A Merry Vested Wedding - Melanie Moreland Page 0,34

too long. She was talking to Gracie, who smiled as I approached.

“Missing your bride?” she asked as I kissed Addi, then leaned over and brushed a kiss to her cheek.

“Yep.” I looked around, lowering my voice. “Where’s your, ah, boss?”

“You told him?” Gracie hissed in a low voice.

“Of course I did. It’s Brayden.”

“I’m not going to say anything. I won’t give away your secret, Gracie.” I shook my head. “But you really don’t think it’s going to come out?”

“No, it isn’t,” she snarled. “I’m not going to say anything, and neither are you.”

“What about Jaxson?” I had a feeling he wasn’t as anxious to hide this marriage as Gracie was.

“He isn’t here and he’s not coming, so there isn’t going to be a problem. We’ll get a fast, quiet divorce, and that will be the end of it.”

“Wouldn’t an annulment be faster?” Addi asked.

Gracie’s face flushed, and I met Addi’s startled gaze.

“Gracie,” she whispered. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“It doesn’t matter. It happened. It’s water under the bridge, and I’ll deal with it.”

“Does Jaxson have a say?” I asked.

“No. He knows it was a mistake. He’s fine with it.”

“Are you sure about that?” I asked, glancing over her shoulder out the window.

“Yes. No one will even remember meeting him in a couple of weeks.”

“And you’re sure he’s not coming?” I asked again.

She glared at me. “First off, I uninvited him. And second, there’s a huge storm coming, Brayden. Only an idiot would head out to Port Albany with the weather about to change.”

I leaned close. “Then I guess your husband doesn’t listen so well. And apparently, he is an idiot.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Hey, look!” Ronan yelled at the same time. “Santa is outside!” Heads turned, and a ripple of laughter followed.

Gracie spun around and gasped.

Outside, Jaxson was on his way to the front door.

He was dressed as Santa, minus the beard, his dark hair unmistakable. He carried a large sack of what I assumed were gifts over his shoulder.

Addi looked at Gracie. “What is he doing?”

“He’s playing Santa,” she hissed.

“Why would he do that?” Addi queried, sharing a confused glance with me.

Gracie covered her face with her hands, her voice muffled. “Because apparently I talk too much when I’m drunk.”

Addi began to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand to stifle it. “Oh dear.”

I had to bite back my smile.

By now, Jaxson was almost at the door. Aiden was heading toward it, looking far too excited for a man his age.

Gracie grabbed my arm, her eyes wild with panic. “You need to stop him, Brayden!”

“Too late, I’m afraid.” I murmured. “Even Aiden’s into it.”

“Oh god,” she mumbled.

I couldn’t help my smirk. “Good luck with that secret, Gracie. And by the way? We’re all gonna remember this.”

I was pretty sure she told me to go fuck myself as she brushed past me.

I had to be mistaken, though. Gracie didn’t swear. But the Gracie I knew wouldn’t have gotten drunk and married in Vegas either.

I guessed I had heard right.

Huh.

Chapter 7

Addison

I moved closer to Brayden, watching as Gracie hurried toward the door, determined to beat Aiden there. Her short legs had no chance of catching up to his long strides, especially when he was hurrying. He beat her, throwing open the door.

Jaxson filled the frame. He looked ridiculous and yet totally perfect. He wore a heavy red Santa jacket, complete with a belt cinched over an obviously padded stomach. His hat was perched on his head, slightly askew, the white pom-pom bouncing in the wind. The red was vivid against his almost black hair. His chiseled jaw bore a trace of scruff on it, highlighting the rugged handsomeness of his face.

Brayden leaned down. “Stop staring, little elf. Or I’ll get jealous.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m married, not dead. Santa didn’t look like that when we were kids.”

He chuckled.

Aiden greeted him, his booming voice filling the room. “Santa! Come on in!”

Jaxson stepped in, lowering his bag to the floor. His gaze found Gracie quickly, and I saw the way his eyes lit up when he saw her. She was glaring at him, her hands tightened into fists at her sides. He winked at her, not at all perturbed by her lack of warmth or greeting.

He cleared his throat and put his hands on his hips. “Ho ho ho.”

I tried not to laugh but failed. He wasn’t exactly jolly. He tried again, lifting his arms. “Merry Christmas!”

He looked shocked at the chorus of Merry Christmases he got in return. But he