Taking Back His Bride

We lock eyes for another moment before I clear my throat, unblinking.

“Ten seconds.”

“Goddamnit.”

My father whirls and folds himself into the limo, reaching out and slamming the door shut as the car rumbles to life and starts to back out of the driveway.

I’m not sad or broken up about. In fact, all I feel is free.

Back inside, I put on another pot of coffee, letting my mind wander to pretty much anywhere other than the toxicity of my dad. But all of that is behind us. It’s over with. Now, it’s just us, and the future Brooks and I want to create together.

It’s an hour later when the sound of Brooks’ truck rumbling back up the driveway from the main coastal road.

“You know what? Those guys fuckin’ remembered the extra tomatoes.”

I grin, turning and smiling at him as he steps into the house. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Didn’t even have to remind them. Regina says hi.”

I smile. Regina is the eighty-year-old cashier and owner of the diner—never to be seen without her big white fluffy cat Martin perched on her shoulder.

Brooks steps over and kisses me slowly, letting his lips melt to mine and taking my breath away before he turns and heads towards the kitchen table. He starts to pull out to-go boxes of our breakfast when I shake my head, thinking about what he missed.

“So, I met Lindsey.”

Brooks freezes, half turning to me. “You did?”

Part of me turns chilly at the way his body tenses. Or at the way he doesn’t say “who?” Me bringing it up was a joke. He’d say “who,” and I’d tell him all about the fake mistress my dad tried to trot out as proof of Brooks being no good for me.

…Except, Brooks doesn’t say “who,” and suddenly, red mist clouds over my eyes.

“Wait, you know her?” I mutter icily.

He turns, half frowning in confusion, half smirking. “Lindsey-Lindsey? With the pink hair?”

The red mist turns to fury, and I realize my teeth are clenched hard enough to hurt, my fingernails digging into my palms.

“Yeah, her,” I growl. “You’re saying you know her?”

He chuckles, and the rage roars through me.

“Shit, I was wondering when your dad might trot her out.”

I swallow, seeing red.

“Yeah, they call girls like her rig rats,” he chuckles, shrugging. “She hangs out in ports where rig works make supply runs, and—”

His grin suddenly fades as he sees the look on my face.

“Fuck, Leanna, you didn’t believe your father, did you? What’d he try and say, that Lindsey was my ‘other woman?’”

I’m too shaking mad to answer, and Brooks’ eyes burn fiercely as he moves towards me.

“I—I can’t—” I suck in a breath of air, trembling. “Goddamnit, Brooks,” I choke, fury and betrayal burning through me. “You know her?”

“Yes,” he says evenly, not even pausing. “But not like that, Leanna. She sold me a used pickup when I quit the rig, and—”

I turn away, shaking my head until I suddenly gasp as I feel his big hands on my shoulders.

“…And I never touched her, angel.”

“You expect me to believe—”

“Yes,” he hisses, making me gasp as he suddenly pulls me around and yanks me into him. I try and push away for a second, but the fight goes out of me as those eyes of his burn right into mine, and those hands hold me so tight.

“Look at me, angel. You know me, just like I know you better than I know myself. And I’m telling the truth when I tell you I never touched another woman. Fuck, I never looked at one.”

I bite my lip. Instantly, the anger is evaporating out of me, replaced instead by this cringing feeling of just how insane I just looked.

“I’m crazy, aren’t I,” I mumble.

He grins. “Maybe, but you’re crazy the way I’m crazy about you. And I like you crazy, sweetness.” He growls as he leans in, kissing me softly as I melt into him. “And I already told you, I knew I had the best, even if I thought she was gone. After you, angel, what would be the fucking point of any other woman?”

I moan as we crash together, and I’m kissing him with everything I have as he groans and pulls me tight to his hardened, chiseled body.

“There’s only ever been you, angel,” he purrs. “I was lost the second I saw you.”

“Well that’s good,” I whisper into his lips. “Because by the time you got around to spotting me, I’d already been falling head over heels for you for like a week.”

He chuckles, kissing me, but that laugh soon turns into a hungry groan as we pull tighter together.

Slowly, I pull back, my lips bruised and swollen from his as I frown slightly.

“Was the diner packed?”

He grins, arching a brow at me. “You’re wondering what took me so long.”

I roll my eyes. “No, because that’s right up there with believing my dad about non-existent mistresses on the crazy and possessive wife scale.”