by Day Leclaire
Brad groaned. "You didn't know? No wonder you were taking it so well."
"Julian—" Her voice broke and it took every ounce of determination to finish her question. "Julian is selling Willow's End to you?"
"He promised me right of first refusal."
"When? How...?"
"On the phone. Just today I heard he has controlling interest in Willow's End. And since he does..." Brad shrugged.
And since she'd lost the bet... Callie struggled to take it all in. Julian really planned to go through with it. He intended to sell her home. She shook her head. It seemed like a bad dream. He'd asked her to be patient. He'd kissed her and said to trust him. Surely he wouldn't sell without warning her, not when he'd promised to discuss it first? Her chin quivered and she reached blindly for Brutus. Seemed discussion time was over.
"You look like you could use some fresh air. Why don't we go outside?" Brad suggested. He took her by the arm and practically propelled her to the front door and out into the bright sunshine. He paused beside the rose bed she and Julian had started for Maudie.
Callie took a deep breath, forcing herself to face facts. Julian intended to sell her home. She'd already accepted that, resigning herself to losing Willow's End. But she refused to accept his selling her home to Brad Anderson. Nor would she stand by and listen to how Brad and his wife intended to rip it apart, room by room. First the dining room. Demolished. Then the kitchen. Gutted. And then Maudie's library. Gone. All of it destroyed to make way for— She closed her eyes and shuddered. For an enlarged eating area, a modular kitchen, and a sauna.
She reached out and touched a plump red rose with a gentle finger, fighting back tears. How could she bear it?
"Hey, Callie," a voice hailed from the driveway. "What's happening?"
She turned, not certain whether the sight of Cory made the situation better or worse. Worse, if she gave in to her urge to cry.
"Callie?" The teen's brows drew together in concern. "What's wrong?" He glanced at Brad, his eyes mirroring his suspicion. "This guy buggin' you? Want me to punch him in the nose for you? After today, I owe you one."
Brad took a hasty step away from Cory, clearly searching for an innocuous topic of conversation. "What pretty roses," he commented in an attempt to pour oil on troubled waters. "Too bad we're allergic to them." He sneezed as though to prove his point, then tossed a match on those oily waters. "Perhaps Marie could put in lilies instead."
"Lilies!" Callie's urge to cry dissipated beneath her fury. "Maudie hates lilies!"
Brutus emitted a bone-chilling howl followed by a loud ferocious bark, and then Brad vanished beneath a blur of brown-and-white.
"Help!" came his muffled shriek.
"Get him, Brutus," Cory hollered in encouragement. "Cuz if you don't, I will." He glanced at Callie. "You never did mention. What are we getting this guy for?"
Before Callie could respond, a car screeched to a halt in the driveway and Julian leapt out, charging up the walkway. He jumped into the middle of the fracas, disappearing into the pile of fur, skin, and suit. To her utter amazement he reemerged, Brad in one hand, Brutus in the other.
"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Julian demanded.
Callie pointed an accusing finger at Brad, quivering with fury. "He intends to tear out Maudie's roses and plant lilies. And if Brutus doesn't rip his throat out, I will!"
Obediently Brutus lunged toward Brad, snarling and snapping. It took all of Julian's strength to restrain him. "Sit down and shut up!" he ordered sternly. To everyone's amazement, Brutus instantly obeyed. Julian turned a cold, narrow gaze on his partner. "You're going to plant lilies in place of Maudie's roses? What are you, nuts?"
"Me nuts! Me? Forget it." Brad shouted, backing away. "It's not worth it. I wouldn't buy this madhouse on a bet."
"Yeah? Well, who asked you?" Cory offered his two cents' worth.
"Shut up, Cory," Julian blasted the teen, before turning to his partner. "Yeah? Well, who asked you, Brad?"
"What! Are you all crazy? You did. On the phone that day. But not now. You've blown it. You can keep your wormy bookcases and weird ceilings and all that disgusting wood. I'm getting a condo in the city." In two minutes flat, he was in his car and gone, only a swirl of dust left to mark his presence.
Julian turned to Callie. "Okay, I've played the tough guy. I've protected you, that mutt, and a bunch of silly flowers. Now will you tell me what the hell I was protecting you from? I assume I just broke up a very valuable partnership for a good reason. At least I hope it was a good reason. But knowing you, I tend to doubt it."
Cory glanced with interest from Julian to Callie.
She planted her hands on her hips. "How can you stand there and ask me that?"
"Uh-huh. Okay. I'll just phone him," Julian said, regaining his calm with surprising speed. "It takes three hours to get to Chicago. Two, at the rate he's going."
She gasped in outrage. "You may have the right to sell Willow's End, but I'll tear the place down, piece by dry-rotted, de-walled, miswired piece, before I let you sell it to him!"
"That's plenty of time for him to cool off."
"He was going to put a sauna in the library."
"We could probably be back in business by this evening. Brad's not one to hold a grudge."
"Julian, will you listen to me?"
He sighed and dropped his hands to her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Callie. But you should have trusted me a little more. Even if I decided to sell Willow's End to Brad—which I haven't—I would have warned you first."
"But he said—"
"He said. I didn't say." He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. "I did tell Brad I'd sell him Willow's End. Or rather, I'd give him right of first refusal if I ever sold the place. Don't look so hurt. I said it in a fit of anger and I never meant him to take me seriously. I certainly never gave him reason to think I'd sell it to him now that Maudie's will has come to light. Or, sell the place at all, for that matter."
She didn't dare hope. "You're keeping Willow's End?"
"Of course he's keeping Willow's End," Cory inserted. "Whatta ya think? He's nutty or something?"
"Thanks Cory," Julian said in a dry tone. "Was there something special you wanted, or did you come by just to try my patience?"
Cory thought for a moment. "The something special choice. I wanted to thank Callie again for saving my hide. If she hadn't squared things with the cops, I'd be cooling my heels in the slammer this very minute."
Julian looked at Callie, his eyebrows raised in question. "That's what caused you to lose the bet? I'm surprised at you. The image of Cory in the slammer has a certain appeal. With Willow's End riding in the balance, you didn't have even a moment's hesitation?"
"Not a one," Callie stated firmly. She stepped into his arms, her hands tight about his neck. "And I'll tell you something else. You can sell the house, give it away, even burn it around our ears, and it won't change how I feel about you. You were right. Home is where the heart is, and both my home and my heart are right here, in your arms. I love you, Julian Lord. Now what do you have to say about that?"
Julian grinned. "Seems there's only one thing I can say."
"Which is?"
He lowered his head, his mouth a mere breath away from hers. "That I love you. That I want to marry you. And that I want to live here with you and have children with you and raise them. Here. In Willow's End."
Tears filled her eyes. "You're willing to do that? Even though I failed you? Even though I lost the bet?"
Julian's arms tightened around her. "You didn't fail me. You'd never fail me. Do you think I'd put that stupid bet above something as important as Cory and Donna? All I ever wanted was for you to set a few priorities. You did that. I'm proud of you."
"Then what about all that saying no business?"
"Admit it, Callie. You do have trouble saying no."
"Does she ever," Cory threw in his contribution.
"Cory!" Julian and Callie said in unison.
&nbs
p; Julian returned his focus to Callie. "And you also tend to take on more than you should. I just wanted you to learn to be more careful about which favors you're willing to grant."
"I think I've realized that." Her expression grew troubled. "But I learned something else."
He smoothed her hair back from her face. "Which is?"
"I like helping people. It makes me feel good. And I realized you were right about my mother." She made a little face. "She's one of the most selfish people I've ever known and I didn't want to be anything like her. So maybe as a result I overdo a little."
"Or maybe a lot." Julian smiled, the warmth of it stirring an ungovernable heat. "And don't worry. You're not the least like your mother." He dropped a brief, hard kiss on her parted lips. "You're one of the kindest, most generous people it's ever been my privilege to know."
She offered him a brilliant smile. "I love you, Julian."
"I love you too, green eyes."
He kissed her, kissed her with all the passion in the world. Kissed her in a way that spoke of endless tomorrows and a glorious future. Once upon a time she'd stepped into a fairy tale, a fairy tale named Willow. And there she'd met a prince. And though he might not be one hundred percent charming and did obsess a bit about rules and clocks and organization, he was the perfect man for her. A good thing, since she was the perfect woman for him, despite her inability to say no and her need to help others.
Julian pulled back and smiled down at her. "You're not the only one who's learned something from all this."
"No?" She sighed in utter contentment. "What have you learned?"
"That despite my number one rule, there are some things you'll do anything to keep, no matter what the cost."
Brutus thrust his nose between them, grinning expectantly from one to the other.
Julian's mouth brushed hers. "But I'm not sure your dog is one of them."
"Our dog," Callie corrected, before she kissed him again. "Our dog."
"Now this," announced Cory in a satisfied voice, "is what I call a happily-ever-after ending. Go figure."
Epilogue
In the early hours of the morning, Julian awoke. His wife of less than a day lay curled beside him, sound asleep. Her chestnut-brown hair spilled across her flushed cheeks and her arms were folded beneath her chin. For a long minute he simply lay there, watching her, amazed by the miracle of love they shared.
If not for that love, he wasn't sure they'd have survived the wedding. Miller's Park would never be the same again. Images flashed through his mind. Callie, in a flowing white wedding gown, escorted down the "aisle" by Brutus. Brutus draining the three bowls of champagne punch and actually topping the infamous Founder's Day incident. Callie and Donna and Cory mugging for the cameras. The platters of sushi Brad had specially shipped in for the festivities.
Julian sighed in contentment. It was a day he'd never forget.
His stomach grumbled in hunger, and careful not to disturb his beloved wife, he slid quietly from the bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, he pulled out a leftover platter of sushi. He stared at it for a long minute. Give it up. If he were smart he'd learn to love fish. Just like he'd learned to love dogs who thought they were people and ripped-apart houses and overly helpful wives.
With a shrug of surrender, he carried the plate to the kitchen table and put it down beside his laptop. He flipped open the screen and stared thoughtfully at the blinking cursor. Then he began to write:
How to Survive a Happy Marriage
Chapter One: The First Year
Rule # l:
Always depend on your wife.
And do whatever it takes to keep her...
And keep her happy.
The End
Want more from Day Leclaire?
Page forward for a sneak peek excerpt from
ONCE UPON A BRIDROOM
The Wacky Women Series
Book Four
Excerpt from
Once Upon a Bridegroom
The Wacky Women Series
Book Four
by
Day Leclaire
USA Today Bestselling Author
Husband Wanted!
Woman rancher in immediate and desperate need of a man! Interested applicants should:
1. Be 25-45 years of age and looking for a permanent relationship—a kind and gentle personality is a plus.
2. Have extensive ranching background—be able to sit a horse, deal fairly with employees, herd cattle, etc.
3. Have solid business know-how—particularly the type necessary to please a bullheaded banker.
What Leah Hampton really needed was a knight in shining armor, ready and able to slay all her dragons. A foolish wish, she knew. Even so, some silly, romantic part of her couldn't help wishing for the impossible.
She glanced at her watch. Her final interview should arrive any time. As though in response, a solitary rider appeared over a nearby ridge, shadowed black against the burnt-orange glow of a low-hanging sun. She shaded her eyes and studied him with keen curiosity. Could this be H.P. Smith, her final applicant?
He rode easily, at home in the saddle, swaying with a natural, effortless rhythm. Even from a distance she could see the beauty of his horse, the pale tan coat without a blemish, the ebony mane and tail gleaming beneath the golden rays of the setting sun. The animal was also a handful, but one he mastered without difficulty.
She frowned, something about him setting off alarm bells. If only she could figure out what. Then it hit her. She knew the man. On some basic, intuitive level she recognized the way he sat his horse, the simple, decisive manner with which he controlled the animal, the square, authoritative set of his shoulders. Even the angle of his hat seemed faintly familiar.
But who the hell was he?
She waited and watched, intent on the stranger's every movement. He rode as though he owned the place, as though he were lord and master of this land. From beneath the brim of his hat Leah caught a glimpse of jet-black hair and deep-set, watchful eyes, his shadowed features taut and angled, as though hewn from granite. He dismounted a short distance away, tying his buckskin to the hitching post. Not giving the vaguest acknowledgement, he turned to cross the yard toward her.
He stripped his gloves from his hands as he came, tucking them into his belt, and she found herself staring at those hands, at the strength and power conveyed by his loose held fists. She knew those hands. But from where?
A flash of memory hit her. She saw those hands, sinking into the silvery paleness of her hair, anchoring her against him. The nimble way they unbuttoned her shirt, sweeping it off her shoulders. The skillful drift of callused fingers lingering on her breasts, tender and yet forceful. The short, sharp images brought ecstasy mixed with unrelenting pain, and she gasped.
He looked up at the small, feminine sound.
Full sunlight cast the shadow from his face and revealed to her the threat—and promise—in his cold black eyes. In that instant she recognized him, and knew why he'd come.
"This just isn't my day," she muttered. Acting on blind instinct, she shouldered her rifle and fired.
The first blast cratered the ground a foot in front of him. He didn't flinch. He didn't even break stride. He came for her, his steady gaze locked on her face. She jacked out the shell and pumped another into the chamber. The second blast landed square between his boots, showering the black leather with dirt and debris. Still he kept coming, faster now, hard-packed muscle moving with catlike speed. She wasn't given the opportunity to get off another round.
He hit the porch steps two at a time. Not hesitating a moment, he grabbed the barrel of the rifle and yanked it from her grasp, tossing it aside. His hands landed heavily on her shoulder, catapulting her straight into his arms. With a muffled shriek, she grabbed a fistful of shirt to keep from falling.
"You never were much of a shot," he said, his voice low and rough. And then he kissed her.
Once Upon a Bridegroom
> The Wacky Women Series
Book Four
by
Day Leclaire
~
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Once Upon a Bridegroom
from your favorite eBook Retailer,
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with an excerpt from
ONCE UPON A GHOST
The Wacky Women Series
Book One
Excerpt from
Once Upon a Ghost
The Wacky Women Series
Book One
by
Day Leclaire
USA Today Bestselling Author
Whatta ya mean, it's a scam?
"You don't believe this is my first reporting job?"
A hint of sarcasm crept into Zach's voice. "Don't you mean your first scam?"
Rachel stared in total bewilderment. "I thought we were talking about reporting skills. What has that got to do with scams?"
"Reporting skills?" He laughed. "What reporting skills?"
"My reporting skills." Hurt made her voice tremble. Something had gone drastically wrong. If only she knew what. "The ones you thought were so good."
His eyes narrowed. "You can drop the act. I'm on to you. I have been from the very beginning. You're no reporter."
"I am so. Sort of. At least I will be once I turn in my first article."
"Bull. You may not recognized me, but I recognize you."
He tossed a magazine toward her. It landed at her feet, falling open to a much abused page. Rachel stared down at a wrinkled and torn picture of herself.
"Hey, that's me!" she said in surprise. "And that's the article about my ghost."
"Very astute."
