Chapter 14
Misery stabbed at Nina chest as she tried to make it to the coat check before the tears searing her eyes fell down her cheeks. Embarrassment burned hot when she imagined what Finn must’ve thought when Peyton asked him to bid on her. Her friend might have thought she was helping, but this humiliation was unforgivable.
“Nina Delveaux, let me be your hero.”
Her whole body jerked when her name boomed over the loud speakers. She whirled toward the stage to see Finn in front of his brother with the microphone in his hand as he stood in the spotlight. Then the rest of his words registered over rising speculations from the crowd, and white-hot heat flashed from head to toe. Heart pounding, she glanced toward the door, then returned her gaze to Finn.
“Sorry for the interruption everyone, but this is important.” He pointed his free hand in her direction as she inched backward. “Devon, don’t let her leave.”
Silence fell as every single person between her and the stage turned around to stare. The energy of all that focused attention triggered automatic retreat, but her back came up against a warm wall that grunted. Over her shoulder, her frantic glance met the older brother’s apologetic blue eyes. They were almost as pretty as Finn’s.
“Hear him out,” he encouraged softly.
She looked back to the stage as Finn said, “My birthday is November third. Not exactly one year older than you, but sweet cupcakes, it’s close enough to count.”
“Sweet cupcakes?”
Devon’s amused snort sounded behind her even as her stunned mind tried to catch up. Her birthday was November first. Close indeed, but why would he tell her his birthday?
“I don’t speak French,” Finn continued while pulling something from his inside breast pocket. “However, during those two years I was stationed in Italy, I did learn Italian. I think that should count, too.”
Her pulse raced impossibly fast as she watched him fumble to unroll the piece of paper in his hand. Realization hit with dizzying force. That’s what she’d been missing when she packed earlier—her book club message in a bottle from last June. The one with her sarcastic personal ad for the perfect hero she hadn’t believed existed.
Nina stared at the man on stage who had proved her wrong while her stomach dropped in a sickening rush. Without knowing the why, no one here would understand what she’d written in her bottle message, and Finn was going to read it to them right now.
A fresh wave of humiliation threatened—until she noticed his large hand tremble enough to make the paper crinkle into the microphone.
“Prove it,” a female voice called out.
He glanced up from the paper in surprise. “What?”
“If you want her to believe you, prove you can speak Italian.”
Finn lowered the paper to his side, and his gaze sought Nina’s. Even from across the room, the blue of his eyes was as arresting as ever.
“Voglio essere il tuo eroe, Nina.”
Someone whistled from up near the stage. Off to her left, she heard a few women gush about how sexy they found the language. But the affected flutter of her stomach had already confirmed Finn’s voice speaking Italian was definitely close enough to French to count.
Recalling number three and four on her list, she waited with expectation when he raised the message for another glance.
His face reddened as he cleared his throat. “Sexy is in the eye of the beholder.”
Good answer.
Still on stage with him, Niall stepped to the side and extended his hands, sweeping them up and down in a clear gesture of presenting his brother for the crowd’s approval. Loud cheers erupted from the women, and even a few more ear-splitting whistles. Finn’s wide-eyed expression and backward half-step made her laugh.
She quickly crossed one arm across her stomach and stifled the sound with the knuckles of her other hand. She agreed with the crowd, though she hadn’t needed their help deciding in that department. She’d thought him sexy since the moment she’d laid eyes on him—back in high school and now.
“Whether or not I’m humble and kind is also your call.”
“He is,” Kenna murmured beside her.
Nina smiled for his sister without looking away from the stage. “I know.”
By this point, she believed Peyton hadn’t put Finn up to this spectacle. No man would put themselves through this kind of embarrassment if they didn’t have a personal stake in the outcome. Emotion swelled a lump in her throat at the thought he would do this for her.
For her. Not Kyra, Noel, or anyone else.
Suddenly, she saw herself as if from a distance. She stood in the dark all alone, lonely, surrounded by a wall of fear that had been reinforced with each of her failed relationships. Lately she’d been more aware of its confining presence, but hadn’t been able to summon enough courage to break it down.
But in this moment, her eyes were finally opened all the way, and it was as if a suffocating veil was being stripped away. What was left in front of her was nothing but bright, shiny, clear possibilities worth a risk equal to what Finn was giving her up on the stage.
“I’m not rich,” he continued, “but I’m doing okay, and I’m not afraid of work.”
She nodded and didn’t even realize she’d taken a step forward until the crowd in front of her parted to give her a clear path to him. Her heart fluttered against her ribs like a wild bird as she took the next step. And the next.
Finn gave her a brief smile before returning his attention to the list. “Um…number six. Can I skip that one?”
Almost as one, the crowd protested with a chorus of, “No!”
He drew back as if the word had physically hit him. “Okay. Well, she says no tattoos, but I can’t exactly erase the one I have.”
Halfway to the stage by now, Nina admitted for all to hear, “I like your tattoo.”
“You do?”
She nodded.
His lips curved in a relieved smile that made his blue eyes sparkle. “Good.”
Their gazes held until his brother prompted, “Is there more?”
Finn startled and took another glance at the paper—and his hand still trembled a bit. “Right. Number seven is sense of humor.” His gaze lifted to Nina’s again. “I think I have one, and clearly, I’m willing to make a complete fool of myself to get your attention. And, we both know I can apologize when I’ve been a jerk.”
He’d had her attention well before now, and once again, she’d proved to be the jerk. She owed him a big apology that this is what it had taken to get her to stop listening to voices of her past hurts and hear him.
“Both my eyes are blue, but…you gotta let Kismet take care of number eight.”
She smiled again because she’d had that same exact thought last week.
He glanced down, then jerked his gaze back to hers. “She’s the one who stole your bottle, by the way. I didn’t take it off your desk, or wherever it was you had it sitting.”
Suitcase under the bed—where Klepto Kismet’s inquisitive nose had searched it out. Brilliant little dog.
Nina now stood in front of the stage, looking up at Finn as he neared the end of her stupid, crazy, impossible list. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember number nine—not that it mattered anymore.
He smiled smugly as he held the microphone to the side for his brother. “Tell everyone again what our last name means.”
Niall grinned. “Regan means little king. That means if I’m a prince, he’s a prince. You can even ask our mom.”
“It’s true,” a female voice shouted from the back.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Resulting laughter suddenly reminded Nina everyone was still watching—including his family. For a moment there, in the warm promise of Finn’s smile, the crowd had faded into the background.
She swallowed hard at the thought of the last requirement on the list. She remembered number ten with absolute clarity. It was a big one—THE Big One.
Would he read it in front of all these people?
More importantly, would he answer it?
Finn leaned down and extended his hand to help her up beside him, but she shook her head. All the attention was bad enough. No way was she doing the rest of this on that stage under a spotlight.
He handed the microphone over to Josie while reaching his other hand back to shove the bottle message into his rear pocket. As he carefully bent to brace a hand on the stage and ease down to the floor, his brother had plenty of time to lean forward and snatch the note. When noise rose from the crowd, he dramatically held a finger to his lips for quiet, and then Finn in front of her captured all Nina’s attention.
“It’s just a meaning of origin on the name,” he clarified with a cute, self-conscious little grin. “There is no actual royalty in our family.”
“No country required,” she reminded. “Or actual crowns.”
“Good. Now…as for the last—”
“Who wants to hear number ten on this sweet little list?” Niall asked.
Finn whipped around to glare up at his brother holding the note and microphone. Immediate confirmation came from the crowd even as he shouted, “Don’t you dare!”
Nina caught his arm and held up a hand to the younger Regan to wait a moment. Niall nodded, and when she drew Finn’s attention back to her, she said softly, “I don’t mind. Unless you’re too scared to answer?”
“Not at all. I wasn’t sure you would want me to read it out loud without benefit of the full context of the message.”
Bless the man. He was more than kind. He was sweet, and wonderful, and sexy—and quite possibly all hers. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Willing.”
He drew in a breath to speak, then held it as he tilted his head just a little bit, as if he was deciding how to answer. Finally, he asked, “Why did you leave? Why were you going back to California?”
She swallowed against the fear trying to sink its talons in once more, and forced herself to be honest. After what he’d just done for her on the stage, he deserved nothing less than one hundred percent truth.
“I saw you at the bakery with Kyra earlier. I thought…I thought you two had started dating.”
“We’re not dating.” He cast a quick glance around and leaned forward while lowering his voice. “I was arranging for her to bid on my date—with my money—so I could bid on yours.”
“Because you didn’t want anyone else to have my date.”
“Exactly.”
Her heart thudded hard in her chest. “I’m sorry, Finn. I was scared. Honestly…I’m still scared. I haven’t been lucky in love at all. As I got to know you, I recognized how easy it would be to lose my heart to you and it was—is—terrifying.”
“You’re not the only one who’s scared, Nina.”
He stepped closer, took her hand, and placed it against his chest. Beneath the soft, blue material, his heart beat a rapid cadence against her palm.
“But I’m excited, too,” he said. “And hopeful. Because if you’re willing to give what’s between us a chance, when we’re both ready, the answer is yes, I’m willing. Sweet cupcakes in Heaven, I’m willing.”
The last remnants of her fear faded into nothing.
She grinned at his phrasing and gave Niall a brief nod before leaning in to whisper, “Me, too,” just as she pressed her mouth to Finn’s.
Without a second of hesitation, his warm, strong arms closed around her as his lips took hers in a sweet kiss full of tender promise. Within moments, heat rose, and she opened her mouth to the exploration of his tongue and a heady glimpse of future passion. Their audience heartily approved.
“And that, ladies and gents, answers question number ten,” Niall announced. “He’s willing to hand over his heart to her tender loving care for the rest of his life. And from the look of that kiss, I’m guessing more than his heart, too.”
Catcalls and whistles filled the air.
Finn lifted one hand to palm Nina’s cheek as he buried his face in her hair. “I’m going to beat him later.”
“No you’re not.” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I gave him the okay. Well, for the first part anyway.”
“All right you two, go get a room so we can get back to me,” Niall ordered.
Finn growled, but Nina smiled at the younger Regan’s antics. He reminded her a lot of his older brother—the one currently threading his fingers with hers as he moved them away from the stage.
“Whew.” Josie had taken possession of the microphone once more. “I don’t know how in the world we’ll ever top that excitement, but let’s give it a shot, shall we?”
As the majority of the crowd became wrapped up in the bidding again, Finn led Nina off to the side amidst numerous back-slaps and congratulations.
First chance they got a moment to themselves, he held her in front of him, her back to his chest with their arms intertwined across her front. She traced his beautiful tattoo with her index finger while enjoying the warmth of his body against hers as he pressed his lips to her temple.
To think, she’d absolutely dreaded the evening. Everything had turned out entirely different than she ever would’ve dared to dream or hope for.
“Is this the kind of ending you’re planning for your screenplay?” Finn asked as he rested his chin on her shoulder.
“After tonight, it’s exactly the kind of ending I’m planning.” Especially now that she knew what to do with the guy who kept insisting he was the hero despite all her efforts to write otherwise.
“My sisters will love that movie.”
She turned to meet his gaze, her eyebrows raised in challenge. “And you won’t?”
His expression scrunched up in a grimace. “I don’t know. Sounds like another chick flick to me.”
“You just keep thinking you’re funny when you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
He grinned before turning his head to capture her lips in another kiss. When she twisted around and wrapped her arms around his neck to press closer to his firm body, he gave a low groan against her mouth.
“I must say,” he murmured. “I am really glad you didn’t toss that bottle last June. Some other prince might’ve snapped you up.”
She laughed, because he was funny. “You’re the only prince for me, Finn Regan.”
“Good.”
“You know, the girls in my book club are going to absolutely love this story. And you know what else? We make couple number three. Two of the others had their messages found and met the perfect guy for them.”
“Well, then, there must be something to this message in a bottle thing you all have going.”
“I’m definitely beginning to think so.”
“Someday you’ll have to show me where it all started.”
Her heart skipped at his casual reference to the future. “What about after I’m done with the screenplay?”
“Deal. Ready to head back and get writing?”
She laughed again, but heading back to Enchanted Island with Finn really was some heady motivation to finish the project.
He planted one more kiss on her lips, then turned her back around so they could finish watching the auction together while planning their Valentine’s Day date. They didn’t talk about the future beyond that and the earlier moment, but for once, Nina didn’t feel the need to be all practical and figure everything out right now.
She was happy, and hopeful, and excited, and with Finn at her side, she was content to open herself up to any and all possibilities coming her way. Maybe one of those possibilities would involve a beach wedding.
Because the message in a bottle thing? Not so silly after all.
Finn might have found her message a bit unconventionally, but after tonight, she believed he was the one who’d been meant to find it the moment it was written. With any luck, the rest of her friends would find their hero like she, Tara, and Meg had found theirs.
Or maybe Fate was having a good ol’ laugh, because luck had nothing to do with it.
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About the Author
New York Times bestselling author Stacey Joy Netzel is an avid reader, and she loves all movies with a happily ever after—Ever After being a favorite. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband and kids, a horse, and some barn cats. She enjoys visiting her parents in Northeastern Wisconsin (Up North), at the family cabin on the lake, and travelling anywhere to the mountains to do some hiking is a bonus she wishes she could do much more often than every couple years. If you’d like to read more of Stacey’s books, she invites you to connect with her at her website where you can sign up for her newsletter and check out her bestselling Romancing Wisconsin Series, Italy Intrigue Series, Welcome to Redemption Series, and Colorado Trust Series. Please note, while the Beach Brides Series is sweet, ‘clean’ romance, the majority of Stacey’s romantic suspense and small town contemporary romances lean more toward the sexier side. They are often described as heartwarming because of the emotionally satisfying happily ever afters, but they contain language and love scenes.
NINA is also connected to the Romancing Wisconsin (RW) series, and for those who follow the RW series timeline, her story falls in between books 10 & 11. Previous characters from that series are in the book, and Nina and Finn will be mentioned in future RW books, most especially Summer Scandal, which is Peyton’s book. All books are standalone with each couple; there are no cliffhangers.
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BEACH BRIDES THANK YOU
Thank you for reading Nina’s story! CLAIR’s book is next.
Enjoy the sneak peek in the excerpt below and don’t forget you can find all of the at Amazon!
Excerpt Copyright Information
Prologue and Chapter One from
CLAIR (Beach Brides Series)
Copyright © 2017 Grace Greene
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Here’s your sneak peek excerpt for CLAIR’s story by Grace Greene. You don’t want to miss it!
CLAIR
by
Grace Greene
Prologue
~ Clair’s message in a bottle ~
Clair Bennett
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Chapter One
June ~ At Enchanted Island in the Caribbean
Everyone was hiding something. Clair Bennett knew that was true for her, and didn’t doubt for a moment that it was true for each of her friends. Even the most open among them had something to hide, whether scary or joyful, and one’s first instinct was to protect oneself. Smiles could be genuine yet still serve as camouflage.
Who was it that first suggested they each put a message in a bottle and toss them into the Caribbean Sea? She couldn’t recall. It seemed a silly gesture at the time. At first Clair dismissed the idea, but some of the gals were so excited about it, each imagining their dream of a guy, a sweetheart who’d come into their life and make it worth every heartache that had gone before. She couldn’t say no. She felt a little dishonest about pretending she, too, was still in search of love, but she didn’t want to dampen anyone else’s enjoyment, so she played along.
One of the gals gave her an empty bottle. Her friend, Lisa, gave her a pen. Clair saw a small card someone had left on a nearby table and she took it. She didn’t need much writing space. Nothing would come of this stunt anyway, she thought, as she wrote her name on the blank card. In fact, she made sure of it by adding a fake email address. No phone number and no physical address—no crazy stranger could contact her. At the last moment, she realized there was raised lettering on the other side of the card. She flipped it over.
A business card from an attorney. She laughed. She didn’t need a new boyfriend and she didn’t need a lawyer either, thank goodness.
Clair laughed again as they launched their bottles into the ocean and didn’t give it another thought. As much fun as she was having with her friends, she was ready to go home to Virginia. That’s where her fiancé and her future waited. She and Sean Kilmer were building a business and a life together, and that’s where her heart was.
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April (Ten Months Later) at Emerald Isle, NC
Clair dreamed that dream again. It didn’t replay every night but often enough to make her apprehensive each time she surrendered to sleep. In her dream the warm, dry grains of sand shifted beneath her bare feet. The onshore ocean breeze caught in the full skirt of her satin gown and the lace trim teased the soft flesh of her shoulders and neck. The pure white gown reflected the sunlight, as did the water a few yards distant. Together, they nearly blinded her, so she kept her eyes down, focused on the red bouquet clasped in her hands, waiting to hear The Words. The red flowers were echoed on her manicured nails against a white base, and all that red and white was repeated in the gowns of the bridesmaids, the bling in their barefoot sandals, and in the scattering of rose petals around them. Finally, she looked up, blinking against the reflected light, only to find herself alone. Alone. There was no one to perform the service, no bridal party, and no groom. Suddenly great drops of water fell from a gray sky and marred the gown. At that point, as always, Clair struggled to wake, gasping when she found herself back in her moonlit childhood bedroom.
She was crying. The wet blotches on the dream satin weren’t rain, but tears. She had reason to cry. Her heart had been broken and she felt it rip again each time she had to deal with the aftermath of the breakup. Everyone had been sympathetic, including the rental hall, the caterer and DJ—though they’d all refused to refund her deposits. The house she and Sean had rented together, the utilities and other expenses…Sean had been busy with the business so she handled the wedding preparations and non-business commitments. Her name had been on those agreements. Plus, she’d loaned Sean money for the business. Not official loans because they were in this endeavor together and in love, so there was no proof. Proof didn’t matter anyway. There was no money left and no Sean.
Her name hadn’t been on the business debt. For that, she was grateful.
Nine months after the breakup she needed healing, not more sympathy or empty words, and she’d never wanted pity. She believed her dream wasn’t really about the canceled wedding, but rather an expression of grief for the loss of everything she had worked for, including what should have been the celebration of the business and the future she and Sean had built together.
Every hope had turned into lies and betrayal.
The loss of her real-life dream had been a shock. But continuing to dream of it or to regret it was foolish. Yet it kept coming back, bleak and unresolved, like the current state of her life.
Clair dragged herself out of bed, peeked in on Darcy—still asleep—and headed to the kitchen, following the promising aroma of caffeine.
Her sister Mallory was already dressed for work in a suit and low heels. She was pouring coffee into her travel cup when Clair walked in.
“Morning,” Mallory said.
Clair admired her older sister. Mallory always looked so together. Clair didn’t have that gift. Mallory’s dark hair was close-cropped and sleek. Her clothing never wrinkled or got food-spotted. Clair ran her fingers through her own long, curly brown mop of bedhead hair to get it out of her eyes.
“You’re up early,” Clair said.
“Early start for an early showing.” Mallory secured the lid on the cup. “These clients may tie up my whole day. I don’t know what time I’ll be home. Hopefully, for supper.”
“Okay.” Clair wasn’t a morning person. She struggled to shake off her fuzzy brain state. It had been a rough night. The back door was already open. Through the screen the promise of a beautiful spring morning sailed in on a fresh breeze. One couldn’t see the ocean from here, but the salt air riding the onshore wind mixed with the usual coastal smells, and made its proximity unmistakable. She loved this place. All of it. The Outer Banks, the Crystal Coast, Bogue Banks, including this small bit of heaven that had been their parents’ home. It was only a few blocks from the beach, and was nestled in its own small haven of Live Oaks and shade.
Mom and dad had been gone for more than three years.
Clair went to stand at the open door. The lavender-colored azaleas, the early bloomers, produced abundant blossoms. They were sheltered by an ancient, twisted, Live Oak. The yard was a mix of shrubby green stuff and lean, fine sand—a challenge for gardeners. Their parents had put years of effort into the landscaping and now nature was deconstructing it, reclaiming it. Neither she or Mallory made any pretense of being gardeners. They hadn’t tried to keep it up, not even her dad’s roses. He’d made growing roses an art, always talking about the importance of protection from the ocean winds and the salt air while still getting good sun, and keeping the soil amended, moist, and mulched. The straggly, thorny branches framing dad’s wrought iron bench were barely recognizable as rose bushes now. Last year, they’d produced hardly any blooms.
Standing at the door, remembering, she could almost hear his voice again, an echo from the past, humming or whistling as he tended the garden, or calling out to his daughters or their mom to come see the latest bloom.
The scent of her mother’s rose sachets seemed to surround her. As far back as Clair could remember, her mother had collected the petals from the rose bushes and arranged them on cookie sheets and pizza pans to dry. Those pans occupied every flat surface in the kitchen for several days. After the petals had dried, mom added in spices like cinnamon, ginger and allspice, and then stuffed the mixture into small packets made of netting and ribbon. She hung them in closets and tucked them into drawers. The scent of roses that permeated their home had been a fact of life. Clair missed it. She suspected the same was true for Mallory and for their youngest sister, Darcy.
When their parents died, Clair was living in Virginia, working and falling in love with her boss, Sean. She was eighteen years older than Darcy. Mallory, two years older than Clair, was working in the Raleigh area and dealing with a divorce. Darcy was only six at the time, a late arrival to the family. She had always been a shy child, and, in many ways, an only child since her sisters were so much older. Just a cute, quiet kid, who became quieter after losing mom and dad, until she stopped speaking altogether. There were days when Clair wondered whether their little sister would ever be able to grow up and leave home, have her own life and be her own person. Mallory always got angry when Clair tried to discuss that possibility.
“You okay?” Mallory asked.
Clair turned away from the door to face the room and her sister. Mallory held a mug of coffee toward her and she accepted it gratefully.
“How’d you sleep?” Mallory asked.
“Fine. It’s just early. You’re the morning person. Not me.” She tried to end the sentence with a smile.
Mallory said, “I have to run. These clients could mean a big payday for us. Darcy is still sleeping.” She stopped, a large leather business tote hanging from her arm, and fixed her gaze on Clair’s face. “She had a restless night, too.”
It wasn’t an expression of complaint, but of sadness.
After Mallory left for work, Clair closed the kitchen door despite the view and the tempting ocean smells, and locked it.
Poor Mal, having to deal with two restless dreamers—Clair was sorry to have disturbed Mallory’s sleep because of her own inability to put the past behind her and move forward.
She checked on her little sister. Darcy was still in bed, rolled up in her covers like a cocoon. Clair eased the door closed and took the opportunity to grab a quick shower and to dress. As she stood at the sink brushing her teeth, she avoided seeing her reflection. A year ago, this wasn’t where she thought she’d be now. She should’ve been in her own home, still a newlywed, enjoying life with Sean. Somehow, she’d screwed that up. Or Sean had.
She wanted to assign blame, to understand what had happened. But had never been given that opportunity.
Sean. Sean. She tested the sound of it, and yes, it hurt to think his name. After all these months, she should be past the pain. His name and memory should be no more than a tender spot she could sidestep with ease.
But it wasn’t.
***End of Excerpt***
Will Clair’s message in a bottle bring her the antidote to heartache, or the bad fortune that allows the man who broke her heart to hurt her yet again?
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