State of Grace Read online

  State of Grace

  by

  Delia Foster

  Copyri

  ght © 2014 by Delia Foster

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

  Editing Services provided by Chelsea Kuhel, http://www.madisonseidler.com

  Cover by Delia Foster

  For Aunt

  Sheila - the world lost a funny, charming, and lovely soul when you left us.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  About

  Chapter One

  She was fighting a losing battle.

  She cursed, panted, groaned, and twisted her body into several different positions, but it was soon clear that she wasn’t going to win.

  Muttering under her breath, she gave up trying to squeeze her boobs into the sleek black bridesmaid’s dress she’d been threatened into wearing. At this point, there really wasn’t any reason to try to make it work. She’d been soundly outvoted by the other bridesmaids (and one incredibly vocal bride) during the painful yet memorable experience of dress shopping.

  Unfortunately for her, majority rule hadn’t worked in her favor. She glared at her image in the mirror as she surveyed her figure in the dress.

  At least there isn’t a print. Thank God there isn’t a print. I’d look like a couch from the eighties if my body was stuffed into something with a print.

  “Are you sure you’re not rushing into this wedding because you’re knocked up? You could have given me more than a few months’ notice so I could have gone on a diet!” she yelled obnoxiously from the bathroom in the bridal suite.

  She was met with tinkling laughter from the adjoined room. “You’re not allowed to be an idiot on my wedding day! Shut up and get out here so we can see!” Sophie shouted back.

  She gingerly inched out of the bathroom, peering at the woman her brother was about to marry. Sophie sat in the middle of the room as a team of makeup artists and hair stylists worked their magic. Her natural tan glowed against the white silk of her slip, and her dark brown eyes sparkled once she caught sight of Grace.

  Grace Sinclair prided herself on being part of the rare, special breed of women who did not get overly emotional. Of course she liked puppies, babies, and rainbows, but she didn’t cry during weddings, sad movies, or when she was in pain.

  Except for when she was about to watch this amazing woman make her big brother the happiest man alive.

  She sniffled and blinked furiously at the bride. Sophie was one of the most cheerful people she’d ever met. The woman was a veritable saint, seemed never to be one to carry grudges or stay down for long—all of which amazed Grace considering that her life had been marred with far too much responsibility at a young age. She’d pushed past the loss of her father and the dire financial situation he’d left the family in, working hard to pay off their debts and put herself through college. At twenty-five, she’d possessed a career on the fast track and a handsome fiancé to boot, and her life had never seemed better.

  Until the day her fiancé had left her standing at the altar with over 500 guests sitting in the church, expecting a “platinum” wedding and reception.

  Her fiancé, a dickweed by the name of Zach, hadn’t been able to go through with it, and Sophie was left to pick up the pieces. Grace could only imagine how she’d felt walking a death march down the church aisle, alone and grieving, just to announce to the room of hundreds that the wedding would not be taking place “that day.” From what Grace had gathered, she’d avoided the male gender almost entirely … until the day Lucas had bullied himself into her life.

  Now, here she stood three years later with a glow that could only be described as ethereal by anyone who saw her.

  “Gracie, you look hot …”Sophie grinned wickedly at her, her voice trailing off before she let out a deep whistle.

  Her sniffling stopped, and she blinked a few times to clear the moisture from her eyes—eyes that she narrowed at her soon-to-be sister by marriage. “I. Do. Not. Look. Hot.”

  Unfazed by the younger woman, Sophie smiled serenely. Relentless in making her displeasure known, Grace continued on, “Have you noticed it just so happens to be two or three sizes too small and your guests are in danger of getting an X-rated show tonight? You’d better hope they’re all legal.”

  Sophie smirked. “Grace, just because you refuse to wear anything but extra-large t-shirts and those god-awful baggy jeans doesn’t mean that your dress is small. That dress is stunning, you look gorgeous, and the girls are probably bouncing for joy because you decided to let them out to breathe.”

  “You are so unbelievably lucky you’re getting married today, otherwise, you’d be a dead woman.”

  Sophie ignored her as she called for back-up. “Sam, Liz – come look!”

  Face flaming, Grace stood with a stubborn smirk set on her mouth. She wasn’t the thinnest girl, and she’d been cursed with curves she tried to hide at every turn, but this was her brother (and soon-to-be-sister’s) wedding, and despite her bluster, she’d reluctantly resolved herself to do whatever it took to keep them happy on this day.

  Seconds later, Sophie’s best friend appeared in the room, expecting to see her decked out in all her wedding finery but was instead faced with the groom’s younger sister.

  Liz raised her eyebrows. “I don’t remember it looking like that at the bridal shop.”

  “That’s because I didn’t try it on. Remember? They didn’t have my size,” she reminded them, exasperated.

  Sam openly gawked. “Can I borrow some?” the petite brunette asked wryly, motioning to her own chest.

  “Shut up.” She rolled her eyes at them both. “You two got me into this mess. I’m going to end up flashing everyone. If we’d gone with my choice – ”

  Sam interrupted her, eyes laughing at her. “If we’d gone with your choice, we’d all look like escapees from Warren Jeff’s compound.”

  “My pick was pretty!” she protested.

  Liz smirked. “Pretty for my grandmother—my great-grandmother …”

  Grace blinked. “I should not be wearing this.” She motioned downward in a sweeping motion, framing her shape.

  Sophie bit her lip. “Hon, I think you look beautiful, but if you feel uncomfortable, we can try to find something else,” she offered with a slight grimace. “It’s really short notice, but …”

  “No!” she interrupted loudly, pasting a fake smile on her face. Her heart swelled with affection for the woman about to marry into her family. Sophie was so perfect. Once again, she sent a quick prayer of thanks heavenwards before uttering something between a protest and apology. “No Soph, I’m OK. I’m just not used to, ahh, well, you know.”

  Sophie smiled at her encouragingly as her makeup artists resumed.

  She was caught by surprise as a small hand grasped her arm, pulling her back into the corner and turning her around to face a large floor length mirror.

  “You look stunning, and you need to get over whatever hang-up you’ve got,” Sam said bluntly. “This is their day, and we’re just on the sidelines.”

  Shame stained her cheeks although she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the reflection in the mirror. “I kno
w,” she said quietly, fixated on the woman who looked so familiar, yet completely foreign at the same time.

  Sam set her mouth in a no-nonsense line, but her eyes were momentarily sympathetic. “I know you’re uncomfortable right now, now isn’t the time for us to work on your self-esteem. Now, let’s go. Time for your rich bastard of a brother to turn my girl into an honest woman and for me to find a hot single guy.”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Sean straightened his best friend’s tie, stepped back, and grinned. Even the hangover reminiscent from the previous night’s escapades couldn’t dim this day. Lucas was a lucky bastard, and he knew it. The shit-eating grin on his face hadn’t faded since yesterday.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  Lucas gave a slight nod of his head, eyes decisive, but paused as he remembered something. He grabbed Sean’s arm.

  “Behave and be nice to Grace,” he commanded.

  Sean scowled. “Meaning? I’m always nice to Gracie. Not my fault she walks around with a stick up her ass. She’s the one who needs to be nice … no ‘behave’,” he exaggerated the word with air quotes, “around me.”

  He’d been best friends with the groom since they were ten, but the intense mutual dislike between him and his buddy’s younger sister wasn’t exactly a secret. Twenty years had passed, and he couldn’t really remember what it was he’d said to set her off when they first met, but he was still pretty sure it was something funny.

  She’d stared at him, a wide-eyed five-year old, like he was something on the bottom of her shoe, before muttering a response under her breath that he could barely hear. All he’d caught was the word “idiot.”

  And that had been the beginning of a war two decades long and still going strong.

  He knew he antagonized her mercilessly, but he wasn’t often remorseful. If he thought for one minute that he’d put a dent in her armor of frump and sarcasm, he would have stopped. As it was, the woman had the abrasive countenance of sandpaper, and if anyone needed protecting, it was he from her tongue.

  At Sean’s reminder, Lucas winced, but it was so slight, it was barely perceptible. “Look, I know you two don’t get along, but this is my wedding. The only one I’m ever gonna have. I need you both on your best behavior. I already talked to her, and now I’m talking to you. Let it go, let it rest, get over it, and be civil for fuck’s sake … and anyway, you guys need to find a way to kill this because you know Sophie isn’t going to let you both continue on like this for much longer.”

  And he was right. His well-intentioned fiancée had even gone so far as to seat them both next to each other at the rehearsal dinner, something he suspected very few had the balls to do.

  “So?” Sean asked belligerently. “I just need to see her for the wedding, and then we can ignore each other until the holidays … if I’m even around for the holidays.”

  The man whom he considered a brother gave him a piercing look that made him want to squirm, and when he opened his mouth again, Sean knew Lucas had lost his patience.

  “Just be nice to her and don’t fuck with her,” his friend finished bluntly.

  Lucas’s use of the profane word evoked all sorts of erotic images in his mind.

  Images of him and a prickly redhead.

  Images he’d desperately tried to erase over the years, since the summer after he’d finished his first year of college when he’d encountered a Grace who looked nothing like a little girl, laid across a beach towel in the sand.

  The most unlikely source had helped him get his urges under control. Grace not only refused to wear anything but baggy clothing, helping him keep his visuals in check and increasingly infrequent encounters kept her out of sight out of mind.

  He frowned when he recalled the last one, over a year ago which had ended in his dinner date demanding to see a clean bill of health from him while simultaneously making an appointment on her cellphone to get an STD screening.

  Plenty fuel for rage, not desire, he reminded himself.

  Lucas looked like he was about to say something else, but Sophie’s cousin, Nick, sauntered into the room. “She’s ready, man. Time to go get shackled to the old ball and chain,” he said with a smirk.

  Sean rolled his eyes at Lucas’s eagerness as he quickly strode out the room and followed them both out of hotel and onto the walkway towards the arbor on the beach. His long legs ate up the distance, but his mind remained stubbornly fixated on one particular bridesmaid.

  He told himself it was because he disliked her so much.

  Because the small wedding party had an odd number, Lucas and Sophie had opted for the groomsmen to stand with Lucas at the altar while the bridesmaids walked down individually instead of paired off. Grace was supposed to come down the aisle before Sophie. Maybe he could find a way to arrange something so she’d trip …

  Minutes later, he stood by Lucas, waiting. The traditional wedding march sounded from the small band assembled a few feet across from the guests. One by one, bridesmaids made their way down the narrow platform set in the sand, leading towards the arbor.

  It was just as well he hadn’t had the opportunity to pull something off. Forget Lucas, his bride would cheerfully gut him with a paring knife if he screwed with her wedding. Distracted, he scanned the crowd of guests, recognizing a few faces. Sophie had a few hot cousins, but to his disappointment, they seemed to be absent from the day’s proceedings. He was jolted from his thoughts when he heard the music change to signal the ascent of the bride. The crowd of fifty fell into a silent hush as they turned towards the beginning of the aisle.

  He used the time for another little pep talk.

  He would never be trapped. He was too smart for it. He saw what happened to the fun, loving relationships of his friends as they got married. They disintegrated into bills, kids, pool boys, and sexy secretaries. Lucas and Sophie would be the exception—he knew that deep down, but he’d seen too many couples go the way of the rule.

  An audible “ahhh” from the guests drew his attention back to the other end of the aisle and he glanced at Lucas.

  The other man was unable to tear his warm gaze away from his bride. He felt the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile, and he turned back towards the aisle when his mind shattered.

  Fuck.

  He inhaled sharply, unable to tear his eyes away while his mind blew into pieces. Stunned, he stared openly at the vision before him.

  She approached, and he tried to keep his expression stoic, his jaw clenched tight. It was an effort, but he was able to control his expression.

  He didn’t, however, possess the herculean effort it would take to tear his eyes away from her. A soft smile graced full lips; a cloud of dark red hair fell about her shoulders, as she moved steadily towards him. Her lush figure appeared to have been poured into a black silk dress—either that or it had been sewn on her body. Doe shaped, gray eyes sparkled with humor, set above a straight nose that had the slightest upturn.

  His eyes feasted on her like a starving man, and his heart beat so fast, it felt like it was going to run away. She wasn’t a beautiful in the typical sense. This kind of beauty possessed an incredibly striking face that just so happened to be on a body straight out of a Botticelli painting.

  The images he’d struggled to keep at bay earlier rushed at him with the strength of a geyser.

  What the hell had happened to Grace? Where were her shapeless t-shirts, baggy jeans, and flip flops?

  He drew in another sharp breath as she neared, but he didn’t miss the narrow glare his friend shot him.

  Even though he’d suspected she was hiding womanly curves for the last decade, he was still bewildered at her transformation. Her hair was usually pulled back in a bun or braid, normally so severe, he was positive she did it on purpose so that her eyebrows would arch even further, making her look more evil and unapproachable. But this woman, this smiling, sexy siren with thick, glossy hair that fell in tousled waves down her back, looked anything but unapproachable.

  He
tried not to openly gape or drool.

  He liked all kinds of women, but he loved her kind. Plump, generous breasts battled with the fabric of the sweetheart neckline, threatening the best kind of overflow. His eyes zeroed in on curvy hips, and if he wasn’t mistaken, her ass – in the blink of an eye, she’d turned to face the bride and her mother.

  Sean silently cursed his dick while his uncooperative appendage mentally cheered. He was definitely not mistaken about that ass.

  How the hell had she managed to hide all of that?

  He wasn’t sure what was more incomprehensible. The reality that she’d hidden a bombshell for a decade or that he was having such a strong reaction to a woman everyone thought he despised. Uncomfortably, he shifted his hands and tugged at the bottom of his tux jacket to shield his growing erection.

  If Lucas noticed, instead of starting his honeymoon that night he’d be sitting in a jail cell and Sean’s parents would be planning a funeral.

  Desperate to put the pieces of his brain back together, he kept a frozen smile and his gaze trained on the bride as she began to float down the aisle with her mother by her side.

  The priest cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today, to celebrate the union between Sophie and Lucas. Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” he questioned, his voice wavering slightly. Sean narrowed his eyes. He was pretty sure he’d seen the priest eyeing the assortment of red wines stocked at the bar, as guests were being seated and wondered if the man was toasted already.

  Again, his thoughts were derailed as the bride’s mother lilted out a charming, “I do,” before setting her daughter’s hand in Lucas’s outstretched one.

  A chuckle resonated throughout the crowd as Sophie held a hand out to the crowd, gesturing a halt, before swirling to the woman who stood behind her in the maid of honor’s spot. She handed her bouquet to her groom before wrapping her arms tightly around the younger woman and bending to whisper something in her ear.