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PRAISE FOR CATHERINE BYBEE Wife by Wednesday “A fun and sizzling romance, great characters that trade verbal spars like fist punches, and the dream of your own royal wedding!” —Sizzling Hot Book Reviews (5 stars) “A good holiday, fireside or bedtime story.” —Manic Reviews (4½ stars) “A great story that I hope is the start of a new series.” —The Romance Studio (4½ hearts) Married by Monday “If I hadn’t already added Ms. Catherine Bybee to my list of favorite authors, after reading this book I would have been compelled to. This is a book nobody should miss, because the magic it contains is awesome.” —Booked Up Reviews (5 stars) “Ms. Bybee writes authentic situations and expresses the good and the bad in such an equal way . . . Keep the reader on the edge of her seat.” —Reading Between the Wines (5 stars) “Married by Monday was a refreshing read and one I couldn’t possibly put down.” —The Romance Studio (4½ hearts) Fiancé by Friday “Bybee knows exactly how to keep readers happy . . . A th
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Also by Catherine Bybee Contemporary Romance Weekday Brides Series Wife by Wednesday Married by Monday Fiancé by Friday Single by Saturday Taken by Tuesday Seduced by Sunday Treasured by Thursday Not Quite Series Not Quite Dating Not Quite Mine Not Quite Enough Not Quite Forever Not Quite Perfect Most Likely To Series Doing It Over Staying For Good Making It Right First Wives Series Fool Me Once Paranormal Romance MacCoinnich Time Travels Binding Vows Silent Vows Redeeming Vows Highland Shifter Highland Protector The Ritter Werewolves Series Before the Moon Rises Embracing the Wolf Novellas Soul Mate Possessive Erotica Kilt Worthy Kilt-A-Licious
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Text copyright © 2018 by Catherine Bybee All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher. Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle www.apub.com Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates. ISBN-13: 9781503951730 ISBN-10: 1503951731 Cover design by Letitia Hasser
This one is for Kelli Martin, my sister from a different mister. Love you!
Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author
Chapter One “Smells like snow.” Rachel glanced up past the skyscrapers and into the bright gray sky. “Does it?” “It really doesn’t snow in California?” Julie asked. The two of them took a brisk pace around their building toward Romano’s, where a hot lunch filled with way too many carbs awaited. “It does in the mountains.” Rachel opened the door, happy that her gloves kept the cold of the metal handle from reaching her skin. “Which I never went to during the winter.” The heat from inside the small restaurant rushed against their exposed skin and resulted in a collective sigh. They had thirty minutes before the mad rush of lunchtime traffic in Manhattan, with lines out the doors and everyone talking at the top of their lungs. With four patrons in front of them, Rachel took her place in line. “I’ll be the first to admit I’m not ready for your winters.” “You’re not ready for our summers either.” Julie moved aside as a man who appeared to be wearing three jackets walked by with a tray full
Chapter Two Jason wasn’t sure which had zapped him more, the fact that he’d managed to ditch his car or the bright blue eyes of the woman staring him down. No jacket, her light brown hair hung close to her face while snow settled on top of her uncovered head. Her cheeks were flushed with the cold, her lips . . . good lord, he needed to look past her lips or he’d start talking like a teenage kid with an instant crush. He blinked, breaking the contact, and moved to unbuckle his seat belt. With the car at an angle, he needed to crawl over the center console. The woman extended her gloved hand. “Here.” With the grace of an elephant, he managed to get one leg over and into the passenger seat, and then the other, before taking her small hand. Outside the car, he stepped into half a foot of snow, and his Hugo Bosses slid. She glanced down. “Looks like you’re about as prepared to deal with this as I am.” He took in her footwear. “At least you have boots.” “I don’t think this is what Steve Madd
Chapter Three Rachel allowed herself an extra hour to get to work, and she was still late. She skirted past the smaller cubbies and around the corner to her less tiny workspace. Julie popped her head up, looked around as if to see if anyone else noticed Rachel’s lateness, and then started laughing. “What?” Rachel tucked her purse inside her desk and pulled her coat from her shoulders. “The look on your face is priceless.” “You mean the I’m late and don’t want my supervisor to notice look?” “Yep, that one.” “Too late.” The male voice behind her made her cringe. Rachel squared her shoulders and turned to face her boss. “I’m sorry, Gerald. I thought I gave myself enough time—” Gerald looked past her and toward Julie. “You owe me ten bucks.” Julie pulled out her purse as she laughed. Both of them were smiling. Julie reached past Rachel and handed Gerald a ten. “What’s that about?” Gerald waved the bill in the air. “Julie didn’t think you’d make it here until nine, I had faith you’d make it
Chapter Four “When was the last time this place saw Christmas decorations?” Mary wiped dust off a plastic box Jason hadn’t seen in years. Glen stood beside him. The sadness in his eyes matched the feeling in Jason’s heart. “It’s been a while,” he told his wife. Truth was, none of them wanted to warm the estate for Christmas after their parents died. It wasn’t that they made a conscious effort not to decorate, but they hadn’t taken the steps to deck the halls either. Mary pulled out a stream of garland. “Do you have pictures of where this goes?” “I’m sure we do,” Glen said. “All the albums are in the library,” Jason told her. Mary stood, brushed her hands together. Her gaze found her husband’s, then she turned to Jason. “Oh.” She paused. “Are you guys okay with this?” The therapist in her emerged. “We can always buy new decorations if this is too painful.” Jason shook away the memory of his mother decorating the house and directing them to trim the tree, and the years he’d seen the same
Chapter Five Owen laughed every time he looked at her. The swelling had reached its height by Sunday morning, and by the afternoon the red and purple weren’t colors she was going to cover with foundation. Wearing dark sunglasses when it was raining stood out just as much as a bruised face. “It’s not funny.” “One look at you and Stranded Car Guy is gonna run the other direction.” “Men aren’t that shallow.” “Yes, they are. Lida had a massive zit right on the tip of her nose, and Lionel didn’t ask her to the winter formal.” “Zits don’t last forever.” “It was huge. Not as big as that thing you’re growing on your head, but close.” He started laughing again. “It will be better by Wednesday.” “You keep telling yourself that.” Rachel laughed. “Your mom used to say that all the time.” They both stopped talking, locked in a memory. “I miss her,” Owen said quietly. “I do, too.” Sure enough, Monday morning was met with a massive headache and her right eye swollen and bluish purple. Her rainy commu
Chapter Six “You ended up in a ditch?” Jason knew he would never hear the end of this. He managed to get out of lunch with his brother, but that didn’t stop the man from showing up in his office after two. “I’m not proud.” Glen leaned back in the chair he offered himself when he walked
in. “Are you dating this woman?” Jason flipped through the work on his desk, wondering how to answer that question. Was he dating her? No. Did he want to . . . yes. Did he want his brother to know? “Maybe.” Glen was obviously amused. “Well then, this should put Monica and Mary off the matchmaking campaign.” Jason looked up. “There’s a campaign?” “Not anymore.” Glen unfolded from the chair. He knew his brothers’ wives were up to something. “No blind dates, Glen. As if I need to say that aloud.” “I told Mary that.” Somehow Jason didn’t think she listened. Both of his brothers were hopelessly in love with their wives. “Rachel does have some great ideas for pushing the company forward.” “I thought so, too.”
Chapter Seven Rachel must have checked her messages a dozen times an hour, every hour, right up until she left the office the next day. Jason had her in the palm of his hand. If she made a personal appearance in his office on the premise of cancelling their tree-buying date, she’d create the very gossip she was trying to avoid. If she didn’t, he’d show up on her doorstep. She practiced how she was going to blow him off in person and give him a little piece of her mind about ignoring the dozen answer your messages she’d left on his cell phone. That was until she closed the door leading in from the garage and was greeted by Owen. “Hey.” “Hey, back,” she said. “We’re getting a tree today, right?” Oh, shit. “I moved the couch away from the window to make room.” She followed Owen from the back door through the kitchen and into the living room. Sure enough, Owen had made room for a tree and had even pulled the vacuum out and cleaned in places that hadn’t seen attention since before they’d mo
Chapter Eight The tree overtook the living room. Owen’s smile outshined it all. It was past nine when Jason secured the tree in the stand and made adjustments to Rachel’s satisfaction. Owen opened a box of unused lights and went to work. “We really can take it from here,” Rachel told him. Jason said nothing and stared. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Coffee?” “That’s more like it. I’d love a cup of coffee.” She disappeared into the kitchen; the sound of cupboards opening and closing emerged. “She doesn’t like asking for help,” Owen whispered. “I can tell,” Jason whispered back. “I’ve been trying to paint her room for over a month, but she’s never gone longer than a few hours when I’m not at school.” “Her room needs to be painted?” Jason glanced at the stairs, had a sudden desire to see the inside of her personal space. “Everything in this house needed repairs and paint. I helped a little before school started, but she’s done most of it herself. You should take her out to dinner so I
Chapter Nine It was the first time Jason had been to the house during daylight hours. The Cape Cod style boasted lots of molding around the windows and more wood than stone accents. The small porch was large enough for one chair, or maybe a two-person swing, if it angled toward the door, but it didn’t have either. Someone had given the entry a fresh coat of paint in the not too distant past. Jason wondered if that was something Rachel did after she moved in, or if the sellers had put in some effort. He could see where there was more work to be done once winter lost its grip on the East Coast. He rapped on the door twice. Like last time, Owen answered with food in his hand. This time it was a bagel. “Hey.” Owen stepped aside. “Hey,” Jason mimicked back. “Rachel?” How the kid could get that loud with a mouth full of food was quite a talent. “Jason is here.” She replied from upstairs. “Coming.” Owen nodded. “Come on in.” Jason entered the warm space and smiled at the Christmas tree, which
Chapter Ten Deyadria Coleman was a tall, willowy woman who apparently didn’t stand in line when they were handing out curves. Deyadria’s slight height advantage over Rachel had her picking an outfit with a pair of boots with a couple of extra inches. That way she was eye to eye with the weather-killing woman when she walked through the door. “Welcome,” Rachel greeted the couple. “I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place.” Tereck helped his wife with her coat. “No problem at all,” he said. The kinder of the two, Tereck had more salt than pepper in his hair, probably a result of being married to his wife for a few decades. The man was not a slave to a gym and carried a few extra pounds around his stomach. “Where is my grandson?” Deyadria asked before Rachel could take her coat. “Owen?” Rachel called up the stairs, knowing damn well he was waiting until the last possible second to join them. Somewhat satisfied that Owen was in the house, Deyadria moved deeper into the room. “V
Chapter Eleven Two glasses of wine and Rachel’s head spun. Since when was she such a lightweight? It didn’t help that she’d barely eaten, but still, the wine did the job of relaxing her shoulders. For an hour after the Colemans left, she researched custody cases in Connecticut. Just like in California, the favor would be for the Colemans, and most definitely TJ, if he in fact wanted to fight. If they were going to be complete assholes, she wouldn’t have a choice. She knew they wouldn’t have kind things to say about Em, but she hadn’t expected them to put the woman down. Didn’t they realize they were ruining any relationship with Owen by doing that? Or were they that stupid? People used to getting their way all the time did tend to lack the common sense gene. “I see why you didn’t nurture a relationship with these asshats,” Rachel said to the ceiling. Emily had told her early on that Owen’s grandparents were opinionated snobs. Information she’d managed to get through TJ. They’d never at
Chapter Twelve Monica had Rachel laughing long before their lunch arrived. “. . . So you call your husband Barefoot?” “From the day we met. If he had his way, he’d walk into the office with flip-flops.” “He’s one-third owner, what’s stopping him?” Rachel asked. “Peer pressure from his brothers. He is casual Friday every day of the week, however.” The waiter arrived with lunch and promptly left. Monica picked up her sandwich. “So you’re from LA too?” “Yep. Santa Monica, the last couple of years.” “I lived in the Inland Empire.” “Isn’t that hot?” As far as Rachel was concerned, the IE was a place to drive through on your way to Vegas. “Yeah, I hated it.” “Why were you there?” Monica shrugged. “Grew up out there. Lived with my older sister while I finished nursing school and eventually found myself in the ER.” The two of them glanced out the window of the small restaurant. New Yorkers were bundled in heavy coats, hats, and boots. “Now we’re both here in the cold.” “Yeah,” Monica agreed. “
Chapter Thirteen Rachel took great pride when Gerald paused by her desk, thirty minutes past eight, and stared. “You’re late,” she told him, teasing. “I hope you don’t make this a normal thing when it snows. I mean, we do have snow here in Manhattan.” “What the . . . ?” She grabbed her coffee cup, looked inside. “I could use a refill. Want one?” Julie snickered from her cubby. An hour later she snuck into the break room and texted Jason. Thank you. He’d been such a sport, letting her walk in without him. She was sure he understood her position, but still, considering how he had gone out of his way to help her through her virginal stint on the train, he took waiting in the cold well. You’re welcome. Let me know when you’re leaving and I’ll meet you at the station. She waited while his dot, dot, dot filled her screen. You sure you don’t want to stagger our departure by ten minutes to avoid wagging tongues? She’d considered that, actually. The risk of me missing my stop outweighs the poss
Chapter Fourteen Many corporate businesses housed in the heart of Manhattan all but closed down for the last couple of weeks of the year. Not Fairchild Charters. The private charter business hopped this time of year. Affluent people couldn’t always get the commercial flights they wanted, so they sucked up the cost, booked a charter. The other, more frequent flyers booked their planes months in advance to avoid the hassle of busy holiday traffic and delays. Much like retail worked the day after Thanksgiving to put their businesses in the black, Fairchild did the same, booking more in the month of December than any other two months combined. Jason made a point not to visit Rachel at work. The weather stayed surprisingly warm, not allowing for the excuse to carpool to the train station. He didn’t remember the last time
he prayed for snow until that year. Just because he didn’t physically see her at work didn’t mean they weren’t talking. He would send a flirty text, much of which centered
Chapter Fifteen Nothing could have prepared Rachel or Owen for Jason’s home. With Owen guiding her with the GPS on his phone, they turned into a drive that had a private gate. “Is this it?” Owen asked. He sat up in his seat, staring out the window. She glanced at the address, looked at what she’d written down. “Yep.” After ringing the bell, they waited as the gate opened to let them through. They drove for what felt like five minutes before the tree-lined drive opened up to the house. The sprawling ranch home had to be three stories tall at the highest point but spread the length of six of the houses on her block. The circular cobblestone drive had a massive fountain in the center and a two-story garage to the side. She gasped. “Holy shit.” Rachel was fairly sure Owen just dropped an f-bomb. “How big is this company?” “It’s pretty big.” Owen pointed out beyond the house. “Are those horses?” “I think so.” Jason had horses? How did she not know that? “I’ve never ridden a horse.” Unlike t
Chapter Sixteen Rachel took advantage of New York’s shopping experience in an effort to find a last-minute New Year’s dress. As long as you had money, you could find it in Manhattan. Although she wasn’t hurting, she had a hard time swallowing the average price tag on a glittery party dress. Having spent more than she wanted to, Rachel looked at the dress on the hanger in her room. “I like him, Em. He’s such a great man. And he adores Owen. They talk all the time. Owen will text him a stupid joke just because he knows Jason will respond.” Rachel moved around the room, carefully picking out her bra and panties. In truth, the dress didn’t allow for much in the way of a bra. With a grin, she closed that drawer and picked out a thong. “I haven’t had sex since Lyle. Remember Lyle?” The memory of the man made her shiver. “You warned me. I didn’t listen.” Rachel wiggled into her thong and moved to her bathroom. She looked at herself sideways in the mirror, sucked in her stomach. “What if he do
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