Page 1 of Hurricane (Happy Hour #1)

Lucian

I find my fiancée and her date at a table by the window.

Deep in conversation, they don’t notice my approach until it’s too late.

I’ve arrived, and they’re both going to regret me finding them here together.

I yank out an empty chair and have a seat, making myself comfortable. I smile at my beautiful soon-to-be-wife. “Hello sweetheart. Having fun?”

Once she’s past the shock of my sudden appearance, Colby practically snarls at me while the guy’s head oscillates like a fan scanning back and forth between us.

“What’s going on? Do you two know each other?”

The idiot looks as stupid as he probably is. I wink at him. “Of course we do. She and I are getting married in three weeks. Aren’t we darlin’?”

Colby gives me her death stare, perfected over the years since she’s hated me from the moment she met me. She answers through clenched teeth. “No. We’re not.”

“Cold feet again? Don’t worry. We’ll work it out.”

My sympathetic tone irritates her more, and she tries to jump up. Anticipating her attempt to escape, I grab her wrist. The tiny bones are fragile in my huge fingers, and I squeeze just to the point of her being uncomfortable. I’d never seriously hurt my wife.

She gasps yet her companion does nothing but stare. Proof he could never take care of her the way she needs. If anyone else ever touched her, I would make damn sure she would be the last thing he felt before he died.

He finally rips his gaze from my claim on her and stands up. “I…I didn’t know you were getting married. I don’t want to get involved in this.”

With flustered movements, he grabs his jacket from the back of the chair and his wallet from the table, bumping his water glass hard enough some of the liquid overflows onto the wood. Without even an effort to clean up his mess or say goodbye, he takes off.

What a loser. What did she ever see in him?

This time she sighs. She knows she’s lost, and I’ve won.

Just like always.

I release her arm and pick up the menu he abandoned, perusing the offerings. Nothing spectacular in their selection, but I’m starving so I’ll have to choose something.

“What are you doing?”

Disgust drips from her voice. I smile in response because that always gets her riled up. “Ordering food. Isn’t that what you do in a restaurant when you’re hungry?”

She rolls her eyes. “Why do you always have to be such an asshole?”

“You know you always bring out the best in me, angel.”

“I’m leaving.”

We both know her threat is idle. I will chase her wherever she runs just like I’ve proven in the past. “Order something.”

“No.”

Now I’m getting cross from my hunger, and I stare into her gorgeous green eyes. “Order something.”

Her huff is all for show. She grabs her own menu and studies the options in silence. Only the white-knuckle grip she has on the slick paper reveals her anger.

A waiter stops at our table, frowning in confusion from the moron’s departure and my arrival. I want to talk to him as little as possible. “He left because he realized dating a cheater never ends well.”

Colby jerks her head up, pointing first to herself and then to me. “I’m not a cheater because we’re not together.”

The man ignores her outburst too as he scribbles down my drink order. “I’ll also take the salmon with red potatoes and Brussel sprouts.”

He nods as if my choice is excellent before turning to my fuming bride.

“And for you, ma’am.”

“I’ll take the eggplant parmesan because unlike some people I order Italian food when I’m in an Italian restaurant.”

Another head bob, pretending like we’re not passive-aggressively arguing. “Very good. I’ll bring out breadsticks shortly.”

Once he departs, I remind her of her mistake. “We both have grandmothers who make authentic food from recipes passed down from their grandmothers. You think I’m really going to have spaghetti and meatballs at a chain restaurant?”

My disapproval calms her annoyance. We have a history that’s intertwined regardless of how much she wants to deny our connection.

We sit in silence even after the server drops off a gigantic salad bowl. That’s fine. I can eat without discussion.

Until she slams her fork onto her plate. I guess we are going to talk after all. “What’s wrong, princess? Is your food not to your liking?”

“Stop calling me stupid pet names and stop acting like we’re getting married and stop ruining my life!”

“First of all, I am just trying out different terms of endearment since you seem offended by me calling you Hurricane.”

A blush blows up on her smooth cheeks and delicate throat. The memories of me fucking her in New Orleans after she took off with her friends rush back for both of us and my cock is granite in my pants—on the alert for more.

“That was a one-time mistake. It will never happen again.”

“Not until our wedding night anyway.”

“There won’t be a wedding night since there isn’t going to be a wedding.”

Now it’s my turn to sigh. We have this same argument over and over. I guess that’s married life.

“I was having a nice time with Lyle, and you come in here and scare him away.”

I shrug. “I could have killed him, but I was trying to be nice. You never seem to appreciate the sacrifices I make for you.”

Her small fist bangs on the table making our place settings dance. Nearby patrons swivel in our direction to gawk at the commotion. I ignore them but she still has sensibilities and is embarrassed by her outburst. She leans closer, whisper yelling at me.

“What sacrifices have you made? I’m the one being forced to marry a man I don’t love.”

At least she doesn’t say she hates me. And she agrees we’re getting married, so two wins right there. The night is looking up.

She continues. “I won’t be able to use my degree that I’ve worked so hard for. Everyone thinks all I’m good for is popping out heirs.”

Ending with a raised voice, she seems no longer worried about what the other diners hear.

I guess I don’t either. I’m just as direct but without being loud.

“I allowed you to go to college. I could have claimed you as soon as you turned eighteen. But I didn’t.

You took your classes and had your fun, now it’s time to take on the role your father intends for you. ”

Her face changes from pink to red in a millisecond. “You allow ed me to…” She shakes her head in fury. “You’re unbelievable…you son of a—”

Luckily, her tirade is cut off by the waiter setting down a steaming plate of food in front of her and then one for me. Her chest heaves while he grinds cheese on her dinner that looks like it was thawed out and heated up in a microwave. She’s oblivious to the growing pile so I tell him we’re good.

Obviously, he’s relieved and takes off as fast as he can, lugging away his oversize tray.

My food looks slightly better than hers, and I take a big bite. I chew in silence as she stabs at her eggplant, probably wishing I was on the platter instead, mumbling under her breath. That’s no fun so I poke the beast again. “Yes, and you’re welcome.”

“Do. Not. Talk. To. Me.”

Each word is punctuated by her fork jabbing the mutilated vegetable. I grin around my surprisingly edible Brussel sprout. “The silent treatment isn’t good for a marriage. We need to talk about things and work through them together.”

She pretends not to hear me and rips off a huge chunk of breadstick, stuffing the enormous piece into her mouth.

Well then, I guess I’ll do the talking. “Graduation on the tenth and wedding on the seventeenth. Going to be busy for you. I was thinking of Belize for the honeymoon. Maybe some scuba diving and rock climbing.”

After a hard swallow from her gigantic bite, she smirks at me. “You know it’s kind of pathetic to force a woman to marry you who doesn’t want to.”

“It’s also kind of pathetic to be such a baby about something that one, isn’t that terrible; and two, is your duty. We both know what we have to do in this life.”

My rational reminder stumps her, and she settles down, eating her food like a normal person rather than a hostage. As much as she despises the lottery we’ve won in life to be rich and powerful, she loves the benefits as well as a good fight with me.

I enjoy the battle just as much because I know the victory will be oh so sweet. “After we finish eating, you’ll come home with me. I’m sure there are some decorating choices you’d like to make before you move in.”