She’s sweet and lovely and I understand exactly what Blake sees in her.
Now it’ll just be a matter of them going the distance…and I think they will.
“That means yes,” he calls.
“Does it?” Colt murmurs in my ear.
I look up at my man, see he’s freed Hamish from the heavy weight of that diamond around his neck.
Grinning, I touch his cheek. “Yeah, honey, it means yes.”
God, the happiness in his eyes undoes me, even though I only get it for a heartbeat before his mouth is on mine and my lids are sliding closed and he’s kissing me…
While he slides on the ring.
It’s a perfect fit.
And I know it’s not by chance.
Because just like the story of Colt and me…
It’s fate.
Storm
I tug at the black tie around my neck, hating the many pairs of eyes on me as I walk down the aisle and sit in the front row of the church.
It’s a bright day, sunshine pouring in through the stained glass windows to send rainbows of color scattering this way and that.
Reminding me that Fate has a fucked-up sense of humor.
Norm Harrison was about as far from sunny as a person could get.
He was the brutal violence of lightning storm, the lashing wind of a hurricane, the destruction of an earthquake…
And now he’s gone.
Dead.
Right there on his front porch, beer bottle clutched tight even in death, his face screwed up, prepared to yell at anyone who dared tread too close to his lawn.
Well, the last I don’t know for certain, since I wasn’t here, but I’d bet my life on it.
Because that was my dad.
“About time you showed up.”
I go stiff and look at my brother. He’s similarly clothed in a dark suit and tie, his face and muscled body almost a mirror of mine—though where my eyes are gray, his are green, and where my hair falls into my eyes with that trademark hockey flow, his is contained, neatly corralled into an appropriate style for church.
“I’m here.” I jerk my chin toward the closed casket. “He doesn’t deserve even that much.”
“Pot meet kettle,” Rain mutters. “Since you’re doing your best to be exactly like him.”
Rage flashes through me in a hot wave, so intense, so all-consuming that I jerk toward him, that I barely remember I’m in a fucking church, that I’m not on the ice where I’ll just get five minutes in the box for beating up this asshole.
My brother.
But still an asshole.
