Merry Little Wedding (Holiday Belles) Read online

  Merry Little Wedding

  A Holiday Belles Christmas Romance

  By Tarin Lex

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2021 by Tarin Lex.

  No part of this work may be transmitted or reproduced without written permission of the author/publisher.

  Published by Tarin Lex.

  “Merry Little Wedding” is a work of fiction. Names, characters, situations, locations, and events are fictitious.

  Cover by Y’all That Graphic.

  Contents

  A FREE GIFT!

  ABOUT

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Epilogue

  More Holiday Belles

  Sugar Plums in San Diego: Sneak Peek

  About Tarin Lex

  A FREE GIFT!

  Want more short reads with heart & steam?

  Grab a FREE novella when you sign up for my mailing list!

  CLICK HERE to get your free book.

  ABOUT

  My bestie is ‘falling in love’ after date number two…

  That means it’s bullsh!t, right?

  That’s what I think until I meet the man of my dreams—

  With said bestie in tow—

  At my fake bachelorette party.

  We’re just here for an innocent, fun time.

  Okay, and the free drinks don’t hurt…

  When the nightclub’s hot owner (aka “man of my dreams”) discovers our ruse, I fully expect him to kick us out.

  Or at least make us pay for our drinks.

  Instead he invites me to a real wedding.

  And the one after that—I just know—is going to be ours.

  When December gets cold—crank up the romance!

  Aurora & Boone aren’t looking for “love or whatever.”

  It finds them. ;)

  But you can eighty-six the mistletoe, babe…

  Cuz these two are headed straight for bed.
  Kisses, Tarin

  One

  Aurora

  “You’re never going to believe this!”

  “What?” I ask Liz.

  “Last night Neil and myself were texting—”

  “Neil and I.”

  “Yeah, so we were texting and I said to him, ‘I love you care bear heart sign’.”

  “What, why would you say that? And how do you have pet names already? You’ve been dating him for like, thirty-six hours.”

  “So guess what he says?”

  I shrug. “What.”

  “So Neil writes back, ‘I love you too, baby swan’—”

  “His name for you is baby swan? Are you serious?”

  “Listen. He said, ‘I love you too, baby swan, heart sign heart sign heart sign infinity symbol’.”

  “Oh good lord.”

  “Want to know what I said?”

  “To be honest…”

  “I said, ‘I love you more care bear red lips kissy face heart face Christmas tree’—”

  “Stoppit!” I exhale a giggle, slinging my purse over my shoulder. I push my fingertips into my temples. “Y’all are insane. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  My bestie, Liz, loops her arm through one of mine. “Crazy…in looove.” She bats her eyes. I roll mine up to the heavens. As we’re walking toward the entrance I lurch us both to a stop in front of a sleek, black pickup truck with jet-black-tinted windows, pivoting toward it to adjust my Future Mrs. pink sash and straighten my sparkly tiara in the reflection.

  Lord. Can’t believe I’m wearing open-toed shoes and no sleeves and my hair is this frizzy days away from Christmas. Why can’t we ever have a white Christmas? Juuust once? Now that would be a miracle that might put even me in the holiday spirit.

  Liz leans close to the window to fix her makeup, which is also a mess already because…Florida.

  “We look pretty good,” I mutter. We don’t look our worst.

  “So hot.”

  The dark-tinted window rolls down suddenly, putting my entire body in a block of ice as it wipes away our reflections on its way into the door. Did that just…oh—god.

  I want to be mortified for getting caught primping in some random stranger’s truck window, but the guy looking back at us is nothing short of sex—on—a—stick.

  And by stick I mean a big, hard muscly slab of male.

  On second thought yes, I am wholly mortified. Feels like fire ants racing up my neck to swarm my cheeks. Dropping my hands to their sides I take a giant step back, almost tripping over my own ankles. Freaking stupid open-toed wedges.

  “Suh, suh sorry,” I sputter, “we were just um—”

  “My bestie’s getting marrieeeed!” squeals Liz, unaffected. How does she do that? How does she…not care? But like, in a good way. Usually. Well sometimes.

  “I see that.” He’s got these blue, blue eyes. He does this thing with them, letting them fall down and then jerking them back up at my face. He does it twice, fast, super fast. “Lucky guy.” His grin on the other hand is slow, and devastating, and turns all my bones to liquid.

  “Isn’t he?” Liz says smiling. “C’mon, honey, let’s go inside and get you drunk!”

  “Do I have to get drunk?” I ask, giggling, trying to be cute about it, but it comes out like the nervous laughter it is. Dang, she is taking this really seriously. I thought it would be fun to fake a bachelorette party but Liz’s almost too good at playing her part of bridesmaid-to-be, I don’t know how in the world I’ll be able to stay in character next to her all night.

  “Aurora, hunny-bunny. You’re going to be seeing the same penis every—day, forever. Fooor-ehhh-verrr,” she draws it out, her eyes going bulbous. “I would get drunk.” I seal my lips closed to stifle the laughter in my esophagus. She gives a wave to cute stranger truck dude, who’s been observing all of this with great amusement on his face. “You coming or going?” Liz indicates over her shoulder, where there’s already a line snaking around to the back of the nightclub.

  He does a humble half-shrug-thing. “I own the club.”

  “Soo…what does that mean?” prompts Liz.

  There’s that sexy grin again. Again he points it at me, his tongue peeking out to caress the corner of that kissable, quirked mouth, before he says, “I’m coming.”

  Two

  Boone

  Not a great liar, that one. And I know a thing or two about great liars. The marketing and advertising business is filled with them. And that’s another thing I know a thing or two about.

  Before I moved to Deerfield Beach in sunny South Florida, I lived and breathed Chicago, working round-the-clock to help grow my family’s ad-PR firm into the multi-million-dollar national success it had become before Dad died. For years, I operated on autopilot, going going going. I admit I enjoyed the fast-paced life. The thrill, the rush, the constant demand. Hadn’t considered an alternative future.

  That is, until the accident.

  Five years ago I’d decided to rent a truck and take it for a drive around Chestnut Mountain. I was stressed, I knew I needed to decompress. Didn’t want to slow down, but burning the candle at both ends, over and over, had started to take its toll on me.

  I was too late to take that respite, half asleep behind the wheel as the truck slid off the road and tumbled down a steep, rocky ditch, landing upside down in a creek that was normally six-feet deep. A drought was the only reason I hadn’t been washed into the Mississippi River and drowned in it that day.

  The accident didn’t kill me. It changed me. I wasn’t going to get that close to dying again. Not as long as I could help it. My dad’s taxing career had already ta
ken his life by way of a heart attack a couple of years prior. Waking up in that hospital bed, hurting all over, I knew right then I didn’t need any more lessons to realize I was headed in the same direction.

  Now, observing the main floor of the club from behind the bar, I rub a knot of tension from the back of my neck. Still get sore easily from the injuries I sustained. But I manage all right. Running this place isn’t exactly the quiet, lazy beach-bum life my mom and sister are convinced I’m down here living. But the stakes and the stress are lower. By a lot.

  And the best part—the two squawking hens are far, far away from me in Illinois.

  I scope out the holiday decorations. The staff went over-the-top with lights, wreaths, an upside-down Christmas tree. They even wrapped the tables in gaudy wrapping paper and created a funky holiday drink menu, like the Santa-gria, Naughty or Spice, and the Gettin’ Blitzen.

  My eyes collide with the curvy beauty from outside. The quote-unquote, “engaged” curvy beauty. Aurora, that was her name. I notice the bartender noticing the two of them walking up, and I dismiss him. “Let me do it.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  “Ladies,” I greet them.

  “Hi again,” Aurora, the bachelorette says.

  “It’s you.” Her friend is more subdued than before, peering up from her phone for only a split second before she goes back to typing away.

  “It’s me,” I reply. “What can I get you?”

  The friend scopes the menu and orders a Santa-gria.

  “Vodka cranberry,” Aurora says.

  I toss a wink to the bachelorette. “Just what I pegged you for.”

  “Really?” She wrinkles her face up at me. It’s adorable.

  “It’s not a bad thing,” I say.

  “No?” She slides into a barstool. “It’s just, if I were to be a drink I’d rather be something exciting. Like, sex on the beach!” Her cheeks enflame, and she covers them with the palms of her hands. “Good lord. Forget I just said that.” Shaking her head at herself. Also cute as fuck. She isn’t really engaged but she should be. Why isn’t she? What poor fool wouldn’t have already locked that down?

  “What drink would you be, Mr. Club Owner?” Aurora says.

  “Are you flirting with me, missus bride-to-be?” I joke, glancing over at her friend then back to her. It’s fucking fantastic, the way Aurora looks when she’s caught. I go easy. “Where’s the rest of your party, anyway?”

  “It’s just the two of us.”

  “Wild ladies’ night, indeed.”

  “Lots of people um…couldn’t make it,” Aurora lies.

  “It is almost Christmas.”

  “Yeaah,” she answers, deadpan. “Not really a fan of the holiday.”

  I pull a face, finishing up the two drinks. “You’re having a Christmas wedding…yet you hate Christmas?”

  “Didn’t say I hate Christmas.”

  “Why aren’t you a fan of Christmas? Never got what you asked Santa for?”

  “No…nothing specific.” Aurora shrugs. I suppose it’s another lie, but I don’t press for the truth. I’m not yet ready to call her out. Operative word, yet. When I do call her out I want it to be good. “Just hard to get in a Christmassy mood when it’s eighty-five and humid outside,” Aurora says, reasonably. She makes to pay me as I garnish their drinks and slide them to them.

  “First round is on me.” I wink.

  “Seriously?”

  “You’re celebrating, right?”

  “Mmm…Yep.”

  “So when’s the big day?”

  “Sunday,” the bridesmaid answers, at the same time Aurora says, “Tomorrow.” Both their expressions become exclamation marks as they look at each other.

  Did I mention it’s a Wednesday night?

  I swallow the chuckle that bubbles up in my throat. “How many has this one already had?” I say in a super quiet voice, meant only for Aurora. It’s just to save her, let her keep her little ruse a little bit longer. I don’t really think her friend’s been drinking.

  The other girl’s phone lights up with a call, and her face lights up too. “I’ll be back, I gotta take this!” She hops off the barstool and disappears with her Santa-gria. “Thanks again!” she calls back.

  “So…you’re getting married…” I mention. “Tomorrow.”

  “That’s right.” Aurora takes a long swallow of her vodka cranberry. The bartenders all joke that it might as well be called The White Girl but this curvy cutie can do whatever she wants, I’ll still think she’s one of a kind, beautiful, cool.

  “Lucky guy.”

  “You said that already,” she giggles, tipsily. “Outside.” I look at her glass, it’s already almost empty.

  “Want another?”

  She licks her lips, towing my gaze down to that plump, pillowy pink mouth. “Sure.”

  “What’s his name?” I make smalltalk and the drink.

  “What’s with the twenty questions?” she challenges.

  “You know what, you’re right, I’m sorry.” I slide her the cocktail, leaning over the bar top to look closer at her. I can read people really damn well, it’s what made me great in marketing, and a halfway decent nightclub owner. And what I’m reading from Aurora right now? She doesn’t mind my closeness. At all. “I don’t mean to interrogate you when there’s only one question I really want to ask.”

  “What’s that?” Her brown eyes are warm and glazed with tipsiness.

  “Dance with me?” I say softly.

  Spinning halfway around in her barstool, she looks back at the dancefloor, then at me again. She drains her second cocktail fast. Pushes the glass to me.

  “Sure what the hell. It is my last night as a single lady.”

  “That, it is.”

  For fucking sure.

  I come around to her side of the bar, holding out my hand for her to take and let me lead her to the dancefloor. Aurora’s hand slides into mine. It’s so small. So warm. Sparks from our first innocent, physical contact send a heated path straight to my chest.

  “Beautiful name. Aurora.” In the middle of the dancefloor, I pull her to me. It isn’t a slow song, but I know immediately, it’s our song now.

  “How do you know my name? You didn’t accept my credit card.”

  “Your friend mentioned it outside.”

  “That’s Liz. She’s a bit of a character.”

  “We all have our quirks. I’m Boone.”

  “Nice meeting you, Boone.”

  “Likewise.” Aurora follows my lead with ease. I spin her, slow. I dip her, low. “You’re a good dancer.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  “I do own a nightclub.”

  “Touché.” Aurora grins.

  The DJ mixes a pop beat with the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. “Tell me you don’t like this song.”

  “It’s okay. Don’t have to love it to dance to it.” What else does she love, is what I want to know. Where did she learn to dance? Why’s she hate Christmas?

  What does that pretty mouth taste like?

  I want to know—everything. It’s like I’m physically fucking desperate to learn this woman inside and out, preferably as soon as possible.

  “It’s your night,” I say. She doesn’t realize I’m slowly leading her toward the little flowering green shrub until it’s hanging from the rafters right over our heads. “I know you don’t like Christmas but…” I crane my neck to look up at the mistletoe, and her gaze follows. We’re quiet a second. And then like magnets our eyes link back to each other’s.

  “What happens if we don’t kiss?”

  “I think an elf bites off its own hand when that happens.”

  “What-ever!” She playfully slaps a hand to my chest. It doesn’t hurt. She’d never hurt me. In the strobe lighting, all the colors of her irises flicker and brighten, one shade at a time. Amber. Chocolate and gold. A hint of chartreuse. I can’t help but stare into them. “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

&nbs
p; “That thing you’re doing…with your face.”

  I can’t help but chuckle. “Is it working?”

  “Maybe,” she teases. If any of my employees are watching this, and I’m sure they’re watching, I’m going to get hell for it when I see them all again next week. Don’t really care in the moment. Won’t care in any moment. Not for this. God, this. How is she even doing this?

  Aurora’s looking at me studiously, her head tilted to one side. Her hands on my neck. The warm, sweet berry scent of her filling my nostrils, filling me, waking my heart up. She trying to peg me? Examine me? Spread all my pieces out to put them together like a puzzle? Suddenly, I wonder what she does for a living.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Do you like, get off on stealing another man’s girl?” she says, teasingly.

  A low laugh rolls from my chest. “I’m not stealing another man’s girl,” I whisper, matter of fact, running my fingers up the soft, smooth curve of her back, up the nape of her neck, and into her hair. “I’m kissing…my girl. Right now under this mistletoe.”

  Her eyes fall closed, and I lean in to take a slow pull from her lips. When my tongue begs for entrance, Aurora spreads that mouth for me. Her fingers dig in deeper into my hairline. Fuck, I want more. And that’s exactly why I have to break the kiss. I do it slow, too.

  I press my lips to the shell of her ear. Her body responds with a fast shiver in my arms. “I don’t think you’re getting married. I don’t think you’re even engaged, Aurora.”

  “Wh…”

  I peel her left hand off the back of my neck, and hold it up between us. “You’re not wearing a ring.”

  Her eyes double in size, and she tucks her ring finger into her fist.

  “A fake bachelorette party.” I smirk. “Pretty cool trick, hun.”

  “I wasn’t trying to trick you. I really didn’t expect to get free drinks.”

  “You should pay for those.”

  “I know. I can.” She reaches for the purse resting against her hip. I fetter that hand and squeeze it in mine.

  “Tell you what. I can let this slide, if…”