Wedding Dreams: 20 Delicious Nuptial Romances

by Maggie Way

  Once they arrived back at their house in town, he and Elle had continued the celebration privately. Tequila and pickled jalapenos had accompanied a whole lot of hot, delicious loving.

  His meeting yesterday with Jonas had gone way better than Gage had anticipated. The man had bent over backward to set Gage at ease. As soon as he’d met Sigmund, Jonas declared the dog welcome to come to work for as long as Gage thought he’d need. Declared it might be good for morale below the surface. Sigmund was a godsend. The thought rattled around Gage’s brain the entire time he and Jonas had studied the schematic for the new ramp in the mine. The idea of hours in the subterranean world tweaked Gage’s discomfort a little, but it was a concern he managed to push away even before Sig could get a paw on his thigh.

  Now, he drifted toward sleep, thinking Elle’s present of Sigmund truly was the best wedding gift ever.

  Elle thrashed again, then resettled against him. Her peaceful state devolved into restless stirring, quick gasps and quiet groans. Sigmund’s tags rattled but he didn’t venture from his doggie bed in the corner.

  As he lay on the soft mattress with Elle at his side, his random thoughts slowly released their grip on him. But he didn’t relinquish his hold on Elle. After kissing her one final time for the night, he’d rolled her to her side, tucked her back tight against his front, laid his leg between hers and wrapped his arm around her middle. She’d grasped his hand, laced their fingers together and tucked them between her breasts. She’d nestled sleepily into him, her warmth a balm to the place in his heart that had gone cold when his men had died.

  Gage shoved the negative thoughts away and basked in the glow of the success he’d had so far in his quest to reclaim the man he’d been. Oh, he wasn’t going to kid himself. He’d never fully be that man again. But while the goal might have changed, it was firmly in sight now. And he was one step closer to being able to contact the families left behind after the bombing. His remorse at not doing it sooner ate at him. But until very recently, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to make those calls or visits. His sessions with Bill didn’t fix anything, but they sure let him see things in a different way. Their next “jog” was tomorrow and he found he actually looked forward to digging deeper. He liked regaining his life.

  Beside him, Elle moaned and shifted her legs again. She burrowed her head deeper into the pillow. Sigmund left the comfort of his bed and padded across the room. He poked his nose into the small of Gage’s back with a whine.

  “Not me, fella,” Gage said as he tightened his fist around Elle’s hand.

  The increased pressure drew another quiet moan from her.

  Sigmund trotted to Elle’s side while Gage watched with interest. He’d been through this several times himself. Not as frequently in the past week, but he still needed the comfort and aid Sig offered.

  The dog lifted his front legs onto the mattress and scooted close to Elle’s face, without actually getting on the bed with them. Sig poked his nose against Elle’s with a whine. He jutted his tongue out and lapped her cheek, increasing the volume of his whine. Elle brushed back until she was jammed against Gage’s front and jerked her hand in his. Undeterred, Sig strained to follow her, lapped his tongue on her cheek again, then woofed.

  Elle tugged her hand free of Gage’s grip and swatted at Sig’s snout. “Dog, pillow.” She rolled into Gage, giving the dog her back, her wet cheek plastered to his bare chest.

  Sig shifted his glance to Gage, who’d risen on his elbow. “Go ahead, Sigmund. I’ve got this.”

  The highly trained animal whimpered, but obeyed. He turned a circle on his doggie bed, then settled, but remained alert, his eyes trained on his humans across the room.

  Gage nudged Elle’s chin up. “Bad dream.”

  She pinned her gaze to his, her sleepy gray eyes moving something in him, something strong and protective. Her blink was slow, and heavy lidded. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

  That made him smile. How many times had he said the same thing to her? “You turning into a parrot on me, baby?”

  She snuggled closer, her heavy sigh brushing his pec like a soft, humid kiss. “I went to the church. You weren’t there.”

  Had to be the briefest, most telling synopsis in the history of the world. “Did I ever show up?”

  “Don’t know. Someone woke me up.”

  “Close your eyes.” She lifted them to his face instead. He kissed the tip of her nose. “Indulge me. Close your eyes. This is something I read about online. A way to get to the meaning of my nightmares.” Although digging for reasons hadn’t been hard. There was no meaning in his dreams. It was mere rehashing of the most harrowing hours of his life. That terror had eased its hold on Gage in the past few days. As soon as he’d let Elle, her dad, and Sigmund help him.

  She eyed him a moment longer, then with a soft exhale let her eyes drift shut. Her breath evened out as she let go.

  He tucked her head under his chin, her satiny hair catching in the bristles on his jaw. A smile curled his lips at the sweet intimacy of the moment. Three weeks ago, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to do this. Sigmund took to snoring in the corner, the sound slow and easy in the quiet room.

  “I want you to go through the dream setting. Tell me where you are.”

  She stiffened, her body going rigid in his embrace. Gage stroked his fingers over her silky hair, urging her to relax.

  “We’re in a church, which is weird, because we aren’t actually getting married indoors.” Her voice flowed through him like a fine malt liquor. Every part of his body tightened. As though oblivious to the changes, she continued. “But it isn’t really a church. At first the low light seems sexy, almost atmospheric. I’m waiting by an altar. No, a platform.”

  Sounded like she was channeling their visit to the mine. “Go on,” he encouraged, eager to see where this led.

  She shifted her legs and twisted her neck, her face to the ceiling. Her heart thumped against his ribs. “I’m waiting at the foot of the platform, and the longer I waited the more the light changed. The walls get all rough and black and start moving, shifting. There’s a searchlight spinning out of control overhead, strafing off the walls. Then suddenly I’m falling, calling out for you. But you aren’t there. You can’t catch me.”

  Her agitation was infectious, but he shoved the sensation down. This was about helping Elle. He wasn’t going to let his phobias encroach on her dream any more than her subconscious had already allowed. He started his hands on a slow stroke down her back, stopping at the dip of her spine, then returned to her neck. He touched his lips to the crown of her head.

  Eyes squeezed tight, she let out a ragged exhale. “Funny thing is, I land on my feet. Then I see a pile of rubble and hear tapping coming from deep within it. Gage, it’s you under that mountain of stone. I’m in my wedding dress, trying to dig you out with my bare hands. I’m not sure whether I’ll get to you in time. There’s a giant ticking noise, but I don’t know if it’s a clock, or the weight of the rubble creaking, about to collapse on you.” Her fingers dug deeply into the muscles on his side.

  “Baby, did I mention to you that I’d kept tapping on a lead pipe while I was trapped?” He’d barely talked about the episode to her, but discussing it now, as it related to her own nightmare was oddly cathartic.

  She tipped her head back, pressing her chest to his to look him in the eye. “No, but it makes sense that you would do that to alert search and rescue people about your presence.”

  Tapping his finger to her forehead, he gave her a sardonic smile. “See, even your unconscious mind is brilliant.”

  “I know how the story ends in real life. You’re back here with me, snug in our bed, healing more every day. So why am I having bad dreams? All along, even when I didn’t know whether you’d ever return to me, I never had a single nightmare.”

  “If Sigmund really were his namesake, then we could ask him to interpret the dream for you. But I kind of think you might have found the answer yourself.”
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  “Well, it’s as clear as mud to me, so maybe you’ll take pity on me and share.”

  “My interpretation?” He pulled her tighter into his embrace, rolled their bodies until she was under him. He smoothed strands of her blond hair away from her temple. “You’re in the mine. The ceiling of the church looks the way it does because it’s rocks and boulders. The walls moving around is just a piece of your mind revisiting what a labyrinth the mine is. There are so many alleyways and branches off the main shaft. Even though we stayed together as a group at the bottom, your brain noted all the different directions you could go.”

  “I’ll give you that. But explain the rubble. There wasn’t a single pile of rocks down there.” She shifted her leg along his hips and pressed her thigh closer.

  His cock plumped up, swelling toward the heat between her legs. Imagining a cold shower, he focused on his interpretation. “I think, and this is purely a guess, that the rubble represents all the shit we’ve had to dig through to get to the heart of my issues and fears. You internalized the battle, made it your own. And since you couldn’t help me free myself last time, you accepted responsibility for getting me out in your dream. I thank you for that.” He touched his lips to hers, relishing the soft slide of her mouth under his.

  Staying silent for a moment, moonlight streaming over her from the bedroom window, he watched her thoughts flit across her face. “My interpretation is that I’m afraid you will leave me at the altar.”

  “Baby, I’m going to be there. I know I suggested we postpone, but right now, I’m so eager to marry you, I’d be willing to go to the courthouse tomorrow and speak my vows.” He kissed her deep and long to convince her of his sincerity. Her soft moan fit in his mouth perfectly. The same way her body fit to his. With a smile, he freed her lips. “But I know you want the whole ceremony next week. And I promise you, baby. I’ll be waiting at the altar for you. You have my solemn vow on that.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gage’s dad took up a position next to him, clapped him on the back and sent him an encouraging smile. Logan Hamilton stood on Dad’s left. The nerves Gage thought he’d have before the ceremony were completely absent.

  In the aspen trees, birds sang, a perfect complement to the dulcet tones of the violins and cello Elle had arranged for the ceremony. The scent of wildflowers filled the air when the gentle breeze kicked in.

  The resort management had arranged folding chairs in five neat rows, but arranged a couple extra to accommodate some last minute add-ons.

  Emily Gagnon was seated in one of the extra chairs, pulled a little to the side, away from most of the other guests. Her mom, Sally, the woman who’d suggested a therapy dog, patted Emily’s hand. Maybe someday, Gage could return Sigmund to Emily, to help her overcome her extreme shyness. Oh hell, who was he kidding? Sigmund was as close to a four-footed best friend as Gage ever had. He’d loved his last dog, Cricket. But Sigmund was so much more than a dog. He was a lifesaver.

  Members of Gage’s baseball team occupied the other extra chairs. He’d met his new teammates over the past weekend, played shortstop for them, and then, as an initiation, had to buy the first round at The Reading Room. Thankfully, they’d been happy with pitchers of beer. Elle had joined the fun, as had several other wives and girlfriends. She was the one responsible for the team’s presence today. After her third beer, she’d invited everyone at the table to attend the ceremony and then join them for the party after.

  And never once, in the whole six hours he’d been with them, had he fielded another question about his time overseas. They were more interested in his vintage pickup truck than in what he’d experienced under the pile of rubble.

  Gage scanned the alleyway of trees lining the left of the meadow. This was where Elle would appear, escorted not just by Bill. Jillian was going to walk with them as well. Unconventional, but Elle had explained that she wanted both of her parents to walk her toward the most important person in her life. She hadn’t shown up yet, and shreds of her dream, of waiting at the altar for him, came back to Gage. He jammed his hand in his pocket and crossed his fingers, willing her to appear.

  Shifting from foot to foot, he scanned the rest of the crowd. Jonas and a couple of guys from the mine. People from high school and friends of his parents he’d known his entire life. Elle’s cousins, uncles and aunts chatted and laughed. Her grandma wore a frilly red jacket and black skirt, blending in with the buckets of red and white flowers hanging from shepherd’s hooks at the end of each row of chairs.

  The stringed instruments launched into the piece Elle had picked for her approach to the altar. It was the soaring masterpiece that Maria, from Sound of Music had proceeded in with. Elle had made him watch the scene on YouTube at least six times in the past week.

  In her seat in the front row, his mom dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

  He noted movement behind the little shed midway back in the big meadow. And knew his face had just creased up into the biggest smile imaginable. The flash of the cream satin Elle wore was accompanied by the dark black of Bill’s tuxedo and the brilliant red of Jillian’s dress. At the end of his leash, Sigmund, with a red bow tied around his collar and wearing the aviator goggles, trotted toward him. A chorus of chuckles blended with the music and bird song as the guests stood as one and caught sight of the silly animal. Then they gasped at Elle’s radiant beauty.

  She moved with grace and dignity toward him, her gaze glued to his face. Everything else faded around him. The beacon of Elle’s smile drew his attention. He doubled down on his commitment to make sure that smile stayed in place for the rest of their lives.

  After thirty agonizing seconds, she reached his side. Happiness he’d never thought to feel again burst through him with the touch of her hand. Without relinquishing her hold on him, she pressed her cheek first to Bill’s, then to Jillian’s. Bill shook Gage’s hand, and Jillian hugged him. Bill wrapped his arm around Jillian and led her to the white linen-covered chairs.

  “I love you, Gage Cassidy,” Elle whispered to him. “Thanks for being here for me.”

  “Wouldn’t have missed it for anything.” All was right in his world at the moment. No lingering fears…only sunshine, the delicate scent of roses and columbine, and the beautiful woman, ready to join her life to his. “I love you, Elle. What do you say we get married?”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes and Sigmund nudged between them with a quiet woof. She laughed. “I’m ready, and so is Sigmund. We say yes.”

  About the Author

  Gemma Brocato’s favorite desk accessories for many years were a circular wooden token, better known as a 'round tuit,' and a slip of paper from a fortune cookie proclaiming her a lover of words; some day she'd write a book. All it took was a transfer to the United Kingdom, the lovely English springtime, and a huge dose of homesickness to write her first novel. Once it was completed and sent off with a kiss, even the rejections addressed to 'Dear Author' were gratifying.

  After returning to America, she spent a number of years as a copywriter, dedicating her skills to making insurance and the agents who sell them sound sexy. Eventually, her full-time job as a writer interfered with her desire to be a writer full-time and she left the world of financial products behind to pursue a career as a romance author.

  Gemma focuses mainly on contemporary and paranormal romance, with an occasional detour into science fiction romance. Her titles are available in digital and print-on-demand at all major retailers.

  Want to know about Gemma's books?

  http://www.gemmabrocato.com/my-books.html

  Five Senses Series (Contemporary Romance

  Goddesses of Delphi (Paranormal Romance)

  Romancing The Vine (Contemporary Romance)

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  Cruising for Love

  (The Escape Series)

  by Ann Omasta

  Chapter One

 
"Hitting the cow in the road was not my fault!" I inform the others, making them burst into laughter yet again.

  "Whose fault was it...the COW's???" This incredulous question comes from my best friend, Macy. She looks especially cute tonight because she has set her sights on her new co-worker, Kyle. When Kyle mentioned wanting to try the new Mexican restaurant in town, Macy had quickly thrown together this small group outing to ease her path into getting to know him better. I see them make eye contact, beaming at each other, and realize that my ridiculous hot mess of stories is serving as the ideal ice-breaker for them, which is likely exactly what Macy had intended when she brought up my less-than-stellar driving record.

  "Well, yeah. I mean, what was it doing in the middle of the road?" It makes perfect sense to me, but they are still laughing at me. I chuckle, even though the hilarity is at my expense. I know it sounds crazy, but these odd situations just somehow seem to find me.

  "Is the cow okay?" This concerned question comes as the first words of the evening from our suddenly quiet friend, Jasmine. Jas is one of the most outlandishly fun people I know, but it takes her a while to warm up to strangers. Having the new faces from Macy's law office join us for dinner has evidently caused her shyness to flare up.

  "The cow is fine," I reassure her. "My car on the other hand..." I let the sentence dangle, allowing the group to draw their own conclusions about my car's fate after tangling with a bovine. "I still go visit the cow occasionally," I add, "but I don't think she likes me."