CHAPTER THREE

      YEAH. HE COULD get used to this.

      After settling into his cabana, Shane grabbed one of the cold beers in the refrigerator—thoughtfully arranged by his sister, he guessed, and headed out to his oceanfront lanai.

      He stretched his legs, which still felt achy and cramped after a long day of trying to cram six feet, two inches of height into a space obviously designed for juvenile pygmies.

      He took a sip of beer just as his sister walked up the steps.

      “Hey there,” he said. “How’s my favorite bridezilla?”

      She made a face. “Admit it. I’ve been amazingly bridezilla-free.”

      “You have,” he agreed. “You picked a great place. The resort is beautiful.”

      She smiled. “Better than the pictures online. All the reviews were right.”

      “Don’t you have wedding plans to arrange?”

      “Not right this minute. I came to check on you. I’m sorry I didn’t have much time to spend with you on the flight.”

      “That’s what happens when you fly first class. No time for the little people.”

      He gave a mock wince when she socked him and she gasped. “Oh! I forgot all about your shoulder injury. I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

      Cara had always been too tenderhearted for her own good.

      “Not at all,” he answered. “I was shot in the other arm.”

      His teasing earned him another smack on the same shoulder, which made him smile.

      She didn’t smile back. Instead, she sank down beside him on the rather uncomfortable settee, her features troubled. She twisted her fingers together on her lap and gazed out at the lovely setting, tension radiating from her.

      He waited for her to tell him why she had really come. When she didn’t say anything, he finally spoke up. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

      She glanced at him, her eyes a murky green. “Have you heard from Dad?”

      He and their father tended to avoid each other whenever humanly possible.

      “Not lately,” he answered.

      “I had a voice mail from him when we landed. He’s coming to the wedding, after all. He’ll be here tomorrow and he’s bringing...wait for it...wife number five. Sherri or Sharon or something like that. The message was a little garbled, but I figured out they were married last weekend in Reno. Isn’t that great?”

      He listened to her listless tone and wanted to punch something. Trust Hal Russell to do whatever he could to screw things up if at all possible. He didn’t know how to answer her and had to take a few deep breaths to keep from spewing anger that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

      “Oh, Cara.”

      “Mom is arriving tomorrow, too. She’s going to flip when she finds out.”

      “She can deal,” he answered sharply, determined to make sure of it. “Don’t worry, kid. This day is about you and Nick, not about Dad and his wedding du jour or Mom and her drama. I won’t let either of them ruin your big day.”

      “Do you really think you can stop them?” she asked.

      “I’ll figure something out, even if I have to handcuff them in their cabanas.”

      She laughed at that. “I would love to see that.”

      He smiled. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I only brought one pair, though I could probably round up a zip tie somewhere. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to both of them, make sure everybody keeps things civil.”

      Their parents despised each other, which had certainly made for an interesting childhood.

      Cara leaned her head against his shoulder. “I love you, Shane. Have I told you that lately?”

      He threw an arm around her, wishing, as always, that he could do more to make things easier for her. Though four years younger, Cara had been about the only stable thing in his tumultuous childhood. By necessity, they’d clung together to survive the storm-tossed seas of divorce, remarriages, custody battles, family court hearings.

      “Love you back, kid.”

      They sat that way for a few moments while the sea whispered against the sand. Finally Cara sat up, looking up the beach toward a few of the other cabanas.

      “Oh, look. Megan’s taking the girls swimming.”

      He followed her gaze and found Megan wearing a hip-skimming, pink swimsuit cover-up, carrying Grace on her back. Sarah skipped along beside them holding a basket full of beach toys.

      The late-afternoon sunlight glowed in her burnished hair. A few feet above the wet sand mark, Sarah threw out a towel and Megan carefully lowered Grace onto it.

      The scene touched a soft chord inside him, for reasons he couldn’t have explained.

      “She’s pretty awesome, isn’t she?” Cara murmured.

      “I just met her,” he lied. “She seems to be.” He spoke in a guarded tone, not liking the note of insecurity in his sister’s voice.

      “I’m not jealous of her, I promise. You can get that worried look out of your eyes. I like her too much. I know both she and Nick tried hard to make their marriage work. They care about each other, but I don’t think they were ever really in love. The marriage was shaky from the beginning, and just never recovered from the stress of the girls being so sick at birth. It’s just...I want to be a good stepmother, and I’m not sure where to start, especially when she’s so great with the girls. Why would they need me?”

      “They strike me as pretty easy girls to love. That’s about all they need from you, isn’t it?”

      She sighed. “I hope that’s enough. I’m going to be a stepmother. I’m suddenly feeling