know you knew what a cervix was.”
“It’s in the pleasure zone,” Sawyer said. “Of course I know about cervixes. Or cervices. Cervi?”
“There’s no pleasure associated with this cervix,” Estelle muttered. “None at all.”
“I tried to tell her not to come,” Claire said, “but she didn’t listen. Grady was driving. She said she’d do that thing she used to do when they were kids if he didn’t bring her up here, and he said fine, but Crosby was going to have to take it up with her if there was a problem.”
“I meant to ask,” Kelsie said. “What was the thing?”
“Nipple twist,” Estelle said.
“Ah,” pretty much everyone said at once.
“I don’t want to rush anything,” Estelle said, “Because the doctor said it’s just pre-labor and it could be days, but on the odd chance my water breaks, I’m not going to be smiling for any pictures.”
“You can’t be serious,” Crosby said.
“You can’t seriously think I would smile for pictures while giving birth.” Estelle glared at Crosby. “I understand it’s painful. And if this is only pre-labor, I’m beginning to understand that I have no idea how painful it is. But if you think I’m going to have this baby on top of a mountain so you can have pretty pictures, you need to protect yourself.”
“Not what I meant,” Crosby said.
“No offense, Claire,” Estelle added, much more pleasantly than she’d addressed Crosby. “You know I love you. He’s the one who needs to be worried.”
“Yeah,” Liam said. “I think he got that.”
“As long as you’re okay,” Alice said, not looking entirely convinced.
Claire took Liam’s hand. “Let’s get married,” she said. “And none of us will have to worry.” She grinned. “Except maybe Crosby.”
Twenty minutes later, the Runway Bride was hitched.
But she didn’t stay the newest member of the Chase family for very long. Early the next morning, Estelle and Crosby had a little girl.
She was perfect.
Liam was beginning to think everything was.
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Acknowledgments
I’d like to offer the biggest-ever thanks to my editor, eternally ERMAGERD TRACY MONTOYA. Woman, I fall at your feet. Mostly because of all the stabbing you do, but it’s amazing, and you rock it out every time without fail. I have no idea where I’d be without you, but suffice to say it would be ugly, and the world would laugh. And not in the good way.
I must also thank Heather Howland, who fell for the Chase men and gave them a series. This book wouldn’t be here without you. And Debbie Suzuki, who has helped made these boys famous. The entire Entangled team needs to be on a podium of awesomeness.
So many thanks to Shelly Small, who has an eagle eye for the stuff I miss. And who tolerates my kids when I drag them along every time we get together to walk. Because walking with six kids running circles around us is…ideal. LOL.
And for Kira Archer, my partner in insanity, who will one day love spiders and jalapeño potato chips. Because we really can’t be truly #creepytwins until you do, and I know you don’t want to wreck that. And since you insisted, I’ll throw in the salsa—hot, of course—and will likewise wonder how long it will take for people to figure out we’re communicating in this way.
For my street team, there aren’t enough thanks for your support. You guys get it done and amaze me every time.
And finally, I’d like to thank my family, or in the spirit of the page, acknowledge each of you. Another book finished, another chance to come blinking out of the writing cave and see how you’ve all grown. (Okay, slight exaggeration, but I know the last few weeks are tough. Thanks for understanding. Or at least fleeing at the right moments.) You guys are amazing. And you eat a lot.
About the Author
Sarah and her husband of what he calls “many long, long years” live on the mid-Atlantic coast with their six young children, all of whom are perfectly adorable when they’re asleep. She never dreamed of becoming an author, but as a homeschooling mom, she often jokes she writes fiction because if she wants anyone to listen to her, she has to make them up. (As it turns out, her characters aren’t much better than the kids.) When not buried under piles of laundry, she may be found adrift in the Atlantic (preferably on a boat) or seeking that ever-elusive perfect writing spot where not even the kids can find her.
She loves creating unforgettable stories while putting her characters through an unkind amount of torture—a hobby that has nothing to do with living with six children. (Really.) Though she adores sexy contemporary romance, Sarah writes in many genres including historical and ghostly supernatural romance and romantic suspense. Her ever-growing roster of releases may be found on Entangled Publishing.
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The 48 Hour Hookup (Chase Brothers) Page 18
