Chapter Nineteen

Saturday, September 17, 2022

Despite the crappy interruption to her evening , Violet spent an incredible night with Simon and an even better morning.

Now, she found herself twirling in front of her mirror, taking in the sight of herself as she got ready for the wedding. She was grateful for a distraction of this magnitude because it kept her thoughts from drifting to her father and the inevitable confrontation. If she gave his little stunt one ounce of her attention, she would end up fuming mad, and that was the last thing she needed. Today wasn't about Harold Anderson or his selfish actions. Today was about her cousin, and she intended to celebrate by drinking too much champagne and enjoying her time with Simon.

On a positive note, she looked good.

Violet figured Brantley and Reese decided on attire that was somewhere between casual and semi-formal because they wanted people to be comfortable but also wanted to avoid some of their kin showing up in cut-off jeans and sleeveless T-shirts.

It had happened in the past.

More than once.

And yes, it was as awkward and redneck as it sounded.

She appreciated their decision for two reasons. First, she didn't have to see any of her kin wearing cut-off jeans and sleeveless T-shirts. Second, this gave her a chance to pair her favorite brown cowboy boots with the navy blue boho dress she'd ordered online for the occasion.

The dress was somewhat simple. Beneath the knee-length, ornate lace dress was a dark blue spaghetti strap sheath that was a few inches shorter than the dress, allowing for peeks of skin beneath. The V-neck showcased her relatively nice breasts, which were framed by the thick band of lace that cinched the fabric at her ribcage. The billowy lace sleeves belled at her wrists, adding a bit of flirty fun, while her cowboy boots made it less-than-semi-formal-but-more-than-casual perfection.

If and when she got married one day, her dress code would be the same. She wasn't into dressing up in fancy gowns or trying to decorate herself with expensive jewelry. She liked casual chic.

Pivoting one more time in front of the mirror, she made sure there were no wardrobe mishaps. Once, her sister Amanda had gone to school with the back of her dress stuck in her panties, and she spent her junior year being called Peepshow. That was how Whitney told the story, anyway. Violet didn't remember it, so it could be they were making shit up. Which they did. A lot.

A knock sounded on the door. That was Hermione's cue to join Harry in the living room, where he was camped out in front of the screen door, admiring the neighborhood.

"Come in!" Violet shouted.

She grabbed her phone and tucked it, her credit card, and driver's license into the pocket of her dress—one of the main reasons she'd bought this one. She turned in time to see Simon step in front of the doorway.

"Wow," she whispered at the same time he said, "Fuck."

Violet grinned, enjoying the approval she could see on his face.

"You clean up nice," she told him, admiring the dark jeans with the light gray shirt and navy blazer.

"Holt told me I couldn't wear the suit."

She nodded as she moved closer. "He's right. This is the right amount of casual for the occasion. Although I would've loved to've seen you in it."

"There's always tomorrow," he joked, placing his hands on her arms as he kept space between them, his gaze raking up and down. "Damn. You look amazing. How long's this wedding?"

"A few hours. Why?"

He looked into her eyes. "Because I can't wait to see what you look like in only the boots."

"If you're nice, maybe I'll let you."

"So now you want me to be nice," he teased.

Violet wanted Simon any way she could get him. After last night, she wasn't sure she was capable of hiding her feelings for him anymore.

"There's a price," he said, his voice lowering to a barely-there whisper.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, his lips moving against hers. "I'll be nice, but only if I get to do nasty things to you later."

Heat swamped her, and she was glad she wasn't wearing heels. She would've toppled right on over. This whole keeping her distance thing was increasing her cravings for this man. She wasn't sure what she'd been thinking when she came up with the idea.

"You good with that?"

She nodded, accepting the sweet kiss he offered.

"Nasty things," he whispered. "Really nasty."

Oh, boy. It was going to be a long night.

Several hours later, feeling weightless thanks to the champagne, Violet was proud of herself. She made it through the entire ceremony without a tear. It helped that there was a bit of comic relief compliments of Reese's brother, Z.

As promised, Simon was a perfect gentleman throughout. He even managed to navigate her well-meaning and extremely annoying family members, who didn't hide the fact they were sizing him up. Including the introduction to her mother and her sisters. Thankfully, Daphne was far too concerned with Harold not showing up—her father was notorious for that shit—and her sisters were bickering about … well, to be honest, Violet had used Elana to get her out of that one, choosing to do the official introduction of her best friend and her boyfriend.

She liked that term, although Simon wasn't her boyfriend. He was just a fling. A more-than-one-night stand. With an end date looming, he couldn't be her boyfriend in the traditional sense, but it was nice to pretend for a little while.

Oh, geez. She needed more champagne.

Good thing it wasn't difficult to get her hands on another glass. She snagged one from a passing waiter, then snagged another for good measure.

Better.

Mostly.

She was grateful the champagne was flowing like water. It was going a long way toward numbing both her body and her thoughts. When left to her own devices, she thought about Simon because she refused to think about what her father had done.

However, thoughts of Simon always led to her thinking about the countdown timer that was taking them closer and closer to his departure from Coyote Ridge. He hadn't told her when he was leaving yet, but he'd been there for fifteen days already. Even with Paige and Archer there, she figured they would be moving on soon. After all, the story Simon was really after—Max Adorite—was much, much closer to home. His home. Not hers.

"It was a beautiful wedding, huh?" Elana prompted as they sat at the table and watched several couples dance, including Brantley and Reese.

She was so thrilled for her cousin. Brantley and Reese had endured some rough times these past couple of years. Now that she thought about it, the roughest patch they'd had linked right back to a specific mobster whose name she didn't want to think about.

"Violet?"

She looked at Elana. "Hmm?"

"Beautiful wedding?"

"Oh, yeah. It was. But I think JJ might've outdone herself with this," she said, gesturing to the decor that converted this metal building where they were holding the reception into a fairy tale.

"Have you introduced Simon to Brantley and Reese yet?"

"Briefly." She'd managed to get a couple of minutes of their time after the ceremony. Because so many people wanted to congratulate them, she hadn't monopolized their time.

And during the quick chit-chat, she'd purposely left off what Simon did for a living. This was their day, and Elana told her the entire team was going to great lengths to ensure they didn't work today or tomorrow.

Someone cleared their throat, causing Violet to look to her left. She couldn't stop the smile that split her face.

"I'd like to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room," Simon stated, holding out his hand.

"Is she here?" Violet teased.

"Right in front of me, baby."

Violet swore she heard Elana sigh dreamily.

"Fair warning," Violet said as she stood up. "I've had a bit to drink. There's a better-than-good chance I'll embarrass you."

He chuckled. "I've got you." His eyes glittered. "Always."

God, why did he have to say stuff like that? His words warmed her from the inside out, but they also put her on alert, a not-so-subtle reminder that her family was cursed. As good as things were, she knew the other shoe would drop soon enough. It was inevitable. Nice guys never stuck around.

"Hey," Simon whispered, tapping her chin, urging her to look up at him.

She forced a smile and leaned into him, letting him lead.

·····

Spencer should've stayed home tonight. He knew it as soon as he walked out of his house.

Yet here he was, holding down a barstool at Moonshiners while everyone who wasn't invited to the Walker/Tavoularis wedding was crammed into the space, pretending they didn't give a shit that they weren't invited.

To be fair, Spencer honestly didn't care. Would he have preferred to hang out with Elana and Violet tonight rather than sit there like a pathetic loser with no one to talk to? Yeah. Definitely. However, the thought of having to smile and pretend to be thrilled for the happy couple while his brother shot death rays from across the room wasn't exactly his cup of tea. And since Slade worked for Brantley and Reese, he'd been invited. As had Elana because she also worked there. And Violet because she was family. Spencer could've been a plus one, but that would've meant Slade's death ray stare and soaking up all that damn happiness from the married couple.

This wasn't so bad.

Spencer was used to sitting with the rejects because that was where his family had relegated him when they learned that he'd slept with his brother's wife. For the past decade, he'd suffered in silence, letting them believe he could've done something so cruel.

Oh, if they only knew.

Wanting desperately to drown the thoughts right out of his head, Spencer ordered another vodka cranberry and got comfortable.

An hour went by.

Then two.

Spencer had enough liquor in him to cause a warmth to permeate through his bloodstream. He liked the feeling, so he fed it, careful not to lose the buzz by either letting it slip away or letting it drift into that place where he would spend the rest of the night praying to the porcelain god.

"Is it true?"

The voice came from behind him. Familiar. Cringy. Like when someone scraped their nails down a chalkboard. That kind of cringy. And there was only one person who made his ears bleed when she spoke. Jennifer Elliott. His ex-sister-in-law. The wild bitch of the West.

"Is what true?" he responded without turning around.

"He's getting married again?"

"Again?" Spencer snorted. He hadn't realized Brantley or Reese had been married before, but it shouldn't surprise him. There was no sanctity left. "Figures."

"He told me he wasn't," Jennifer declared.

Spencer could feel her behind him, and he fought the urge to launch off the stool. He didn't want her anywhere near him.

Then again, he also wasn't looking to make a scene. He didn't want to be kicked out of Moonshiners forever—where the fuck would he go then?—but that was only part of it and not even the main reason.

No, his real motivation came from the fact Archer Halligan was sitting in the corner with a teeny tiny blonde. He was pretty sure that was Paige Avery, one of Archer's co-workers, but he couldn't be sure.

"I stood here in this very bar, Spencer. He swore to me he wouldn't marry anyone else."

What the hell is she talking about? Fortunately, he didn't care enough to ask.

Tossing back what was left of his drink, Spencer slammed the glass down a little harder than necessary and got to his feet. "What's my damage, Rafe?"

The bartender held up one finger.

"He swore , Spencer. To my face."

Goddamn. She was not gonna let this go.

"Who the fuck're you talkin' about, Jennifer?" Spencer bellowed when he turned to face her.

"Slade. My husband."

He laughed. " Ex -husband, Jenn. Meaning, not anymore. You fucked that up but good."

She moved closer, her dark brown eyes leveled on his face.

It took effort not to flinch, not to cower. He hated this woman with a goddamn passion.

Still, he knew she could see his fear. The bitch fed off it.

"What's wrong, Spencey," she crooned, using that stupid fucking nickname she'd given him back then. "You miss me, don't you?"

She lifted one red-tipped hand, reaching toward him.

Spencer grabbed her around her wrist, halting her progress. "Don't fuckin' touch me," he ground out, keeping his voice low.

"Or what?" Her eyes traveled downward. "We both know you like it when I do."

He dropped her wrist when Rafe tapped the bar behind him. With hurried movements, Spencer signed the receipt and added a tip.

"You shouldn't be drivin'," Rafe called after him.

"I'm not," he assured the bartender.

"I'll make sure he gets home safe," Jennifer said. "Don't you worry." Her boot heels clicked on the hardwood behind him. "Right, Spencey?"

The second her hand landed on his shoulder, he spun around and got right up in her face. "Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me!"

As soon as the words were out, he knew the entire bar was looking his way. How could they not? He'd made a scene. Not unusual, though. They were used to him having near knock-down-drag-outs with Slade. Why would they be shocked that he was having them with Slade's ex-wife?

"It's okay," Jennifer told the bar. "He's had a little too much. I'll make sure he's tucked in nice and tight tonight."

Spencer shook her off, and for the first time in a long time, real fear swept through him. Had she put something in his drink? She'd done it before. She could easily do it again.

"Is there a problem?"

The gravel-rough voice had Spencer looking over to see Archer Halligan moving their way. His expression was a mixture of frustration and concern.

"Not a problem to be had, sexy," Jennifer bleated as he approached.

Spencer was impressed that Archer seemed to ignore her entirely, his brilliant turquoise gaze locked on him.

"You okay?"

It was all Spencer could do to nod, although he wasn't sure whether he was. He didn't feel dizzy or anything. That warmth from the alcohol was still there, but the buzz was wearing off. That was a good sign, right? If she had drugged him, he'd be loopy, maybe nauseous.

"Did you put somethin' in my drink?" Spencer asked Jennifer, desperate to know.

"What?" She laughed it off. "Why would I do that? You were willing once. I'm sure you'll be willing again."

Before Spencer could blast the truth to the entire bar, Archer stepped up. He didn't hesitate to hook a finger under his chin and tip his head back, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Spencer stared up at him, holding his stare, hoping Archer saw whatever it was he was looking for.

"Excuse me," Jennifer said haughtily. "I'd like to take my friend home if it's all right with you."

"It isn't," Archer said, his voice low, fierce.

"What?"

Spencer held his stare for one more heartbeat before Archer's hand fell away, and he turned to face Jennifer. "I'll take him home."

Jennifer shook her head. "That's not necessary."

Did she look panicked? Or was Spencer anticipating the worst? Had she drugged him again? Was she worried someone might find out?

Or was she just being the overbearing, righteous bitch she'd always been?

"I'll talk at you later," Archer called to the blonde still sitting in the booth before planting his enormous hand in the center of Spencer's back and urging him toward the door.

He walked. He wasn't sure what else to do. Not because he was scared, though. Archer Halligan should've scared him. The guy was a beast. He could likely crush Spencer with one hand.

"I've got a room at the B and B," Archer said. "You think you can walk?"

Spencer nodded.

"Good then. It's a nice room. Not all that big, but it's got a bed. You can have it. I'm used to sleepin' on the floor."

The man's words continued to play in his head as he walked. "I can call an Uber."

"And risk that woman showin' up at your place?"

Good point. Spencer hadn't thought about that.

"You don't like her much, do you?"

"Not even a little," he muttered.

"Ex-girlfriend?"

"My brother's ex-wife."

"Oh."

" Oh , what?" Spencer knew it came out defensive.

"She just acted like she was … familiar."

"She is," he admitted, hating the taste of those words.

"Y'all have a thing before?"

Spencer would later blame it on the alcohol, or the fury he felt from having to deal with Jennifer, or the hatred he felt for that bitch, or maybe from the fear the mere sight of her caused, but before he knew it, he was blurting out his deepest, darkest secret to a man he didn't even know.

"No," he grumbled. "The bitch raped me."