Chapter One #2
“Here you go, Uncle Donnie.” Megan held out a chocolate chip cookie on a napkin. “I brought you the biggest one,” she whispered with a big wink.
Donnie crouched down and whispered, “Thank you Megan. You’re the best.” He held up his fist, and she fist-bumped him, grinning widely. She had taken to wanting to fist-bump everyone, after seeing her dad do it with Dex. The team were always happy to oblige.
Seeing the rest of Raven and some of Nyx sitting on the deck, he walked over, needing to get his mind off Nate. And Charlie. The women had taken over the Adirondack chairs on the beach, no doubt already planning Kelly’s wedding.
As he stepped onto the deck, he heard Tyler ask, “So, who’s planning the bachelor party?”
“Oh, I'm already on it,” Ryan said.
Dex groaned. “Not sure I want to know.”
“Probably not. You can trust us to make it memorable.” Ryan waggled his eyebrows.
“Looking forward to it already,” Donnie said. A boy's night was always a blast with these guys, but a bachelor party was going to be epic. Donnie glanced at his watch.
“Guys, I’m gonna head out. I got a few things to do, and I have an early flight tomorrow.”
“You do?” Dex said.
“Yeah, visiting the folks.”
“Enjoy your vacation, while some of us are here picking up the slack,” Liam Jackson, Nyx’s team leader, said with a grin.
“I’ll think of you. Not.”
He heard the boys laughing as he stepped off the deck to say goodbye to everyone else before finally getting in his Ford Bronco.
The team had busted his balls when he bought the Bronco, but he didn't give a shit.
He didn't need a truck, but he wasn’t really a car guy.
The cyber orange convertible Bronco suited him just fine.
Cheaper to run than a truck and plenty big enough to transport anything he might need.
As he pulled away from the curb, he turned on the radio.
He was looking forward to surprising his mom and seeing his folks.
Steve was right. Maybe this break would do him good.
***
“JESUS, YOU REALLY UPSET Mom.”
Wrapped in a bathrobe, Charlotte Weston sighed at the words, knowing better than to answer her fiancé when he was in this mood.
Simon stepped forward and grabbed her upper arms. She winced.
“Simon, you’re hurting me.”
Ignoring her, he said. “My family are paying for this wedding. If my mom wants you to wear her dress, wear the fucking dress. What difference does it make?”
Apparently, he’d just spoken to his mother. It made all the difference, because she had not had any say in this wedding whatsoever. Mistakenly, Charlotte thought just maybe she might be able to choose her own dress.
“It makes a difference to me. I wanted to choose my dress. I am the bride. Not your mom,” she snapped.
“It’s important to my mom. Can you not just do this for her? For me?” His steel gray eyes locked on hers and his voice softened. He relaxed his grip.
“OK. I’ll wear it,” she said quietly, so tired of the arguments. It was easier to give in. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy time? Planning her wedding?
“That’s my girl.” He smiled and pulled her against him. “Thank you, Charlotte, for understanding and doing this for me. It will be perfect, you’ll see.”
Charlotte. After being together a year, he still refused to call her Charlie.
He said it was a nickname, and not suitable for the beautiful woman she was.
Flattered by the compliment, she didn't mind at first. A couple of months later she realized everyone had reverted to calling her Charlotte. Everyone except her best friend Maddie.
Nate had been the first person to call her Charlie.
Growing up she had been a bit of a tomboy, and her brother had jokingly said she should have been called Charlie.
It had been said teasingly and with love, but it had stuck.
Damn, she missed Nate so much. Her big brother had been just a year older. They had been so close.
“Mom’s expecting you for a fitting this weekend,” Simon said as he stepped away.
Absently, she rubbed her upper arms, knowing his grip had probably left red marks.
Simon wasn’t the tallest at five foot seven, but he worked out daily, giving him a stocky build of muscle.
He didn't know his own strength. At five feet two, Charlie wasn’t thin but was no match to his build, and she tended to bruise easily. Simon seemed to forget that. A lot.
“I can’t. I’m leaving for assignment, remember?
” she said, reminding him for what seemed like the sixth time this week.
Her job as administrative support for the US government, took her all over the world.
She regularly traveled to embassies to assist in preparing for the foreign dignitary's arrival or filled in for their personnel on leave or out sick.
Basically, anywhere there was a need she could be sent.
Sometimes she was gone a few days, sometimes weeks.
“Oh, right. Where are you going again?” he asked while buttoning his shirt.
“Simon, we spoke about this last night.” She ran a hand through her blond curls, not hiding her frustration.
When he turned, his expression was tense. “I am in the middle of the biggest real estate deal our company has ever done. My mind is a little preoccupied with that, not with your travel itinerary. You’re always leaving. You can't expect me to remember.”
At his harsh tone, she turned away. He used to remember. He used to be waiting at the airport every time she got back.
“I’m not going far. Canada. Toronto. I’m covering for the personal assistant to the US Consul. She’s getting married and taking a honeymoon.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks? Jesus. Well, OK. Call my mom. I’m sure she can postpone the fitting until you get back. At least, once we’re married, we won't have to worry about this anymore.”
Charlie frowned. “Worry about what?”
“You leaving all the time.”
Unease bubbled in her stomach. “I don’t understand. I’ll still be working.”
Simon smiled. “No wife of mine is going to be working as an administrative assistant for the government and going to some of those godawful countries that you go to. We talked about this.”
Her unease changed to anger, and she stood, hands on hips, determined to be strong.
“We did not. I never said I would stop working. I love my job.” She stared at him, waiting for him to say he was sorry. That he misunderstood. When he stalked toward her, she instinctively backed up, hitting the bedroom wall.
He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. His finger traced down her cheek.
“Charlotte, darling. I will give you everything you need and want. You know money is no object for us. I don’t want you working. I don't want you in danger. I love you, and I want you here with me. You understand, don’t you?”