Expecting His Holiday Surprise
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Jo McNally
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Chapter One
Jade Malone didn’t normally drink blue alcohol. She preferred her vodka on ice and crystal clear, thank you very much. But as she walked into the ballroom of the Gallant Lake Resort for her half sister’s wedding reception, the champagne flutes were filled with bright blue liquid.
But hey, it was alcohol, so she gave it a go...and nearly spit the blue stuff on the poor, white-jacketed server holding the tray.
“What on earth...?”
The server’s mouth twitched sympathetically. “The bride told us to call it ‘Sapphire Seduction,’ ma’am.”
There was a gravelly chuckle behind her as the server moved away. “Seduction is an odd word to use for a wedding cocktail, don’t you think? I mean, she’s already seduced him, right? Isn’t that why we’re here?”
Jade looked over her shoulder at the stranger, who smiled and lifted a tumbler of amber liquid in a mock toast before he spoke again. “I take my seduction exclusively from a whiskey bottle.”
He was a good-looking guy, but not in a pretty, Hollywood sort of way—despite the dark blond hair that fell across his forehead. His face was all sharp angles, with craggy lines around his eyes, as if he’d spent a lot of time outdoors. His build was tall and lean. Jade was six feet tall herself, without the expensive three-inch heels she wore. She refused to slump around in flats just to avoid intimidating shorter men. Also, it annoyed her stepmother when Jade towered over her. She found herself looking straight into this man’s eyes, which were the same color as the whiskey he was drinking. He nodded toward the glass in her hand. “I took a sip earlier, and I’m pretty sure the bride hijacked a cocktail normally known as a Deep Blue Sea—vodka, bitters and blue curacao.”
That was such a typical Ashley move, to take something someone else had and claim it as her own. Including Ashley’s new husband, who used to be engaged to Ashley’s former best friend.
She drained her glass—only because it was right there in her hand—and watched the stranger’s mouth slowly curve into a smile. Whiskey Guy had a great smile—confident, amused, with just a hint of sensuality. She’d bet that when he wanted to turn it up, he could melt hearts with that heat. Not to mention melting panties.
He gestured toward the blue satin gown that swept around her ankles. “At least it matches your dress.”
She tipped the empty glass in his direction. “It definitely matches my mood.”
He arched one brow. “Sweet, but dangerous?”
“More like nobody here wants it, but it’s doing its job, anyway.”
He nodded sympathetically. “I get it. I’m here under duress myself. I don’t even know the happy couple.”
She wasn’t sure if he was referring to Ashley’s parents or Kyle’s. She also wasn’t sure why he’d be at a wedding if he didn’t know the bridal couple.
“I’m family,” she pointed out, as much to herself as to him, “but sometimes I barely know them either.” A waiter walked by with a tray of blue cocktails. She grabbed one and took a sip. The taste was growing on her, as was the burn that followed.
Whiskey Guy studied her for a moment, and she wondered if he might be just the thing to help make this evening bearable. If only her stepmom hadn’t invited Jade’s ex to “complete the party” at her table, this guy could be the one to complete her party, instead.
“I don’t get it.” He looked around the room. “It’s a bunch of strangers all dressed up and pretending to be happy for people they probably couldn’t pick out of a lineup if they weren’t wearing the obvious costumes. Are Kyle and Ashley gonna be happy? Who the hell knows?” He shook his head. “This one night isn’t going to make or break them, either way. But everyone acts like the wedding day is the ultimate relationship launcher.”
“Relationship launcher? I like that.” Jade grinned. “Weapons-grade romance.”
This guy was even more cynical about weddings than she was. The ballroom was beginning to fill with people. She could easily vanish after the cake was cut, and no one would notice. Except perhaps her stepmother, Marla Malone, who was headed her way right that moment, marching across the ballroom with Jade’s father in tow.
Here we go. Whiskey Guy would have to remain an enigma.
She flashed him a quick smile and set her glass on a table. “Duty calls. Excuse me.”
As she walked away, he called after her. “Maybe I’ll see you for a dance later?”
She looked over her shoulder. “A dance? Aren’t you afraid of friendly fire?”
He didn’t answer, just lifted his glass in another toast before draining it. The casual conversation with a total stranger had helped calm her nerves. She felt more grounded as she greeted her father and stepmother with quick air kisses. Dad looked great in his tux. His reddish-brown hair was just beginning to show some gray around his temples, and it made him look more handsome than ever. He held Jade’s hands for an extra moment, giving them a sympathetic squeeze. Ashley’s elaborate wedding preparations had taken a toll on all of them, and Marla had been a textbook Monster of the Bride.
Marla had been nice enough when she’d married Phil Malone. Jade was ten at the time, still grieving her mother’s death and coping with the move from Chicago to St. Louis. Jade felt like an outsider, with her dark Mediterranean complexion compared to Marla’s bright blond hair and alabaster skin. Golden-haired Ashley was born two years later. As the girls grew up, Marla made it very clear where her love and loyalty resided. And it wasn’t with her tall, athletic, outspoken stepdaughter.
“There you are, darling!” Marla looked her up and down like she was looking for something to criticize. “You disappeared so quickly from the photo shoot that I thought perhaps you were ill. And yet, here you are, perfectly fine.”
“The photographer said he was finished with the family photos, Marla. So I left. It’s not like I was in the bridal party.” Even though the bride was her half sister, she hadn’t been asked. With a twelve-year age difference, they’d never been very close. “I’m sure Ashley won’t miss me.”
Marla glanced around furtively. “Don’t use my first name. I told you, tonight I’m Mom.”
Jade started to say something sarcastic, but her father’s warning look made her press her lips together in silence. He loved his wife. Despite the constant microaggressions Marla either knowingly or subconsciously aimed her way, Jade had to admit that the woman seemed to genuinely care for her father.
“Sure... Mom. Excuse me, but I think I’ll get another of those delicious blue drinks.” She leaned forward and gave a conspiratorial wink. “Such a clever idea to have the drinks match the bridal party.” And Jade, but only because Marla had insisted she wear blue to “blend in” in the family photos. Translation: buy your own dress, but make sure it’s still an unflattering shade of turquoise.
Marla preened at the compliment. “Wasn’t it, though? You know how much your sister adores blue!” Right now everyone knew how much Ashley liked blue, since every conceivable surface was bathed in the color. “You and Brant make such a stunning couple, sweetie. Both so...statuesque.” Brant was six-nine. He was also a jerk. Jade barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. Marla had an odd obsession with pointing out how tall Jade was. Even now, she pursed her lips and looked down at the stilettos Jade wore. “Were those heels really necessary?”
“Brant and I are not a couple,” Jade replied as civilly as possible. “And thanks for noticing my new shoes. They’re my favorite part of the outfit.”
Marla ignored the subtext. “We needed a plus-one for you, to balance the family table. It’s just one night—it won’t kill you to smile and have a little fun together. Who knows? Maybe you’ll reconnect. After all, love is in the air tonight!” Marla turned to her husband. “Speaking of which, we need to get the happy bride and groom in here and on their thrones.”
Unfortunately, Marla wasn’t exaggerating. They’d actually brought in thrones for Kyle and Ashley to sit on at the head table. Jade’s dad took her hand and tugged her close for a quick hug, whispering in her ear as he did.
“Try to enjoy yourself, Jadie, and stow that sharp tongue of yours. After tonight, we can all get back to our normal lives.” She nodded and gave him a quick peck on the cheek to let him know she’d do her part. Dad was right—just a few more hours to go. The only problem? Getting back to normal life wasn’t all that appealing either.
Normal life meant job hunting in St. Louis while struggling to hang on to her downtown apartment. After the five-star restaurant where she’d been pastry chef was sold and converted to a sports bar four months ago, she’d been forced to burn through a chunk of the small inheritance she’d received from her grandmother. She’d been saving that money to open her own bakery someday. Dad kept telling her she could move back into her old room at the house, but that thought made her toes curl inside these designer slingbacks she’d splurged on for this damn wedding—right before losing her job. She headed for her table. One problem at a time.
Dinner was an adventure in avoiding Brant’s grabby hands and his annoying comments about how exotic she looked. God, she hated that word. Brant and Jade had been together for a nanosecond two years ago. But he was a friend of the groom, and tall, so naturally Marla decided they were perfect. There was nothing perfect about the way Brant’s hand kept drifting to her thigh, or the comments he made under his breath. He thought it was hot that she still had “muscles instead of curves.” He was up for a “walk down memory lane” with her tonight, if she was willing.
She wasn’t willing. Not even close.
She held it together long enough to watch the happy couple cut the seven-tiered cake and do a choreographed dance to an Ed Sheeran song that Ashley was hoping would go viral. By the time the dance party really started to get rolling, Jade was done. Done smiling so everyone would think she was an adoring big sister. Done laughing at the unfunny and borderline offensive jokes Brant kept telling. Just...done.
She was headed for the French doors leading to the veranda when Ashley caught her by the arm and held on with a surprisingly aggressive grip.
“Oh no, you don’t! You can’t leave yet.” Ashley was smiling, but there was a hint of desperation to it. “Brant looks like a lost puppy over there. Besides, the videographer wants to see us all dancing to that Bruno Mars song. He’s going to make a montage, and he thinks it will get a ton of views.”
Ashley had a paltry few thousand followers on Insta, but insisted on telling everyone she was a “lifestyle influencer.” Jade had warned her more than once that she was going to end up breaking her neck in some stupid selfie photo stunt gone wrong.
The happy couple discovered not enough people were willing to fly to some exotic locale for a trendy destination wedding, which was why they’d ended up in the Catskills, near where the groom had grown up. Marla had been in a snit about it at first, until she read some article that called the upscale Gallant Lake Resort a “well-kept secret” for elegant weddings, and that some famous people had been married here. Jade had to admit the place was beautiful. The resort was elegant, but the town itself was low-key and relaxing, all nestled on a pretty lake surrounded by mountains.
“Jade? You can’t go yet.” Ashley still wore her steely smile.
Jade had six inches on her half sister, so it didn’t take a lot of effort to pull away from her grip. “I just need some fresh air.” And a whole lot of space between herself and her family. She took a steadying breath. “Ashley, today is supposed to be about starting a new life with the man you love, not getting likes from random strangers online.”
Ashley’s lower lip extended in a pout. That had stopped being cute when she was eight. “Come on, Jade. One more dance. Please?”
Jade relented, and regretted it instantly. While she had been sipping soda water in between blue cocktails in an attempt to keep her wits, Brant had been doing the opposite. He was weaving dangerously and leaned on Jade as they danced. He trod on her feet and mumbled something that sounded like an apology before doing it again. Then his hand dropped down and cupped her butt, squeezing so tightly Jade let out a curse. He repeated the move, then brushed his wet lips along her neck in some sort of drunken kiss move.
Okay, that’s it, that’s the line.
She shoved hard at Brant’s shoulders, sending him staggering backward on the dance floor. He bumped into Ashley and Kyle. The groom stepped on the edge of Ashley’s gown as he tried to keep his balance, causing it to tear under her arm. Ashley called her new husband a very bad word. Loudly. And all of it played out in front of the videographer. Who also caught the moment when Brant went careening into a waiter and his tray, sending champagne flutes of Sapphire Seduction all over a table of senior citizens. By the time someone caught Brant and held him still and upright—was that Whiskey Man?—the room had erupted in chaos. People were holding their phones up to record the moment. Ashley was sobbing. Marla was fuming.
A horrified laugh started to well up in Jade’s chest. It would be wrong to laugh. Very wrong. She bit her lip. And still the laughter bubbled up. She needed to get out of there. But she wasn’t fast enough to escape Marla, who blocked her just as she reached the doors to the veranda.
“I can’t believe you’re laughing right now.” Marla’s whisper was harsh. “You’ve always been so jealous of Ashley.”
Jade’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“Why else would you work so hard to ruin this day?”
She may not be fond of Marla, but it still stung to hear the woman who’d essentially raised her suggest that she would intentionally try to ruin her sister’s happiness. Her stepmom really did see her as a stain on their otherwise perfect family aesthetic.
When she turned away from Marla’s judgmental glare, she saw her father comforting Ashley near the dance floor. You could tell right away they were father and daughter. Both with light hair and fair skin, her head on his shoulder. If Marla’s words were a knife in her gut, seeing them together like that was the final twist. Jade plastered on a bland expression, then turned back to Marla, gesturing at the guests who were still holding up their phones. “I don’t know why you’re upset. Ashley wanted to go viral, and now she definitely will. It’s probably already up on Fail.com. You’re welcome.”
Shouldering her way past her sputtering stepmother, Jade headed out to the veranda. Her chest felt like it was caught in a vise. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from crying. She needed to put some distance between herself and the wreck of a reception.
If she could have skipped this expensive and angst-filled trip to Gallant Lake, she would have. She was unemployed and could feel her dream of opening her own pastry shop in downtown St. Louis slipping away. She’d been just about ready to swallow her pride and ask her father for a loan. After tonight’s fiasco, that option was probably off the table for a while.
Outside, the veranda was packed with people, some of them now dancing to the music which had restarted inside. Strings of tiny lights sparkled from a vine-tangled arbor overhead. Jade paused just long enough to look back through the windows. It was the father/daughter dance. Her dad was swaying comfortably along with Ashley in the center of the floor, smiling down at her proudly.
She headed to the veranda bar for another drink. The bartender was busy chatting with a woman at the opposite end of the bar, so Jade reached over and grabbed an open bottle of wine, intending to fill her own glass. Then she decided what the hell, and just took the bottle, leaving her glass behind her as she walked out onto the lawn alone. Tears were already threatening to make a mess of her makeup. Jade hated tears.
Head held high, jaw clenched, she marched down the manicured lawn. The lakeshore was quiet and there was no one else in sight. Only problem? The moonlit water was too pretty to fit her agitated mood.
After a few gulps of wine, she picked her way along the trees at the edge of the property. The heel on her right shoe snapped as she stumbled on a tree root, and she barely kept herself from falling. Perfect. She took the betraying shoe in her hand and glared at it.
She couldn’t even storm out of a party successfully these days. She was an utter, complete failure. A professional, romantic, familial, social failure. A sour taste rose up in her throat at the realization.
As if to underscore that fact, laughter drifted across the lawn from the ballroom, taunting her. She didn’t fit in with her own family. That was supposed to be the one thing every person could fall back on—family. Jade was horrified at the amount of fear and self-loathing welling up inside of her. She didn’t know what to do with it. It was too big, too bitter and too scary.
She was still holding the broken shoe in one hand. Without giving it any thought, Jade smacked it against the nearest tree, as hard as she could.
That...actually felt pretty good.
She took a swig of wine and swung again. A sliver of what was left of the heel went flying, along with some tree bark. Her adrenaline surged and she started to slam the shoe into the tree over and over. In some remaining sane corner of her mind, Jade knew she was being ridiculous. She didn’t care. Nobody would see her having a complete breakdown all the way out here.
Jade smacked the shoe against the tree until it was nothing but a flopping, broken sole. Even then, she kept going, only vaguely aware of the tears blurring her vision or that her hand was starting to sting.
“Which one are you trying to kill—the shoe or the tree?”
The deep voice made her spin around so fast her skirt wrapped around her legs and she almost fell over. She braced herself against the tree with the hand that still clutched the broken shoe, gripping the bottle with the other. She squinted through the shadows at Whiskey Guy. There was enough moonlight to see the slightest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth as he spoke.
“If it’s the tree, you’re wasting your time. And if it’s the shoe, mission accomplished. It’s definitely dead.”
Her chest rose and fell as if she’d just run a marathon. She blinked and looked down at the ragged remains of the shoe in her other hand.
“It was already ruined.” She wasn’t sure if she meant the shoe, the wedding or her life.
He nodded as if her explanation made perfect sense. Then he stepped closer and held out his hand without saying a word. She gave him the remains of the shoe. He stepped back, turned toward the lake and threw the shoe with impressive form. There was a distant splash, then silence.
Looking out at the water, she said the only thing that came to mind.
“That was half of a three-hundred-dollar pair of shoes.”
He gave a sharp laugh. “I think you took care of that problem before I arrived.” He was standing close enough now that she could smell his earthy cologne. Or maybe that was just him. Maybe he smelled that way all the time. His face sobered. “You’re bleeding.”
Eyes clearing, she looked down at her skinned knuckles and grimaced. It must have happened while she was murdering the shoe. Damn it, she couldn’t even have a decent hissy fit without screwing it up. And this stranger had witnessed it. He must think she was crazy. Scratch that. He knew she was crazy. The last thing she needed tonight was yet another person judging her.
She fiercely pointed a shaking finger at him, and he leaned back.
“I am not a disaster person, okay?”
His eyes went wide at her shouted words. He looked more than a little concerned.
“O-kay...”
“I mean it. I might not have it all together, but I am not the cause of every damn thing that goes wrong in other people’s lives! Hell, sometimes, I even fix things, but does anyone notice when that happens? Of course not! All they want to see is the mistakes. I know who I am. I know what the hell I’m doing. People should freaking respect me instead of shoving me into the corner so I don’t ruin their pictures.”
“Nobody puts Miss Sapphire in a corner. Got it. You know that whole scene on the dance floor wasn’t your fault, right? That guy deserved what you gave him.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Unlike that poor shoe.”
His calm demeanor took the angry wind out of her sails. Also, Whiskey Guy was downright distracting when he smiled. His lips quirked in this really interesting way, making her wonder if he was as talented with his mouth as he was with his throwing hand. She had a hunch his kisses wouldn’t be sloppy or gross or unwelcome. And he’d just defended her. When’s the last time anyone had done that? Not that she was a damsel in distress or anything, but still. It was nice.
No, not nice. Nice was the wrong word. Nice was polite. This wasn’t niceness. It was kindness. Warm, unquestioning and nonjudgmental.
All her life, she’d been trying to prove to her family that she was worth including. Deep down, she still believed that if she could just show them how hard she was trying to fit in, or make herself useful, or let them say whatever they wanted and keep smiling...maybe then, they would give her their love and acceptance without constantly threatening to take it back the moment she misbehaved or failed to live up to their standards. She was fighting a losing battle—love she had to fight for wasn’t love at all.
Her anger evaporated. Which was a shame, because it was apparently the only thing keeping her upright. Her knees started to buckle, and Whiskey quickly stepped forward.
“I’ve got you, slugger. There we go. Kick off that other shoe. That’s it.” He slid his arm around her waist and guided her to a picnic table near the shoreline. And because she was tired and lost and he had a great smile, she figured, what the hell?
Just this once, she’d allow herself to rely on the kindness of strangers.
