Epilogue
Wendy Ann McGuire
The last single McGuire sibling standing.
(Or rather, running, away from her mother’s
matchmaking as fast as her spindly
nerd legs can carry her…)
“ A ll those tattoos. I’ll never understand it.” Mom sighs and shakes her head, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips as she adds, “Though they looked nice with the flowers she chose for the bouquet.”
“They looked amazing,” I agree as Seven spins my sister around the floor for their first dance. “ She looks amazing.”
Binx is gorgeous in a form-fitting white satin gown and fancy up-do, but it’s the expression on her face as she gazes up at Seven that makes her shine.
She’s so in love, so happy…and I can’t help feeling smug about it.
After all, if Sprout, Seven’s eight-year-old daughter, and I hadn’t parent-trapped these two, this wedding might never have happened. I catch Sprout’s eye across the ballroom and grin, shooting her a subtle thumbs-up. She grins and gives me two enthusiastic thumbs-up back as she sways to the music, clearly ready for the first song to be over so we can join the lovebirds on the dance floor.
“My baby girl,” Mom says, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “All grown up and married and starting a family of her own.” She pats my arm with a sniff. “That just leaves you, sweetheart. Which reminds me, Petey Sinclair is here. Remember Petey? From when you were little?”
My smile falls from my face.
Maybe if I pretend that I didn’t hear her, she’ll let it go.
“You know, Petey Sinclair,” she adds, proving she’s still my mother and not about to let anything go. Ever. “You used to play in his sandbox when you were little, and his mother and I were still doing those Tupperware parties. You had so much fun together. You’d be out there digging for hours.”
“No, I don’t remember,” I say, though I do. I remember Petey Sinclair being a pain in the butt who hogged the good shovel and kept insisting I play with his wrestler dolls, even though I have always had the good sense—even at five years old—to hate wrestling.
Mom huffs. “I find that hard to believe. You played together all the time.”
“I was five, Mom,” I mutter.
“So?” She lifts a hand to fluff her immaculate bob. I don’t know how she gets her hair to behave so well, but it’s not a trait I inherited. Fifteen minutes after leaving the hairdresser in the bridal suite this afternoon, my brown curls were frizzed all over. “I met your father when I was five, and I certainly remembered him.”
“Because you went to school with him for years after that. Petey was older than I was and homeschooled,” I say, before adding beneath my breath, “And I’m pretty sure he ate playdough and his own boogers.”
“See! I knew you remembered him,” Mom says. “He’s a doctor now, a pediatrician! Well, nearly a pediatrician. He’s doing his residency in Minneapolis, which isn’t that far to drive for a date. Especially if you do something fun on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. He’s moving home to join his brother’s practice after he finishes his residency next year.”
“Mom, no, stop,” I say, my cheeks heating. “I don’t need you to set me up with a booger eater.”
“Well, goodness, I’m sure he doesn’t eat them anymore,” she says. “And it’s not like you were the perfect child. I remember one time I came outside to check on you in the sandbox, and you’d taken off your socks, filled them with sand, and were bonking poor Petey on the head with them.”
“I was probably trying to stop him from eating his boogers,” I say, earning a hiss from Mom and a swat on my wrist.
“Lower your voice,” she says. “His parents are here. The whole family is close with Seven’s mother. Apparently, they’ve been frequenting her establishment for decades.”
Mom says the word “establishment” like she’s talking about a crack house filled with feral, unwashed dogs, but that’s not a surprise. She’s come a long way in the months since Binx and Seven first got together, but it’s hard to teach an old snob new tricks.
At least she’s friendly with Seven and his mother, and she’s taken a genuine liking to Sprout. She even made the flower girl dress Sprout’s wearing and added extra fabric to the skirt so it would have the “twirliness” her new granddaughter requested.
My mother is, at her core, a good person.
Even if it’s hard to remember that when she’s being a bossy matchmaker who can’t take a hint to save her life…
“I could reintroduce you,” she adds. “I saw Petey talking to Barrett by the bar just a little while ago. I’m sure he’d love the chance to get reacquainted, and you look so nice tonight. Your hair’s hardly frizzy at all.”
The woman must think I don’t have eyes. My hair is a frizzed disaster, and it’s about to get worse as soon as I head out into the summer heat.
No way in heck am I sticking around the ballroom to be forced upon Petey. I’ll wait until everyone’s dancing and sneak back in later, once it’s easier to disappear into the crowd.
“Maybe later,” I say vaguely, already backing toward the balcony doors. “I have to check on something.”
“Check on something?” Mom’s brows pinch together. “Check on what?”
“A thing I promised Christian and another thing for Mel,” I say, trusting that my siblings will back me up if Mom questions either of them. I smile and wave, promising, “Be right back!”
But I have no intention of “being right back.”
As soon as I close the door to the balcony behind me, I hurry past the few other people hanging out in the steamy July air and down the staircase at the far side. In just a few minutes, I’m on the path leading to the boathouse by the lake, leaving the raucous sounds of the party behind.
Mom can say what she wants about Seven and his “wild and rowdy” relatives, but it’s the McGuires that turn every social gathering into a sound pollution situation. There are just too many of us. Eight kids are a lot to begin with, but now there are spouses and grandchildren and friends of the spouses and pets and friends of the pets…
It’s just…a lot.
Especially for a person who wants to be left alone to read in peace most of the time. It’s one of the many reasons I love my new job as a remote data analyst, working with a social science department on the East Coast. Sure, Zoom meetings are the worst, but that’s only two mornings a week. The rest of the time, I’m left blissfully alone to pour through data, write papers, and make graphs.
Ah…a graph, now there’s a thing you can put your faith in.
Not like people. People are far too confusing and hard to read.
Which, sadly, means my own matchmaking days are probably behind me. I loved the rush of helping two people find love way more than I thought I would, but I’m not usually good at spotting a perfect match. I only knew about Binx and Seven because she’s my sister and closest sibling.
Even with my other siblings, I often don’t understand what’s in their hearts.
Barrett, for example. I had no clue that he and Wren would be ever be anything more than friends and colleagues. Their romance took me completely by surprise. Same with Christian and Starling. To be honest, I thought they disliked each other right up until the moment Mom started having a coronary because some jerk had leaked their sex tape to the internet.
I shudder at the thought as I step onto the dock beside the boathouse.
I would die.
I would spontaneously combust from shame and my ashes would be blown away by the wind, never to be seen again.
But that’s one of the many benefits of being a twenty-four-year-old virgin. I don’t have to worry about my sex tape being leaked to the internet, revenge porn, or STDs. I also spend very little time fretting about my heart being broken or accidental pregnancy.
Basically, life as an ancient, nerdy virgin is a bowl of cherries—pun intended.
I couldn’t be happier.
So, why does my heart twist in my chest as I lean against the dock railing and stare back at the historic hotel, where all my nearest and dearest are celebrating?
I’m not jealous, truly I’m not. I wouldn’t want to get married right now. I’m not even ready for a steady boyfriend.
My remote job might go in-person in the next few months. If it does, I’ll be moving to Boston, and scoring a twenty thousand dollar increase in my annual salary. The last thing I need is an emotional attachment in Bad Dog tying me down. I already have the emotional attachment of my family to deal with. I know they won’t be happy to learn that I’m moving so far away, even if it is only to assist on a two-year research study.
So, no. No boyfriend or fiancée for me, but a kiss might be nice.
Or maybe, something more than a kiss…
I wouldn’t want to put my perfect “no dicks anywhere near my lady flower” record at risk, but the way Seven was holding Binx as he guided her around the dance floor made me wonder what it feels like to be held like that…like the person holding you finds you irresistible.
“Wendy Ann McGuire? Is that you?” The deep voice rumbling from my left makes me jump half a foot in the air.
“What?” I gasp as I spin to watch a tall shadow emerge from the open boathouse door. “Wh-who are you?”
He chuckles, a pleasant, rolling sound that makes the hair stand up on my arms. “Aw, come on. You remember me,” he says, grinning as he steps into the moonlight a few feet away. “You used to eat boogers in my backyard.”
“I did no such thing,” I protest, making the man laugh.
He chuckles again. “I was just teasing, McGuire. Everyone knows my little brother was the gross one.”
My eyes widen. “Connor Sinclair?”
“The same,” he says, a dimple popping in his right cheek.
My jaw drops as my gaze tracks up and down the tall, muscled person Connor Sinclair has become. From his tousled sandy blond hair to the shining tips of his fancy shoes, he looks…expensive. Expensive and polished and too handsome for his own good—all things I hate in a guy.
So why does my neck hair join my arm hair in prickling to life as he steps closer?
“Shouldn’t you be at the wedding?” he asks, motioning toward my gauzy lilac bridesmaid’s dress.
“I’m avoiding my mother,” I murmur, trying—and failing—to rip my gaze away from his. I can’t see what color his eyes are in the dim light, but they’re dazzling, even partly in shadow. He looks like he has secrets, fun ones that would be delightful to discover. “And your brother.”
His brows lift. “Petey? Is he showing his ass? Do I need to remind him how to treat a beautiful woman?”
I snort and am immediately mortified. I cover by stammering, “No, he’s fine. It’s my mother wanting to re-introduce me to your brother that I’m avoiding. I’m not interested in being set up right now.”
He nods, his eyes sparkling again. “Oh, no, you don’t want to be set up. Especially not with my brother.”
I tilt my head to one side. “Why not? Don’t you like your brother?”
“Don’t you?” he challenges, avoiding the question.
I narrow my eyes. “I don’t really remember him. Except that he ate gross things in the sandbox when we used to play together. Call me shallow, but that’s not the kind of thing I can get past, even if it happened almost twenty years ago. He was several years older than I was at the time. He really should have known better.”
He makes a considering sound. “I agree, and can’t say that I blame you. And to answer your question, no, I don’t really care for my brother. Which is a shame. I like the idea of a close, brotherly bond, but…”
“But?” I prompt, intrigued by his openness. In my family, such betrayal of a fellow McGuire to a stranger, if discovered, would be punished by the cold shoulder and years of side-eye.
He shrugs. “That’s just not how it worked out for us.”
“But my mother said he’s joining your practice when he graduates.”
Connor grunts. “That’s what my mother keeps telling everyone. But that’s going to be hard to do now that I’ve sold the practice and am leaving town on Monday.” He flashes his dimple again as he adds in a faux whisper, “How pissed is she going to be when she finds out, do you think?”
I blink faster. “Wow. You’re…”
“Crazy?” he supplies.
I shake my head. “Brave.”
“Nah,” he says, his grin dimming a watt or two. “If I were brave, I would have told her I was leaving. I just can’t handle the drama right now. I’ve had my fill of that for the next thirty or forty years.”
I furrow my brow sympathetically. “I understand. My mother and Binx had a big blow-up fight last fall. The tension only lasted a month or so, but it nearly gave me an ulcer. I can’t handle conflict.”
“I can handle it,” he says, “just not if there’s no chance of the conflict being resolved. My parents refuse to see that my brother isn’t a good doctor. Even if they could see, I doubt it would change their minds. They’ve always gone out of their way to pander to Petey. But I can’t play along anymore, not when the lives and well-being of my patients could be at risk.” He exhales a soft laugh. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to dump on you.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say. “Feel free.”
“I just don’t have anyone else to talk to. I’m keeping the move top secret from everyone I know until I’m on my way out of town.” He smiles before adding in a softer voice, “And you have kind eyes.”
“Thanks,” I say. “You, too.”
His eyes are kind, but they’re also…magnetic. They hold me in thrall as he braces his hand on the railing beside me and leans closer, whispering, “So, what do you think? Should we bail on this whole scene? I have a bottle of wine and some fantastic maple cookies at my place.”
“I love maple cookies,” I murmur, even as my thoughts race.
A bottle of wine and cookies…
And his body is now very close to mine…
His dazzling eyes more sparkly than ever…
Could this…
Is he…
“Are you asking me to have sex with you?” I blurt out with another snort I’m too shocked to be embarrassed about.
He laughs, a tad uncomfortably, I think. “Um, well, no. I thought we could enjoy the wine, cookies, and conversation, and…see where things lead. But if you’re looking for that kind of evening, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” He flashes another charming grin. “As I said, you’re beautiful. Stunning, really.”
I fight the urge to snort-giggle and fail. “Oh my God, sorry,” I say, still laughing. “I just.. I can’t… Wow, this is…”
He steps back, running a hand through his hair. “No, don’t apologize, please. I deserve to be laughed at. That was cheesy as hell. I’m the one who should be sorry. I was in a relationship for so long, I’ve clearly forgotten how to flirt in a normal, not-weird way.”
“No, you were normal,” I say. “Well, I think you were, anyway. I’ve never had anyone ask me home for ‘wine and cookies’ before.”
It’s his turn to snort. “Yeah, right.”
“Seriously,” I insist. “I’ve never had anyone come on to me like that. Ever.”
His eyes widen. “Are the guys in your orbit blind?”
“No, they see just fine.” I shrug as I push my glasses up my nose. “They see that I’m a nerdy woman with five giant older brothers and two extremely tough older sisters. Not to mention all my cousins and uncles and my family’s very protective pets. With those odds, no one around here wants to fork around and find out what happens if they try to take me home.”
He nods slowly, seeming to roll all that over for a beat. “I can see that, I guess. But someone should have stepped up and taken a chance. I have a feeling you’d be worth it.”
“Thanks,” I say, my cheeks heating. The words might have sounded cheesy from someone else, but he seems so sincere, so kind.
Would it be so bad to go home with this man? To drink his wine and eat his cookies? To make out with his sexy face and…maybe see a penis for the first time in real life?
My heart develops a case of the hiccups at the mere thought of it, but still, I don’t step away or start back toward the ballroom.
“I’d ask you out on a real date myself if I weren’t leaving so soon,” he says, his hands sliding into the pockets of his suit pants. “But I learned how rough long-distance relationships are the hard way, so…”
“Well, we um…” I trail off, my heart racing as my tongue slips out to wet my lips.
Am I really considering this?
Just mere minutes after thinking about how much I enjoy being a virgin?
But then, maybe I would enjoy being not-a-virgin just as much, if I got to lose it to a man like this. And as far as I’m concerned, the fact that he’s going away is a feature, not a bug. It would eliminate all the stress from the encounter. Even if the nookie is awful, I’ll only have to risk running into him around town for a couple of days. If necessary, I could hide out in my apartment and live on ramen noodles and scrambled eggs for that long.
It’s an ideal scenario, and I’ve been a statistics nerd long enough to know that those are few and far between.
So, I gather my courage and blurt out, “We wouldn’t have to have a relationship. We could just…have fun. Until you leave on Monday.”
His brows shoot up. “Really?”
“Really,” I assure him, ignoring the fact that my stomach has dropped to my feet and something hot and frantic is happening in my intestines. “Assuming we have chemistry, I mean. We should probably figure that out first.”
His lips quirk up, as if he finds me amusing, and maybe a little dorky.
But that’s okay, I am dorky. I’m also a woman who knows her own mind, and isn’t afraid to trust my instincts, and my instincts are telling me, I should kiss this man.
Right now, even though I’ve never made the first move before in my entire life.
But there’s a first time for everything, a fact I prove as I grip the lapels of his suit jacket, push up on tiptoe, and press my lips to his. At first, he’s stiff, surprised, but a second later, his arm is around my waist, his hand is in my hair, and he’s kissing me like I’m the star of the show.
I’ve never been the star.
I’m barely a supporting cast member. My family has done their best to banish me to the backstage area, determined to protect the baby of the family from all the big, scary things in life.
But suddenly, I don’t want to be protected, I want to be…naked.
Naked and tangled up with this gorgeous man who smells like exotic leather and spice and touches me like he’s had my body memorized for years. I’ve never felt so instantly comforted and electrified by anything in my entire life. He feels so safe, so familiar, and simultaneously like the wildest ride at the county fair, the one I had to wait to go on until my overprotective brothers left for the night.
By the time we come up for air, I’m on fire, sizzling all over in a way I’ve only read about in books up to this point.
“I think the chemistry is covered,” he murmurs, looking as hungry as I feel.
“So covered,” I agree, still breathless. “Meet you in the parking area in five minutes? I have to go tell my sister I’m leaving early.”
He nods. “See you there. I’m the vintage Mustang. Pale yellow. You can’t miss it.”
I won’t miss it , I promise myself as I hurry back toward the wedding.
I’m not going to chicken out. I’m going to seize the day—and the D—and by this time tomorrow, I’ll have put a very big rite of passage in my rearview mirror.
After all, how hard can a one-night stand be?
People far less accomplished than I am do that sort of thing all the time.
Of course, I have no idea just how complicated things are about to get. Or that even nice guys can turn your world upside down without even trying.
WHEN IT SIZZLES, Wendy Ann’s story,
and the FINAL installment in
The McGuire Brothers saga releases this fall!