Have Husband, Need Honeymoon. Rita Herron

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      “I can’t wait,” Brady mumbled. “I’ve heard you’re worse than a drill sergeant.”

      “Whatever cures ya,” Vivica said with a wink.

      He gave her a grateful half smile, but she ruined his mood. “By the way, did I tell you Alison’s dating—”

      “About a dozen times already.” He sighed and lay his head back, pretending disinterest. “I think I’ll rest until we get there. It was a long flight.” And another long, sleepless night.

      Vivica lapsed into silence and he silently cursed himself for being short with her. But he didn’t want pity, not for his injuries, not for his personal life. He’d sit through the parade, then hightail it back to his mother’s.

      An hour later, they pulled into town, and he grimaced. The town square had been roped off, rerouting traffic in a wide loop to avoid food vendors, crafters and various other booths. The town bustled with activity, with locals eating hot dogs, preparing for an old-fashioned cakewalk, watering the ponies for the kids. His mother parked and they got out of the car—right in front of some town dignitaries. To his surprise, the mayor greeted him personally.

      “Let me shake the hand of one of our own heroes.” Mayor Stone pumped his hand, his ruddy face already flushed from the activities, a glob of unabsorbed sunscreen puddling on his bald head.

      Brady’s tongue completely tied itself into a knot with denials, but the mayor gave him no time for a reply. He immediately helped him onto a huge float draped in red-white-and-blue crepe paper resembling the flag. Brady felt like a fake among the other veterans as they rode down Main Street, waving at the kids and throwing candy. Children shouted while music blared from the high school band. The cheerleaders marched and chanted the familiar high school cheers. Shriners zipped by in go-carts, doing wheelies to entertain the crowd. Clowns passed out balloons to the children, followed by several antique cars carrying local beauty contestants—Little Miss Sugar Hill, Miss Teenage Sugar Hill, Little Mr. Sugar Hill. Unfortunately, the veterans float followed the line dancers and horses—a bad choice, Brady realized, when two of the huge mares decided to relieve themselves in front of them.

      Oblivious to the problem, Wacky Wiley belted out a speech about all the servicemen and women and how they were heroes for their country, naming each person on the float. The high school band burst into a slightly off-key version of “The Star Spangled Banner” in the background.

      Brady grimaced when Wiley called his name, his mind shouting that he wasn’t a hero, that he didn’t deserve to be up here with these other men. But Wiley continued, and Brady scanned the crowd for familiar faces. He spotted a few of his high school teachers, the football coach he used to think hung the moon, some high school football buddies. Hannah Hartwell was standing beside a big, dark-headed guy, her arm tucked in his. Must be the cop Vivica said she’d married. A pregnant Mimi Hartwell stood beside them next to a sandy-haired man.

      Finally he spotted her—Alison.

      Beautiful sweet Alison wedged in the crowd, yet sticking out from all the others like a diamond in a case full of cut glass. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. She’d trimmed her waist-length black hair to her shoulders, but the shorter length made her look even more lively than ever. Though she was still tall and slender, her curves appeared more pronounced, more womanly and enticing, especially in that slinky, pale blue sundress. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to savor the sight of her, to remember what it felt like to hold her, to kiss those tender lips, to touch those luscious breasts with his hands, to have made her his wife….

      The float jerked, then inched on, turning the corner by the hardware store, and Brady’s gaze landed on the man beside her. Medium build, dull brown hair, scrawny, probably couldn’t bench-press his own weight. He had to be Emerson, the doctor she was dating. Even if Vivica hadn’t warned him, Brady would have known by the way the man was looking at her, drooling like a Saint Bernard.

      Damn. He thought he’d been prepared to see her with another man, but he wasn’t. The anguish nearly made his good leg buckle.

      Just as he grabbed the edge of the float for support, Alison looked up from the crowd. Their gazes collided, locked. Time slipped away…. The driver whipped the float around the corner and Brady leaned forward, craning his head so he could still see her. But the float jerked again and he toppled off headfirst, right into the horse’s behind in front of him.

      ALISON’S FINGERS SLID from Thomas’s hand and fluttered to her chest. Brady Broussard was riding on the float. Dear heavens, she hadn’t been prepared for the sight of him in that Air Force uniform.

      Or the fact that he simply stared right through her as if she wasn’t there.

      Hurt clogged her throat, pushing tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away, furious at herself for still caring. And for still being mesmerized by the man.

      And he was definitely a man now—bigger, more muscular, tougher looking. She’d known all that thick black hair would be cut military style, but she hadn’t imagined it showcasing the strong angles and planes of his face so well. The man was twice as sexy as he’d been in high school and college.

      But more distant than ever.

      Thomas yanked on her hand and a wave of dizziness assaulted her. She couldn’t marry Thomas when she already had a husband, especially when they still had things unresolved between them. Like their annulment.

      “You want a soda or one of those snow cones, Ali?” Thomas asked.

      Dear heavens, he was always so considerate, and here she was—a married woman dating him, and she hadn’t even told him.

      She shook her head. “No, but we need to talk.”

      Horns blasted from the parade, the fire engine blared its siren, children screamed and the grand finale—a pig named Elmer that had placed first prize at the country fair, and its owner, the winner of the hog-calling contest—rolled past, emitting grunts and squeals that could wake the dead.

      The crowd began to disperse, all heading toward the festivities. Mimi waved. “I’d better get to the coffee shop. We’ll be bombarded all day.”

      Seth curved his arm protectively around Mimi and guided her through the crowd. “And I’m going along to make sure she doesn’t overdo it.”

      “We’ll check out the booths. I see some dolls to add to my collection,” Hannah said.

      “Uh, I think I have to help direct traffic,” Jake teased.

      Hannah laughed and yanked Jake’s hand, leading him away. “No, you don’t. You promised me the entire day.”

      Alison laughed and waved to several people she knew, but Thomas coaxed her the other way, ending up beneath the awning of Sugar Hill’s Hotspot, the new coffee shop-bookstore Mimi and their cousin Rebecca co-owned.

      Thomas folded Alison’s hands in his and pressed them to his chest. She could feel his heart beating, could see the anticipation in his eyes. “You look great today, Ali.”

      She smiled, wishing she could sugarcoat what she had to say. Thomas was just so darn nice. “I…we have to talk.”

      “I know. I hope you’ve been thinking about my proposal.”

      She inhaled a deep breath. СКАЧАТЬ