The Wedding Date Disaster (Harbor City 4)

“There’s more to me than a pretty face and my naturally charming personality.”

As if he wasn’t well-aware of that. While the rest of the world saw this one-dimensional nice-guy version of Web, he knew his brother too well for that. Their parents’ death and how their grandmother raised them had left their marks on Web, too—he was just better about hiding them. Will, however, knew his twin’s control-freak, manipulating ways all too well.

“You know, one of these days, your natural inclination to be way too interested in things that are not your business is going to get you in trouble.”

“Maybe, but not today,” Web shot back. “Hadley is my best friend. You’re my brother. And I know where she’s going to be tonight.”

All week, it had taken everything Will had not to go to Hadley’s apartment—yeah, he’d done a Google search—drop in to check on her, get another look at that smile…or more likely hear her curse him out. He’d even gone so far as to have a cab drive him down her street. Pathetic? Fuck yes, but he wasn’t himself without her, and that was the real truth of it.

“I’m not interested in that information.” Desperate for it was more likely.

Web threw back his head and let out a big, full-throated, oh-my-God-you’re-a-jackass laugh. “You’re full of shit,” he said once he finally stopped being so loudly amused.

“Fine.” Will ground out the word, admitting if not in so many words that lying to his twin was impossible but he had to try anyway. “Let’s pretend I don’t know my own mind, that she hasn’t blocked me, and that for once you’re right—where is she going to be?”

“A Holt Foundation fundraiser. One of us has to be the smart Holt brother and that sure as shit hasn’t been you lately, so I hired her because she’s good people and fucking fantastic at her job.”

All the hot air and desperate denial making Will spin his wheels instead of go after the woman he loved whooshed out of him. “You think I was wrong about Hadley.”

“I know you were and so do you.” Smug didn’t begin to describe the look on Web’s face. “That’s the magic of twin-o-vision.”

Because pride was a helluva drug, Will was about to tell his brother that he had no fucking clue what he was talking about when a sharp knock sounded on his office door. “Come in.”

His assistant, Barry, walked in carrying a box. “The delivery instructions said you were waiting on this, and I was supposed to deliver it right away.”

“I don’t—” Will took the box, looked down at the return address, and made a quick verbal left turn. “Thanks, Barry.”

He carried the box over to his desk and opened it using a combination of poking a pen through the shipping tape and sheer determination. A note sat on top. Will picked it up and flipped it over to the side with the block letters printed on it.

Time to cowboy up.

PawPaw

A bit of black was visible underneath the balled-up copies of the Sandhills Senior Living Village weekly newspaper. Will reached in and pulled out his black cowboy hat. It still smelled of wide-open spaces and what could have been. Just seeing the black brim had him picturing Hadley when she’d teased him by trying on the hat. It had looked so damn good on her. Hell, everything did.

Holding the Stetson instead of her was a punch in the gut. It made him want. It made him need. It made him realize that of all the things in the world that he could buy with his money and power, Hadley’s love wasn’t one of them.

For a man who’d been so cluelessly wrong about her being a gold digger, he’d never wished so hard that he’d been right. Then she’d be his. Now, she never would be.

He started toward his office door, a little weary from a lack of sleep and deficit of food, his days-old beard starting to itch and his tie feeling more like a noose than anything else. “I gotta get out of here.”

Web fell into line beside him, harder to get rid of than a matchmaking socialite’s mom. “I know exactly where you need to go.”

“I know where the best bottle of scotch in town is, too.” At his penthouse. It was outrageously expensive and impossibly rare. He was going to drink the whole damn bottle as fast as possible so he could forget about Hadley and pass out so his dreams wouldn’t be haunted by her.

Continuing to bulldog his steps, his brother followed him into the executive elevator and glared at him. “You’re not going to find Hadley?”

“It’s too late for that.” It had been too late the moment he’d seen her at the rugby game. He’d fallen and he’d fought it anyway, made every excuse to push her away until he finally did—at least physically. It was too late to really get her out of his head, though. She was a part of him, just like the ranch was a part of her. They could fight it all they wanted, but it wouldn’t change. They were who they were supposed to be, even though it didn’t feel like he was whole without her.

Web yanked Will to a stop as soon as they walked off the elevator and out into the bustling lobby. “You’re a giant chickenshit. You have to go fight for her.”

If only it were that easy. It was too late. “Fuck off, Web.”

Will didn’t wait for a response; he just walked out of the lobby. He didn’t turn right to go out the door where his driver would be waiting. He turned left and went out the Sixth Avenue entrance. The best bottle of scotch might be in his penthouse, but there was no way he could stand to be there right now. The views felt too crowded, the kitchen too quiet, and the bed too big since he got back. So instead he walked into the first door with a neon

beer sign and bellied up to the bar.

The bartender gave him a slow up-and-down, pausing to stare at Will’s hat as if he’d never seen one in real life before. “What’ll it be, cowboy?”