PROTECTING THE BRIDE
Shelley Munro
Military Men, book 7
Table of Contents
Introduction
Note to Readers
1 – Bad News For Everyone
2 – Encounter at the Local Pub
3 – Drowning Sorrows
4 – The Morning After
5 – Wedding Fallout
6 – Confrontation
7 – The Honeymoon
8 – Relaxing Holiday
9 – Jeff Reaches Out
10 – You’re The One I Want
11 – Pondering Options
12 – Playing Tourist
13 – Kissing and Other Things
14 – Chasing Grace
15 – A Guess Plays Out
16 – Walking With Kiwis
17 – Breaking In
18 – On The Trail
19 – Calling The Cops
20 – Home Again
21 – Unwelcome Visitors
22 - Rescue
Epilogue
Afterword
About Shelley
Shelley’s Titles
Copyright Page
Introduction
The wedding is off!
Curvy baker, Grace, kicks out her cheating fiancé two days before the nuptials. Unfortunately, her dream honeymoon is nonrefundable. She hates the idea of vacationing alone, but Cullen, her neighbor, suggests an alternative.
Military man, Cullen, has wanted Grace for years. During this furlough, he intends to move forward with his romantic plans. He’s devastated to learn of Grace’s impending marriage, then ecstatic on learning the wedding is off. Cullen seizes his chance, determined to woo the gorgeous Grace to his way of thinking.
The only problem is danger follows Grace on her fake honeymoon. While the military hottie is busy with seductive maneuvers, a menace arrives with his lady in their sights. It’s time for this alpha hero to do his thing and protect the bride.
You’ll love this friends-to-lovers romance because it contains a curvy jilted bride, the soldier from next door, a fake honeymoon, and lots of whipped cream and ketchup. Make of that what you will!
Note to Readers
My husband and I are keen travelers, but this year Covid-19 has curtailed our adventurous natures. Desperate to appease our wanderlust, it didn’t take much for us to decide to travel within New Zealand instead.
Stewart Island is New Zealand’s third-largest island, and Mr. Munro and I fell in love with the place. Native bush covers most of the land, and it is a bird lover’s paradise since many of our endangered species make this island their home. In addition, Stewart Island is the place to go to see kiwi in the wild.
As soon as I returned home, I knew I needed to set a romance there. As usual, it took me a few months to percolate my idea, but Protecting the Bride is the result.
My characters, Cullen and Grace, visit many of the places I did, and they even stay in the same accommodation. I hope you enjoy your armchair visit to Stewart Island—a little slice of heaven.
If you would like to keep up with my upcoming releases, please sign up for my newsletter.
Happy reading.
Shelley
1
BAD NEWS FOR EVERYONE
“Hey, Grace!”
The masculine shout followed by a sharp wolf whistle had Grace Feeney freezing in the middle of the footpath, near the bus stop. She glanced over her shoulder to see a six-feet-plus bearded man with shaggy brown hair bearing down on her. His faded jeans clung to the muscles of his thighs while a well-washed gray T-shirt—obviously destined for the rag bag soon—hugged his broad chest.
While she’d been gaping at the scruffy man, he’d used his long legs to cross the road and reach her side.
“Grace.” The man’s voice was softer now, his eyes a bright, sunshiny-day blue attracting her attention. “Put down your shopping and let me give you a hug.”
It was the sight of his even white teeth and his husky voice that jogged her to sanity and rattled her memory back into sync. “Cullen?”
“Aye, it’s me,” Cullen said with a huff of indignation. He patted the region of his heart with his right hand. “I’m mortally wounded to learn you don’t recognize the man you babysat all those years ago.”
Grace rolled her eyes and attempted to rein in her smile. “You were ten, and in my defense, you’ve grown a few feet.”
His eyes twinkled. “I know, but I like to tease you.” His arms came around her in a tight, comforting hug the second after she set down her two canvas bags full of groceries.
She inhaled his fresh scent with a hint of citrus and laundry powder and savored the familiarity of his touch. When she’d seen him last—almost a year ago—he’d been clean-shaven with brutally short hair.
He pulled back with another flash of those white teeth. “I’m glad I spotted you. I’ve just done a run to the local dairy for a bottle of milk.” He indicated the daypack he wore on his back that she hadn’t noticed earlier. “Stocked up on some snack treats too.”
Grace studied his features. Now that she knew his identity, she noted the minor details: the shadows of fatigue and the fact his smile didn’t always reach his eyes. “How long are you home for this time?”
“Three months.”
“Perfect timing,” Grace said, forcibly halting her urge to caress his cheek and tell him he needed to sleep. Instead, she aimed for humor. “You can take care of my lawns for a change. That’s if you don’t have plans.”
“You’re going away?”
Grace cocked her head, their six-inch difference in height making this necessary, especially since she wore her work flats. “My honeymoon,” she said, beaming at him.
His mouth dropped open for an instant, but he recovered fast. “I didn’t know you were getting married. Who’s the lucky man?”
“Jeffrey Howard. You won’t know him since he moved to Papakura around six months ago. I met him during the time I was filming New Zealand’s Best Baker. He’s an accountant, and he works in Manukau. He—”
Cullen tapped her nose, and she ceased her chatter. “I still say you should’ve won that contest instead of coming second.”
“My appearance in the final opened doors for me. I’m writing a recipe book, a bakeware store wants me to promo their special line of products, and I’m enjoying my job at the café. Jenny, my boss, lets me do what I want with the menu.”
“I thought you wanted to set up your own place? The last time I was at home, you told me that was your dream.”
Grace shrugged. It was still her goal, but Jeff had convinced her it was better for them to purchase an apartment in the city, that cafes and restaurants failed all the time. After consideration, she’d decided he was right, and it’d be wonderful to have a place in inner Auckland. It was an investment. “I still want to do that one day.”
He nodded as if he was privy to her thoughts and agreed with her, but she also noted his sharp scrutiny, his brain busy dissecting her reply. She’d forgotten that about him—his keen intelligence. Most women looked at his pretty, striking face and sexy body, learned about his chosen career in the military, and misjudged him. They thought him only good for a jump in the sack, or at least that was what Cullen had told her last time he’d been at home.
“Will you invite me to dinner soon? I want to meet this fiancé of yours and make sure I approve of him before the wedding. Have you set a date?”
Grace grinned. “This coming weekend.”
“Wow, that was fast.” His expression blanked, which made it difficult to read his thoughts.
“Not really. We’re both in our thirties. We love each other and don’t see the point in waiting. I think you’ll like Jeff.
He’s charming. Attentive. A supportive, intelligent extrovert and he encourages me to put myself out there. He wants to have kids soon.” Although lately, Jeff had been cranky and dropped a few mean comments after working long hours. Problems at work, he’d told her when he’d arrived home and apologized with a bunch of spring flowers. She’d given him a pass since tiredness always made her snappish. No one was perfect. Grace noticed Cullen was grinning, and she pulled a face. “Sorry. Listen to me babbling.”
“No, it’s great to see you happy.” He tugged her ponytail. “Where is my invitation?”
“I didn’t realize you’d be home. I’ll get an official invitation to you tomorrow. It’s so nice to see you again, Cullen.” Grace gave him another swift hug before stepping back. “I’ll call you about dinner. Maybe in the next night or two?”
“Works for me,” Cullen said and bent to pick up her shopping bags. “I’ll carry these to the door for you.”
“You’re rockin’ a mountain man look. I didn’t recognize you at first.”
Cullen grunted as he shortened the length of his strides to match hers. “The last mission required us to fit in with the locals.”
“I see.” Grace didn’t ask for details. Cullen was tight-lipped about his job with the New Zealand Special Air Service. She no longer asked questions because he never proffered answers. All she knew was that his job was dangerous, and she gave a sigh of relief each time he came home in one piece.
Cullen handed over her shopping at the gateway. “I’d come in and bother you, but I’m meeting a friend for drinks.”
“No problem. It was great to see you again. I’ll check with Jeff about dinner and get back to you.” Grace impulsively stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
Cullen froze before stepping back, and Grace gave a small laugh to hide her sudden discomfort.
“See you soon,” she said with a wiggle of her fingers. She walked up the flower-lined footpath—the purple-and-white pansies were gorgeous this year—to the front door of the house where she’d grown up and halted. A pair of sneakers balanced on the branch of the tree in front of her property. Kids. She wasn’t getting out the ladder to retrieve them. If the owner of those shoes wanted them back, they could make the climb themselves.
She loved this house and hated the idea of selling it. Her parents had moved into a lifestyle village and given her the property for a token amount. This suburb was vibrant, and she enjoyed living here since she knew everyone in the neighborhood and it was close to work. It was also on the bus route, which came in handy since Jeff had needed to borrow her car this morning. By the time she walked past a bed of purple and pink petunias and the hanging basket bursting with spring color near the front door, Cullen had disappeared.
His mood had been strange, and she wondered if he was meeting a girlfriend.
She paused on the step, surprised to find the door ajar. That was odd. She pushed the door open and peeked inside, but nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at her. When she cocked her head, she heard nothing except the tick of the clock in the nearby lounge. She stepped inside and let out a shuddery breath. Stupid door. She’d been in a hurry this morning, and she’d carried a container. In the future, she’d make certain she shut and locked the door.
In the kitchen, she set her shopping on the counter. She slipped her handbag off her shoulder and left it on the chair. Grace unpacked her groceries, placing the milk and other chilled items in the fridge. She ripped off the inner seal of the ketchup bottle and prepared the whipped cream for future use. She was about to place the items in the pantry when a foreign noise encroached on her awareness.
Was that a groan?
She took two steps in the sound’s direction and came to a sudden halt. It wasn’t wise to take on an intruder. No, she’d call the police. Grace retreated to grab her phone from her handbag. She tapped in her password and pushed one-one. She was about to tap the third digit of the emergency number when a woman shouted.
“Yes! Yes! Right there!”
When a masculine groan followed, Grace ended her call. She advanced another two steps before she decided a weapon wouldn’t be stupid. At a loss for a suitable deterrent, she snatched up her ketchup and cream and marched toward her bedroom.
Her bedroom.
She paused in the doorway and gaped at her fiancé’s naked backside and the slender and supple feminine legs wrapped around Jeff’s waist.
Fury rose, and she clenched the bottle and can, wishing it was Jeff’s neck she was wringing. The rat was cheating on her only days before their wedding.
How long had this been going on?
The woman screeched out her release. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she shrieked, loud enough to raise the roof.
Grace’s mouth pressed to a firm line. She recognized that seductive voice.
The couple collapsed to the bed, their breathing hoarse while the scent of their lovemaking filled her bedroom. She’d need to fumigate the place once she got rid of them.
The pair started kissing and moaning and groaning all over again.
Grace thumbed the flip top of the ketchup and yanked off the spray cream cap. Neither of the participants in the bed-sport heard the faint noises Grace made when she opened the bottles.
“I want to lick your dick and suck on it until you explode.”
Grace calmly stepped forward and squirted the pair. She took great pleasure in spraying her next-door neighbor directly in the face with cream. While Julia spluttered and cursed, Grace doused Jeff with ketchup, receiving immense satisfaction from splattering him with the blood-red sauce. The cheating scumbag was lucky she wasn’t going at him with a blade. The urge to do so trembled through her, because she possessed knife skills. The judges of the Best Baker contest had confirmed this fact on live television.
Julia squealed, the high-pitch cry hurting Grace’s ears. The pair floundered around the bed, their bodies slippery with food substances.
“What the fuck?” Jeff spluttered, futilely wiping at the ketchup dripping down his cheeks.
“You should know, since you’re the one doing the fucking,” Grace said sweetly and shot him with a blast of cream and another of ketchup. “In my bed with my neighbor.”
“He says you’re like a plank of wood in the sack,” Julia said.
“Really?” Grace used the last of the ketchup and cream, squirting Julia directly in the face before she focused on Jeff. “Get out of my house.” She dropped her weapons and fumbled to get off her engagement ring. Tears formed in her eyes when the ring stuck on her knuckle. Long seconds later, she removed the ring and flung it at Jeff. It struck his oversize nose, and he let out a howl. Shot!
“Bitch,” he snarled, gingerly touching his abused nose. “You’ve made me bleed.”
Grace grabbed her suitcase, packed ready for their honeymoon on Stewart Island. “Make sure you’re gone before I get back.”
“Grace, this is the first time this has happened. It was her. She came on to me…” He trailed off with a shrug. “I’m just a man.”
“Huh!” Julia snapped.
Grace snorted in concert with the woman. “Haven’t got your stories straight?”
“Grace, we can fix this. It won’t happen again. I promise you.”
“Does exclusive mean nothing to you?” Grace demanded. “You asked me to marry you, told me you loved me, and in the next minute, I find you in bed with a…a…a floozy.”
“Hey!” Julia bounded off the bed to grab her clothes. Ketchup and cream slid over her fake boobs and dripped to the floor. “I don’t have to listen to your insults.”
“You’re the trespasser,” Grace snapped and stalked away, wheeling her case after her. “If you’re not out by the time I return, I’m calling the police.”
“Please, I’m sorry. Grace, you can’t do this.” Jeff followed her from the bedroom, heedless of his nakedness.
“Just did.”
Grace grabbed her phone and keys and kept walking, dragging her case with her. She walked
out the door with Jeff shouting after her.
“You stupid bitch! You’re boring in bed. Too conservative. That’s why I had to look elsewhere for a bit of action. I need an adventurous lover.”
Fury gripped Grace, and the tears she’d been holding back with difficulty fled—to her relief. She whirled to face him. He looked ridiculous with the remnants of ketchup and cream decorating his person and his willy flopping around with each stomp. She couldn’t help it—she laughed.
When he snarled at her, she gave him honesty. “If this is about me refusing to have anal, you’re a dick. If you’d given me time, I might have agreed. You never gave me a chance.”
“You’re so self-conscious about your fat arse,” he sneered. “Stop sampling those cakes you’re always baking.”
Grace stared at him. “You have the cheek to nag me about my weight. All those long lunches and dinners you’ve been eating are taking their toll. You’re looking podgy there.” She pointed at his stomach. “Doesn’t go well with your skinny legs.”
Julia strutted out, not appearing as well put together as usual. Her cream linen pants suit held red splotches, and she carried her strappy pair of black high-heels. They, too, bore clumps of red-tinged cream. “If this ketchup ruins my clothes, you can pay for the dry-cleaning.”
Grace didn’t bother replying to that bit of ridiculousness. “You’re not welcome here. Ever. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out. And you.” She glared at Jeff. “The wedding is off. Get out of my house and leave my key on the kitchen counter. Let me know your forwarding address, and I’ll send your stuff. I don’t want to see you again.”
With that said, she snatched up her handbag. She hauled her case outside and whipped across the lawn. Grace darted through the small wooden gate that connected her property with Cullen’s. When she tapped on the rear door, and no one answered, she presumed Cullen had already left to meet his friend. He wouldn’t mind if she left her bag there while deciding on her next move. Right now, she desperately needed a drink.
She glanced down at the uniform she still wore and pulled a face. It didn’t seem right to grab a shower at Cullen’s place, but she could change. Her honeymoon clothes. She’d purchased lingerie, jeans, blouses, and a couple of pretty floral sundresses and shoes. She’d wanted to feel attractive and good about herself. She’d wanted Jeff to be proud of the woman he’d married.
Protecting the Bride Page 1
