AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Rome Remington never thought he’d find himself standing in front of the altar again. He was a man who learned from his mistakes. After his first failed attempt at marriage, he had no intentions of entering the holy bond of matrimony a second time. No matter how much his father was pushing for grandkids to carry on the Remington name.
Rome had spent his life fulfilling his father’s wishes. While other kids rode bikes and played video games after school, he’d studied for hours so he could hand Sam Remington a report card filled with As. In high school, he’d gone out for the football team regardless of the fact that he hated football. In college, he’d majored in business, even though he’d wanted to major in animal science. Once he’d graduated and returned home, he’d searched for the right woman to marry—one his father would approve of.
He still wanted to please his dad. But he wasn’t willing to tie the knot again. He figured it was time for his little brother to step up to the plate and take one for the Remington team. Casey certainly had no trouble getting women to fall in love with him. Half of the female population of Wilder, Texas, was trying to win his heart.
Rome understood why. Casey had a good heart. Rome’s was a little too battle scarred. Which was why he had no intentions of offering it again. Thankfully, he wasn’t the one exchanging vows today.
But that didn’t seem to stop him from sweating through his tuxedo as he listened to Decker and Sweetie exchange vows. Knots the size of Brahman bull balls grew in his stomach as memories swirled to life in his head. Memories of the sweet timbre of Emily’s voice when she promised to love, honor, and cherish him forever. The teasing sparkle of her blue eyes when he lifted the thin wisp of her veil to kiss her. The welcoming softness of her lips. The tight grip of her hand on his arm as if she never wanted to let him go.
She had let him go.
Eighteen months later, she had packed up and headed back to Georgia, teaching him that love was a fickle and untrustworthy emotion he wanted no part of.
“Rome?”
He blinked back to the present moment and found Decker holding out his hand and giving him a quizzical look. Rome quickly slipped his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out the rings. Unfortunately, when he went to hand them to Decker, one slipped from his shaky fingers and bounced down the steps of the dais. As he moved down the steps to retrieve it, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him.
He should be used to people’s attention. As sons of one of the wealthiest ranchers in Texas, he and Casey had always known the townsfolk had high expectations of them. Casey let those expectations roll right off his back and did exactly what he pleased. Rome couldn’t do that. There was something inside him that desperately wanted to meet those expectations. Everyone’s expectations. The townsfolk’s, his father’s . . . his wife’s.
He had failed.
When the ceremony ended and the preacher declared Decker and Sweetie man and wife, that failure punched Rome hard in the chest and he found himself in a full-fledged panic attack. His vision blurred, his heart started thumping like crazy, and he couldn’t seem to pull a full breath into his lungs.
Decker and Sweetie started down the aisle to a loud round of applause. As the best man, Rome knew he was supposed to follow. But he was struggling just to stay standing. There was no way he could put one foot in front of the other.
Then a cool hand slid into his and gripped it firmly.
He held tightly to the lifeline he’d been given and allowed himself to be led down the aisle and out of the barn. He barely registered the stiff February breeze as he was pulled around the side of the barn.
“Sit.” Firm pressure was applied to his shoulders and his legs finally gave out. His butt had barely landed on a stack of firewood when his black Stetson was whisked off and his head pushed down to his knees. “Breathe.”
It took a few wheezy tries before his lungs started to partially fill. When the spots lifted from his vision, he found himself looking at two sets of cowboy boots. His own black size thirteens and a much smaller red pair. There was only one person who had worn red boots to the wedding. Sweetie’s boots were white. All four of the bridesmaids’ boots were pink. Only the maid of honor wore red. And Rome would bet money that the color hadn’t been her choice.
Clover Fields Holiday was not a bold red kind of person, even though she carried the surname of her mama’s side of the family. Fanny Fields had run the very first house of ill repute in the county. Mrs. Fields’s Boardinghouse wasn’t as notorious as the infamous Chicken Ranch, but the wild things that had gone on in the house were how the town of Wilder had gotten its name. All the boys in school had often discussed which Holiday sister had taken after her mama’s side of the family.
Cloe’s name had never come up.
She was the reserved wallflower of the six Holiday sisters. The one who stood back and watched instead of participating. She wasn’t the popular Miss Soybean like her oldest sister, Sweetheart. Or a smart bookworm like her middle sister, Belle. Nor was she an overachiever like Belle’s twin, Liberty. She wasn’t an athletic cowgirl like her next to the youngest sister, Halloween. Or a bouncy cheerleader like her youngest sister, Noelle.
She was just Cloe, a girl who didn’t seem to waste her time trying to prove herself.
Unlike Rome.
Even now he felt like he had to prove he was fine by sitting up—even when doing so made him feel lightheaded and dizzy. When he finally focused, he discovered the familiar girl he had known most of his life staring back at him.
Cloe was only a few inches under Rome’s six feet one inches and skinny as a willow branch. She always wore clothes that looked two sizes too big. Even the maid of honor’s dress hung well past her knees. While her sisters either had their daddy’s blond or their mama’s black hair, Cloe’s hair was the brownish-red color of autumn leaves right before they drop to the ground. Although it was hard to tell the true color when she always kept it confined in clips or twisty buns. Today, it was fixed on top of her head in a tower of curls that tilted to one side like a lopsided fence post.
Like the rest of her sisters, she’d gotten her mama’s pretty green eyes. While most people started using contacts in high school, Cloe continued to wear glasses that always seemed to be slipping down the bridge of her button nose. Like now. Instead of pushing them up with her hand, she wrinkled her nose until they slid back into place as she continued to fan him with the hat.
“Concentrate on taking deep, even breaths,” she said. “The only way to get through a panic attack is to regulate your breathing.”
The fact she knew he was having a panic attack made him even more panicked. If word got out it would spread like wildfire and everyone would think he was still upset over Emily leaving. He wasn’t. He damn well wasn’t.
“I’m not having a panic attack. It was just hot in the barn.” Considering it was the middle of February and most people in attendance were wearing jackets, it was a weak excuse. He tried to get to his feet to prove he was okay, but when everything spun again, he was forced to sit back down and put his head between his knees. Which annoyed him and made him a little snappish.
“Look, I’m fine. I just need a few minutes . . . alone.”
