Marrying The Wedding Crasher. Melinda Curtis
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was the last thing Joe needed just days before his wedding.
“Gosh, the Messina boys are big,” Harley said, standing next to Vince.
His brothers sprinted across the field toward Vince, whooping and hollering as if they were in their teens not their thirties.
Gabe slammed into him first, wrapping his arms around Vince and lifting him a couple inches off the ground. He was a mountain of a man with the strength and rigid posture gained from years in the military. But not even the Marines could wipe away the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Vince!” He dropped Vince back on his feet. “How many years has it been?”
“Almost six.” That’s when they’d gathered for Joe’s first wife’s funeral in Los Angeles.
Joe hugged Vince with a set of hearty backslaps. He was clearly the runt of the family. He’d never filled out the way Vince and Gabe had. “It’s been too long, brother.”
“It has been,” Vince agreed, feeling some of his misgivings evaporate. He attributed it to the lack of humidity in the air, and two family members happy to see him.
“And who have we here?” Gabe claimed Harley’s hand and kissed it.
She laughed and Vince felt a stab of something he didn’t recognize in his chest.
He made the introductions, saving Harley’s hand from Gabe’s because she’d said she didn’t like PDA and probably wouldn’t like it from his come-on-too-strong brother. “Watch out for Gabe. He used to steal my clothes and my girlfriends.”
Harley’s cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.
Vince didn’t let go of her hand. Totally because of appearances.
A pint-size girl wearing dirt-stained coveralls crashed into Vince’s chest next. “Uncle Vince!” His niece Samantha grinned up at him. Her hair was dark brown and just as short as the last time he’d seen her. But instead of looking as if Joe had hacked it with sheep shearers, it was stylishly cut and straightened.
If she was styling her hair, the next step was wearing makeup, talking to boys, and refusing to do oil changes because it wrecked her manicure. “Sam, don’t grow anymore.”
Samantha shushed him. Her cheeks turned a brighter shade of pink than Harley’s. “You’re embarrassing me.” She glanced furtively at a dark-haired teenage boy, who looked to be about thirteen and was staring at Sam the way Sam had once stared at the stuffed beagle Vince had given her when her mother died.
Vince exchanged a quick what-the-heck glance with Joe, who gave him a subtle calm-down gesture.
“And here’s the other love of my life.” Joe introduced his fiancée. “Brittany.”
Vince’s soon-to-be sister-in-law had a thick mane of brown hair with golden highlights, a wide smile that sparkled, and natural makeup. Like Sam, she also wore smudged coveralls. This was no high-maintenance female, even though she ran the town’s beauty salon.
Vince liked Brittany immediately. “Welcome to the family.” He hugged her warmly.
“Call me Brit.” Joe’s bride-to-be inched out of Vince’s hug. “Joe, why do all your brothers have such gorgeous manes?” She ran her fingers through Vince’s hair.
Vince jolted backward until Brit’s hands fell away. “It’s getting hot in here.”
Harley laughed, no help at all.
“Hey, honey, your hands should only be in my hair.” But Joe laughed and added, “And that of your paying clients, of course.”
Harley was still chuckling, ignoring Vince’s SOS, which he decided to excuse when she reclaimed his hand. “Their hair is unreal, isn’t it, Brit?”
“Times three.” Brit ignored Joe’s warning and ruffled Gabe’s hair. “I’m a hairdresser. It’s hard not to touch it.”
“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Vince said, meaning it. They all had thick, black hair. So what? Joe’s hair was a bit too long for a man about to be married and Gabe’s was military short. Vince’s was somewhere in between.
“Who cares?” Gabe leaned over to give Brit better access to his scalp. “I could get used to this.”
“Don’t,” Joe said firmly, tugging Brit away from his oldest brother. “I draw the line at making Gabe happy. He teased me mercilessly when we were kids.”
“Oh, Shaggy Joe.” Brit snuggled close to Joe the way Harley had snuggled close to Vince when they were in Waco. “I love your hair best.”
Vince glanced down at Harley, which wasn’t far considering how tall she was. “I think you should limit your hands to my hair, too.” His words came out low and intimate. He might just as well have been saying, You should limit your lips to mine, too.
Harley got the message. She tried to ease away, but Vince held on. To her hand. To her gaze.
“Dear brothers, stop with the googly eyes.” Gabe turned toward the field, looking like he was on duty. “Come on, Sam. When Brit calls your dad Shaggy Joe, it’s time to vacate the premises.”
“Googly eyes are disgusting.” Sam pulled a face.
“Gabe’s complaining about googly eyes?” Vince taunted good-naturedly. “He’s lucky Harley and I don’t make out right now.”
Harley made a disapproving noise. “You’re impossible.”
For show, Vince smiled fondly at Harley. No kisses? Yeah, he’d make her pay a little for that.
His wedding date huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Brad.” Gabe shook his finger at the teenage boy. “If I ever catch you looking with googly eyes at my niece, I’m going to drop you off that bridge.”
Sam gasped and glared at Gabe.
“Why would you say that?” She hissed like an angry cat. “Why?”
“Because I’m your uncle and I love you.” Gabe gave her a devilish grin cut from the same cloth as Vince’s.
“I will never.” Sam raised her hands heavenward. “Look at anyone. Like. That.”
Vince had a feeling Sam would eat those words someday.
Still grumbling, Vince’s teenage niece took off running. Sam’s admirer joined her as she raced past him. Gabe plodded behind them at his own pace.
“Joe, don’t give that boy an inch with Sam.” Vince nodded toward the young pair. “She’s too young to be interested in boys.”
“Brad knows what the rules are and respects them, unlike Gabe at that age.” Joe grinned and it was like looking in a mirror, except for his eyes. Joe was the only Messina who had their mother’s blue eyes. “I hope those are clothes you can get dirty, because we could use an extra pair of hands.”
Vince took stock of his blue jeans and polo shirt, as well as Harley’s similarly casual attire. “We’re good. Are you hooking cars up to the tow truck and taking them somewhere?”
“One at a time?” Joe shook his head. “That would cost a fortune in gas. We found a scrap hauler willing to take the rest away with a double-decker semi-trailer. He comes tomorrow.”
“The rest?” Harley shaded her eyes for a better view. “How many cars are there?”
“Joe already got some running and sold them.” Brit started walking, beckoning Harley to join her. Next to Brit, Harley looked like a beanpole, as if she lacked curves.
So not true.
Harley’s curves were subtle, like her personality.
“We just need to clear the debris between the cars and the road,” Brit was saying. “And then tow them into a line them up