Victoria wrinkled her nose. “Contacts?”
Putting one in each eye, he blinked her into focus. “Feel like a new man already. How do I look?”
She tapped a pink nail against her red lips. “My goodness, Mr. Ryder, I don’t know what I’m having for lunch, but I certainly know what I’m having for dessert.”
His smile spread into his tanned cheeks, turning him into someone else. Someone you could count on when the chips were down. Someone who would always be there. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said, helping her to her feet and kicking off his flip-flops. “And by the way, snow crab and garlic bread are what you’re having for lunch.”
“Oooh, la-la!” Wrapping a sheer beach wrap around her waist, she grabbed her sandals and looped an arm through his. “What made you switch to contacts? After all these years?”
“Just felt like a good time for a change,” he replied, showing her out a back gate into the white sand.
“Hmm, and here I was just starting to get used to the Mr. Six look.”
Frank rolled his eyes and let the gate swing shut behind them. “Here we go again.”
Their bare feet sank into the warm sand. Flamboyant kiteboarders dotted the shoreline, rising and falling on the ocean wind. A cruise ship sailed past on the horizon, headed for adventures unknown. Ushering her down to the water’s edge, Frank looked over his shoulder. That was the only thing left of his sordid past and, unfortunately, that part of the job would never go away. But he was okay with that. It was a fair trade for a life with this amazing woman who saved him when there was nearly nothing left to save. Her smile put a sparkle in his eyes, extinguishing the dead look haunting his big black frames since his first kill way back in Milwaukee’s Third Ward. He was a lucky man. Lucky to have witnessed firsthand, the healing power of true love. If it weren’t for Evy and Dean, he never would’ve…
“What’re you thinking about?” Victoria asked, warm water rushing over her toes before sucking back out to sea again.
He stared out over the sky-blue water, sunshine warm on his face. “I’m thinking about the most beautiful part of this entire island.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
He turned to her and pumped her hand. “You, Mrs. Ryder. You.”
Chapter Thirteen
No Pink
Six Weeks Later
Selecting another present from a table stacked with pretty packages like a tiered wedding cake, Tasha passed a large rectangular present to Brooke. “This one is from your mom,” she said, winking at Laura.
Laura smiled back and sipped her mimosa.
Grimacing, Brooke reached out and took it. Soft jazz poured from the recessed speakers in the ceiling, raining over the tables of cupcakes and finger sandwiches. The rich smell of coffee swirled with the chocolate in the air, turning Sugars into a baby shower paradise. Heart aflutter, Evy watched her big sister rip into the pink package. She could tell Brooke was fearful of whatever was hiding beneath. Even though they were having a girl, Brooke had a strict no pink policy that Laura already violated with the wrapping paper.
Brooke pulled a long strip back and her eyes got big. Leaning into a red wingback Ben found on Craigslist before restoring, she covered her heart.
“What is it?” Evy asked, eyes darting between Brooke and the smug smile settling in her mother’s cheeks.
“Mom,” Brooke breathed out, looking up at Laura. “You shouldn’t have!” With a few more rips and tears, she turned the box to face everyone, pink paper hanging off the edges like tulip petals.
Evy leaned forward, straining to see against the sunshine streaming through the windows while Tasha and Carrie burst into laughter.
“That is so you!” Carrie said, snapping a picture.
“What is it?”
“The Bride of Chucky,” Tasha answered, taking a picture with an iPad.
“That’s from your father by the way. Mine is the one with wheels on it.”
Evy shook her head at Brooke. “He is so weird.”
Shifting on her throne, Brooke stripped the pink pedals off the box. “I should be able to get at least a hundred bucks for it on Facebook Marketplace.”
The group broke into laughter, peppering the air with something Evy no longer took for granted. After seeing the pictures at the cabin, she would never take her family for granted again.
“Whatever,” Laura muttered, tipping back a tall mimosa.
***
Ben brought the clubhead down, producing a sharp crack. The ball shot into the air, standing out against the clear blue sky. “Fuckin-A,” he grumbled, watching the white dot slice hard right and land in a pond with a hollow sounding kerplunk. Angrily, he yanked another ball from the pocket of his oily jeans. “Sorry guys, I got this one.”
Folding his arms across a turquoise golf shirt strangling his beer gut, Shaun glanced at the teams piling up behind them on the cart path. “You said that four balls ago, Ben. Just pick it up.”
“One more,” he insisted, approaching the ball with the clubhead and waggling his hips.
“Maybe your jeans are too tight!”
“Shut up, Jon.”
Dean elbowed Jon in the ribs. “Twenty bucks says he makes this one across.”
Squinting against the sunshine reflecting off the water, Jon gave him a fist bump. “You’re on, big baller.”
Ben drew the oversized driver back with his tattooed arms, pausing at the top before bringing it back down and crushing the ball with another vociferous crack. His eyes followed the bone white dot through the air. Giving the club a confident twirl, he let the shaft slide smoothly through his hands. The ball splashed into the water, nearly killing a mallard.
Hanging his head, Dean slipped Jon a twenty. “You’re thinning my money-clip, Ben!”
“Fuck it, let’s go.” Ben jammed the driver into a bag attached to a nearby golf cart. Hopping into the passenger seat, he kicked his black boots up on the dash. “Beer me!” he yelled out to no one in particular, extending an open palm.
“Don’t worry, big guy,” Will said, handing him a cold one and climbing in behind the wheel. “When you get home, you’ll have a brand-new stroller to look forward to.”
“Great,” Ben murmured, pulling his golf glove off with his teeth.
“You’ll have to put some aftermarket rims on it, gangster.” Jon jumped in the cart behind. “Roll that thing out with your head held high like Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind.”
Dean slid in next to him and rested a hand on the steering wheel. “Careful Jon, you could be next any day now. Things can happen,” he said, snapping his fingers, “like that.”
Jon laughed sharply. “Me?” He grabbed a beer from the cup holder, Shaun’s smiling mug plastered across the side of the sweaty can. “Naw, Tasha doesn’t want kids. She likes getting freaky on the dining room table too much.”
Will tossed a look over his shoulder. “Remind me never to come to your place for dinner.”
Ben pounded a fist against the roof. “I just ate there last night!”
Jon passed Dean a joint, smoke seeping from his nose in ghostly streams. “Hope you didn’t have the gravy,” he said, holding his breath.
“I bet Tasha is crazy fun in the sack.” Shaun stopped next to Dean and leaned against the golf cart. “Probably likes to go all night long.”
“You have no idea.”
He took the joint from Dean and brought it to his lips, making the cherry glow. “What’s her favorite position? I bet it’s doggy. All girls love the doggy.”
Dean coughed smoke from his nose. The word doggy would always remind him of that late-night Scrabble game with Jim and Trisha. Even though they never saw the strange neighbors again, Scrabble would be forever scarred.
Taking the joint from Shaun, Jon gestured with it. “Actually, reverse cowgirl is her favorite.”
“Reverse Cowgirl?” Shaun wrinkled his nose. “I hate that one. It bends my dick the wrong way.”
“She likes it when you
stick a thumb in her ass.”
“And there ya have it,” Dean muttered, pushing his shades up higher.
“Hey, you guys going to bogart that whole thing?”
“Sorry, big guy.” Shaun passed the joint to Ben in the cart ahead.
Will twisted around in the driver’s seat. “Hey guys, maybe we should wait to smoke that until we’re out on the course,” he said, nodding at the foursomes pilling up behind. “Those guys could be cops.”
“They’re not cops; they’re cooks who like free beer,” Shaun corrected, climbing into a third golf cart parked at the rear of the pack. “You just worry about your game, holy roller.”
Will cracked open a can of Shaun’s new IPA, For Madmen Only, and brought it to his lips. “I’m not a holy roller; I’m just saying now might not be the best…”
Dean mashed the gas pedal to the floor. The cart lurched forward, ramming Will and Ben from behind. Jerking violently, Will spilled beer all over and cried out in pain while Ben dropped the joint between his legs. Jon and Dean bellowed with laughter, watching Ben scramble to locate the burning spleef before it burned through his golf jeans.
“You asshole, Dean,” Will yelled, wiping the dark-colored beer from his golf shirt. “This is a white shirt!”
“Suckas!” Dean howled, zipping around them and flying down the cart path.
“Hey,” Shaun yelled after them, starting his cart. “Why do I have to ride alone? I paid for the beer, bro!”
Chapter Fourteen
Baloney-Pony
Exhaling a worn-out breath, Brooke set the last present down and leaned into her red velvet throne. Clasping her hands over her belly, her misty eyes roamed the women seated before her like faithful subjects. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much it means having you beautiful, strong women here today. I was never the type to sit around dreaming about weddings and baby showers all day, but…”
“Tell us what you did dream about, Brooke!”
She frowned at Tasha and waited for the laughter to subside. “BUT…this was really special and thank you so much for coming. It means the world to me.” Brooke traded tender looks with her family and friends. “And for the last time, I’m not showing. I had chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and they are sitting in my gut like a rock.”
“Okay,” Evy muttered, shifting in her chair.
Brooke rubbed her belly with both hands. “I am so stopped up right now it’s not even funny.”
Evy cleared her throat. “I think we get it.”
“I can’t even pass gas.”
“Yep.”
Smiling warmly, Brooke raised a champagne glass of pineapple juice high into the air. “To friends who are family, and family who are friends.”
The front door burst open and she screamed bloody murder, spilling juice on a pretty black dress. Twisting around in their seats, the women stared in horror at the ragged clown standing in the doorway. Holding a single red balloon by its string, he began limping through stripes of sunlight. Clown shoes slapped against the black and white checkered flooring, a rainbow of curls jiggling upon his head with each uneven step. Nose swollen and red, he moaned as if in pain, towing the balloon closer.
Without warning, he stopped to meet their frightened eyes. “Time to quit clownin around, ladies,” he growled, letting the balloon float to the ceiling. With a quick yank of both hands, he whipped the baggy clown suit off, revealing a red thong beneath that made the group howl with surprise. Throwing the brightly colored suit in Laura’s face, he sauntered closer to Brooke, dancing with the music pouring from the ceiling. He stopped in front of her and did a little dance before resting a big clown shoe on the arm of her throne, exposing the hair sticking out from his thong. “See something you’d like to honk?” he said with a gravely chuckle.
Brooke’s face soured. “I see something I’d like to knock up into your stomach, Jon.”
His white-painted face fell. Carefully backing away, he sashayed over to Brooke’s mom, a sloppy red grin pulling into his cheeks. “Like what ya see, Pioneer Woman?”
Laura pulled a thing of mace from her purse. “Beat it, Pennywise.”
Stepping back, he planted his gloved hands on his hips. “Well, this is the lamest baby shower I’ve ever been to.”
“Sorry ladies,” Ben said, taking Jon’s arm and towing him behind the counter. “He’s been drinking all afternoon and insisted on the clown thing. Thought it was the greatest idea in the world.”
“It is the greatest idea in the world!” Jon said, tripping over his big feet.
“It did sound good on paper,” Dean added, entering the dessert bar. “I’ll give him that.”
Evy’s eyes lit up when she saw him in the light. He was stunning in a black golf shirt and gray shorts and when he got closer, she could see a tan line from his golf glove. Rising from her chair, she met him in the middle of the room. “I love your little golf outfit.”
Dean bobbed his eyebrows at her. “Maybe we should play the lucky golfer when we get home.”
She smiled coyly back. “Maybe we should.”
“Try to get myself a hole-in-one.”
The smile wilted on her lips. “Huh?”
“Never mind.”
Arching an eyebrow, she set a hand on his chest. “How much did you have to drink today?”
“Not enough,” he replied, kissing her on the lips.
Drawing apart, she stared up into his eyes. “You smell so manly.”
He snorted. “That’s the smell of failure. Shaun paid for the beer and, somehow, I’m still out three hundred bucks.”
“Sorry Dean,” Ben said, coming out from behind the counter to kiss his wife.
Laura covered her mouth. “What happened to your shirt?” she gasped, frowning at her husband.
“Dean decided to play bumper cars out on the course.” Will looked up from his brownish-white golf shirt. “I just bought this shirt!”
Jon pushed a tray of drinks between Dean and Evy, giving her an unsteady bow. “Cocktail, my lady?” he said, spiritedly bobbing his thong. “Get it? Cock-tail?”
“I get it,” Evy replied, taking a glass of champagne and looking away. “Thanks.”
“For Christ’s sake, Jon, put some pants on,” Dean said, grabbing a bottle of Corona from the tray.
“They’re out in the car.”
“Well, go get them. There are moms in here!”
He frowned. “I’m parked three blocks away!”
Tasha smacked his bare ass, making him nearly spill the tray of drinks. “Excuse me sir, could I get a Fuck Me Silly?”
“Damn, Tash,” he groaned, steadying the tray. “That really hurt.”
“Good,” she said, taking a fluted glass. “That’s what you get for showing everyone your baloney-pony.” She smacked his ass again and stormed off. “That’s my baloney!”
He followed her across the room, clown shoes slapping loudly against the floor.
Dean pressed his lips together. “Those two would’ve taken Trisha and Jim up on their offer for sure.”
Evy smiled. “No way,” she replied, shifting her weight from one red high heel to the other. “Well, not Tash anyway. She’s all talk.”
“Don’t tell her this, but Jon once pulled a sixty-five-year-old retiree from Sedona, Arizona. He’ll do anything.”
Forehead wrinkling, she slowly turned to Dean. “What!”
“Swear to God. We were at the Olive Garden bar and it was packed with tourists in town for Summerfest. Said he wanted to set a new high-score. I tried to stop him.”
Cocking her head to the side, Evy searched his face. “I don’t know what’s more disturbing about that story…the senior citizen from Arizona or the fact that you guys were trolling the Olive Garden.”
He smiled a little. “We were twenty and that was one of the first spots we tried our fake IDs at.”
Evy watched Jon serve drinks. “No wonder he likes Murder She Wrote so much.”
The music turned down, brin
ging the room’s bubbly conversation to life.
“Sorry to crash the party, ladies,” Shaun said, stepping up onto a chair and tipping a golf visor back. “But Ben promised us free drinks after our round.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“And we just didn’t have the heart to turn him down.” Shaun raised a can of his own beer into the air, smiling exactly like the picture on the label. “Here’s to Brooke and Ben,” he said, winking at Brooke. “And, of course, little baby Madison.”
“Addison,” Brooke flatly replied, holding a new glass of pineapple juice.
“Right.” Shaun thrust the can into the air like a sword. “A toast to love and laughter, and happily ever after. May all your ups and downs be between the sheets!”
“Shaun,” Carrie groaned, hiding behind a hand.
Everyone laughed and drank and the music came back on louder than before. As the sun set, the spirits rose, gleaming beneath white party lights and the promises of new beginnings.
“Has anyone seen my clown suit?” Jon yelled out from across the room, searching under a table of heart-shaped tea sandwiches and chicken enchilada roll ups. “I’m starting to get cold!”
Shaun and Ben swapped a mischievous look before quietly slipping into the kitchen.
“I’m so happy for Brooke.” Evy curled a glass of red wine to her chest and watched her sister laugh and smile. “She is absolutely glowing.”
“She really is.” Dean took his wife’s hand and squeezed. “This is about to get good.”
Turning to face him, her eyes sparkled beneath the lights. “It already has,” she whispered.
Butterflies launched in his stomach, like when he saw her for the first time in this very spot. “Yes, it has,” he said, kissing the back of her hand. Evy snuggled up beside him, body warm from the wine and something she could never explain. Something that only happened in movies and books. Blinking a tear down her cheek, her heart swelled with joy. Because in the end, no matter what came against them…nothing could stop them from being together.
Fate Interrupted_Just Married Page 10
