Blissed (Misfit Brides #1) (9 page)

He’d left the stage after the next husband was led up. Walked right out of the stadium. All the way out of her life.

Since then she hadn’t had any contact with him that didn’t involve a lawyer.

She also hadn’t been kissed by another man since. And it hadn’t bothered her for five years.

Until tonight.

“That was you?” CJ finally said.

She didn’t move. Didn’t nod, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. She just willed him to leave.

But of course CJ Blue, Widower Extraordinaire and Bliss’s Poster Boy for All Things Maritally-Inclined, couldn’t leave that alone. His feet came closer, and she could feel his breath. “There’s something you need to know,” he said.

Her own breath came out loud and uneven. He was entirely in her personal space, but she’d given him enough power as it was. She wouldn’t back away, wouldn’t let him see her agitation.

He tucked her hair behind her ear. Tension took hold of her body. She shuddered, looked up to tell him to stop, but he bent forward, his lips parted, a single freckle on his cheek drawing her attention while his lips got closer and closer and closer until—

“For future reference,” he said, “I never kiss horribly.”

And before she could blink or breathe or think, his lips closed over hers. His grip tightened in her hair, and when she should’ve protested or pulled away or kicked him in the shins, her body melted into his.

Kissing him was wrong.

But it was a different kind of wrong tonight. The
I-hate-you
kind of wrong. The
I’m-a-mother
kind of wrong. The
I’m-only-kissing-you-because-I-miss-kissing
kind of wrong.

He tasted exotic and spicy, like too much rum on a summer beach. His lips were soft and hard at the same time, punishing and forgiving, warm and cold.

And she wanted more.

She shouldn’t have. Not five years ago, not tonight. But—
God
—kissing was so simple. So easy.

So wrong. She was so good at so wrong.

And maybe, so was he.

Abruptly, he wrenched his hands away and leapt back. Chest heaving, he stared at her like this was
her
fault. Like
he
was the victim of a drive-by kissing.

Like she’d sucked out his soul.

He wouldn’t be the first one.

She put her fingers to her tingling lips.

Without another word, he turned away. Grabbed his tux jacket. Grabbed his shoes.

And when he walked out the door, he shut it quietly behind him.

Once more walking out of her life as if he’d never been there at all.

This time, though, she was certain of one thing.

This time, he’d remember.

Chapter Five

CJ
GOT ALL THE WAY to the corner before he stopped to put on his shoes and jacket. The night wasn’t black enough, the air not cold enough, his world not solid enough.

Eleven sisters, and he had forgotten rule number one: Never engage in psychological warfare with a woman.

He was a moron.

Worse, he was a lost moron. He hadn’t paid attention to which direction he went when he left Natalie’s house. Couldn’t remember which direction he was supposed to go either.

Damn woman had his brain all turned around.

He did a slow circle, looking for the massive wedding cake monument, but he didn’t know which of the soft glows of light above the trees he should walk toward.

He looked back at the house he’d just left. Its windows were all dark now, but he still felt her eyeballs watching him.

That was all he needed to pick a direction and get moving.

Lady was nuts.

Except she wasn’t. Not completely.

You kissed me
.

He hadn’t seen that coming. Not coupled with the homewrecker accusations.

He remembered the part where he’d kissed somebody at those Husband Games. Right there in front of God and his new wife and his new in-laws. On an outdoor stage, the sun bright through his blindfold, with a couple thousand people watching and cheering and laughing.

She’d smelled like oranges, like Serena, but she hadn’t kissed like Serena. He’d realized his mistake quickly.

And when he’d found and kissed his wife—the only
other
woman onstage who smelled of oranges, thank God—she’d pulled his blindfold off, peered up at him with sparkling eyes and a laugh that warmed him more than the sun, then whispered her proposed punishment for his mistake.

That had been a damn good night. One of their best.

He and Serena had met Bob and Fiona for breakfast the next morning. Other than a subtle squeeze in Bob’s handshake, they’d both seemed amused as hell over CJ’s mistake. Turned out Bob had kissed the wrong woman in the Husband Games the year he and Fiona got married too, and Bob and Fi had known each other a lot longer than Serena and CJ had.

Which was pretty much all it had taken to put CJ’s mind at ease, especially after he won—which was something Bob hadn’t done.

That kiss shouldn’t have bothered him now. It had been an honest mistake. According to Serena, that kissing game was part of the Husband Games almost every year. And every year, men kissed women who weren’t their wives. Sometimes on purpose just so they could
apologize
later.

But tonight, that kiss
did
bother him.

He wasn’t guilty of that first kiss. Not to the extent she’d accused him.

But the simple phrase—
you kissed me
—had sparked suggestion. That he could win. That he could make her see how ridiculous she was being. He’d thought he could intimidate her. Make her back down. Shut her up. Cleanse the additional guilt over his own marriage by making her admit she was wrong.

Instead, she’d taken him for all he was worth.

She’d kissed him back. She’d kissed him back, not just with her mouth, but with her hands and her scent and her whole body, and something inside him had flared back to life. Warmed him to the point he still couldn’t feel the dark chill of midnight. Set his adrenaline pumping like it had the first time he’d jumped out of a plane.

Damn woman was pretty for a nutjob.

And why the hell was he thinking about a nutjob being pretty?

He muttered a few choice words to himself, then yanked out his phone. Of all his sisters, Pepper, Tarra and Cori were his first choices for a ride. Cori was still pissed that CJ had switched her iPhone language to Mandarin to shut her up about Serena at the rehearsal dinner yesterday, and he’d seen Tarra wander into Suckers with Billy Brenton’s drummer half an hour ago. Which meant Pepper was CJ’s best shot at a ride.

Bonus: she owned a GPS. And as far as he could tell, she wasn’t pissed anymore that he had signed her up for that MisterGoodEnough.com dating Web site after her last breakup.

Ten minutes later, she picked him up on the corner.

“Too old to be partying like this, little brother.” She was still in her bridesmaid dress, a light-green number that Saffron claimed to have chosen for the half of their sisters with red hair. Pepper’s hair was dark brown, and were it not for her pale face and the dress peeking out from beneath her dark coat, she would’ve blended into the darkness.

CJ ignored the teasing. “Find Gran?”

“A resident wedding crasher offered to teach her how to polka. She called Cinna when she realized the invitation was a euphemism.”

“
Yes
would’ve been sufficient.”

Pepper’s teeth flashed in the darkness. “But not nearly as fun. You want a ride to Basil’s place, or your car?”

“Car.” He wanted his own wheels accessible again. So he could get the hell out of here.

“You sure it’ll start?”

He cut her a silent
shut up
in the dark. His car was one of the few things he’d stored at their parents’ house the last few years, and it ran just fine.

She grinned again.

Her clever little GPS guided them out of the neighborhood and toward the mutant wedding cake, away from Arthur, away from Natalie, away from that damn kiss.

Felt good getting some distance from the house.

Pepper turned onto the main downtown street—The Aisle—and cruised past wedding shop after wedding shop, the five-story cake monument in the rearview mirror, the courthouse lawn where CJ had said his own vows looming ahead, semi-lit in the darkness.

“This is a really cool little place,” Pepper said.

CJ blew out a slow breath. They drove past ghostly awnings, empty parking lots, and shadows of concrete flower boxes along the sidewalk. As far as downtown America went, Bliss took top marks in quaintness. Pepper was a regional manager in the St. Louis area for some big bridal gown company. She was probably as enamored with the types of shops as she was the presentation.

They rolled past a bakery, then Bliss Bridal, with its well-lit display windows showcasing slender mannequins in flowing sleeveless wedding gowns.

CJ’s nuts went into hiding.

“You gonna play in the Golden Husband Games?” Pepper said.

Damn women. “With what wife?”

“No worries,” Pepper said. “I’ve already registered you for a dating Web site. FindYourSugarMama.com. If you’re lucky, you can get hitched again before the Games. You have an applicant already. Her shrink says dating will do her some good, and her grandchildren want to see her happy.”

So maybe she was still a little mad. “Ha ha.”

“Actually, Ginger talked to Saffron’s caterers, and they said widowers are being allowed to find a stand-in. Apparently these anniversary games are a big deal. Can’t play unless you’ve won in the past. You know we’d all come cheer you on, right?”

“Are you arguing for or against my playing?”

“Jeez, Princess, who stole your tiara tonight?” She snapped her fingers. “Oh, hey, I know where you could get a real crown. At the Golden Husband Games.”

“No.”

“None of us saw you win the first time. Sage always said you were lying. Here’s your chance to prove it once and for all.”

Always could count on family to watch a man make a fool of himself. “Nice try. Won’t work.”

“There’s something to be said for closure.”

“All closed up just fine,” CJ said, even though he believed himself as much as he expected his siblings to.

“So that’s why you’re hightailing it out of here as soon as you can.”

He appreciated that his family wanted him to stay. He missed them in his own way when he was out and about in the world. But he didn’t belong here anymore. He wasn’t the same brother and son they’d known five years ago.

That
man wouldn’t have just gotten his ass handed to him through an ill-advised kiss with a nutjob.

“We miss you, CJ.”

He was caught up enough in the pride he’d left at Arthur’s house to almost miss the subtle tell in her voice. There was sincerity, but there was something else too—the
I know something you don’t know
triumph.

A weary sigh rolled out of him, dragging his shoulders lower. “What is it?”

They were almost to the courthouse.

CJ averted his eyes, looked at Pepper instead, then wished he hadn’t.

A passing streetlamp lit up the sympathy in her quick glance at him. “Fiona asked us not to mention that Bob’s had a reoccurrence.”

Hell
. Bob and Fiona didn’t deserve to have to fight this fight again. They’d suffered enough. Losing Serena, the flood, his first bout with cancer.

And they didn’t have anyone else to help them. 

When CJ had gotten word last year that Bob was sick the first time, he’d made the requisite inquiries about what he could do to help. Serena had been their only child. She hadn’t had any aunts or uncles. Fi had told CJ they were fine. They had their church friends, they had their neighbors. It was all CJ had needed—wanted—to hear to keep his plans to hang glide Victoria Falls.

But CJ was here. Now.

“When’s he start treatments?” CJ asked.

“Last month.”

Explained a few things. Put a few extra pounds of guilt and expectations in CJ’s bags. 

Bob and Fiona wouldn’t ask for help. But that didn’t mean CJ didn’t need to give it.

“Basil told them you’d be staying here until Knot Fest,” Pepper said.

Of course he had. Pompous know-it-all.

But it was hard to be mad at Basil when CJ knew he couldn’t leave now. When his shit hit the fan, he had twelve siblings and his parents at his back.

Bob and Fiona had their friends and neighbors, but they deserved family too. And he was the closest thing they had.

Looked like CJ was sticking around longer after all.

N
ATALIE WASN’T SURE if she was supposed to go to work Sunday morning or not, but since Dad merely grunted a hungover kind of groan when she knocked on his door, she packed Noah up and headed to The Aisle. She parked behind Bliss Bridal, her senses on full alert after last night’s incident with CJ, and was almost inside when the back door one shop down opened with an ominous click.

The sweet scent of cake wafted into the alley and turned Natalie’s stomach. Before the flood, she’d smelled it only a couple days a week, on cake-baking days. But now Heaven’s Bakery sold cupcakes daily, and the smell was omnipresent.

Natalie couldn’t escape the Queen General.

“Miss Castellano.” The QG was channeling the full force of both the queenly and the General parts of her personality this morning. “A word.”

Noah shrunk behind Natalie, which was all it took for her to find her spine and utilize it to stand tall.
Nobody
intimidated her little boy. “Good morning, Mrs. Elias. How are you today?”

“By the power vested in me as president of the Bridal Retailers Association, I’m afraid I’m the presenter of bad news,” she said.

Cold, thick dread sliced through what little optimism Natalie had left for today. Marilyn had heard. She knew about last night. About CJ.

About the kiss.

It wasn’t her fault CJ had shown up, dammit. It might’ve been her fault he kissed her though. This time. Maybe.

Noah’s arm slinked around her hip. Nat had to pull herself together. He needed to know that his mommy could stare down adversity, so that one day he could too.