His hand moved in slow, tantalizing circles over my belly, blazing a trail of heat across my skin. Forgetting my reasons for feigning sleep, I turned on my side, pressing myself against the heat of my husband.
“Ah, Chloe,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“No. I should have minded my own business. Dropping into conversations and minds uninvited can be pretty unsettling.” I kissed his bare chest, sighing with delight as I ran my tongue down his smooth, warm skin.
We were at last going to consummate our marriage with me fully aware and participating at full capacity. An old love song about afternoon delights drifted through my mind. I moved lower, my tongue winding and flicking along the way.
Before I could straddle the prize, a loud banging shook the front door.
“Dear Lord, now what?” Zane groaned like a man in pain.
More pounding rattled the living room window. I grabbed the alarm clock.
“It’s 1:30 PM,” I announced, as if that would somehow explain the rude visitors still knocking.
I pushed myself up. “Where’s Mack? Michael?” Couldn’t they answer the damn door?
Zane was on his feet, “Honey, they don’t live here. We needed some alone time.”
“Well, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen now,” I pouted.
“I’ll deal with this. You wait here.” Zane slid his arm into a sleeve and stalked to the door, pulling the shirt all the way on. “Just a minute!” he barked, with no attempt at civility.
The door swung open with a bang. “What … ?” I heard him stutter.
Grabbing my robe, I dashed to the door. What I witnessed terrified me far more than any blood-thirsty vamp, spell-casting sorcerer, or mad-munching mutant.
My mom and stepdad stood staring up at Zane. Bob reached inside his jacket; where I knew his firearm waited. He scowled, clearly looking for any reason to draw his weapon.
My mom was visibly trembling, holding back a sure stream of tears.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” my mom cried. “An elopement … how could you do this to me!”
I glanced at Zane, who gave me a very unhelpful you-get-to-handle-this look.
“Mom, Dad, sometimes things happen fast and you just go with the flow.” I knew by my mom’s narrowing eyes and Bob’s reddening face they weren’t buying my simple explanation.
Bob stepped forward. “You’ve never been a ‘go with the flow’ kind of gal. Are you in some kind of trouble? We’ve tried to reach you. After stopping by your house, we tracked down your boss, and he told us you’d gotten married.”
“Luke …” I grumbled to myself. How was I supposed to trust him to help me when he’d blabbed my marital status to my parents?
My mom wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Luke is such a nice man. I always thought …”
“Mother! Please! I love Zane.” Feeling awkward, I looked at Zane. “Mom, Dad — sorry. This is my husband, Zane Marshall. He is a veterinarian. We met at work.” I reached for Zane’s hand.
My mom was deescalating. I could tell she liked the idea that I’d married a man with a college degree. Her approval would come easier than Bob’s. No guy — college educated or not — was good enough for his little girl.
“So, Zane.” Bob made his move. “My daughter wasn’t worthy of a real family wedding? Why all the rush? Involved in any illegal activity we should know about?”
“Honey, please tell me you’re not …”
I groaned feeling like a teenager caught in the act. “Mom, I’m not pregnant. Dad, I didn’t want a big fancy wedding. Mom did.”
“That’s not …”
“Yes, it is. You’ve been talking about my big wedding since I was in diapers. Just because you never had one.” I clapped my hand over my mouth, wishing I could erase those last words.
“Why don’t we all calm down, go have a nice lunch, and talk about this. We’re sorry about the suddenness, but the romance of Vegas accelerated things. We figured we’d have a big wedding later,” Zane explained, an assuring smile pasted on his handsome face.
“I’m sorry, mom. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did. I just can’t accept this. Something is not right.” She crossed her arms, refusing to look at me or Zane.
“What about all the murders, Chloe? I’m not sure it’s even safe to live down here anymore.” My dad changed tactics. He couldn’t handle my mom’s messy emotions. It was time for him to retreat to his comfort zone — law enforcement and crime.
“Dad, I know you’re already well aware the victims