Page 20 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Renn

“ H ere you go,” Foxx says, slipping me a small pink box. “Need anything else?”

“Nothing you can give me.”

Foxx gives me a look—a warning not to waste his time. It’s always funny when he acts this way since I’m paying for his time. Shouldn’t I be able to waste it ? Maybe on mere mortals. Foxx Carmichael is one tough motherfucker, and when you’re that much of a badass, you make your own damn rules.

“Thanks, Foxx.”

He nods and closes the door behind him.

Blakely is still in the bedroom, finishing her manicure and pedicure.

Bianca suggested a little pampering for my new wife, and Astrid arranged for a nail technician to arrive after Blakely’s nap.

It took everything I had not to bother her while she slept.

Lucky for her, I had a lot to get done … including this .

I open the box with the Siggy logo drawn in a delicate white script.

Inside is a light pink diamond ring with two baguettes on either side.

Surrounding the stones is a ring of smaller diamonds that trails down the platinum band.

A tiny emerald is embedded on the side, a trademark of the high-end jewelry boutique that my mom and sister love.

I haven’t seen the ring in person until now.

The plane left the hangar in Tennessee, made a quick stop in Savannah to pick up the ring and Foxx, and then jetted to Las Vegas.

Foxx locked it in a safe, and I didn’t get a chance to look at the most expensive piece of jewelry I’ve ever, and probably will ever, purchase.

It’s worth it, though. Or, it will be if she loves it.

My stomach flips at the thought of giving Blakely Evans a wedding ring.

It should scare the hell out of me. I go out of my way to ensure that no woman ever reads too much into our relationship, lest they get the wrong idea and think it’ll become something permanent.

But I’m not nervous. Hell, I might be a little excited to watch her reaction.

That’s what scares me .

“Hey, Mom,” I say after picking up my ringing phone on the table in the foyer.

“Hi, kiddo. How are you?”

Her voice, calm and kind, makes me smile. “I’m on my honeymoon, you know. It’s kind of rude for you to call.”

“I can’t help it. I’m excited. I can’t wait to meet your wife and take her shopping and invite her over for dinner and?—”

“Whoa, lady. Chill out a little, will you?” I chuckle. “You can’t come at her with all that at once. You gotta ease into it. Maybe start with hello and work from there.”

“So I shouldn’t mention that I’ve been going through her social media, right?”

I shake my head. “Why would you do that?”

“I have to know what my daughter-in-law likes, Renn. Will she want coffee or tea? Does she like dogs, or should I put Willard and Winifred in the kennel when she visits? And it helps to know what she looks like …”

Sighing, I lean against the wall and stare across the ocean.

Unlike my father, my mother has been all-in from the start. It’s unsurprising, being that this is her dream. But what is a little curious is that she’s never once asked me if it was real. And I wonder why.

“Mom?”

“What, sweetie?”

“Why have you never asked me about the Vegas wedding to a woman you’ve never met? I mean, I appreciate the support, but I do find it a little odd.”

She laughs softly. “I figured you got enough of that from your father. Besides, you are an intelligent, capable man, Renn. You’ve known Blakely for years, so I knew there was a solid friendship there.

” She breathes through the phone. “You seem happy. At the end of the day, that’s all I really care about. ”

A smile slips across my lips.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

Voices whisper through the house just before a door shuts. I glance over my shoulder as Blakely enters the room.

My God .

“Renn?” Mom asks.

I clear my throat. “Hang on.” I drop the phone to my side and turn to my wife.

Her face is bright and beautiful— refreshed . A blue tank top with thin straps accentuating her dainty shoulders hangs close to her body. Every curve, every bend and dip, is on full display.

“That was the most relaxing thing I’ve experienced in a long time,” she says, padding barefoot across the floor. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“So you enjoyed it?”

She laughs. “Yeah. Of course, I did.”

“Then I had to do that.”

“Renn! What’s going on?” Mom says, her voice growing louder.

Shit . I chuckle, bringing the phone back to my ear. “Sorry, Mom. Blakely just came in.”

“Oh, may I please say hello?”

“I don’t know,” I say, teasing her. “I’m afraid of what you might say.”

She scoffs. “Renn Patrick, you underestimate me if you think there’s no chance of me having Jason fly me to Australia to meet your wife.”

I laugh, my eyes trained on Blakely. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“ Try me .”

“My mom wants to say hello,” I say, tilting my mouth away from the phone. “You don’t have to humor her.”

“ Renn …” she warns from the other side of the world.

Blakely holds a hand with sheer pink nails. “Gimme.”

I give her the phone. “Is the phone all you want? Because you, my lady, are smoking hot.”

“Behave. Your mother can hear you.” She blushes and lifts the device to her ear. “Hi, Mrs. Brewer.”

I can’t hear what my mother says. I only know it makes Blakely laugh.

She moseys around the room, totally at ease. She chats with my mom about our wedding, filling in details, which I’m pretty sure she fabricates, and what led to our decision.

“Oh, you know—tequila,” Blakely says, lifting her gaze to mine. A playful smile kisses her lips as she laughs at my mom’s reply. “That whole night is such a blur. But that’s how it’s supposed to be, right? When you’re in love and marrying the man of your dreams, you get lost in the bliss.”

I raise my brows approvingly. “The man of your dreams?” I whisper.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Brewer, that sounds lovely. Let’s have lunch when we get back to Tennessee.” Blakely’s eyes widen. “Absolutely. Here’s Renn.”

I take the phone from a flustered Blakely.

“Okay, Mom,” I say, my heart beating fast. “I need to go take care of my wife.”

“I love this for you, Renn. I really do. She sounds like a delight.”

“I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Renn?” Mom asks.

“Yeah?”

“Coffee, dogs, and she’s absolutely stunning.”

Will she want coffee or tea? Does she like dogs, or should I put Willard and Winifred in the kennel when she comes to visit? And it helps to know what she looks like …”

I grin.

“Are you happy?” I ponder the question for a few moments, taking stock of how I feel. Am I happy ?

I shouldn’t be. I should be afraid of losing my contract, fucking up Dad’s deal, and dealing with my father when we return to the States. Of being married . But the longer I think about it, the more evident it becomes that the only thing that makes me unhappy is the idea of going back home.

Is it the excitement of something new that’s giving me a shot of adrenaline ? Maybe. Is it being back in Australia, a place that feels a lot like home ? Could be. Or am I truly enjoying being around a woman who has fascinated me from the moment I met her but has been off-limits from day one ?

My stomach knots. “Mom?”

“Yes, son?”

I watch Blakely inspect her manicure and feel a deep sense of satisfaction from knowing I did something to make her feel good.

“I am,” I say. “I really think I might be.”

She sighs happily. “We’ll talk soon. Enjoy your honeymoon.”

“Love you. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, sweet boy.”

I exhale and turn off my phone, tossing it onto the sofa.

Blakely shrugs. “Is it weird that I just met my mother-in-law for the first time on a phone call?”

“Nah. Everything I do has a bit of irregularity involved. It’s to be expected.”

She laughs.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“Starving.”

“Great. Follow me.”

We enter the kitchen to a spread of food delivered just before Foxx came by with the ring.

“I didn’t know what you like,” I say, a rush of frustration over that simple fact filling me again. “So I ordered a few things.”

“A few things?” She leans over the table and inspects the dishes. “There are three, four—five main courses here.” Her head twists to me. “You could’ve just asked what I wanted and saved yourself a hefty sum of cash.”

I chuckle, opening a bottle of wine and pouring us each a glass. “Yes, but you were supposed to be enjoying yourself. I didn’t want to put the burden of what’s for dinner on your shoulders.”

She slumps before shoving off the table. “That’s the sweetest thing.”

“ Wow . Don’t set your expectations too high.”

She laughs, accepting a glass from me. “What are my options?”

“We have Jerusalem artichokes with local mushrooms, scotch fillet, a mussel dish with leeks and saffron, and beef tartare with karkalla seaweed. And a chocolate cake for dessert.”

“You got a chocolate cake?”

“I promised you one for your birthday and then kind of married you instead.”

She hums and takes a seat at the table. “Look at me now, getting the best of both worlds.”

“I’d hold off on saying that.”

“Why?” She watches me sit across from her, smug. “Do you have plans to show me something better?”

My cock twitches to life. I want to answer her, to tell her exactly what I plan on showing her. But if I do, it’ll only embolden her. It’ll drive her much crazier if I ignore it.

“What do you usually have for dinner?” I ask, taking artichokes from the dish.

She blinks, momentarily confused. Her recovery is quick and rather impressive. “It depends if I’m alone or with someone.”

I spear a piece of vegetable a bit harder than necessary.

“If I’m alone, I’ll do a simple pasta or takeout,” she says. “But if I’m with someone, I’ll make chicken or a steak—whatever they like that I have on hand.”

“It’s good you won’t have that problem anymore.”

She scoops a mussel onto her plate. “Oh really? Why?”

“Because I’ll always have what you like at home.”

I chew slowly, watching her attempt to be coy.

“Oh, I see,” she says. “You’re insinuating that I won’t have to worry about having a man over any time soon.”