His Brother’s Christmas Bride
By Aislinn Kearns
His Brother’s Christmas Bride
Copyright © 2018 by Aislinn Kearns
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
http://www.aislinnkearns.com
Will Callaghan wants nothing more than to lick his post-divorce wounds in peace, so he’s spent the last two years hiding in the family estate outside the city. But then his brother calls to announce he’s getting married there to a woman Will has never met. Worse, the wedding is on Christmas Eve—six days away—and the bride is arriving early to make last minute arrangements.
When Molly Patterson steps out of her car, Will knows instantly he’s in trouble. His brother’s future wife is exactly his idea of a perfect woman, and as the days pass, he increasingly struggles to keep his loyalty to his brother and his honor intact.
But when his brother finally shows up, Will realizes Molly might not be the woman he’d thought…
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter One
The harsh scrape of sandpaper over a chair leg echoed through the quiet. Fine sawdust curled in the air with every stroke, illuminated by the golden afternoon sun streaming into his workshop. Snow sat at the corner of the windows, still unmelted from the morning’s snowfall.
Something loosened in Will Callaghan’s chest, as it always did when he was here.
Though it would have been easier for him to use the machine sanders, he didn’t like the racket disturbing his peace. Besides, he preferred the hands-on approach, particularly for the final finish. It gave him a better feel for whatever he was making. That it took him longer was actually a bonus. More work to occupy his time, less time to consider the emptiness of the house.
The chair was coming together. He’d have this piece ready tonight if he didn’t hit any snags.
Snags like the buzz currently emanating from his pocket. He frowned and set down the sandpaper. Who would be calling him?
He tugged out his phone as his brother’s name flashed across the screen. Will hesitated for a brief moment before he answered.
“Hey,” he said, not letting his apprehension come through in his voice.
“I don’t have much time,” Peter said, background voices drowning out his words. Paper crinkled, as if he was searching through a stack while on the phone.
“Okay,” Will said slowly. “What’s up?” His brother rarely called, and it was always like this—Peter in the middle of something, Peter on his way out the door, Peter writing a report. Will hadn’t had his brother’s full attention for years, but he was used to it. He’d learned the mental gymnastics required to fill in the conversational blanks as Peter conversed with less than half his mind on the task.
“I’m getting married. Where the hell is that proposal?”
“What?” Will can’t have heard that right. “Since when?”
“I proposed last night.” More shuffling papers, and then Peter yelled for his assistant.
“I had no idea you were even seeing anyone,” Will said after bringing the phone back to his ear. He’d spoken to Peter a few weeks ago, or was it a few months? Time blurred together out here, when he did the same thing day in and day out. Either way, Peter hadn’t mentioned he was dating anyone, let alone that it was serious. Had his brother simply neglected to mention a woman in his life, or was this happening more suddenly than Will would recommend?
“Yes. Jane, where the hell is that proposal? I need to get it in today.” Jane replied, though Will couldn’t make out the words. “Are you serious?” Peter asked in a lethal voice.
More talking, this time more desperate. Will scratched his beard and waited for them to resolve whatever issue Peter had been informed of.
“Yes, do that. Fix this.”
Will waited a moment to make sure Peter was done. “I guess congratulations are in order?”
“Yes, thank you,” Peter murmured mechanically. He didn’t sound that happy about his engagement. But, then, after Will’s own experience, he couldn’t exactly blame his brother for that.
“So—” he began, but Peter interrupted.
“She wants to get married at the house.”
Will’s stomach sank. “Our house? The one I’m currently living in?” The one that had been his sanctuary for the last two years? He strode to the window of his workshop and stared across the snow-covered lawn to the house beyond. The exterior was painted a pale yellow with white trim, making the house stand out against the backdrop of deep green pines that backed onto the house. Three stories and ten bedrooms, the Callaghan family home was big enough for any family.
Or for outrageous parties, as it had once been.
It had been far too large when it had been just him, Peter, and his parents. Now, with only him since he moved back two years previously, it was a waste. Will couldn’t face going back to the city. Couldn’t face being anywhere but in this isolated spot, where he could go days without even a hint of other humans.
And now Peter wanted a wedding party to violate his sanctuary? Bringing noise and mess and…people?
“Yes,” Peter agreed. “Christmas Eve. I’m sure I can rely on you to get the place in order.”
“Wait,” Will said, blinking so rapidly the house beyond the window disappeared from his vision. “Christmas Eve? Next year, right?” Please say next year so I can find a way out of this.
“No, the one coming up in a few weeks.”
“Weeks? It’s the eighteenth. That’s less than a week away.” He turned to pace, dodging wood and half-finished pieces, his boots leaving prints in the sawdust. He’d have to sweep later. Once he figured out what the hell his brother was thinking.
“Really? Huh. Well, regardless. I’m sure not much work has to be done.”
“You…you can’t spring this on me…” Will said faintly. “You getting married so suddenly is bad enough.”
“What my bride wants, she gets. And she’s loved the place since I first showed her a picture. She can’t wait to see it in person but already believes it will be perfect for a Christmas themed wedding.”
Will tried a different tack. “You hate this place. Are you sure you want to get married here?” He couldn’t refuse outright, he owed his brother too much for that. But maybe he could talk him out of making such a rash decision.
He didn’t have much hope—Peter was the kind of man who made a choice and stuck with it to the bitter end—but he had to at least try. For his own sanity, if nothing else.
“I don’t hate the house.” Peter was distracted again. Clicking sounded, telling Will he was probably on the computer now.
“If you don’t hate it, why haven’t you been here in years?”
“I have no reason to go. I don’t exactly take vacations, Will.” It was a rare moment of self-awareness from his brother. The guy was a workaholic, but wouldn’t admit that was a problem. Will pointedly ignored the fact that he’d worked every day since he’d moved into this house.
“But this is my home, Peter. You can’t invite people here, particularly not with no notice.” He kicked a broken table leg out of the way.
“Remember, I own half, so technically it’s my home, too.” Typing, then cursing, then more typing. Will had even less of his brother’s atte
ntion than he usually did. Normally, he’d hang up and wait for Peter to call back at a less fraught time, but this conversation was too important and time-sensitive to let slide.
“You haven’t been here in years.”
“Yes, but I still part-own it. And I’m getting married there on Christmas Eve.”
His voice was firm, telling Will he had no hope of changing his brother’s mind. “What’s the rush?” he asked, instead.
“She wants a Christmas wedding and doesn’t want to waste another year. Since I don’t have much time, anyway, it’ll be good to get it over and done with.”
Over and done with? Will wasn’t a romantic by any stretch—not since his bitter divorce—but even he knew that wasn’t a healthy attitude for a groom to go into a wedding with. Then again, this was Peter he was talking to. Efficient and unromantic.
“I don’t know anything about this woman,” Will said. Was she a con artist, or a psychopath? Had their parents met her? Not that either he or his brother had much contact with their parents—not since their childhood—but surely family should at least meet the bride before the wedding?
“She’s an interior designer. You’ll meet her soon enough.” The noise in the background increased to a fever pitch, and Will shut his eyes to focus on the conversation.
“Okay. Anything else I should know?”
“Yes,” Peter said, his voice vague again. “She met with the wedding planner today, going over details. Who wrote this proposal?” he yelled suddenly.
Will winced.
“Anyway, she’ll be up tomorrow to get everything arranged and prepared. Extend her all your help and respect. We want this to be perfect.”
“Of course,” Will said vaguely, feeling like he was having an out of body experience. What on earth was happening?
“I have to go. See you next week.”
“I—”
“Oh, and Will? You’ll be my best man, right?”
“Yea—”
The phone went dead. Will stared at it for a long moment, as if it might help him make sense of anything that had happened in the last few minutes. In the end, Will figured he must have hallucinated the whole thing—sawdust in the brain, or something—because it was far too strange for anything but a fever dream. His brother, sensible, uptight, workaholic, was rushing to the altar with a woman he barely knew.
In Will’s house.
And the bride was arriving tomorrow to organize everything.
Yes, he had to have imagined that. Because there was no way in hell it could be real.
Chapter Two
The car pulled up to the house at two the next afternoon.
Will had been distracted all day, watching for it. Relief swept through him as he stepped out of his workshop, since he now had a reason to stop pretending he’d get any work done. He’d need to play catch up later, but for now he had more important things to deal with.
He needed to meet the woman his brother intended to pledge himself to five days from now.
Will anticipated a cool, tall, blonde. Long legs and slim build. Tight, professional dress. Rarely smiles. Someone as ruthless and work-obsessed as Peter was. That had always been his type, as far back as Will could remember.
Will froze with his hand still on his workshop door as a woman’s leg left the car. Flats, not heels. One of those poofy skirts women wore in the fifties that went to mid-calf. More of her was revealed as she exited the car. She was short—barely over five feet—and curvy. The skirt pinched in at her waist, revealing an hourglass figure that Will would find terribly tempting if this woman wasn’t his brother’s fiancée. Her jacket settled back into place, covering her in a way that did nothing to diminish his interest.
Purple hair was arranged into a complicated-looking hairstyle, like a pinup from the same period as her dress.
She turned towards him, blue eyes bright and a genuine smile on her face.
“Hi!” she called.
Will gulped, but couldn’t make himself move. This was the woman his brother intended to marry? A woman so completely different to anyone he’d dated before? A woman that, if Will were a worse man, would admit was his own, utter ideal?
She came towards him, that smile still on her face, and Will’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. He had the sudden and overwhelming urge to turn and lock himself in the workshop and not come out until she was gone from the property.
He knew simply by looking at her that she was going to upset everything in his life. Everything he believed, everything he believed about himself. Everything he wanted.
And he hated himself for it.
Even the way she moved appealed to him. The bouncy steps and flowing hips. He was already in so much trouble and she’d only said one word.
Who was he, and what had he done with the version of himself he’d been living with the last two years? The man who’d barely noticed a woman even if she sat on top of him. And now he was horrifyingly aware of this woman, who his brother intended to marry?
He tested the handle behind him, the primal part of his brain still urging him to flee. It was self-preservation, that was all.
But he was too late. Because his brother’s fiancée was standing in front of him with her eyes shining and her hand held out to shake.
“Hi, I’m Molly. You must be Will.”
Freckles. She had freckles. Oh, Jesus, he was so screwed.
“Yes,” he managed in a strangled voice. Was it too late to run? He could disappear into the woods at the back of the house and not come back until the wedding was over.
Surely, once his brother and this woman were married, these mad, inappropriate feelings would disappear. Because he wasn’t the kind of man who coveted his brother’s wife. He simply wouldn’t believe that about himself.
He was being rude. What had his brother said? Extend her all the help and respect. Well, he’d already messed that up, because respect did not include having inappropriate thoughts about a woman in love with his brother.
Slowly, painfully, he forced his hand to move and slid it into hers. Her skin was soft, and Will fought to keep his gaze on hers, fought not to let his emotions betray themselves.
He was simply having a strange reaction to the situation, that was all. His brother’s fiancée had been sprung on him, and his attraction to her was some kind of coping mechanism his brain had devised. How it was meant to help, he had no idea, but he couldn’t let himself consider any other possibility.
If he did, it would mean he was betraying his brother. Betraying the man to whom he owed so much.
It didn’t matter that this woman was his physical ideal. That was irrelevant. And besides, Will didn’t believe in love at first sight. That was a ridiculous, romantic notion, and all romantic inclinations had been squashed out of him during his divorce.
And this woman—Molly—deserved better than him objectifying her like this. He knew nothing about her, other than she was in love with his brother. He needed to pull himself together and get his head in the game.
Most importantly, he needed to hide whatever these feelings were until they went away. Because they would go away. He couldn’t betray his brother, not even in his mind. He wouldn’t be that person.
He tugged his hand out of hers, far too late to be polite. But Molly didn’t comment, looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t name. Amusement? Could she read his mind, or was he being far more obvious about his emotions than he’d believed?
Regardless, he needed to get it together. Right now.
“Let me show you the house,” he said. There, that was normal. Now, all he needed was to get through the next five days.
He nearly groaned aloud. Five days would be torture, but he’d manage. He had to.
“It’s a beautiful location,” she said. “Absolutely perfect for a wedding.”
Will strode to the car and waited by the trunk for her luggage. “Yes, I suppose so. Though there hasn’t been one here that I’m aware of.”
“A
re you married?” she asked, focusing on the key fob in her hand as she opened the trunk. If Will didn’t know any better, he might have believed he saw a slight tint to her cheeks at the question.
And wasn’t that an interesting question? Clearly, Peter hadn’t told his bride-to-be much about the family she was marrying into. Probably wise, since their parents were utter disasters. Would Will have to see them at the wedding?
Most likely.
More and more Will wanted to avoid this wedding day entirely. He was still in touch with his parents, though he avoided them as much as possible. Thankfully, they’d mellowed since their divorce, but he still couldn’t quite forgive the mess of his childhood.
“I was,” he said eventually. He didn’t need to go into the sordid details of his wife’s betrayal and their subsequent divorce. If Peter hadn’t told Molly, then Will certainly had no plans to.
Will hefted her luggage out of the trunk—two large suitcases which must be filled with rocks—and moved across the gravel drive towards the house.
“Thank you,” she said, following behind. Will didn’t reply, focusing on not dropping the luggage.
“Kids?”
“No.” Thankfully. He didn’t have anything against kids, even once believed he’d have his own someday. But he was glad he and Ann hadn’t had any, or they would have been traumatized by the divorce.
“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying here?” she asked, gazing up at the house. It soared above them, too large and imposing, but beautiful in its own way.
“Of course not.” He did mind, of course. This house was his sanctuary, and Molly was invading it with barely any warning. She was already upending his life, and she and Peter weren’t even married yet. But Will wasn’t so much of an asshole he’d ignore his brother’s warning to respect his future bride. Common decency wouldn’t allow him to take his frustration out on her, even though she was apparently the one to insist on getting married at the house. No, he blamed his brother for this.
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