Okay, I liked Savannah, too. I supposed if Chase had to lose his shit over someone, he couldn’t have picked a more exceptional female. Still, I had no idea why it had to happen at all.

  What guy wanted to willingly put his balls in a wringer for the rest of his life?

  I’d never met anyone who was worth that kind of torture.

  Thankfully, Chase had kept the wedding guest list fairly small, but it had still been way more people than what I liked to see in my house all at one time.

  I reminded myself that there had been a few positives during the evening as I stepped inside and locked the doors to the exterior.

  The food had been good. Really good. None of those ridiculously tiny finger foods. All the sentimental bullshit that had taken place aside, it had been a classy and well-done event.

  I’d also gotten to see and hang out with my old Delta Force team without having to make a trip to Michigan to see them.

  Lastly, my house looked normal again. The cleanup crew had done a good job at giving me my home back.

  My hope was, now that this wedding and reception was over, that Chase would get his head back into Durand Industries. If he did, sacrificing my privacy for a while would all be worth it.

  Most of all, I really wanted to see Chase relax again, and not be so damn worried about how everything would work out.

  Honestly, it was obvious that Savannah was just as happy as Chase with her wedded state. If being in love was really a thing, the woman loved my brother as much as he loved her.

  I had no idea why there had ever been any need for Chase to drive himself nuts over Savannah’s happiness when it was staring him right in the face.

  I made my way to the kitchen, eager to see if there were any leftovers.

  If I was still up at this hour, I might as well enjoy any food that still existed in the fridge since it was the best part of the reception.

  I stopped to strip down to my tuxedo shirt and pour myself a drink from the bar.

  Unlike my wine connoisseur younger brother, I preferred whiskey if I was going to have a drink, and I wasn’t particular about what type as long as it went down smoothly.

  I stopped short at the entrance to the kitchen when I realized I wasn’t alone in the house.

  Evidently, I still had an intruder, a statuesque redhead who was currently eating a plate of food with one shapely hip against the kitchen island.

  What in the hell was she doing here?

  Obviously, she wasn’t a guest.

  Her red hair was in a messy ponytail, the confined, fiery locks flowing over her back in fat curls. She also wasn’t dressed like a guest. She was wearing a pair of black pants that hugged her curvy ass and hips, and a white and gray shirt that looked a lot like the server attire this evening.

  “What in the hell are you doing here?” I growled.

  Unfazed, she glanced up for a moment and said, “Getting a meal is in my contract. I fed over fifty guests the most expensive meal I’ve ever prepared, and I’ve been here since late morning yesterday. I’m starving, even if I look like I don’t need to eat another bite. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

  She went back to consuming her dinner like I’d never shown up to interfere.

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t accustomed to being ignored, so it rankled. A little.

  I was the boss.

  When I spoke, everyone listened.

  That was the way it generally worked, and I liked it that way.

  It kept everything…uncomplicated.

  Still, I grudgingly admitted to myself that the woman did need to eat if she’d really gone that long without sustenance.

  I surveyed her, watching as she ate without a single inhibition, obviously enjoying every morsel.

  No playing with her food.

  No shyness about eating until she was full.

  No bullshit about needing to count every calorie on her plate.

  Maybe I was way too accustomed to female models who flipped out over a few extra calories, and damned if it wasn’t attractive to watch a woman who could eat without apologies or guilt.

  Did I think she didn’t look like she needed that food she was eating?

  Hell, no. I had no idea why she’d even said that, but I wasn’t exactly an expert on the female psyche.

  If that fare on her plate helped her maintain that nicely curved body of hers, she should just finish the entire lot. And then help herself to dessert.

  Fuck! I probably shouldn’t be ogling the wedding staff, but it was more her attitude than her gorgeous ass that had forced my cock to stand at attention.

  She was…bold and unrepentant.

  Maybe I wasn’t used to being disregarded completely, and I was just intrigued by someone who didn’t give a flying fuck what I thought.

  For whatever reason, she amused me, and very few people did.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Why didn’t you eat earlier?” I questioned.

  She shot me an icy stare from those big green eyes of hers because I’d once again disturbed her dinner. “I was busy,” she informed me coolly. “I was the head chef of a large crew. I don’t eat until everyone else does. No offense, but food was a dominant factor at this reception, as I totally think it should be. But that also means I’m running for the entire reception. The prep was also long, and the cleanup was massive.”

  I moved close enough to see that she was dining on the filet mignon and lobster we’d had for the main dinner earlier.

  Smart woman.

  I put my drink on the island and headed for the refrigerator.

  Evidently, she wasn’t leaving before she finished, and for some damn reason, I didn’t really want her to go before she was done.

  Yeah, I’d send her packing after that, but I’d put up with her until the end of her meal.

  “And you are?” I asked gruffly.

  “Shelby Remington,” she answered. “I needed a gig and my cousins know your brother, the groom. Actually, I think you’re probably even better friends with them than Chase. Anyway, my cousins recommended me to Chase, and he took a chance, which will make me forever grateful to him. It will look good on my resumé.”

  Shelby Remington? Why does that name ring a bell for me?

  Certainly, if I’d seen this woman before, I would have remembered her.

  “How did you know who I am?” I questioned suspiciously.

  “I’ve seen pictures of you with Kaleb,” she replied right before she finished the last bite on her plate.

  Obviously, she knew who I was, but she wasn’t the least bit daunted by the fact that I was a Durand.

  I paused in my pursuit of cutting a chunk of cake and putting it on a nearby paper plate. “Remington? Like in Kaleb Remington of KTD Remington?”

  I automatically cut her a piece and grabbed another paper plate from the stack on the island. I dropped the second piece on a plate for her and pushed it toward her before I dug into my own.

  She nodded as she chewed and swallowed. “Kaleb, Tanner, and Devon Remington are my cousins. We’ve been close since we were kids.”

  I nearly choked on my first forkful of cake.

  Kaleb Remington and his two brothers were now self-made billionaires who lived in Montana. I’d known Kaleb since college. We kept in touch, and met up as often as we could. He was one of less than a handful of people I trusted.

  That sort of explained why she didn’t blink an eye when speaking to a guy with a boatload of money and power. She had three cousins who were in the same positions.

  I suddenly remembered exactly why I’d recognized her name. Kaleb had tried to set me up on a blind date with Shelby about a year ago, when she’d relocated from Montana to San Diego.

  I’d nixed the idea in a hurry.

  I was way too big of an asshole to go out with a woman who was Kaleb’s beloved cousin. He’d mentioned how sweet she was way too many times for me. Sweet and salty didn’t always mix well, and I wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship.

  I watched as Shelby put her plate and utensils in the dishwasher.

  She lifted an eyebrow when she turned to face me. “You do remember when Kaleb tried to set us up?” she asked in a frosty tone.

  I nodded as I chewed my cake, my eyes never leaving her glacial expression.

  Jesus! I almost felt guilty, even though I’d decided not to meet up with her for her own good.

  “Just so you know,” she shared. “I wasn’t all that excited about going on that date with you, either. Did you see my picture and decide that tall, chubby, redheaded women weren’t your thing?” She instantly held up a hand. “No, don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care for men who are superficial assholes and stuck on themselves anyway. I’ll never understand why Kaleb wanted me to meet a guy who lives in the world of luxury brands and high fashion. I’m not exactly your type.”

  I couldn’t say a word as I watched her pick up my glass of whiskey, toss it back without flinching, and then sit the crystal tumbler carefully back onto the island. She picked up the cake I’d pushed toward her before she said calmly, “Sorry, it’s been a really rough day. I’ll take my cake to-go. Have a nice evening, Mr. Durand. It was really a beautiful reception and a lovely event.”

  She headed to the door so fast that I never got a chance to answer.

  I tossed my cake onto the counter and followed her, but I saw the headlights of her vehicle leaving as I opened the front door.

  What in the fuck had just happened?

  I hadn’t decided she wasn’t my type. Hell, if I’d seen a recent picture of her, I probably would have been somewhat tempted to meet her.

  And who in the hell would ever think she was too tall or…overweight?

  “Son of a bitch!” I cursed as I slammed the door closed and locked it.

  It irritated the shit out of me that she’d left with the last word, and without giving me a chance to say a goddamn thing.

  That never happened to me.

  I was tempted to call Kaleb even though it was the middle of the night.

  Why hadn’t he told me that she’d known about this attempted hookup? I’d assumed that he’d asked me first.

  I stopped myself before I could call and ask him.

  Would it have made a difference if I had known? Probably…not.

  Her opinion of me was valid, if not quite accurate.

  I was definitely better off leaving this situation alone, even though part of me wanted to correct her opinion of me for some odd reason I didn’t understand.

  Asshole? Yes.

  Stuck on myself? No.

  And what had happened to that sweet woman Kaleb had urged me to meet?

  I forced myself to forget the whole incident as I walked back into the kitchen but didn’t quite succeed as I eyed the empty glass on the island.

  Shelby Remington was drop-dead gorgeous and obviously talented, but probably not quite as sweet as her cousin had always thought she was, after all.

  Savannah

  Paris, France

  Two Weeks Later…

  I took a sip of my morning coffee, completely enamored with the view from the balcony of Chase’s luxurious home in Paris. It was a split-level apartment at the edge of Champ de Mars with nearly every convenience he had in his house in La Jolla.

  I smiled as I surveyed the Eiffel Tower, which we’d just toured yesterday. It had been our first day here in Paris, and we still had over a week in France before we were going to return to San Diego.

  We wouldn’t hit everything that he wanted to show me in the country he referred to as his second home, but he’d assured me that we’d be back in the not-so-distant future.

  Chase and I had been touring Europe for the last two weeks, and it was nothing like my hurried visits to those locations previously. Our accommodations had all been over the top, just like this Paris location. It seemed that my husband owned a ridiculously grand home in almost every major country in Europe.

  Not that I was complaining.

  After all, I’d gotten to stay in a few of them already, not to mention flying from place to place in his private jet.

  The best part of this honeymoon, however, was the man sitting across from me at the small outdoor table.

  I still couldn’t quite believe that I was Chase Durand’s wife.

  If someone had told me that I’d be on my honeymoon with Chase Durand a year ago, I would have told them they were crazy.

  But here I was, wedded to the guy I’d always wanted but had never in my wildest dreams imagined marrying.

  And could the nuptials be anything else but dreamlike with my quality loving groom?

  Of course they weren’t, even if we’d only had a limited amount of time to make the arrangements.

  As promised, Chase had helped with the wedding. For the most part, he’d let me plan most of the details with my preferences so everything was the way I wanted it. But he’d been responsible for the venues and food, which had made my responsibilities lighter.

  We’d been married at an amazing location with glorious ocean views in Del Mar, which was followed by a beautiful reception at Wyatt’s stunning waterfront home.

  Torie had been my maid of honor, and Wyatt had stood up for Chase as his best man.

  I’d gotten to know and adore Taylor and Harlow because they’d both insisted on helping with the wedding, a gesture I’d appreciated since both of them had recently married themselves.

  I had no idea how Chase had convinced Wyatt to let us use his home for the reception, but I’d always be grateful since it had turned out to be the perfect setting.

  My entire wedding day had been like a fairy tale, but small enough and intimate enough that I’d have memories of that day that I’d cherish forever.

  I sighed as I picked up the chocolate croissant on my plate and took a large bite.

  The last few months had been the happiest of my life, and I had no doubt that feeling was going to last a lifetime because I was married to the most amazing guy on the planet.

  I savored the taste of the pastry as I chewed, reminding myself that I’d better watch just how many French pastries I consumed since I’d just taken off the last of my stress eating pounds shortly before the wedding.

  Axel had slimmed down a little, too, since he’d stopped sympathy eating with me, but we’d taken long walks instead, so he hadn’t really missed the extra cookies all that much.

  “I hope that was a good sigh,” Chase said as he poured himself another cup of coffee. “What are you thinking about?”

  I nodded as I swallowed. “A very happy sigh. I was just thinking about the last few months. I had no idea it was even possible to be this happy. I’ve definitely found my joie de vivre.”

  Chase shot me a wicked grin. “I think I’ve had mine back since the moment you decided to join me in the shower for the first time.”

  I smiled because I couldn’t help myself. He was so outrageous with his naughty comments sometimes, and I heard a lot of them.

  After our disagreement about the way he’d handled that horrible incident in the restaurant parking lot, Chase had relaxed significantly. Not that he wasn’t constantly watching out for my safety, but he had regained his sense of humor and playfulness.

  “You’re insatiable,” I said with a laugh.

  “I warned you about what happens every time I look at you,” he shot back with an even wider grin. “You weren’t complaining about that earlier.”

  Nope. I certainly hadn’t. I’d never thought of myself as a woman who loved morning sex. Then again, that was before I’d woken up beside a man like Chase Durand every morning.

  For us, pretty much anytime we were together, and in almost any room, it seemed like the perfect time to get naked.

  I really doubted that would change much after our honeymoon since it had pretty much been the same way since the beginning.

  My heart skittered as I reminded him, “You’re looking at me right now.”

  He raised a brow like he was trying to figure out whether that was an invitation.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” I said with an actual giggle as I tossed my napkin at him. “I’m showered and ready to go to the Louvre. No funny stuff.”

  I’d gotten a shower while Chase had arranged our breakfast, much to my husband’s dismay. Since we weren’t showering together, he’d gotten ready himself in record time before we’d sat down to eat.

  “Since I know how much you’re looking forward to the museum, I guess I can be patient,” he complained jokingly.

  I swallowed hard, almost regretting my insistence as I watched him tear into another croissant.

  He was dressed casually in jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt, a sure sign that he was over being self-conscious about the small amount of scarring people could see when he didn’t wear a long-sleeved shirt. Thank God.

  It probably helped that no one stared. No one looked at those marks in horror and ran away.

  He’d finally realized no one even noticed, or if they did, it wasn’t a big deal.

  My heart squeezed just seeing how at ease he seemed about those scars now, like he really didn’t think much about them anymore.

  I didn’t let mine bother me, either. Chase thought I was beautiful, and he was the only man who would ever matter.

  “I love you,” I told him softly, unable to stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

  There were times when the way I felt about him was overwhelming, and it made me want to cry.

  Since I knew he’d much rather hear those words than see a tear on my face, the words just popped out without any real thought.

  He swallowed the last of his croissant, rose from his seat and snagged me from the chair. He pulled me into his lap as he sat down again.

  Wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, he said huskily, “I love you, too, Vanna.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my cheek against the side of his head. We just sat there like that for a minute, savoring the intimacy, entwined together.

  It wasn’t the first time we’d done this and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

  When words just weren’t enough, or when we felt the vulnerability of such raw emotion, we took comfort in just being connected in some way.