A Barker Family Christmas (11 page)

“I don’t know. Someone.”

Betty sighed. “No. Some folks think he’s had kids with a few women in town, but it’s not true.” He might have slept with the women but Matt was pretty determined that he’d never have his own.

“I didn’t think so. He doesn’t seem the type to abandon a kid. You know, if he got someone pregnant.”

“He’s not.” Betty didn’t really have time for this conversation, but was curious. “Why are you asking?”

Grace shrugged. “He’s just…there’s something about him.”

“Sweetie, he’s too old for you.”

“Old is relative,” Grace replied indignantly. “I thought he was your age. Isn’t he like thirty?”

“I’m not quite thirty yet, Missy, and no, he’s a few years older.” Betty Jo frowned. “Are you being serious right now?”

“No, I mean…”

Shit. How did she explain Matt Hawkins to someone like Grace?

“I’m just kidding,” Grace retorted, stepping away. “I mean, when would I see him again anyway, right?” She flashed a quick smile. “Though if we do manage to meet under the mistletoe, I’m going to warn you now. I’m all over that.”

Another knock sounded.

“Speak of the devil,” Grace said.

Betty watched Grace follow her mother and Betty’s sisters out of the room, leaving her alone with her best friend.

Matt Hawkins, a man who’d been in and out of her life since she could remember, and a man who was more broken than she’d ever been. And a man she loved fiercely.

“Hey,” she said softly, walking toward him. “You look so fucking handsome.”

He chuckled. “There goes the Louis Vuitton.”

“You’re worth it.”

He smiled, a slow kind of thing and for one moment, Betty glanced something startling in his eyes. A sense of calm. Maybe peace. It gave her hope and filled her heart with warmth.

Dressed in a black tux, his dark hair slicked back and a few days worth of stubble on his chin, the guy still looked dangerous as all hell, but man did he clean up good. She knew that a lot of women would love to catch him under the mistletoe.

Matt whistled, his eyes moving over her, an appreciative glint in their depths. “Betty Jo Barker, you’ve got to be the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen. Especially considering your affliction.”

Her eyebrow popped up. “Affliction?”

“The flu? Really?”

She opened her mouth to deny his insinuation, but it was Matt, so there was no use in lying.

“No one knows, so you can’t say anything to anyone or I’ll kill you.”

Matt’s eyes shot up at that. “Betty, he needs to know.”

“I just found out yesterday and I’m only a few weeks along and I…with everything going on I didn’t have the time or the right moment to tell him.”

“When’s that gonna be?”

“I don’t know. Speeches?” she replied. He laughed and Betty winked. “So you think I’m beautiful.”

“Yep,” Matt answered. “I do.”

“Well, I’m not sure if it counts because how many brides have you actually laid eyes on?”

“You mean in the same room?”

“Yes, Matt. I mean in the same room.”

“What does that matter,” he said, and walked toward her. He scooped her into a bear hug and Betty Jo clung to him, so full of love for this man. A man who deserved so much more than he was shooting for.

“I hope you find it one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to him, so Betty was surprised when he stiffened and pulled away.

“What was that?”

Betty gazed up into his dark eyes and cupped his face in her hands. “I want you to find real love, Matt. I want that for you. So badly.”

He smiled, a sad sort of thing and shrugged. “It’s not meant for everyone, Betty Jo. I gave up on that notion a long time ago. I’ll never be the kind of guy who could make a woman happy. You know that.”

She kissed his cheek and held him against her for several long moments. “Don’t you believe in Christmas miracles?”

“No.”

“I thought that once,” she replied softly. “There wasn’t much I believed in other than a line of coke and the bottom of a bottle.”

He squeezed her hand. “Then you met Beau.”

“No.” Betty shook her head, drawing away. “He’s part of it, yes. But the game changer for me was the simple fact that I finally decided to
allow
myself to believe.”

“Believe in what?”

Betty smiled. “In love. I decided to let myself matter to someone.”

For the longest time Matt stared down at her in silence. Then he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with a smile.

“We should go,” he said roughly.

Betty frowned. “Where’s my bouquet?”

“Your what?”

“My flowers. I don’t remember Bobbi bringing it up.”

“Do you really need them?”

Matt sounded too sweet and Betty’s eyes narrowed.

“There aren’t any flowers, are there?”

“No, honey. There aren’t.”

“Was anyone going to tell me?”

He grinned. “I’m telling you now.” He kissed her cheek. “Besides, everyone’s gonna be looking at the handsome guy on your arm. They’re not going to notice no missing flowers.”

“You’ve got a pretty high opinion of yourself,” Betty responded, trying to hide a smile and failing miserably.

Matt pulled the antique veil over her head and tucked her arm through his. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be perfect.”

“What makes this day perfect is you here with me. Walking me down the isle.” Shit. There went her mascara again. She reached under her veil and dabbed the corners. “It means more than, well, more than anything.”

“No place I’d rather be, Barker.”

Betty and Matt walked toward the door, where they paused for one more second and then with a quick kiss to her cheek, Matt opened the door and Betty walked toward her future.

The wedding went off without a hitch. Sure, Betty stumbled over her vows, and she may or may not have muttered an expletive or two, but Beau pretended not to notice and let Betty think she’d won their bet fair and square.

The old converted barn was a candlelit masterpiece, with fresh pine, holly, and a massive Christmas tree in the corner, cut fresh from somewhere on the property. The menu was full of Betty’s favorites, and he enjoyed licking wing sauce from the corner of her mouth. The cake, though simple, was elegant and no he didn’t shove a piece in his new wife’s face.

Beau’s cousin Maverick performed a song he’d penned for the two of them, and along with Jack’s wife, Donovan, they brought tears to everyone’s eyes. The duet,
In My Arms
, was the newlywed couple’s first dance and one Beau was sure he’d be hearing on the radio in the coming days.

The wedding reception was a small intimate affair and at times, Beau felt as if there were more Simons in the house than guests, which wasn’t surprising. There probably was. The only thing that would have made the night more perfect was if the two people missing were somehow able to be there—Betty’s father, Trent, and his brother, Teague.

Beau rose from his chair, shaking off the melancholy and glanced outside. The snow had tapered off, though the flakes still fell softly—it was a winter wonderland, and Beau couldn’t remember ever feeling this content or happy.

“She’s having a great time,” Maverick said, coming to stand beside Beau at the window.

Beau followed his cousin’s gaze. “If Cooper doesn’t get his hands off her ass I might have to go over there and remove them myself.”

Maverick chuckled. “That would be entertaining.”

“I don’t know about that, but it would be pretty damn messy.”

“Your mom would have your head.”

“True,” Beau agreed. “But it would be worth it, just once, to kick Cooper’s ass.”

Maverick was silent. “He’s not that bad, you know.”

Beau glanced at his cousin sharply. They all loved Cooper, but the guy was a horn dog. He had a habit of going after women who didn’t belong to him and everyone knew he’d slept with his brother Maverick’s girlfriend a few years back.

“Since when are you his cheerleader?”

Maverick shrugged. “I just think that when people do shitty things to others, most of the time it’s because they’re hiding from their own pain. Cooper’s hiding from something or someone, I just don’t know who or what it is.”

“I get that,” Beau murmured, eyes back on his new wife. Betty had pretty much done the same thing. The difference being, she’d faced her demons and won.

Beau glanced at his watch. It was nearly midnight and his car was waiting outside. He and Betty were spending the night at Logan Forest’s carriage house, while the rest of his family was staying out here at Winter Haven.

It was time to go. He wanted to be alone with his wife. Preferably without Cooper’s hands running interference.

He shook Maverick’s hand. Gave his sister a kiss on the cheek and warned her away from Matt Hawkins. Grace had a habit of wanting to fix things, including the men she dated, but from what little he knew of Hawkins, the guy was unfixable.

He said his goodbyes to Tucker and Abbey, to Jack and Donovan. He hugged his parents fiercely and patted Herschel on the back before doing the same to Betty’s sisters and their husbands.

By the time he got to his woman, Beau wanted nothing more than to scoop her into his arms and take her home. She looked exhausted, and beautiful, and radiant and a whole bunch of other things he didn’t have time to think about.

She stumbled a bit, but that was okay. He was there to catch her and he slid his arms around her, stealing her from his cousin.

“Coop,” he said. “We’re heading out.”

Cooper was silent for a few seconds. “You’re a lucky man. Take care of this one.”

“I plan on it.”

Of course Betty didn’t know where her coat was, so he slipped his suit jacket over her shoulders, dropping a kiss on her exposed neck when he did so.

“I’ll give you twenty minutes to stop that,” she whispered.

“You just wait until I get you alone. I plan on kissing you for a lot longer than twenty minutes.”

Because she didn’t have boots on her feet, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his car. The driver had the door open and once he deposited her inside, Beau climbed in and pulled Betty into his arms.

They rode in silence for a few moments, each lost in thought, gazing out the windows at a much thinner crowd still gathered along the road. It was mainly paparazzi and light bulbs flashed as they exited the estate.

“It was perfect, don’t you think?” Betty said softly, her hands running along his arm.

Beau kissed the top of her head. “Yeah. Perfect.”

“I know Bobbi didn’t approve of Duke catering, but I’ve been craving chicken wings for days now and don’t you think everyone loved them?”

“Yes. Everyone loved them.”

“Oh my God, and the song that Rick and Donovan sang. They better record it and make a video starring me, don’t you think?”

He smiled. “Sure.” He could listen to her talk all day long.

And she did. For a good five minutes straight, until her voice trailed off and her hands went still. Beau glanced down, his chest filled with love for the woman who was now snoring softly against him.

He swept a kiss across her nose and when they reached the carriage house, he had the driver unlock the place so that Beau could carry his bride up the stairs into the house.

He strode into the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

“Hey,” Betty murmured, eyes half open.

“Hey yourself.” He studied her intently and decided to ask the question that had been bugging him for almost a week. “Is everything okay?”

Her eyes widened and she sat up, brushing her hair off her face, eyes sliding away from his. No. She was definitely not all right.

“Why do you ask?” she replied, voice soft and…wait…was that a tremble in her voice?

Suddenly alarmed, Beau sank onto the bed beside her. “What is it?”

He watched Betty closely as her fingers worked the edge of a pillow, and his alarm grew because for the first time he noticed the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her skin was pale, and there was no color in her cheeks.

He leaned forward, grabbed her face between his hands and searched her eyes. “Betty, what the hell is going on?”

“I…”

Her eyes got even bigger and sweat broke out across her forehead. Beau was beyond mild concern now. He was full-on freaking scared. He moved, trying to get closer and the bed dipped.

Betty yanked her head away from him and groaned. “Move back,” she gasped.

Not understanding, Beau just stared at her, shocked when she thumped him in the chest.

“Mother-trucker,” she wailed, before rolling over and off the bed, a mess of hair and wedding dress.

Beau was on his feet and one step behind as she dashed for the bathroom. When she fell to her knees in front of the toilet, he was there, pulling her hair back, away from her face. Anxious, feeling more than a little helpless as Betty heaved until there was nothing left inside her, he could do nothing but be there for her to help her through it.

When she was done, Beau helped her out of her dress. He took a warm cloth and washed her face, got her a toothbrush and then brought her back to bed with him.

He held her until she stopped shivering and with a soft kiss to the side of her neck, he took a moment because he was unsure—and that particular feeling wasn’t one that Beau Simon was used to.