Chapter One
“I’m so sorry, Olivia. We’ve been sleeping together for two years. I just think you should know before you get married.” Tara gripped Olivia by the shoulders, so tight it almost hurt.
“I don’t believe you.” Olivia shrugged Tara’s hands from her shoulders and looked around the room wildly. This couldn’t be happening. She was walking down the aisle in seventeen minutes.
Tara snatched Olivia’s bare arm and pulled her closer. “He has a birthmark, on his ass. It’s shaped like Abraham Lincoln’s head on a penny.”
Olivia’s eyes grew wide at this admission. Jared, her fiancé, had told her about this birthmark. He thought it was cool and would swear that’s exactly what it looked like. “He could’ve told you that.”
“He didn’t tell me, I saw it.” Tara crossed over to a chair and sat down, crossing her arms.
Olivia wanted to tell her she was going to wrinkle her dress but wasn’t sure if it mattered at this point.
“He likes to play tangle-the-tongues when he kisses.” Tara crossed her arms and went on. “And he leaves hickeys on my collarbone. He calls it his ‘brand.’ He—”
Olivia put her hand up. She knew about the way Jared liked to mark her with a hickey on the collarbone, that he called it “branding.” And he did get a little aggressive with his tongue. Could Tara be telling the truth?
Olivia sank down in the middle of the floor. Her dress rustled, the ballroom skirt ballooning around her. Her strapless sweetheart bodice, and the corset underneath, pushed her breasts up and out when she sat. Dear God, it was true. Jared had been cheating on her for the last two years. She lifted her face to gaze at Tara. “Why? Why would you do that to me?”
“Because Jared’s dad has more money than anyone in this shitty little town. I never dreamed he’d live with you not putting out, this whole waiting until marriage idea you’ve had in your head since we were little.”
“Jared said he loved that I wanted to wait.” Olivia swallowed back the lump in her throat. This had blindsided her. She didn’t know what to do now.
“Maybe he did. Maybe he thought he’d just keep me on the side, and marry the pretty little virginal homecoming queen.” Tara stood up and approached Olivia, eyes narrowed. “But I’m nobody’s fool.”
“So, you’re doing this because he was going to marry me instead of you? You don’t even care that the two of you cheating would hurt me.” It was more observation than anything. Tara obviously didn’t give a damn how this affected Olivia.
How did it affect her? She glanced at the clock. Twelve minutes until the ceremony started. Olivia stood up and looked at her bouquet, then tossed the white and pink flowers into the corner. “You can have him. I hope he’s worth what you had to do to get him.”
Tara glared at her. “What’s that?”
“Screw around with your best friend’s man. My mother let you live with us when your mom died. I treated you like a sister for the last six years.”
Moving so fast Olivia didn’t have time to react, Tara slapped her, snapping her head to the side. “You’re no better than me, ice princess.”
Olivia raised a hand to her cheek, which burned like an oven. “I’m getting out of here. You can explain what happened to Jared, since you want him so bad.”
She stormed to the door and opened it to look out in the alcove. Her father was nowhere in sight. He was supposed to be waiting there to escort her down the aisle. She’d have to talk fast—he wouldn’t be happy canceling a wedding, at the last minute especially, that he’d spent five thousand dollars to fund.
Her dress alone had been nearly two thousand dollars. Now she couldn’t wait to get out of it. It was huge, white, ridiculous. It was supposed to reflect her choice to wait for marriage, to signify her purity. Suddenly, she wanted to strip out of the dress, because she felt childish and stupid. If she hadn’t wanted to wait, Jared wouldn’t have cheated on her.
But, no. That’s not where the blame belonged. She was lucky he’d cheated before the wedding because now she could back out and not have to marry the slimy son-of-a-bitch.
Everyone was seated in the church. The ceremony was slated to start in eight minutes. She needed her father, or, well, anyone. Tara would probably help her leave, but she wanted nothing more to do with her former friend. Tara had betrayed everything Olivia had believed about their friendship.
The two people she’d trusted the most had gone behind her back and slept together. Her life was falling apart and, as usual, her father was nowhere to be found during a crisis.
She needed out of here, right now. Her job as a hairdresser had given her two weeks off for her honeymoon. She’d find somewhere to go, to get away, so she could think.
If she could find a ride. She hadn’t exactly driven herself here. Tara had brought her over before they got ready. And she wasn’t sure she could drive in four-inch heels. She supposed women did but she’d had no practice.
She didn’t want to have to announce to the church that the wedding was canceled—let Tara or Jared do that. They were the ones who had decided to mess around behind her back.
***
He was still waiting for the email letting him know if he got the contracting job to build the new hotel in town. They lived in a small town, where everyone was related by two or three degrees of separation and most usually had more than one connection to each other.
He was here as the father-of-the-bride’s best friend, so it was kind of essential that he attend the wedding. But the kicker was, he hoped to speak to the groom’s father at the reception if that email hadn’t come through.
Jared King, the groom, was the one and only son of the developer building the hotel.
Opening the door to his Jeep, he grabbed his phone and made sure it was on silent. Even if he would be staring at it through the ceremony, turning the sound off was the least he could do.
That hotel would be a boon for Flynn’s business. His profits would steadily increase, he’d be able to buy some more equipment and hire a few more guys, and keep his employees working for the next eighteen months.
He looked up at the church. He had to be running out of time, but he checked his email all the same. Nothing new. Damn it.
Stuffing the phone into the pocket of his black dress slacks, Flynn took off across the parking lot to the church at a brisk pace. He’d cleared the outer door and was almost to the doors to the sanctuary when he heard someone say, “Please help me,” in a small, quiet voice.
Flynn turned to the alcove, where the voice had come from. Out of the shadows stepped the bride. She wore a dress that left her shoulders and arms bare, and it swept out in a lacy white bell from her waist. Her hair was up, but cascaded down her neck and back in tiny curls. She either didn’t plan to wear a veil or she hadn’t put it on yet.
He pulled up short and looked around. There was no one else—she had to be talking to him. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find my dad and the wedding is starting soon.”
Flynn looked closer at her face, which made her look like a sculpted beauty. Her bottom lip was fuller than the top and she had striking green eyes. Tears and mascara left streaks down her face. “Do you want me to try to find him?”
“No… could you get me out of here?” She walked right up to him and, even crying, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. If she weren’t crying, if it weren’t her wedding day, he’d have wanted her instantly.
Had they met in a bar somewhere, instead of under these unusual circumstances, he would have had to have her. Instead, he could only stare at her. “You want to leave your wedding? Why?”
“Because my fiancé is a cheating piece of trash. With my best friend. The maid of honor. It’s so cliché, it should be a country song.” She stepped forward and took his hand. “You’re a friend of my father’s. I think we’ve met once or twice.”
He wasn’t even sure how old she was. Early twenties? That put her half his age, give or take. Not that it would’ve stopped him in his bar scenario. He enjoyed younger women as much as any other woman.
Regardless, between his bar fantasy—in which he took her home and bedded her, exploring the luscious breasts heaving out of her bodice—and the confession she’d made about the affair between the groom and maid of honor, he was struck speechless.
“Will you get me out of here? I’m Olivia.” She frowned. “You probably know that since you’re here for my wedding.”
“Sure, Olivia. I know who you are.” He held out an awkward hand. “I’m Flynn Wilder.”
“Right. Resident playboy. No offense.” She shook his hand, looking nervously at the sanctuary door. “I need to go before the wedding starts. I can’t face all those people just yet. I know I’ll have to eventually, but I can’t do it right now.”
Flynn put his hand on her bare shoulder and a shock shot through him. He almost pulled away. It made him hyper-aware of her bare skin, her breasts practically bursting from the top of the dress, of her long, espresso colored hair.
Surely her father, Sean, would want him to help her since he wasn’t around. He wouldn’t want her to have to explain to the hundreds of people in the sanctuary why she couldn’t get married, would want her safe in the comfort that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to do.
“Come on.” He guided her with a hand on her arm toward the outer doors. He led her to his Jeep and opened the passenger door for her. It took them several minutes to get her dress inside the front seat.
Finally, the lace and tulle floated everywhere around her, but none of it hung out of the vehicle. He slammed the door and crossed to the driver side. He glanced at her as he started the Jeep. “You sure about this?”
“I’ve never been this sure about anything. Drive, please.”
Flynn made his way out of the parking lot and turned east. In silence, they made their way to the edge of town. “Have you thought about where you want to go?”
“I don’t have anywhere besides my apartment. Jared would follow me to the hotel if I went on the honeymoon alone.” She sniffled and swiped at her eyes. “I don’t know where I can go. I just want some peace while I figure out what to do next.”
He felt terrible for her. She hadn’t asked for this situation. There was no excuse for cheating, and she deserved better. A thought occurred to him and was out his mouth before he could stop himself. “I’ve got a cabin in the mountains. It’s about an hour away.”
Glancing at her then back at the road, he put a comforting hand on hers, tangled together in the lap of her huge gown. “There’s plenty of food and firewood. You can stay as long as you like, but you’ll have to tell me when you want me to pick you up. There’s no phone and no cell service.”
“Oh, but that would be perfect. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Or see anyone. I just need to figure out my next move.”
As far as Flynn was concerned, the solution was obvious. When he got back from dropping her off, he’d call Sean and let him know where his daughter was, that she was safe, and what had happened.
***
She didn’t know what shocked her more—that Jared had cheated on her or that her best friend in the whole world had been the one he’d been screwing for the last two years. She was an absolute idiot.
“Looks like we’re driving into a storm. You might get stranded up here.”
“Mm-hmm.” What was she supposed to say? She never wanted to go back to their small town again. If she never got back, that was fine by her.
“We can turn back. It’s not too late.” He shifted his car down and switched on the four-wheel drive. “Well, it’s probably too late to go back to the church without anyone noticing. But you don’t have to hide away.”
“Everyone I know is going to be furious with me for something I had no control over. I think I’d like a little reprieve from that. I’ve got two weeks before I have to be back at the salon.”
“That’s right, you’re a stylist. That must be interesting work.”
The snow flew so hard and fast now, it streaked at them. She was glad he seemed comfortable driving in it because it was sticking to the road and really starting to pile up.
She looked over at him out of the corner of her eyes. He was being nice, trying to make conversation. “It’s okay.”
Flynn was one of those guys who was hot twenty years ago and would still be hot in twenty more years. He was rugged, with his ruffled ebony hair, and dark maple syrup eyes to melt into. It had not escaped her notice, as she followed him out to his Jeep that he had a killer ass, too.
Which was awful of her, she supposed. But tonight was supposed to be her wedding night. A virgin no more after tonight, that had been the plan. And what good had waiting done her?
Not a damn bit. She’d been played for a fool. She needed a fling, that’s what. A romance would never work because she’d never trust a man again. Her mom had been right. After Olivia’s dad left her for his second wife—he was working on wife number six now—she said, “You can never trust a man. He thinks with his privates.”
Her mother had certainly been proved right today. Her father had cheated on all of his wives, Jared had cheated on her—all men cheated eventually.
She turned and eyed Flynn openly. He’d be perfect for a fling. Women all over town swooned for the contractor, a man who owned his own business and could please the ladies, according to gossip.
He never stuck with one long, but what did that matter to her? She wanted to have some fun and rid herself of her damn virginity. It was nothing more than a symbol of an ideal she’d never achieve: finding the perfect man and being faithful to only him.
With a sigh, she looked back at the snow falling in clumps to the ground. She wouldn’t get her fling. He was dropping her off and leaving.
He’d probably tell her dad where she was, too, who would show up, furious that he’d canceled the lavish wedding he’d paid for. Instead of great sex with a hot, older man, she’d get yelled at, like an irresponsible teenager.
“It’s pretty bad out, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess so. You might be snowed in for a few days. You sure you don’t want me to come back for two whole weeks?”
I want you to stay and teach me every single thing you know about great sex. “I’m sure. But, it’s coming down pretty hard. Maybe you should wait until morning to go back.”
What on Earth was she doing? She had all the skills of a fish at seducing men. How would she convince him to make love to her if he did stay? Just straight up ask?
It was silly. He was an experienced, sexy older man. He probably had zero interest in a night with her. Worse, he was her dad’s best friend. He’d probably laugh at her, best-case-scenario if she suggested it.
What if he told her father? Not that Sean had any right to judge her. He’d been married so many times, he needed a revolving door on the front porch.
All these thoughts crashed through her mind at lightning speed.
Flynn shook his head. “I wouldn’t want you to not be comfortable. It’s only a one bedroom cabin. It’s a loft bedroom, above the living room. I’m sure having a man you hardly know there would be strange, at the very least.”
“I’d much rather you stay and make it home safely.” She looked out the window. A man she hardly knew—that would be perfect. It both shocked and excited her, at the same time, to think of what might happen if they spent the night together.
She wasn’t a child. She was twenty-three and she’d grown up in a time when teenagers sent each other naked selfies for fun. Not that she’d ever done such a thing, but Tara certainly had.
In fact, most of her sexual education came from things Tara had shared with her. That and television. She should’ve gotten suspicious when Tara stopped reporting in about her hook-ups and bootie calls.
But, she didn’t want to think about that anymore. Jared and Tara had betrayed her, humiliated her. She closed her eyes, trying to put it out of her mind. That horrible look Tara had given her right before she slapped her—pure, unadulterated jealousy and rage.
“You okay?”
Olivia looked down at her lap, where her nails pressed into the palms of her hands. “I’m fine. Just a little shook up. It’s been a crazy day.”
“So… how’d you find out? About the affair?”
“My wonderful best friend told me. It was… quite a scene.” Her hair, with the million bobby pins holding it in place, itched her scalp. She looked at the clock in the dash. By this time, she’d have been Mrs. Jared King and be dancing the evening away before dashing off to her honeymoon. Now what did she have to look forward to?
Not marriage. She’d never trust another man again.
They pulled up to the cabin, a rugged two-story with silvered cedar siding. On the porch and all along the side, there were stacks and stacks of firewood. She’d be okay.
“You didn’t bring any clothes.”
She turned to Flynn and he was eyeing her huge taffeta gown. She could hardly rewash it—that would destroy it—and it wasn’t practical enough to wear around the cabin. “I wasn’t exactly thinking all that far ahead.”
“I should’ve taken you to your place, let you pack a bag.”
“Oh, no.” She put her hand over his on the gearshift, and heat pooled in her belly. “I’m sure I surprised you. You can’t blame yourself. I should’ve thought.”
“Well, let’s get you in without destroying that dress.” He opened his door and the cold struck her like a blow. Snow drifted in through the briefly ajar door.
He came around, opened her door, and before she knew what he had planned, he’d picked her up, an arm around her waist and one under her knees.
Olivia clung to him, her face turned into his neck, as the wind whistled around them. He smelled spicy, like leather and citrus, and something else altogether. Something masculine, like pure sex. As if she’d recognize such a thing.
He carried her through the snow, a foot deep in places, to the door and sat her down. He dug around on his key chain for a silver key and unlocked the door.
“Your home for the next two weeks awaits.” He turned the knob and gestured inside.
***
Maybe she could sell it or something, recoup some of the money her father had invested in the wedding. Regardless, she wasn’t exactly tall. She came up to his shoulder and the snow would’ve been knee-deep on her. It was really the only thing to do.
Now that they were inside, he went about starting a fire as quickly as he could to warm the cabin up some. “Here,” he said, shrugging out of his leather jacket. “Put this on while I try to warm this place up.”
She put the jacket over her bare shoulders. That cleavage was a sight, and he made himself turn away and get back to work laying a fire. He struck a long match to the kindling and stepped back. It was a huge stone fireplace and could warm the whole cabin once it got going.
He caught himself staring at her breasts once more as she came down the stairs. Damn it, he had to stop thinking of her this way. She was his best friend’s daughter, a much younger woman, and there was no way she’d be interested in him, regardless.
Flynn didn’t do anything but one-night-stands and brief affairs. He was always honest—they’d be together as long as it was fun and then they’d both move on when one of them got bored. It had worked out quite well for him over the years.
It wasn’t that Flynn wouldn’t have liked to fall in love, start a family. He just knew, after his parents had abandoned him and he’d spent years in the foster care system, love wasn’t in the cards for him. When a kid’s own parents don’t care—no one does.
At any rate, it wasn’t love he was thinking about, not staring at the luscious bride poking around the cabin. It was pure lust rushing through his veins, making his dick stir to life.
“Oh, hey. I think I might have a solution to at least one of your problems.” He went to the hall closet and shifted heavy winter coats and a pair of hunting boots around until he could reach a box in the back. He tugged it out and held it out to her. “Clothes.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him and pulled out a skimpy purple tank top. “Why do you have women’s clothes in a box in the back of your closet?”
“Well, uh… a friend left them here last summer. She got mad, left in a hurry. I boxed them up in case she asked for them back, but we didn’t talk again.”
She smirked at him, the first time he’d seen her smile. Even laughing at him, it lit up her face and made her more beautiful. “Okay, well, I’m not planning to go out. You said there’s plenty of firewood and food. These will be just fine. Thank you very much. You’re a really thoughtful person, Flynn. You saved me today and I won’t ever forget it.”
He listened to her melodic voice, transfixed. He almost preened with pride that he’d been able to help her when she’d been at her lowest, in the direst of circumstances. He shook his head, trying to break the spell. He was in a state of arousal now, and he might as well immerse himself in the snow and cool off. “I suppose I should get going.”
She followed him to the door and they looked out together. It seemed impossible, but another six inches had fallen while they’d been in the cabin.
“Oh,” she said and slipped his jacket off. He wished she wouldn’t do that because then it was a struggle not to stare at her breasts. “You’ll need this.”
Flynn tried to see the road from here, but it was obscured by the drifts and still falling snow. “You might be right.”
“About what?”
“I might have to wait until morning. That road can be treacherous, especially at night. If I wait until noon tomorrow, hopefully, some of the snow will have melted off some.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re staying?”
“Is that a problem? I understand if you’re not comfortable with—”
“No, no. It’s perfectly fine. I’d enjoy the company, to be honest. Otherwise, I’m just going to think about what an awful day this was.”
Flynn took his coat and put it back around her shoulders. “Why don’t you just keep that on until you get changed. You must be freezing.”
“Actually, I’d love to get out of this dress, but I might need some help. Normally, the maid-of-honor would undo the back of the dress, but she’s a cheating whore. And not here, in any case.” She turned around to show him the way her wedding dress laced up the back like an old-fashioned corset.
“So…” He ran a hand through his wet-from-snow hair. “You want me to loosen you up.” God, that made him think of bondage. He’d love to tie her to the four-poster bed upstairs and have his way with her.
“If you don’t mind.” She looked over her shoulder at him. Her back was creamy perfection. “I never want to see this dress again, much less wear it for another minute longer.”
Once he finished pulling the laces loose, the dress gaped in the back and she had to hold it, molding it to her breasts. The bumps on her spine made him want to run his tongue over them. “You should go up, get out of these clothes, and get some rest.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take your bed.” She turned to face him, holding the dress up with one hand. God, all it would take is one little wardrobe malfunction and he’d see her in her perfect lacy wedding lingerie.
“I insist. Go get some sleep, Olivia.”
She grabbed the box with her other hand, fumbling to keep the dress up and carry the clothing up the stairs. It took her a full minute to get up there.
He laid down on the couch and pulled the blanket off the back. It made him crazy to know she was upstairs, taking all her clothes off, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Who took advantage of someone when they’d been through something that awful? Much as he wanted her, he wasn’t that guy.