The two made their way up the aisle toward the altar, where Ted, the eager groom, waited, a look of stunned awe suffusing his face and a reverent love shining from his eyes. Once Wes reached Carlie’s pew, he caught her eye and winked, sending her heart leaping for joy. Ever since the day they’d decided to become a couple, he never let an opportunity pass to let the world know she was his and he was hers. She grinned, letting everything she felt for him shine through.
As Cory and Ted said their vows, binding their lives together, not a single eye remained dry. The moment they were introduced as Mr. and Mrs. Lovejoy, a cheer filled the picturesque church. Grabbing her coat, Carlie followed the wedding party outside to mingle with the rest of the guests waiting on the steps out front to throw birdseed over the newly married couple. The bells pealed as the couple appeared, took their birdseed pelting and climbed into the limo waiting to whisk them off to the reception.
Wes found her. Taking her hand in his, they headed to his SUV. “I’m starving. I hope the food at this shindig will be decent.”
Ever since his recovery, his appetite had been huge, and he’d started working out again. They often went to Boonville together. She’d go off to her kickboxing class, and he’d head to his gym, then they’d go have dinner together afterward. Now that no threat hung over them, they made sure to get a sitter a couple of times a week so they could go out on dates.
“I’m sure the food will be great. I’ve heard nothing but good things about the country club where the reception is being held.” She pulled out the directions to get there from her coat pocket and unfolded the map. “I’ll copilot.”
“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you look in that dress? Can’t wait to get you home tonight, so I can take it off you.”
“You have, thank you. Have I told you how hot you look in that suit?” She glanced at him through her lashes. “And the feeling is mutual. Can’t wait to get you naked.”
Wes gave her a quick kiss as he opened the door of his SUV for her. “Let’s not stay too late.”
“Good idea.” Carlie sighed and settled herself against the leather seat as Wes turned his SUV onto the road toward the country club. The day had been clear and sunny, not too cold, and the rural two-lane meandering along the river, with the brilliant sunset as a backdrop, painted a lovely picture. “I’m so glad Ted and Cory’s day was so perfect. Even the weather cooperated.”
“Mmm. We’ve never danced together before.” He glanced at her. “I don’t even know if you like to dance. Do you?”
“With the right partner, I do.” She smiled. “How about you?”
“It’s been a while, but sure. I’ll get out there and move around the floor with you tonight.”
The country club and golf course were situated on a stretch of rolling hills on the banks of the Ohio River. Wes pulled his SUV around the circular drive to the front entrance, got out and handed his keys to the valet parking attendant. He tucked the ticket into his pocket and once again reached for Carlie’s hand.
She loved that he liked to hold her hand or put his arm around her wherever they went. They passed through the opulent lobby and followed the signs pointing to the Lovejoy reception.
Carlie gasped as they entered the ballroom. Everything was so gorgeous and elegant. Round, linen-draped tables held red glass candleholders all aglow with the soft golden light. Ted and Cory’s wedding cake sat majestically on a table off to the side, adorned in rich red buttercream roses and green leaves, with the traditional plastic bride and groom standing proudly at the top. Equipment for the disc jockey had already been set up at the edge of the large dance floor.
Other guests began to drift into the room, and soft classical music played through the speakers in the ceiling. “Come on, let’s find our table.”
She and Wes were seated with the parents of the bride and groom, along with two of Ted’s siblings and their spouses. She hadn’t been wrong about the food, which was delicious. Once the tables were cleared, coffee poured and the cake cut by the bride and groom and served, the lights dimmed and the party began in earnest.
In honor of Cory’s father, Wesley led the bride out onto the dance floor for the first dance. Carlie’s eyes stung as he spoke into a microphone about Cory’s father, a fallen Marine, and how proud he was that he could step up for his brother in arms on this momentous occasion in Cory’s life.
“Wesley reminds me so much of my husband,” Cory’s mom whispered, her eyes filling. “He’s a good man.”
Carlie fished a couple of tissues from her purse and handed one to her, keeping one for herself. “I’m so sorry your husband isn’t here today, Mrs. Marcel.”
“He is here, honey. He is.” Mrs. Marcel dabbed at her eyes.
Carlie hoped so, but she didn’t know what to say to that, so she focused on Cory and Wesley waltzing around the dance floor. The man could dance, and she couldn’t wait for her turn.
Finally, it was her turn, and Wes led her out on the dance floor. He took her into his arms and swept her around to a slow song. They chatted and laughed with their friends as they danced, and happiness lit her up inside. She’d found acceptance and a place where she belonged.
“I love you, Carlie,” Wes whispered into her ear.
Closing her eyes, Carlie laid her head on his shoulder and snuggled closer, savoring the moment. “I love you back.”
“Get a room, you two,” Ryan Malloy teased as he and Paige came up beside them.
Carlie laughed as Wesley winked. “We intend to,” he drawled before whisking her away from the Malloys. “As I was saying . . . I love you, and you love me. That’s not going to change.”
“Nope, it’s not,” she agreed.
“Have you ever given any thought to having more children?”
She nodded, her throat tightening. “I’ve always hoped for more. I’d love for Tyler to have a sibling.” Glancing up at him, her breath caught at the intensity of his gaze. “Or two.”
“Two would be good. I think we both agree about where we’re heading, and here’s the thing . . .” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to wait, Carlie. Seems like I’ve been waiting for you my entire life, and I don’t want to wait any longer. We’re not getting any younger, and we both want a family. How’d you like to go pick out rings with me this week? Let’s get married . . . soon.”
The hope and love shining in his eyes made her weak in the knees and breathless. “OK,” she squeaked, her eyes tearing again. “Let’s go ring shopping and plan a wedding, a small wedding with just our friends and family.”
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It makes me crazy when you cry.”
“I’m not crying,” she huffed out, tears spilling down her cheeks.
He chuckled, his expression filled with tenderness. “Did you know that Noah adopted Ceejay’s daughter, Lucinda?”
“No.” She brushed the tears away. “I thought Lucinda was Noah and Ceejay’s.”
“Luce was around four when Ceejay and Noah got together. Her dad was Noah’s stepbrother, and he died before ever bothering to meet his daughter. It’s a long story, and not the point.” The music stopped, but he didn’t let go of her. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. “How would you feel about me adopting Tyler? I couldn’t love him anymore than I already do, even though I’m not his biological father. You know that, don’t you?”
“Oh, Wes,” she cried. “I’d love nothing more. Tyler adores you, and you’ve been so good to him.” She swallowed a few times. “He’s going to go nuts when we tell him.”
Another slow song started, and Wesley took her hand, twirled her around in a spin, and drew in her back into his arms to move her around with some fancy footwork. “You’re really good at this dancing thing. We might have to start doing this on a regular basis,” she said, smiling.
He twirled her again. “Deal.”
“My dance partner for life,” she whispered as he held her close. “Ted and Cory’s wedding today, Brenda and Kyle’s in March—are you sure you’re not just cau
ght up in the moment, swept away by the wedding fever?” She stared into his wonderful hazel eyes, so filled with love as he gazed back.
“Nope. I’m sure.” He brushed his lips against hers. “Well, maybe a little influenced tonight by our surroundings. I had it all worked out in my head. I planned to have a ring for you under the Christmas tree, and when you opened it, I was going to propose.” He glanced around the ballroom, a look of utter contentment settling over his features. “But I like the idea of picking out our wedding rings together. I want you to have something that you’ll be happy wearing for the rest of our lives.
“Carlie, you rekindled my dream for a family of my own, a dream I buried so deep I didn’t believe it could find its way to the surface again.” His voice broke. “You humble me with your courage and loyalty—your heart. As far as I’m concerned, the wedding can’t happen fast enough.”
“I feel exactly the same, Wes. You’re my hero, and you always will be.” She stopped dancing. “Let’s go home.”
“If you insist.” Grinning, he led her from the dance floor. “Speaking of home, I was thinking this coming summer we should start looking for a house to buy, something with a nice yard for a dog and our kids.”
She laughed, unable to contain the elation coursing through her. “I’m convinced. If you’ve done all this thinking, tonight’s proposal couldn’t have sprung from the current wedding vibe.”
“Like I said, you’ve held the starring role in my dreams since I first laid eyes on you. May as well make it official.” He handed the plastic coat check chip to the attendant, and then he held her coat for her while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. He leaned in close and spoke low into her ear. “I’m going to get lucky tonight, aren’t I?”
“Why, yes. We are going to get lucky—tonight, tomorrow, and for the rest of our lives.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A BIG THANK-YOU TO PHILLIP Mohs, a veteran in the military police and a military dog handler. First, for his service to our country, and second, for his willingness to answer all of my questions about commands for military working dogs and their training.
Another big thank-you goes out to my wonderful son-in-law, Thomas Menton, who graciously answers all of my questions about law enforcement, different law enforcement agencies and how they all work together. Also, I want to thank Tom for hooking me up with the Warrior’s Cove and their self-defense classes for women. You rock, Thomas!
To my wonderful critique partners, Tamara Hughes and Wyndemere Coffee. Thank you. I am so very fortunate and grateful to have the both of you in my life.
To my wonderful agent, Nalini Akolekar, and the amazing crew at Montlake Romance, a big fat thank-you for making it possible for me to do what I love best—tell stories!
A NEW SERIES BY BARBARA LONGLEY
Don’t miss This Handyman’s Heart, the first book in the Haney Family series by Barbara Longley
Fall 2016
CHAPTER ONE
BRRR. SAM HUFFED OUT A breath, and a cloud of steam formed in front of his face. Minnesota winters were frigid, and the frigid had started early this year. They’d already had a couple of below-zero nights, and it wasn’t even the middle of November yet. If it weren’t for hockey, snowmobiling and ice fishing, he’d move south.
Of course, he’d miss Grandpa Joe and Grandma Maggie, along with his younger brother and sister. His siblings might be willing to make the move with him, but his grandparents would never leave St. Paul. All of their kids, grandkids and great-grandkids were here. Guess I’m stuck.
He circled to the driver’s side and climbed into his old Ford work van. Turning the key in the ignition produced nothing but a reluctant Rrrr-rrrr-rrrr. “Come on, buddy. I don’t like the cold or Monday mornings, either, but you don’t see me staying in bed.” He patted the dashboard, like that would somehow encourage the van to start. Shivering, he tried again and got the same refusal. “I’ll let you think about it for minute, and then you have to crank. We have work to do.” He waited a minute and tried again. The engine turned over, earning another pat to the dashboard.
Content to sit while the engine warmed up, Sam sipped his coffee and turned on the radio. He had plenty of time before he needed to set out for his first job of the day, and his favorite morning talk show was about to begin. He tuned the radio to “Loaded Question” and leaned forward to adjust the volume so he could hear the radio over the fan. Cheesy music announced the morning show was about to begin. Sam grinned. They always posed some outrageous question. Last week’s had been, “What’s the worst first date you’ve ever been on?”
Another time the hosts had asked, “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten?” Hilarious.
“Good morning, Twin Cities! You’re listening to the wake-up crew, Dianna Barstow and Russell Lund, and it’s time for . . . da, da daaaah, ‘Loaded Question!’” the male counterpart of the duo announced. “What’s our question for today, Dianna?”
“Well, Russ, I think we have a winner here this morning. Today’s question is: What’s the sluttiest thing you’ve ever done?”
This ought to be good for a few laughs. Sam adjusted the fan so it blew on the windshield. He could get out and scrape off the ice, but why bother? It would just frost up again by the time he was back inside. Better to let the van warm up and defrost on its own. Grandpa Joe always said there are two kinds of lazy, smart lazy and dumb lazy. If you’re smart lazy, you do things right the first time, so you don’t have to do them over. That’s how Sam saw himself. Smart lazy.
“Whoa! Good one! What is the sluttiest thing you’ve ever done, Dianna?”
“Ahh.” She laughed. “Good question. Spring break five years ago. No details.”
Their banter went on for another few minutes before the DJs announced their telephone number and turned it over to the listening audience. Since the talk show hosts often gave out some pretty sweet prizes—like hard-to-get concert tickets or cash—Sam had the number in his speed dial. He hadn’t won anything yet, but he wasn’t about to give up. For the next few minutes he listened to one outrageous story after another, choking on his coffee when laughter sent it down the wrong pipe.
A husky, feminine voice came over the air. “Hi, my name is Yvonne.”
“Hello, Yvonne,” Dianna and Russ said in unison. “What’s the sluttiest thing you’ve ever done?”
“Well,” she began, hesitating slightly.
Her voice sounded familiar, and her name . . . “Naw. Couldn’t be.”
“I’m recently divorced, and I kept the house,” Yvonne finally blurted.
“OK. Go on,” Russ prodded.
“It had been a while since I’d . . . you know . . .”
“Had sex?” Dianna chortled. “We’re listening. We’re all listening.”
“I had a few things that needed to be done around the house, and a couple of my girlfriends kept telling me I should hire this handyman named Sam. So I did.”
Sam froze, and not from the cold. “Cripes!” It was her. He’d done some work for Yvonne two weeks ago. He thunked his head against the steering wheel and groaned. “Great. I’m the sluttiest thing she’s ever done. I wonder if there’s an award for that.”
He imagined what his plaque might look like hanging on the wall of his tiny office. Polished brass mounted on an oval piece of oak, and the engraving would read, “Sluttiest Carpenter Award of Excellence”—for going above and beyond the call of duty.
“OK, Sam the handyman,” Russ teased. “Tell me. Just how handy was he?”
“My, oh my. Let me tell you. He was plenty handy and incredibly hot. After he did the job, I did him.” She sighed. “It was wonderful.”
Yvonne’s happy sigh over the air brought a smile to his face. He liked to leave his customers completely satisfied. Oh, right. That bit would have to be added to his award. He sat back up. “You were plenty hot yourself, Yvonne.”
Maybe she’d have another job for him to do soon. He shook his head. Not a good idea. Women got ideas w
hen he came around a second time—relationship ideas.
He shuddered at the thought. His life was exactly the way he wanted it. Who needed all the drama, all the demands and upheaval that came with the whole relationship package? Who needed the heartache? Not him. Strings-free, protected sex and the bachelor life suited him. He had his buddies, his brother, sister, grandparents and a great extended family. He lived la dolce vita—the sweet life. Why fix it if it ain’t broken?
Listeners were weighing in about Yvonne. About him.
“It would bother me knowing my partner had probably done it with half the women in the Twin Cities,” one listener commented. “He’s the slut. Yvonne was just a lonely divorcée, and Sam took advantage of her. Maybe he’s a sex addict. For all we know, she was just one of a dozen he did that day.”
“Sex addict?” Sam scowled at the radio. “Slut? Wait just a doggone minute. I’ve done nothing wrong.” Before he realized what he was doing, he’d grabbed his phone from the cup holder and hit speed dial. His outrage grew with each passing second. He was a good guy, honest and up front. He never led anyone on. Plus, his moral compass worked just fine, thank you very much. His call was answered on the fifth ring.
“This is Russ, and you’re on the air. What’s the sluttiest thing you’ve ever done?”
“Yeah. This is Sam Haney. I’m Yvonne’s handyman, and—”
“Whoa! No last names here, Sam Haney. We like to protect the innocent, Handyman Haney. Did you get that, ladies? Sam Haney, the handsiest handyman in the Twin Cities.”
“Hands-On Haney the Handyman!” Dianna chortled with glee, and the two of them laughed. “Get his number for me, would you, Russ?” Dianna chimed. “As a matter of fact, Sam, why don’t you share your number with all of us?”
Aww, cripes. Idiot. Their jokes were stupid, and he didn’t appreciate being the punch line. “Listen, you wouldn’t believe how women throw themselves at me on the job. I can show up for work scruffy as all get-out, raggedy flannel shirt, faded, torn jeans, unshaved and hair a mess, and they’re still all over me. Women love me.”
The Twisted Road to You (Perfect, Indiana Book 4) Page 27
