Jilted: Promise Harbor, Book 1 (30 page)

Not waiting for an invitation, he eased into her personal space. She relinquished her spot in front of the jukebox, and from the corner of his eye, he thought he caught a glimpse of recognition on her face.

So they knew each other.

A mental replay of those legs and killer ass flashed through his head even as he reminded himself he wasn’t hooking up with anyone while he was in town. Way too much trouble.

“The Beast isn’t a machine you can tussle with. She likes a more precise touch.”

“Is that right?” One golden brow arched, and she waved at the machine with a by-all-means gesture.

He hadn’t expected otherwise considering his skills with taming the temperamental Beast were widely known. Why then did it feel like she was just humoring him?

He gripped the juke on either side and lifted just enough to rock the Beast side to side for a second, then an extra shimmy before dropping her back on the floor. “That always does the trick when it skips.”

Conscious of the blonde’s scrutiny, he skimmed the song selection and punched in a favorite.

“Hit Me With Your Best Shot” played again.

He frowned and jostled the jukebox a little harder this time. The song continued to play and…was it getting louder?

The blonde merely shrugged and held out the hammer.

“I got this.” He ignored the hammer, but reached around back and unplugged the machine for a few seconds, giving it time to reset. The aging machine probably just needed a little reboot and she’d rock the roof off this place like she always had.

Confidence took hold despite the blonde’s amused gaze, and he hit the play button. The same song pounded out of the speakers, the tune a sudden and unexpectedly potent reminder of everything he’d lost.

“Precise touch?” the blonde echoed, laughing a moment later.

The contagious sound pulled at his memory, but he couldn’t place it.

“You’d have a better shot of sending a rotten egg into the net without breaking it than getting anywhere with this machine,” she continued. She tucked the hammer back in the bag of tools on the table behind her.

“Sunset Bluff.” The words were out, his mind snagging the faint memory before it slipped away.

She paused, facing him with that skeptical brow arched.

“You and me in a red Chevy with a passenger window that wouldn’t roll down.” There was no way he had imagined that face staring at him through the passenger window, right?

“I remember that truck.” A flattering smile curved her lips, reinforcing the fuzzy memory he still couldn’t quite nail down. “The radio sucked.” More tools went into the bag.

The radio? “That’s all you remember?”

Her gaze turned reminiscent. “I do remember you throwing up everywhere.”

Details he could have done without came into sharper focus. He could count on one hand how many times he’d gotten drunk before being drafted at nineteen, and luck would have it that she’d apparently been there for one of those shining moments.

Fantastic.

He winced at the memory and the smile she tried to hide. Despite their embarrassing history, he found himself returning the smile. “At least tell me I made it up to you?”

She laughed even harder. “Not even close.” She hefted the bag off the table and carried it to the bar. “And I highly doubt it would have occurred to you to try.”

He hadn’t been nearly the jerk a lot of his high school buddies had been, even if his mind had been on hockey more than girls. With that easy, sexy smile of hers, he would have wanted to take her out again. He was sure of it.

“Then let me make it up to you now.” He gestured to the bar. “Let me buy you a drink. We can catch up, or at least maybe I can help you remember something better about that night.” His earlier determination to avoid women this weekend was going down in flames.

She threw him a disbelieving look. “You don’t even remember me.”

His silence was undoubtedly telling, but it was coming back to him. Heather…Haven… Something like that.

“Besides,” she added. “I don’t drink on the job.”

“Then later,” he pressed, wanting to talk to her a little longer. Maybe he could get her to laugh again. “You could tell me what’s changed around town. Or show me.”

When she bit her lip, tipping her head like she was actually considering it, he threw in, “We could sneak into the rink.” The outrageous suggestion had been one of his signature moves in high school, and it had never failed.

“You mean break in?”

He shrugged, both encouraged and just a little wary of the intrigue brightening those storm-gray eyes of hers. Why did it feel like he was missing something?

A moment later she burst out laughing. Again. “Did that actually get you laid?”

At least he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut on that one. Not that she gave him time to answer before she continued.

“You know what else I remember about that night? Getting stuck cleaning up your puke and being grounded for a month.”

Oh shit.

“Hayley,” he managed, the croaked name rising to the tip of his tongue out of nowhere.

She nodded and lowered her voice. “Though I usually go by Detective Stone these days.” Without a word she waved at the two tables across the room and headed for the door. “I’ll call you later, Matt.”

“See ya.” Matt came through the swinging doors, grinning as he stopped next to Jackson. “Welcome home, bro.”

Jackson stared at Hayley through the glass door. “That’s your sister.” Twin sister, though she and Matt didn’t look at all alike, or at least he’d never thought so before.

Matt had the decency to grimace instead of calling him an idiot outright. “Didn’t remember her, huh?”

An old guy with bushy eyebrows and silver hair that may have been inspired by Albert Einstein whistled and shot his finger up into the air, before it took a steep dive. He mimicked the sound of an explosion.

“Crashed and burned with Hayls? Nice homecoming.” Matt slapped Jackson on the back. “You look like you could use a drink.”

“Wasn’t your sister all Goth back in high school?” Now that he had her name firmly in place, he clearly remembered the dark clothing with skulls she favored, her jet-black hair and nails painted to match.

“It was a phase.” Matt leaned on the bar, his expression curious, and just a little protective. “Since when are blondes your type?”

“They’re not.” Never had been. So why was he still thinking about that smile of hers?

And she thought the bridesmaids dresses were her biggest problem…

Hitched

© 2013 Erin Nicholas

Promise Harbor Wedding, Book 4

Allison Ralston would rather be anywhere other than this wedding. Even if the wedding is hers.
Especially
since the wedding is hers.

But Allie's determined to restore her family's happiness, and if tying the knot with longtime family friend, Josh Brewster, is the way to do it, then she'll walk down that aisle, toss that bouquet and drink that champagne.
 

Oh, she'll definitely drink the champagne.

There’s only one thing that could get Gavin Montgomery back to Promise Harbor. And she’s about to say I do to another man. Now he’s back to claim what’s his—even if he has to do it in the middle of her wedding.

Allie is shocked—and okay, a little turned on—when Gavin literally sweeps her off her feet. Safe in his arms, she succumbs to fatigue, stress, and yes, the champagne, only to wake up in his bed. In
Alaska
.

Now that he’s put four thousand miles between Allie and all her responsibilities, Gavin’s determined to show her that they can make a life together. If he has his way, the next wedding Allie will be planning will be theirs.

Warning: Contains a guy so in love he’s willing to break up the wedding of the season, a bride who just needs to get to, well, anywhere else, and enough hot sex to take them from New England to Alaska and back again.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Hitched:

“Let’s do a blow job.”

Crystal grabbed Allie’s hand and towed her to the bar. A moment later, a shot glass filled with a creamy brown mixture and topped with whipped cream appeared magically before her.

Whipped cream was a good sign.

Allie shot the drink back, sighing as the sweet liquid went down. That was good.

“You like a good blow job once in a while?” Matt asked with a wink.

“Of course,” she said, winking back. Or at least she thought she winked. She might have blinked at him instead. She giggled and Matt laughed.

“Josh is a lucky guy,” he said.

Yeah, Allie thought. Josh was a lucky guy. She was a catch.

She stumbled as she turned and started back for the dance floor.

“Whoa, babe.” Crystal caught her by both elbows. “You okay?”

“I’m great!” Allie announced. She was sure her words sounded slurred only because it was so loud in here. “I’m getting married tomorrow!”

Crystal laughed. “I heard that somewhere.”

“And he’s the best,” Allie insisted. She pivoted and grabbed a beer from the waitress as she passed. Allie hated beer. But she was more afraid of the good-feeling-I-love-Josh buzz wearing off than she was of the taste of the beer.

“He is, definitely,” Crystal agreed.

Allie drank, then shuddered, then spread her arms wide. “Gavin is the only man I’ll ever want.”

Crystal froze, her eyes widening. She was still holding onto to one of Allie’s arms, which was fortunate because Allie felt a little off-balance.

“Al?” Crystal said, getting closer so she could lower her voice. “What did you just say?”

Allie frowned at her. “I said Josh is the best.”

“And then you said
Gavin
is the only man you’ll ever want.”

Allie shook her head. “No. That’s not funny.”

Crystal squeezed her arm. “I know. It’s really not funny. What are you talking about?”

Dammit. She should have never pulled that letter out last night. Allie closed her eyes and groaned. She’d been so pissed at him, so hurt. Her mom had died, it was absolutely the blackest time of her life, and Gavin hadn’t even called. He certainly hadn’t showed up. He hadn’t done a damned thing.
 

Then two weeks after the funeral she got a letter. Handwritten. Seeing his writing again had made her
almost
crack. She’d been holding everything together just fine. She hadn’t cried, she hadn’t broken down, she hadn’t thrown anything, she hadn’t told anyone to just leave her the fuck alone and quit asking if she was all right. She’d been composed and calm, she’d gotten everything taken care of, she’d gotten
everyone
taken care of.

She’d been fine. Until that letter came.

She’d
almost
lost it.

Instead, she’d read it once, folded it up, stuck it in her bedside table under some old CDs and a box of stationary, and she’d forgotten about it.

Except that wasn’t true. She’d pulled it out three times. She’d put it back without reading it twice. But last night she hadn’t been able to resist. She’d read it. Four times.

And now he was so on her mind that she was screwing everything up. Of course.

“I didn’t mean it,” she told Crystal, shaking her head.

Allie immediately regretted that. Her head swam and she grabbed Crystal to keep from tipping over. She should have worn flats tonight instead of the high-heeled boots.

“Allie, you just…you can’t be thinking about him,” Crystal said. “What about Josh?”

“It’s normal for people to think about their exes,” Allie told her, hoping it was true. “We’re getting married. That’s a huge deal. It’s natural to think about your past relationships. I bet Josh is thinking about Devon.”

Devon Grant was Josh’s most serious ex. He’d been completely in love with her. If she would have been willing to move to Promise Harbor he’d be married to her right now. For sure.

Devon Grant.

She was actually perfect for Josh.

“Even if he is, he’s probably not announcing it to the bar. You need to take it down a notch,” Crystal said with a frown. “Let’s go dance.”

Allie went along, mostly because Crystal was still holding on to her and Allie wasn’t sure she could stay upright on her own. She drank more of the beer and liked that it was bitterer than the blow job or the pink stuff. She was feeling a little bitter herself.

Crystal was mad because she liked Josh. Everyone liked Josh. Josh was the best. He was a catch and they’d be very happy together. Looking at Josh Brewster over the breakfast table every morning for the rest of her life was not exactly a hardship. He was very good looking, had a killer smile and would be good to her.

He’d never cheat on her—she knew that. Josh always did the right thing and not cheating on his wife—true love or not—was the right thing.

Even if he wanted to.

She drank again, swaying to yet another love song. This one was “Amazed” by Lonestar. Her bridesmaids were just going down the list of the sappiest love songs of all time. But she found herself singing along. And thinking of Gavin. They’d danced to this song.