Second Chance Wedding: A Second Chance First Love Contemporary Romance (The Blackwell Brothers Book

Chapter 1

It’s not going to disappear, you know,” an amused female voice drawled from behind Analise Taylor’s shoulder. “You can glance away every now and again, and when you look back, it’ll still be there.”

Analise sank her teeth into her lower lip as she smiled but didn’t take her eyes off the spotless glass window with its glittery-gold typography and upscale items so carefully and artfully displayed inside.

Coastal Couture had started off as a dream on her kitchenette table. Not a full-size kitchen table; they’d had no room for that in the tiny two-bedroom apartment she’d shared with Quinley as her roommate in those early years.

No, her dream had started at a tiny bar-style kitchenette island that had been barely big enough for two plates, and yet it had held hundreds—thousands—of ideas and notebooks and lists over the years. All the things she’d wanted out of life.

Including this.

Especially this. This wasn’t her kitchen or a too-tiny space at the end of an alley near the boardwalk where she had to hope people walked by. This…was a dream coming true. “Have I said thank you?”

A huff of a laugh left her best friend’s chest, and Quinley wrapped a toned and tan arm around Analise’s shoulders and squeezed.

“Only about a million times. It was just an introduction, Ana. That,” she said, emphasizing the word by pointing her perfectly painted fingernail at the boutique, “is all you. I am so proud of you. You know that, right?”

Analise swallowed down the lump forming in her throat and wrapped her arm around Quinley’s impossibly tiny waist. “Is it awful to say I’m proud of me, too?”

Quinley chuckled and took another sip from her glass.

“Not at all. With all that you’ve been through over the years to make this happen? You ran with the bulls, baby. And you won. That’s something you should be proud of and I’ll kick the behind of anyone who says otherwise.”

The speech being given at the podium ended, and as the applause faded and the gala’s host stepped down, Analise took another sip of the bubbly champagne and turned to survey the glittering lights and beautiful people surrounding her. Chatter and music quickly filled the three-story lobby of the newest Lachlan Hotel and Resort, and her ears buzzed with the praises and gentle pats and handshakes that congratulated her on her tiny part of this venture located at the edge of Carolina Cove, North Carolina.

Over the last year speculation ran hot that the hotel chain had made a huge mistake in choosing the small town over other larger, more likely locations, but now that the resort was officially open for guests, Rhys Lachlan’s welcoming speech had confirmed that the resort was fully booked for the foreseeable future.

And sheltered in the heart of the lobby like a treasure?

Analise eyed her beautiful boutique like a kid in a candy store, simply unable to get enough of how utterly perfect it looked. Elegant, sophisticated, yet not so high-end that people could make a vacation splurge without going home bankrupt. That was another thing she’d promised herself back in the dream-it-and-it’ll-come-true days: that no matter how successful her boutique became, she would also always have a few more affordable items for the dreamers like herself.

Analise let go of Quinley so that she could wrap her arm around her stomach, trying to hold in the butterflies and worries and all the overwhelming emotions that came with the success.

Quinley was right though. She’d spent the last fifteen years saving and scrimping and sacrificing so that she could have this moment right here. Every decision in her past had meant learning something new in order to grow.

Now she owned a boutique in a thirty-million-dollar hotel, and that was no small thing. But it also didn’t guarantee her boutique would be a success, and once again, it was time to take a breath—and do whatever it took to make it a success and level up. This was a trial run, so to speak. And she had a long way to go to prove herself before she could turn this boutique into the first of many.

Rhys Lachlan was a businessman first and foremost, and while Ana had her numbers memorized and knew her projected growth, she banked on potential. Coastal Couture could be the start of something great. But only time and more hard work would tell.

“Okay, seriously, stop. I can hear the gears cranking in that head of yours,” Quinley said. “Take the night off and just enjoy the moment. Drink up. You did it, and it’s perfect.”

Ana looked up at her taller friend and nodded. “It is, isn’t it?”

Smiling, Quinley clinked her glass against Ana’s.

“You’ve come a long way, baby.”

Boy had she ever. The red-carpet gala was a who’s who event, and she’d be lying through her teeth if she said she wasn’t more than a little intimidated, even though in the past five years or so she’d undoubtedly dressed or accessorized a lot of the women in attendance.

Carolina Cove’s local officials rubbed shoulders with Wilmington’s elite, business owners and the area’s movers and shakers. They sipped drinks and networked, promising to refer associates and family members.

Large enough to host conferences in addition to providing all the amenities needed for family vacations, the resort would have a steady stream of foot traffic moving by her storefront. And since the soft opening a month ago, she’d made every sales goal and upped them. Combined with the online sales network she’d built over the last several years, thanks entirely to Quinley’s marketing and advertising expertise, it was a testament to what a college dropout and single mom could do when motivated by lack and fueled by caffeine.

Heat scorched her eyes with pinpricks, and Analise blinked rapidly to make sure her exhausted tears didn’t form or fall. Despite the nonstop preparation to get the boutique opening night ready, she’d spent her share of time in the hotel’s spa earlier alongside Quinley, getting makeup and hair perfected for the gala evening. She didn’t want anything to ruin it.

And she wouldn’t allow the thoughts of who wasn’t in attendance to see her success overshadow the fact that she had risen from the ashes despite them all.

“Uh-oh. Here comes Mr. Surly,” Quinley said. “Please don’t let whatever your grumpy teenager says take the bubbles from your champagne. Do you hear me?”

Forcing her thoughts back into the tiny, well-locked boxes where she tried to keep them contained, she nodded firmly. “Yup.”

Ana braced herself and shrugged off the past before shifting her gaze away from the beautiful boutique with its ornate moldings and charming coastal southern design just as her son stopped in front of her.

“Mom, give me a hundred bucks,” Benji ordered.

Quinley huffed out an irritated sound and tossed back the last of her champagne, an obvious attempt to not comment on Benji’s lack of manners.

Ana felt her face heat with embarrassment. Not only had Benjamin not greeted Quinley, but her son literally stood there expecting her to simply hand over the money he demanded without so much as a please.

“I’m going to go find Lachlan.”

Analise nodded as her best friend since college walked away, still thinking it odd that Quinley called her fiancé by his last name rather than his first.

“Mom.”

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. Due to Benji’s last growth spurt, he stood a solid six inches taller, thirty pounds heavier than before, and topped six feet despite having just turned fifteen. “If you needed money, you should’ve worked with me today like I asked you to.”

“I had plans,” he said in the “Mr. Surly” tone he had perfected over the last two years.

“Gaming with your friends isn’t “plans,” and this date was set in stone months ago. You knew it and could’ve planned your game around it. I needed your help, Benji.”

Her son’s handsome face pulled into a too-familiar snarl.

“It’s Ben,” he all but growled. “And I’m here now when I don’t wanna be. You can pay me for that. Just send it to me on your phone. It’s no big deal.”

Pay him for his presence? Seriously? “Why do you want money?” she asked instead.

“To leave. For an Uber and stuff.”

A wave of fury rolled over her. The gala had barely started. “You’re not leaving,” she said, her voice faltering because of the hurt slicing through her like a hot knife. “Benji, I’ve worked really hard for this day. For us. I want the people I love here with me to celebrate.”

A snort met her words.

“Where are they then?”

She gasped at his words, taken aback by the anger and hostility he dished out like the bullets and weapons from the games he favored.

“You opened a store in a hotel because your best friend is screwing the owner. It’s not a big deal or else the Taylors would be here too.”

The Taylorswere what he called his grandparents. Her parents. Not Grandma or Grandpa, Nana or Pops. The Taylors.

In that moment she realized he resented them almost as much as she did, and it didn’t make her proud. It only made the hurt and betrayal worse because her son should’ve never been made to feel that way at all, yet he did due to their absence from his life. “It is a big deal, and Quinley is not why,” she said. “Why are you being so ugly?”

“I told you I didn’t want to come. I wanted to go to the party with my friends.”

“This is our livelihood, Benji. It’s how I pay our bills,” she said. “It’s how I paid for that tuxedo you picked out to wear tonight.”

“Just send me the money so I can go.”

Anger overtook her hurt. Teenage hormones and surliness were one thing but this? “You are not to leave this lobby under any circumstances.”

He came back with a curse, garnering the attention of an older couple nearby who shot them judgy looks.

“Benjamin Thomas Taylor, don’t you dare speak like that in front of me or anyone else,” she warned with an angry whisper.

One side of his mouth pulled up in a smirk because he’d gotten under her skin and he knew it. Analise grabbed his arm and stepped closer because pulling him to her would be like moving a wall and an angry one at that. “Benji—Ben,” she quickly corrected in an effort to connect with the person resembling her son but acting like a stranger, “you are not to step foot outside those doors. Do you understand me?”

His nostrils flared with every breath, and his face turned dark red with his anger. Her mind flashed back to that of his father, a few years older at the time but just as angry as he’d stared down at her when she’d told him she was pregnant. The things he’d said to her, the smirking egotistical gall of a boy-man unwilling to take responsibility for his actions.

The sight, the memory, unnerved Ana even more because the visual was so strong due to the resemblance. What had happened to the little boy who’d followed her around like a puppy? Held her hand and curled up on her lap for a story. Who was this person?

Analise watched and prayed Benji—Ben—wouldn’t make any more of a scene than he already had. She sensed the furtive glances shot their way as they stood there glaring at one another in a battle of wills.

She might be his mother, but he fought her control and authority at every turn now. Everything was a fight, and she didn’t understand why. “Ben,” she said softly, “honey, I get that a gala isn’t something a teenage boy might enjoy, but can’t you tough it out for a few hours? Try the food and—Ask one of the girls to dance.”

“The food sucks, and so does the music.”

She wasn’t going to win this. Not that she’d really expected to. “Go sit somewhere and sulk then.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Benjamin, you are not a picky eater. If you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat some of the food being offered. The chef is amazing.”

“I want a burger.”

She fisted her hand over the forgotten glass in her hand. “Don’t you dare step foot outside those doors.”

“Or what?”

Benji—no, this person was entirely Ben—smirked again, the look morphing to a snarl as he turned on his heel and stalked away in the tuxedo she’d spent far too much money on because once he’d looked at the options, only the most expensive one would do.

She watched as he yanked at his tie and almost elbowed one of the partygoers in the face as he stalked by them. Once Benji got the tie loose, he slung it to the polished marble floor without so much as a glance.

Ana bit back a groan and made her way to where the tie was about to get stepped on by a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. Once he’d cleared the area, she stooped low in her too-high heels and quickly swiped it up to tuck it into the tiny purse dangling from her shoulder. She’d just secured it when she felt someone watching and looked up to see Quinley across the room.

Their gazes locked, and her friend’s expression held the same censor and upset that Ana felt inside. Quinley’s displeasure with Benji’s behavior was clear, and Ana knew her friend’s upset was on her behalf, which made her feel even worse as a mother because it seemed no matter what she did now, she couldn’t force Benji to behave like a civilized human. And having Quinley and everyone else notice? She felt judged. And who could blame them. She’d certainly had a few my-kid-will-never-act-like-that moments over the years but now? What would they do in her shoes? She was open for suggestions.

She found herself blinking hard once again, exhaustion dragging at her. Physical, emotional. She was so tired, and she didn’t have time to be tired.

Ana snapped the metal clasp of the purse closed, taking a moment to collect herself. When she looked up again, she searched to see where Benji had settled for his sulk.

Except she didn’t see him in the seating area where he’d headed, and her stomach dropped like a stone.

Where had he gone?

She found herself slowly turning, visibly searching the crowded lobby for a sign of his raven-dark, blue-black hair and tall, too-thin body.

When that produced no results, she put her aching feet into motion and began slowly moving through the thick crowd to look for her son, fixing a smile on her face when she was stopped and congratulated numerous times on snagging such a prime location and fantastic opportunity. Did she have plans for expansion? Were her boutiques going to be included in the rest of the resort hotels? What advice would she give to other female business owners and entrepreneurs?

After thirty minutes of hair-pulling chit-chat that delayed her search and still not finding her son anywhere, she pulled her phone from her purse to check it right as a text buzzed in from Benji.

Mom come outside. Alley by kitchen

You weren’t supposed to leave the lobby!

She’d no sooner hit send when his next text arrived.

911

911? Did that mean he had an emergency? Or that she needed to call the police?

Mom hurry

Analise did an about-face and ignored the looks shot her way as she rush-walked toward the bank of doors and out into the cool November evening. The red carpet under her heels mocked her every step, and her breath fogged as she pushed through and then raced by the valets now gathered at the mouth of the alley between the hotel’s main building and the next.

She kept going, spying another small group gathered near a limo—including her son, who was being held in place in the open driver’s side door by his tuxedo lapels which were fisted tightly by a very large man.

Benji looked both red faced angry and pale at the same time. Her heart sank even as she took those final few steps to his side.

“There she is. My mom’ll fix this,” she heard Benji say in a blustery yet panicked tone.

The dimly lit alley and the limo’s headlights bouncing off the dumpster a ways away gave off what little light there was. The limo canted sideways in the narrow space, and a knot formed in her stomach when she realized the vehicle had hit something.

The smell of asphalt assaulted her senses along with the inevitable smell of salt-air corrosion that seemed to latch onto everything this close to the beachfront. But it could also be the fear she saw on her son’s face and his position inches from the driver’s seat. Realization dawned, and he wasn’t the only one afraid. “What’s happening here?”

She eyed the suited back of the tall, broad-shouldered man standing way too close to Benji, aware that he loosened his hold and shifted to the side at the sound of her voice. She ignored the man for the time being as she focused entirely on her son. “Benji, are you hurt? What is going on?”

“Ana?”

That voice.

The ground seemed to move beneath her feet, and she stumbled a bit in the heels thanks to a small rock and a bit of grit. One of the hands so recently holding onto Benji quickly latched onto her arm to steady her before she went sprawling, and she found herself staring up at the chiseled jawline and gorgeous face of Cole Blackwell as he held both her and her son.

Everything happened at once. Cole’s gaze widened slightly in unmistakable surprise as he glanced from her to Benji and back again. He canted his head slightly, gaze narrowing dangerously, and seemed as shocked to see her as she was him.

Or maybe shocked by the fact she had a teenage son the same age as the last time they’d seen each other?

“Ana, what the??—”