Falling for the Enemy (16 page)

Epilogue

Shaun stood at the front of a crowd of people, with Mendelssohn ringing in his ears, and watched Melody Merritt-Bradley bounce her newborn on her hip. Tyler Longfoot stood next to him, his attention locked on Ellie Longfoot positioned beside Melody in a similar rose-colored dress, cooing at the baby. Josh Bradley held the spot beside Tyler, and Shaun could feel the fire chief’s enthrallment with his baby boy from this far away. Would he be that far gone over his own kid someday?

Before he could give the question much thought, the congregation of Bluelick Baptist stood and turned to face the other end of the aisle. An angel in white stood there, next to a man Shaun recognized as Mr. Boca, and somebody sucked all the oxygen out of the room.

He scanned the front pews and wished his father could have been there, but the white collar prison where Tom owed another eighteen months didn’t allow for weekend weddings. His mother, however, waved from the first pew and hugged her husband’s arm. All good there.

His attention drifted back to the aisle, where Virginia and her father drew near. She looked so perfect and remote beneath the filmy white veil, his head got a bit light. A hand landed on his shoulder, squeezed, and he realized Tyler had read his mind. Not all that surprising, considering Tyler had been in Shaun’s shoes not too long ago. Still, he appreciated the solidarity.

A long wolf whistle sounded from somewhere in the line of men to his left. The congregation giggled at Junior’s outburst, and the last bit of fog cleared from his head. He concentrated on Virginia, who stepped into the empty spot beside him in front of the altar.

Reverend Carlson asked, “Who gives this woman away?”

Mr. Boca murmured, “Her mother and I,” kissed his daughter, and retreated to the front pew beside a suntanned, fifty-something version of Ginny.

He turned to the woman standing beside him. She still looked untouchable in her white dress and veil, but sparkling green eyes met his and she winked. His lips wanted to curve and he schooled them into a serious line. He dropped his eyes to the bouquet she held in front of her. A cascade of white flowers tumbled over her hands, but a dark spot in the opulence caught his eye. He looked closer, and realized she’d tucked a blush brush into the bouquet. He glanced up to her face and caught her sly smile and raised brow.

“I do,” he said, cutting off Reverend Carlson’s monologue.

“I’m sorry, Chief Buchanan. What did you say?”

He cleared his throat and spoke up. “I said I do. What do you say, Virginia? Do you take me, too?”

She pushed the veil away from her face and smiled up at him. “I do,” she replied, her husky voice strong and steady.

Reverend Carlson scrambled to get on the same page. “All right then. With the power vested in me by the state and the church, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

“Brace yourself, sweet Virginia.”

Her fingers brushed the hair at the nape of his neck. “Don’t let the white dress fool you, sugar. I’m no virgin.”

“You are, by one important measure.”

Her brows drew together. “How do you figure?”

“You’re spending your first night as a married woman with me. You going to kiss me, Mayor Boca, right here in plain sight of God and everyone?”

She came up on her tiptoes and claimed his lips. “Hell yes,” she said against his mouth. “I have nothing to hide.”

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Acknowledgments

Let’s kick things off with a huge thank you to Sue Winegardner and Heather Howland, as always, for whipping this story into shape and never laughing in my face. I can only imagine what happens behind my back, but I’m not going to question the magic.

To Liz Pelletier for adding your magic to the mix.

To Katie Clapsadl for pointing out, “Yes, you do have a newsletter sign up on your website,” and not concluding the observation with, “you dumbass.” I’m a lost cause, but I sincerely appreciate your efforts.

To Danielle Gorman. With your wizardry I may actually send out a newsletter someday.

To Robin Bielman for all the coffee, commiseration, celebrations, and for letting me turn our writing date into a movie date to see
Gone Girl
, and then trying to explain it to me.

To Hayson Manning for all the long-distance drinking, commiserating, celebrating, and, of course, the Pornhub search tips.

To Maggie Kelley for your unflinching support, even when faced with the zebra dress.

To the lovely ladies (and manly men) of the Los Angeles Romance Authors.

To the readers! I hope you enjoyed the sexy adventures of Ginny and Shaun. Also, apparently I’ve got this newsletter you can sign up for….

To my family and friends. I trust you have signed up for my newsletter.

About the Author

USA TODAY bestselling author
Samanthe Beck
lives in Malibu, California, with her husband, their son, Kitty the furry Ninja, and Bebe the trash talkin’ Chihuahua. When not writing fun and sexy contemporary romance, or napping on her beach towel with her face snuggled to her Kindle, she searches for the perfect ten dollar wine to pair with Lunchables.

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