She gasped. “You’re joking. No, I know you aren’t because that sounds exactly like Warren. Besides, I’m the new girl at work. I doubt I can get time off for a honeymoon and stuff for quite a while.”
I sipped some wine before I lowered my face toward hers. “I almost forgot about the honeymoon. You better not spend more than a year planning this thing.”
“Or what?” she asked with a devious smile.
I grinned. “Or I will drag your ass down to the courthouse if you do.”
Her eyebrow arched. “That might not be a bad idea.”
My head reared back. “I didn’t hear you right, Daughtry.”
She grinned. “You sure did. My mother would not approve, and that alone would make a for a nice day.”
I cocked my head at those words. “No, Cassandra. I may not know much, but I damn sure know your wedding day should be far better than a ‘nice day.’ And to be blunt, I never want to hear you tell me to have a nice day again. It’s the same damn thing you said to me—”
Her finger covered my lips. Her face came closer. “Say no more, Gabriel. Every day with you is the best, and I can’t wait to spend a lifetime of days with you.”
The O-Town Series will continue with Clint and Raegan’s story.
Read on for the first chapter of their story...
Chapter OneFinest Things
Raegan
AS I STOOD IN MOM’S farm-style kitchen, a chill slithered up my spine and I swung my head to the door when I heard a key scraping into the lock. It was lunchtime, and I was preparing a tomato sandwich for my seventy-one-year-old mother. As quietly as I could, I put the butter knife down and grabbed the butcher knife out of the block.
Edging to the laundry room, next to the back door, I waited with the knife up and at the ready.
This might seem like overkill, but my sister, Bronwyn, had been murdered six days ago. The authorities were still investigating. They said it looked like an accident. I didn’t buy it, and not because I read murder mysteries like most people binge watch Netflix. So in my mind, there was no telling who the hell was walking into Mom’s home.
The door opened, and I exhaled loudly when I saw the man standing in the doorway.
The last time I saw Clint Ramsey, he had no facial hair, kept his hair as close-cropped to his head as he could without shaving it bald, and he wore a police uniform. Now, he’d let his jet-black hair grow out more and his angular jaw had the dark shadow of two-day’s worth of stubble.
His arms had bulked up more in the past ten years, too, seeing as his white dress shirt strained against his biceps. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. I didn’t know for sure, but my guess was that he spent far more time outdoors these days because his thick forearms looked more bronze than olive.
My mouth went dry, and I swallowed.
His voice still sounded smooth and controlled. “Shoulda known you’d be here. What’s with the knife?”
My eyes widened. “‘What’s with the knife?’ Really? I didn’t know who the hell was coming in here. I could’ve stabbed you, Clint Ramsey!”
His eyes raked up and down my face and body. Then his lips quirked up, his head tilted back, and he had the gall to laugh.
He was laughing... at me, the jerk!
“I’m serious, Clint. I could have stabbed you.”
He righted his head, and those rich brown eyes caught mine. “Rae, I’d have disarmed you in seconds. That’s why it’s so damn funny. And who else would have a key?”
I cocked my head to the side a touch. “Maybe the bastard who killed my sister?”
He went silent.
“And don’t call me Rae. You lost that ten years ago.”
His jaw clenched. “No. You left me ten years ago.”
I didn’t leave him, seeing as he’d told me to go and to follow my dreams. But I didn’t have time for an argument we’d had plenty of times in the past.
I put my free hand on my hip. “And you’re here why?”
The tell-tale sound of my mom’s walker on the wood floors came closer to us. In a moment she entered the room, her eyes narrowed on Clint. “I want your nuts.”
My eyes widened and I stared at Mom standing there in her housedress and terry-cloth flip-flop-style slippers.
I looked back to Clint to ask what this was all about, but the tender look on his face made my heart leap. “Stocked you up, Penny. I’ll fix you a bowl in a moment.”
Mom shuffled away, and I hissed at Clint. “You’re the reason her blood pressure won’t go down, aren’t you?”
He looked down at me with a fire in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a decade. “What can I say, Raegan? I got good nuts, and any nut worth eating has to be salty.”
I crossed my arms on my chest, careful of the knife. “No more nuts, Clint. She’s had two strokes. Getting that blood pressure down is crucial.”
He stepped into my space. “One of those was a mini-stroke. Not that those aren’t bad, too, but there’s no telling how many days your mom has left. She likes boiled peanuts, there’s no reason to keep them from her. Especially this week.”
My eyes widened but I let it go. “I’m grateful that you’re her snack supplier, but this needs to be the last time you come by, and I’ll take your key, if you don’t mind.”
His face lowered toward mine, the fire in his eyes fierce as ever. “I do mind, Raegan Connelly. Especially seeing as it was your mother herself who gave me the key long before she had her first stroke or needed Wynnie to look after her.”
My head reared back because Bronwyn didn’t let just anybody
