Hitched

by Pippa Grant

  Ryan, Jace, and I share a look, and we all crack up all over again.

  “I prefer my dessert without raccoon fur in it, thanks,” I say, inspiring an “amen” from Jace and a nod from Ryan.

  “Why don’t we all pretend this didn’t happen, and I’ll go whip up a box cake inside?” Ryan turns to call over his shoulder, “Mom? You got that devil’s food kind Blake loves?”

  “Yep. And caramel topping and whipped cream so you can make a Better than Sex cake,” she giggles before toasting us all again. “To Better than Sex cake!”

  “Sounds perfect. I’ll come help you!” Cassie leaps to her feet. She and Ryan lock gazes over the table, laughing softly as they pile trash into the destroyed cupcake box, sharing some private joke before they take off inside.

  As the door shuts behind them, Hope sighs. “They’re adorable.”

  “Adorably disgusting,” Jace replies with a grin.

  It’s so weird to see him so happy, but it’s good too. He’s been like this since he and Olivia got married, and I’m thrilled for both of them.

  Hope rubs my back and takes another taco.

  “Ah, just using me for the food?” I tease.

  “Yes, and sex,” she murmurs for my ears only, making me chuckle.

  “Texas Hold’em or five card draw?” Clint, the lone bachelor brother left, plops down at the table with a deck of cards he pulls from his back pocket. “Chewpaca. You in, dude?”

  Chewy hums and nods.

  Hope giggles at their interaction. “I love how normal and down-to-earth your family is.”

  “Al-poker!” Mom and Pop cry together, then burst into giggles, making all of us laugh too.

  “Well, down to earth anyway,” I say, kissing her forehead, loving that she likes my crazy family the way they are.

  And me the way I am.

  “Growing up must have been fun,” she says, a wistful note in her voice.

  “Most days. Unless Ryan was being a prick about making the rest of us do our chores, or Jace was getting in trouble, or Clint was getting struck by lightning.”

  She laughs, but then stops. “Wait. For real?”

  Clint points to a spot on his head where his hair grows in white if he lets it get long enough. “Only patch of scared I got on me.”

  “So you’re surrounded by electrical freaks?” she asks me.

  “You’re not a freak.” I wrap an arm around her and kiss her head. “Clint, maybe, but not you. You’re a gorgeous, sexy, big-hearted, animal-loving woman.”

  “It’s so good to see you two together,” Olivia says, twining a lock of her long blond hair dreamily around her finger. “You star charts are so compatible in the long term, but it looked like there might be a few bumps in the road early on. I’m so glad you’ve come through whatever your troubles were.”

  “Thanks,” I say, because Olivia is a sweetheart without a mean bone in her body.

  And because she’s right.

  We’re not all the way there, but we’re getting closer.

  At least I think we are.

  I glance down at my wife, but Hope isn’t shooting me a but one day we’ll break their hearts glances. She’s smiling and stealing the lettuce from one of my tacos, which she slips to Chewy before he can start nibbling on Olivia’s dress.

  I think my bride is finally finding her own hope.

  Twenty-One

  Hope

  * * *

  It’s a miracle.

  I’m at my husband’s bachelor party, with electric bug lamps buzzing around the table and lights strung overhead, and not a single one of them is flickering as I stare down Clint in the final hand of the night.

  Half of Ryan’s Better than Sex cake, a five-dollar bill, a bottle of wine from Blake’s very first crop, a roll of quarters for the arcade games at Jace’s bar, and one of the raccoon babies are in the pot, though probably the raccoon baby won’t actually go home with the winner, since Ryan and Cassie are both out, and none of us have any intention of breaking up George’s family.

  Mr. and Mrs. O’Dell went to bed tipsy an hour ago, and Olivia is leaned back in a deck chair, lightly snoring with Clover tucked into her sling and also lightly snoring.

  Blake’s right beside me, arm around me, whispering all the naughty things he wants to do to me when we get home, and making Clint think he’s whispering ways to cheat at poker.

  I have a half-bottle of wine in me, and everything is happy.

  Fun.

  Perfect.

  Exactly what a night with good friends should be.

  Except these aren’t just my friends.

  They’re my new family.

  Family has always been a four-letter word to me, but the O’Dells—well, there’s a reason I agreed to officiate Jace and Olivia’s wedding.

  I believe the two of them can make it. They’re the kind of people who seem to instinctively know how to do love right.

  But maybe we all possess that instinct, deep down. Maybe it’s just a matter of being brave enough to trust your heart and let it lead the way.

  Minnie O’Dell isn’t my mother. She wouldn’t have left another message today demanding answers.

  She hasn’t.

  She’s just accepted me.

  The way I always wanted my own mother to accept me.

  Blake knows how to do this right.

  And with help, I know I can get there too.

  “All right, civilian, show me what you’ve got,” Clint says.

  We both lay our cards on the table, and I groan. “Cheater!” I say.

  Chewpaca hums in agreement behind me.

  “You always get a royal flush,” Ryan says, shaking his head. “How the hell do you do that?”

  “Karma.” Clint pulls the winnings his way, gently lifting the sleeping teen raccoon off the table and setting her on the porch before he jabs his fork into the cake and takes a giant bite. “Mmmmm, so gooooood.” He sighs. “But is it really better than sex? I can’t remember.”

  “Aw, Clint, are you having trouble getting laid?” Jace taunts.

  “Hush your mouth,” Clint slurs. “That’s my private penis business.”

  “PPB, huh?” Ryan chuckles. “You’re wasted, aren’t you?”

  “He had nearly a bottle of Jack. Of course he’s wasted,” Blake, who hasn’t had a drop to drink in hours, points out.

  “I’ve seen him do a full bottle and not show it,” Jace replies.

  “That wasn’t jetlagged and after all day alpaca guard duty.” Blake rises and holds a hand out to me. “Great bachelor party, family, but we’re out of here.”

  “Aww, I’m so happy for you two,” Cassie sighs.

  She’s also not drinking tonight, which no one has mentioned.

  And good for her if that’s a subtle clue. But though I’m warming up to the idea of being part of Blake’s family, I’m not warming up to the idea of having babies anytime soon.

  I need to get more comfortable with me, and then with me and Blake, first.

  We lead Chewpaca back around front to my trailer, me giggling as Blake swears that Clint probably cheats, but nobody’s man enough to call him on it, since he can kick all their asses at the same time with one arm tied behind his back.

  He’s joking, I’m sure.

  Mostly.

  “But I’m glad you can appreciate the insanity,” he says when we’re on the road.

  Insanity. God, if he only knew.

  “My family isn’t like yours,” I hear myself blurt out. If Blake and I are going to make a real go of this, he should know what he’s getting into. “They’re…hard.”

  He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “All families can be hard sometimes.”

  I shake my head. “Not like mine.” I take a deep breath. “There won’t be any nights like this. There won’t be…much of anything. Not anything pleasant at any rate.”

  “That’s okay,” he says, threading his fingers through mine.

  “Yeah?” My lips curve in a weak smile.
“You sure? I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted no part of the dysfunction. I’d gladly swap families with you if I could.”

  “You can have mine.”

  “Because you don’t want them?” I laugh.

  “No, because we’ll share them. Together.”

  “Oh.”

  I fall silent, realizing that the radio display isn’t flickering, and neither are the headlights or dash lights in Blake’s shiny new truck. Only the hula man is wiggling.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve gone a whole day without short-circuiting something.

  It’s been a long time since I felt this…light.

  But I want to be even lighter. I want Blake to know it all.

  “That’s part of the problem, I think,” I whisper to the moon out the window. “I’ve never seen a healthy love relationship up close. My parents are miserable together.”

  Blake rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. “Sometimes knowing what not to do is its own superpower.”

  I let out a shaky breath. “But there are so many different ways to screw up. So many ways to let another person down.”

  “That’s where forgiveness comes in. We’re both gonna screw up. We’re human. It’s what we do. But I’d rather screw up and make up and keep fighting to make love work with you than have it easy with anyone else.”

  I look back at him, the backs of my eyes beginning to burn.

  So many times now, he’s said he loves me, and I believe him.

  I do.

  And I love him too. I’ve loved him for a long time.

  I just need to find it in me to fully commit to this leap, to dive into the love lagoon and pray I miss the rocks. Because Blake deserves that kind of love, the fearless, cliff-diving kind, and I’m so tired of being afraid.

  Too bad being sick of Fear isn’t always enough to pry the bastard’s bony fingers from around your throat.

  “Let’s just take it one day at a time, like we said,” Blake says softly, as if he senses the war waging inside of me. “I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not in any rush.”

  “If every day could be like today, I’d be a very happy woman,” I whisper.

  He grins. “Arguments with your cousin and all?”

  “Well, you were very heroic during the argument part. It was pretty hot.”

  “Yeah?” he asks, his chest puffing up, making me laugh.

  “Yes. But now you look like a rooster on the verge of a victory strut.”

  “I’ll do that when we get home,” he says, wiggling his brows. “Naked. The way god intended.”

  I giggle again. “But seriously. Thank you. For the heroics.”

  “No thanks needed. Just doing what I do for the people that I love.”

  His words wrap around me like a warm cocoon, and I lay my head on his shoulder for the rest of the trip.

  He’s not my father. Nor my mother.

  He’s a solid man, with a crazy, loving family, and he knows how to do this right.

  All I have to do is trust him to lead the way.

  “Maybe I do need an alpha alpaca sometimes,” I sigh beneath my breath.

  “What’s that?” Blake asks.

  “Nothing,” I say with a smile, because if I tell him he’s my love alpha, he’ll never let me live it down.

  When we get back to the farm, we walk Chewpaca back to the barn together. Too-Pac isn’t sleeping yet—he’s waiting for his friend, and the two of them have a short conversation that makes me smile once we get Chewy back in their shared pen.

  “You think he’s safe tonight?” Blake asks. “I can take first watch if you think Kyle is still a threat.”

  “No, if there’s a problem, the dogs will let us know.” I hook a finger into the collar of his shirt and tug. “Besides, I have other plans for you.”

  He growls low in his throat. “Dirty plans, I hope?”

  “Filthy,” I assure him.

  He puts his arms around me. “Me and you? The empty stall? Five seconds? I’ve always wanted a literal roll in the hay.”

  “Right here, where all the baby animals can hear?” I tease. “Dildo Shaggins would never suggest such a thing.”

  “Oh, so you think Dildo Shaggins can do for you what I can do for you?” He bends his head, kissing my cheek, my jaw, my neck.

  I shiver. “Maybe. I could head back to the house alone and give him a try.”

  “I don’t think so, love-muffin. Not unless I can watch, and then prove which one of us is better.”

  “You’re awfully confident,” I murmur.

  “Cocky, some might say.”

  “Very cocky.” I nip at his ear before I add in a whisper, “Take me to bed, Mr. O’Dell. I want to shag you senseless.”

  Without another word, he scoops me up in his arms and races for the house.

  And it’s not because anyone’s watching.

  It’s just because he wants me.

  The same way I want him.

  Twenty-Two

  Blake

  * * *

  I wake up alone again, but this time I’m in Hope’s bed, with early morning light slowly chasing away the shadows and revealing a note on her pillow.

  Blake –

  Thank you for an amazing night. I didn’t want to wake you, but needed to feed the animals. Coffee’s prepped and there are cinnamon rolls from the bakery on the table.

  xo,

  Hope

  I sit up slowly and scratch my head, smiling at her handwriting while my mind wanders to the events of last night. The sexy events. And the sweet ones too.

  She knows how to do this love thing.

  She just doesn’t know that she knows.

  But she didn’t run away. She left a note.

  I’m still smiling while I throw the covers back and head for the shower. Five minutes later, I’m pulling on clothes and heading off to help my wife.

  But I don’t make it all the way down the porch before I see her running down the path from the barn. Sprinting, actually.

  She’s definitely not out for a leisurely jog.

  Something’s wrong.

  “Hope? What—”

  “Chewpaca!” she gasps. “Blake, he took Chewpaca!”

  “What? Who?” I jog down the last few steps.

  “Kyle!” A sob wrenches from her chest. “He’s gone. Kyle must’ve taken him.”

  “Hey. Hey.” I pull her into my arms, the hairs on my arms lifting as a buzzy feeling sweeps across my skin. “We’ll get him back. C’mon. I’ll drive. You call the lawyer.”

  We hop in my truck, but when I put my key in the ignition, it shocks me hard enough to make me cry out and pull my hand away. When I try again, the engine won’t turn over, and Hope hands me my phone with another ragged sob. “I broke it. I broke it before I could call the lawyer or the sheriff or anyone.”

  “Okay. New plan. We, uh… We just—”

  Shit.

  What do we do?

  I can fix the truck, but it’ll take time. We could take her truck, but she’ll probably short out her starter too.

  “Let’s just think for a second.” I slam out of the driver’s seat and circle the truck, racking my brain, and then it hits me.

  I know exactly how to get to Kyle’s place.

  Hope’s still in the passenger seat, face in her hands, looking every bit as defeated as the day we ran into each other in Vegas four years ago. I pull open the truck door and reach over to unstrap her seatbelt. “It’s going to be okay, Hope, we’re going to get him back.”

  “How? Kyle has more money and better lawyers and—mmph!”

  I press my lips to hers and thread my fingers through her hair, tasting coffee and panic, and she slowly relaxes into me and kisses me back.

  Kind of.

  “No—time—save—Chewpaca—oh,” she murmurs between kisses.

  “Trust me, baby,” I whisper against her lips.

  She melts into me, and I make love to her sweet mouth until I feel that humming, fizzing sensation
prickling at my skin begin to fade away. When it’s gone, I give her one last sweet kiss before I pull back and tip her chin up. “You okay?”

  She blinks twice, then nods slowly. “Yeah. I’m okay. At least okay enough not to blow anything else up.”

  “Then let’s take your truck.”

  We switch vehicles, and I get her old beater going without a hitch. As soon as we’re flying down the road, I grip her hand. “Just breathe. It’ll be okay. Feeling like you can try the lawyer on your phone?”

  She nods, but keeps a firm grip on my hand while she dials Mr. Ashford.

  I steer us through Happy Cat to the sprawling neighborhood not far from the golf course, where the richest residents live in mini mansions with ten-acre lots of rolling green grass, while Hope leaves a message for the attorney about custody of Chewpaca. She hangs up as I’m pulling her truck to a stop in front of the two-story brick colonial where Kyle lives. “I’m not going to call the sheriff yet. Not if we can work this out peacefully first. St. Claires don’t like to make scenes.” She hands the phone over. “But be ready if things turn ugly.”

  She’s up the sidewalk and charging past the white porch columns before I’m fully out of the truck.

  “Open up, Kyle! I know you’re in there!” She pounds her fist on the door. “I can smell the stink of laziness and alpaca-napping from all the way out here!”

  “I should’ve run over his rosebush,” I mutter.

  “It’s not the rosebush’s fault he’s an asshole.” She jams a finger into the doorbell, which issues one gargled chime before it explodes with a sharp pop, and a thread of smoke drifts lazily into the morning air.

  “Maybe we can figure out how to channel this electrical energy for the forces of good,” I say as she starts banging on the door again. “Get you a super suit or something.”

  “Superheroes aren’t real,” she grits out.

  “Yes, they are. You’re a superhero.”

  She stops banging and looks at me, pain filling her pretty brown eyes, and I want to scoop her up and take her and all of her animals away from this bullshit.

  Far, far away.