How To Be A Blissful Bride. Stacy Connelly
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She was tempted to take a closer look but stopped short when the front door opened. Her breath caught in her throat as Chance stepped outside, erasing any thoughts of fantasy dwarves and replacing them instead with the reality of six feet of living, breathing male.
Standing on the small porch, he stretched his neck from one side to the other. As his gaze swung in her direction, Alexa automatically ducked. She cringed, imagining what her grandmother would say if she could see her now, crouching behind a row of hedges before he could spot her.
A Mayhew does not skulk in the bushes, Alexa.
As she watched from her leafy vantage point, he ran both hands through his tousled dark hair and arched his back. Her mouth went dry as his faded T-shirt rode up above the loose waistband of his sweatpants, revealing a slice of muscled abs and tanned skin. Heat licked at her cheeks, and she wasn’t sure which flame burned brighter—her arousal or her embarrassment.
Hiding was one thing. Spying was something else entirely!
Really, she needed to stop. And she would...in a minute.
Because beyond arousal and embarrassment, Alexa couldn’t help noticing that his sweatpants weren’t just loose. The elastic band threatened to slip past his hip bones.
Her stomach clutched. How much weight had he lost? As he took a few steps, his limp was more noticeable than the day before. Was his leg worse...or with no one around and no reason to pretend everything was all right, was he allowing himself to give in to the pain?
He would hate for her to witness even a momentary weakness, and she carefully ducked deeper into her hiding spot. She’d wait a moment or two for Chance to go inside before making her way back to the hotel.
She hazarded another glance toward the cottage and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the porch was empty. She needed to tell Chance about the baby, but not yet. Not until she could be calm and in control, and until she was sure she could do that... Well, she’d be hiding in the bushes.
Pushing to her feet, she swore beneath her breath as the branches caught in the loose knit of her sweater. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a deep voice behind her asked, “You lose something?”
She spun around, slipping on the damp ground and stumbling against the solid, masculine wall of his chest. Chance instinctively caught her, his hands warm and roughly seductive against her upper arms. Each individual fingertip struck a pinpoint of sensation, and the back of his thumbs pressed against her overly sensitive breasts.
She jumped back quickly, but the damage had already been done. Her body still tingled from the sudden contact, the air around them still crackled with undeniable intensity, and she knew she’d made a big mistake not leaving when she’d had the chance.
“You scared me half to death!”
He gave her a sardonic grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you while you were...?”
His words drifted away, a dark brow winged upward in query, and Alexa wrapped her sweater around her waist. “I was out for a walk,” she sniffed, trying to maintain an air of dignity.
His smirk marked her as a liar. “Next time maybe you’ll try the beach. That’s my favorite spot.”
Alexa had a view of the rugged coastline from her suite along with the uneven, rocky pathway that led to the beach. It was not what she’d consider a leisurely stroll. As he turned, Alexa realized he hadn’t been stretching on the porch; he’d been warming up.
Without stopping to think, she reached out and caught his arm. His skin was warm, undeniably masculine muscle beneath a dusting of dark hair, and for a moment, she forgot what it was she wanted to say.
Forgot everything but the memory of sliding her hand down that same arm as she’d slipped the white tuxedo shirt from his broad shoulders.
Chance froze beneath her touch, and Alexa swallowed. “Are—are you sure that’s a good idea?”
His heated gaze dropped to where her hand still rested on his forearm. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Snatching her hand back, she said, “I meant pushing yourself so hard.”
“Hard was being stuck in traction. You don’t have to worry about me, Alexa. I heal fast.”
She couldn’t imagine what that had been like for him. For a man who was always on the move to not just be stuck in a hospital bed, but to be held in place, immobilized by ropes and pulleys.
She was dying to ask him what had happened, what he’d gone through, beyond the news reports she could barely bring herself to read. After that first devastating headline, she hadn’t known what to believe. Was he truly recovering or was that information wrong, as well?
But she knew better than to expect an honest answer. Especially not after he pinned her with a look and added, “Before long, I’ll move on like nothing ever happened.”
The way he thought she’d moved on to Griffin? Alexa swallowed but asked, “What about your job here?”
“You mean...wedding photographer? That isn’t my job, Alexa. That’s a favor to my sister. One I never should have agreed to,” he added beneath his breath.
“Why? Photographing weddings will be a piece of cake compared to what you’re used to.”
“What I’m used to—” he muttered. “What I’m used to is photographing some of the worst of humanity. I’m not sure I trust myself to still recognize the good.”
His vulnerability grabbed hold of the secret she kept, tugging the words straight from her heart. She longed to reassure him of the good in the world, of the something great the two of them had created together. But would he see their baby that way? When he was so dead set on pushing himself to get better so that he could move on?
So instead, she pointed out, “Your sister clearly trusts you.”
“My sister tends to trust everyone. It’s one of her biggest failings.” Chance glanced around the towering trees and the Victorian hotel in the distance. “Rory’s always thought this place was magic.”
With her arms still crossed at her waist, Alexa could feel the slight swell of her belly. She and Chance had made a baby. It might not have been magic, but as far as Alexa was concerned, it was a tiny miracle.
A miracle she needed to share. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she whispered, “Chance...”
He straightened abruptly. “You should go. I’m sure your fiancé is wondering where you are.”
“Chance, we need to talk—”
“I think you said everything you needed to say during our last phone call.”