The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “Should I assume from your reaction that getting married isn’t on your bucket list?”

  The look she threw his way elicited an actual, heavy gulp from him.

  In a voice that sounded dangerously steady and quiet, she got in his face without moving a muscle. “I don’t know, Ryan. Should I assume that I’ve been asked?”

  Was he that stupid? Holy shit. He was. That was when he got a healthy serving of shoe leather when he put his whole foot into his mouth.

  “I just thought with the baby and everything, that. . .”

  “Stop while you’re ahead,” she bit out.

  Making a sharp right turn, he leaned slightly and caught the edge of his reflection in the rearview. His conscience screamed, The expression you are searching for is dumb as fuck.

  They made the rest of the trip in complete silence.

  At the house, he pulled straight into the garage and told her to hang on so he could help her out of the car. As he came around the rear of the car and approached her door, he knew what needed to be done.

  Helping her out with a firm hand, he gave her a second to find her footing, slammed the car door and then pinned her against the warm metal as he initiated an incendiary kiss.

  Satisfied after a few minutes of taming her fire that it was no longer directed at him, and instead fueled the blaze their kissing started, he pulled away and smirked.

  “News flash. Men are simple-minded Neanderthals who think with their dicks and sometimes forget not to fart in public.”

  Her eyes flared, and he knew damn well she wasn’t going to let his faux pas pass all that easily.

  “You’re assuming an awful lot,” she told him.

  He deflected her jab with ease. “So it would seem. But don’t you worry, babe. I’ve got this.”

  Did he? Have it? If he wanted to do things right, he’d damn well better get his shit together and start making plans.

  They ate at the breakfast table while he kept up a running commentary about random bullshit meant to calm the waters. She was a hard-ass, though, when it came to letting him off the hook.

  He felt like a major dick for forgetting one crucial point in all of this. Samantha, and not him, was the one dealing with a crap load of changes. Including but certainly not limited to losing control over a big chunk of her life for the next nine months.

  “Wanna watch HGTV for a while? Let the burgers digest.”

  She didn’t put up any objections, so he made them both a glass of ice water and joined her in the great room in front of the huge flat screen.

  Samantha was a sucker for home improvement shows. She knew the names of all the channel’s stars and offered surprisingly savvy commentary as the shows unfolded. Andi would benefit greatly from having her best friend’s smart influence help her booming company.

  During a commercial break, she asked when the cartons he’d arranged to be shipped from California would arrive. Her grandmother’s tea set was in one of the boxes, and she was worried about it surviving the cross-country trip. Yet another reminder of her total life shake-up.

  Not long after, she lay down with her head on his lap and watched two back-to-back shows while he stroked her hip with his hand. When his phone vibrated, he managed to get quite a bit of work accomplished in a series of texts with Burke, who was in charge while Ryan was gone.

  With every intention of sitting in that one spot all evening if he needed to, Ryan had settled in for the long haul when Samantha suddenly sat up, took the remote from his hand, and switched off the TV.

  Before he could say a single word, she got up and headed for the steps. The part of his brain connected directly to thinking with his dick, enjoyed the view as her sexy-as-shit hips swayed and her magnificent long legs ate up the distance in a hurry.

  Following her, he asked, “Where are you going?”

  She started up the stairs, stopped, held onto the railing, and leaned back in a provocative pose. If Samantha wanted his attention, she certainly had it.

  “Mmm, I’m bored,” she said with an indifferent shrug. “Thought I’d check out this belt collection you purport to have.”

  Now, in his defense, his brain was in a constant state of deprivation from the loss of oxygen and blood that appeared to be permanently diverted to his cock. That had to be why it took him so long to read between the lines. By the time he did, she had cleared the stairs and was making for their bedroom.

  Oh, man. Really? Belt time? Fuck, man. Bring on the boredom ‘cause he was ready to rock her world with enough badass alpha-ness to make her a lifelong lover of leather and a well-made belt.

  Sam was on Andi’s screened-in porch, enjoying a beautiful sunset when her friend dropped out of nowhere and put an arm around her waist.

  “You ready for the big reveal? Kyle’s parents have been reading the tea leaves and are being so sweet about not butting in, but it’s time to help them off the ledge.”

  “God,” she murmured. “I’m so nervous.”

  “Don’t be,” Andi said with stern assurance. “I have it on excellent authority that Hannah thinks you’re the shit. Ryan may or may not have confided in Ali on their flight out of Hawaii. Not about the baby thing,” she hastily added, “but about his feelings for you.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Mom let it slip.”

  Incredulous, Sam asked, “Mom?”

  “I know, right?” Andi’s happy burble went a long way to settling Sam’s nerves. “They’re so great,” she enthusiastically exclaimed. “You don’t know how many times I’ve almost called Melanie Sommerfield, Reba. Can’t be helped.” She laughed.

  Sam smiled. “She actually said ‘gosh, darn it’ earlier. Did you hear? Ryan looked like he was going to fall off his chair with laughter.”

  Andi roared. “It’s the dagnabit that’ll put you on the floor.”

  “Is that even a word?”

  “It is for Melanie Sommerfield. Same with goll darn.”

  “Say what?”

  “Yeah.” Andi chuckled. “I’m not sure about that one, but I think loosely translated, it means goddammit.”

  “Ryan doesn’t seem anxious at all. The man wants everyone to know.” She shook her head. “Men.”

  “Okay, girlfriend, it’s now or never. Let’s go blow some minds with our Ya Ya awesomeness.”

  “Do I look okay?” she asked abruptly.

  Sam didn’t know why she was so worried. Maybe a little bit of it had to do with the barely visible mark one of Ryan’s heavy belts left on her ankle. Turned out she liked the leather restraints a bit more than either of them had imagined.

  “You look fantastic. And it wouldn’t matter if you didn’t. Trust me, sweetie, all Hannah and Ted care about is whether their son is happy.”

  Oh, jeez. “He’s happy, right?” she asked. “I mean, you’d tell me if he said anything to Kyle.”

  Andi’s eyes twinkled.

  “All right.” Sam smirked. “What the hell do you know?”

  “I didn’t say a word,” Andi said over her shoulder as she dragged Sam by the hand from the room. “Now, get your ass out there and let’s do this. Oh, wait,” she said at the last minute. “I need my phone.”

  The phone seemed an odd thing to need at that moment, but she helped Andi locate it.

  Arm-in-arm, they whispered, “Ya Ya,” giggled, and went to join the rest of the family.

  “No fucking way,” Kyle hooted. “I’ll take Orlando over Miami any day. Better players.”

  Burt Sommerfield smacked his son’s shoulder with his beefy paw. Sporting a comical sneer, he said, “In your dreams, my boy. Miami has itchy balls, while Orlando is a bunch of high-paid pussies. Balls win over pussy every time.”

  Ryan’s bark of laughter at his Uncle Burt’s irreverence earned a nod of agreement from his dad.

  “What are you boys arguing about?” Aunt Mel and her quirky Southern twang always made him smile. Few people realized it, but she could turn off the deep-fried accent at will. Truth
was his aunt was a Wellesley girl who could throw down with the Queen of England if challenged.

  “Low hanging dick alert,” his mother offered. “Never fails when they start debating sports.”

  Holy shit, he thought. Could his family be any more inappropriate? Balls, pussy, and low hanging dicks. Great. He was sure Samantha would be suitably impressed.

  When Andi and his lady strolled arm-in-arm from the back of the house, he caught Samantha’s gaze and winked. She half rolled her eyes and fixed a tense smile on her face. He’d tried to tell her countless times that she had nothing to worry about. His parents weren’t going to even flinch about the unorthodox way they were going about things.

  “What have you two been getting up to?” Uncle Burt asked when they joined them.

  “Sami has the best green thumb around. I was asking her about some planting I want to do.”

  Ryan noted Andi’s smug expression and waited to see what it was all about.

  “Oh,” his mom gushed. “Really? Maybe you can look at my ficus. It doesn’t seem to like being near the front door.”

  A snort of laughter broke from Samantha. “Mrs. Sommerfield,” she drawled. “Don’t believe a word of what she says. I can’t keep a fake plant alive much less a real one.”

  He watched as his mom and aunt exchanged a look. It occurred to him for the first time as they all stood around that history was repeating itself.

  The two women, who joined both sides of the family in an entirely unique way, were a lot like Andi and Samantha. Maybe they weren’t besties before marrying twin brothers, but over time, they’d developed an unbreakable bond. When they started giving each other covert glances, it was probably a good idea to pay attention.

  “I killed a rubber cactus once. All by myself.” Aunt Mel chirped with laughter.

  “She’s not kidding even a little bit,” Uncle Burt added. “This one time,” he said.

  “At band camp,” he, his dad, mom, and Aunt Mel chimed together parroting an obscure, off-beat movie reference.

  “Shut up,” his uncle smirked. “You’re ruining my story. Anyway,” he said while dragging out all three syllables, “this one time, I saw a hydrangea bush wither and die just from my Mellie walking past.”

  It was an old joke met with mocking groans.

  His dad was rocking on his heels with glee. “Shit, Burt. You know that never gets old!”

  Melanie and Hannah Sommerfield looked at Andi and Samantha. “See what we have to put up with?”

  A dinger went off, and his mom immediately looked toward the oven. “Cookies are finished.”

  “There’re cookies?” Samantha asked enthusiastically. “I love cookies.”

  He grinned. She did more than love a good cookie. Oreos aside, Samantha had never met a cookie she couldn’t fall instantly in love with.

  His mom slung an arm around his lady’s shoulders and gave her a hearty side hug. “Well, darlin’, then you’ve come to the right place. I’m the three-time winner of the Bluefield Parish Cookie Challenge. Last year? I spent three months perfecting a recipe for coconut lemon chews that rocked the judges big time.”

  Everyone shuffled into the big, open kitchen and got settled. He and Samantha commandeered two of the high stools on one side of the island while Kyle and Andi took the other two. His parents were dealing with two big trays of cookies while Aunt Mel and Uncle Burt went about setting out wine glasses.

  “Oh, none for me,” Andi jabbered.

  Samantha gasped, knowing what the gaffe meant.

  “I knew it!” Aunt Mel screamed. “Oh, my god, Kyle. Are you two pregnant?”

  On a deep chuckle, he glanced at Ky and elbowed Samantha so she’d look too. His cousin had this shell-shocked look on his face while Andi just looked flabbergasted.

  “What?” his parents voiced in perfect unison.

  His aunt’s joyful screams continued while Kyle blushed a beet red. When Aunt Mel thumped Uncle Burt on the chest and chanted, “We’re having a grandbaby,” all hell broke loose.

  Not waiting for any sort of confirmation, an explosion of happiness broke out. Andi got passed around and hugged while Kyle just stood there smiling.

  He and Samantha looked at each other. He took her hand and squeezed it.

  Leave it to his eagle-eye mother to catch the small gesture. She sidled up to them and wedged herself between with an arm around both their shoulders.

  “Giving you two any ideas?”

  “Mom,” he muttered. “Drop it.”

  His mom looked back and forth at both of them then quickly ignored him and zeroed in on poor Samantha.

  “What can I get you to drink?” she boldly asked.

  He saw Samantha freeze before quickly recovering. “Are we digging into those chocolate chip yummies? Because if we are, I need a big ol’ glass of ice-cold milk.”

  They exchanged a brief mental high five as his mother murmured, “Uh-huh.”

  After twenty minutes of back slaps, congratulations, and horrible pregnancy jokes, they’d moved back to the living room and attacked the platter of cookies.

  He nudged Samantha. Wiping her mouth and fingers on a napkin, she innocently commented.

  “You know, sometimes I forget that you two are twins,” she said to his father and uncle.

  “Ah, the curse of not being identical.”

  “And thank Christ for that,” Uncle Burt pithily added. “Wouldn’t want to be saddled with that ugly mug,” he said with a thumb jacked in his dad’s direction.

  Oh, god. Here it comes, Ryan thought.

  “Blow me.”

  That was his dad.

  “Against the law, I’m afraid.”

  Uncle Burt.

  Samantha giggled. Seen through her eyes, it was probably pretty amusing to hear two grown men hurling lewd comments at each other.

  “Which of you is oldest?” she asked.

  “Why me, of course,” Burt crowed. “Firstborn and now, first grandpa.”

  “How is it that you two managed to have sons just weeks apart?”

  “Well,” his mother offered. “After Alianna, I wasn’t so sure I wanted another. That girl has been a handful from her first breath. But then Mel wore me down—”

  “With a box of cheap red wine,” Aunt Melanie cut in.

  “And next thing I knew, we were plotting cycles and all sorts of crazy stuff. Wasn’t necessary, though, because a month later, we both realized the deed was already done.”

  “So,” Andi quipped. “You could say that the force is strong with the Sommerfield men.”

  Samantha’s choked off laugh brought all eyes swerving her way.

  “What?” she asked. “Have I got boogers in my nose?”

  Ryan barked a shortened laugh and then concentrated on the cookie in front of him. ‘One chocolate chip. Two chocolate chips. Three chocolate chips. . .’

  There was this long, silent pause and then his mom got up in his face.

  “All right, all right, all right, all right. Ryan Theodore Sommerfield. Don’t do your poor momma like this. I’m old,” she said completely straight-faced. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t smell bullshit when it wafts by.”

  Ryan looked at Andi. “You ready?”

  Andi started like a gun went off, said, “Oh, hold on,” and grabbed her phone. “Ready when you are.”

  Clearing his throat self-consciously, Ryan ran a hand through his hair and stood up. He reached into his pocket for something and pulled his closed fist out. Then with his family as witnesses and Andi filming the whole thing, he dropped to one knee in front of Samantha and heard her shocked inhale.

  “What are you doing?” she asked. “Ryan! What are you doing?”

  She wanted a romantic surprise? Yeah. Here goes.

  “Golden girl,” he began. “I fell for you across a crowded patio before we were ever introduced. I knew the second we met that everything I’d dreamed of for a partner in life was right there in front of me.”

  He searched Samantha’s f
ace for what she was thinking, but all he got was wide-eyed, open-mouthed, stunned silence.

  “I couldn’t love you more if I tried. When you walked away from me in the Kauai airport, I knew then that even if it took moving heaven and earth, one day soon we would arrive at this very moment.”

  He took her limp hand in his and kissed it. Then with a full heart and a million hopes, wishes, and dreams for their future together, he said, “Samantha May Evers, you are the love of my life.”

  She gasped. He produced the ring he’d picked out, something feminine and unique, just like her, and slid it onto her finger.

  “With all the love in my heart and with everything I have or will ever be, I’m asking you, begging you, to please say you’ll do me the incredible honor of being my wife.”

  She hadn’t moved. All she seemed capable of doing was looking at him and then looking down where their hands were joined. It was funny on some level.

  “Honey,” he teased when she didn’t respond. “I think we’re all waiting for an answer.”

  Her head came up, and she looked around the room. He watched her eyes travel across the faces of the people he loved most in the world—after her.

  Andi was smiling and carefully filming every second. Kyle looked enormously pleased. His aunt and uncle were clinging to one another while his parents watched wide-eyed, his mom covering her mouth with her hands and his father viewing the scene slack-jawed.

  Samantha screamed, “Yes!” and then launched into his waiting arms.

  There were shouts of happy congratulations and hugs all around. He looked at Andi. “How’d we do?’

  “Got it,” she replied.

  “Got what?” Samantha asked.

  “Video for your parents.”

  His fiancée moved into his arms and held on tight. He was enormously pleased, but there was still one more thing to do.

  “Oh, and Dad? Mom? Guess what?”

  They looked at him mystified. “We’re pregnant too.”

  It was a wonder the cops didn’t show up with how much off-the-hook screaming broke out.

  Later, much later, after everyone went on their way, Ryan reached for the hand wearing his ring and brought it to his mouth.