The Wrong Kind of Love Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Other Books by Lexi Ryan

  About The Wrong Kind of Love

  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

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Playlist

  Contact

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright Notice

  The Boys of Jackson Harbor

  The Wrong Kind of Love (Ethan’s story)

  Straight Up Love (Jake’s story – coming May 2018)

  Dirty, Reckless Love (Levi’s story – coming August 2018)

  Wrapped in Love (Brayden’s story)

  The Blackhawk Boys

  Spinning Out (Arrow’s story)

  Rushing In (Chris’s story)

  Going Under (Sebastian’s story)

  Falling Hard (Keegan’s story)

  In Too Deep (Mason’s story)

  LOVE UNBOUND: Four series, one small town, lots of happy endings

  Splintered Hearts (A Love Unbound Series)

  Unbreak Me (Maggie’s story)

  Stolen Wishes: A Wish I May Prequel Novella (Will and Cally’s prequel)

  Wish I May (Will and Cally’s novel)

  Or read them together in the omnibus edition, Splintered Hearts: The New Hope Trilogy

  Here and Now (A Love Unbound Series)

  Lost in Me (Hanna’s story begins)

  Fall to You (Hanna’s story continues)

  All for This (Hanna’s story concludes)

  Or read them together in the omnibus edition, Here and Now: The Complete Series

  Reckless and Real (A Love Unbound Series)

  Something Wild (Liz and Sam’s story begins)

  Something Reckless (Liz and Sam’s story continues)

  Something Real (Liz and Sam’s story concludes)

  Or read them together in the omnibus edition, Reckless and Real: The Complete Series

  Mended Hearts (A Love Unbound Series)

  Playing with Fire (Nix’s story)

  Holding Her Close (Janelle and Cade’s story)

  OTHER WORKS by Lexi Ryan

  Hot Contemporary Romance

  Text Appeal

  Accidental Sex Goddess

  Decadence Creek Stories and Novellas

  Just One Night

  Just the Way You Are

  From New York Times bestseller Lexi Ryan comes a sexy new standalone romance novel about a runaway bride, a single dad who’s sworn off love, and the kind of family secrets that can threaten to break even the deepest bonds.

  You never forget your wedding day. Or the moment your twin sister pukes on your bouquet and confesses she’s pregnant . . . with your fiancé’s baby.

  I wanted to get away, to hide until my heart mended. I found myself in a strange town with a mysterious stranger whose talented mouth and hands almost made me forget it was supposed to be my wedding night.

  Afraid to go home to face my broken life, I pretend to be my twin so I can take her job in Jackson Harbor caring for a six-year-old girl. Imagine my surprise when I find out my new boss is my mysterious stranger—Dr. Ethan Jackson.

  I never meant for Ethan to discover my secrets. I never meant for them to matter. But the longer I work with him and his sweet daughter, the harder I fall, and the clearer it becomes that I’m not the only one carrying a secret that could tear us apart.

  Get ready to fall for the boys of Jackson Harbor in Lexi Ryan’s sexy new contemporary romance series. These books can all be read as standalones, but you’ll enjoy reading them as a series!

  The Wrong Kind of Love (Ethan’s story)

  Straight Up Love (Jake’s story – coming May 2018)

  Dirty, Reckless Love (Levi’s story – coming August 2018)

  Wrapped in Love (Brayden’s story)

  For my brothers, Eric, Aaron, Danny, and Josh

  Nicole

  I’ve never been a runner—not marathons or 5Ks or those “fun runs” the kids at the preschool like to do. I don’t even have lofty goals of becoming a runner someday. Yet last night I dreamed of running longer, farther, and faster than I ever have before. Last night, I dreamed of running so hard my lungs burned. Today’s my wedding day.

  A coincidence, I’m sure.

  My future brother-in-law croons at the head of the aisle, his fingers dancing over the strings of his acoustic guitar, and my husband-to-be bobs his head to the beat. My groom, who’s maybe, most likely, not cheating on me. My groom, who wouldn’t do that to me. Probably.

  I gulp in air, but it’s thick with humidity and too many people. The wedding coordinator set up this tent at the far end of my outdoor ceremony so no one would see me before my big moment. At the time, it seemed like a great idea. Right now, it feels like a torture chamber.

  “Are you up for one last swap?” I ask my twin sister in a whisper.

  Veronica’s eyes go wide. She looks gorgeous in the cranberry lace maid-of-honor gown, her long hair piled into a cascade of curls at the back of her head. “A swap? Are you serious?”

  “No. Of course not.” Kind of.

  We spent the entirety of seventh grade pretending to be each other just to see if we could, and we pulled it off. Why not for my wedding ceremony? Why not for . . . forever?

  Okay, now I’m being melodramatic. But it’s my wedding day, and I’m supposed to be memorizing every detail, savoring every moment. Instead, I’m obsessing over two sentences I heard Marcus whisper into his phone yesterday morning. I stopped by to surprise him with my famous bacon cinnamon rolls—because everything’s better with bacon. His kitchen window was open, so I could see him holding his phone to his ear and could almost hear him. “Just one more time, baby. Please? I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  At least, I think that’s what he said. But maybe it was “Just one more time, maybe Jesus. I can’t stop thinking that’s how too.” Sure, the second option doesn’t make any sense, but neither does what I think I heard. He’s about to marry me. Why would he be telling some woman he can’t stop thinking about her? And what would he be asking her to do one more time?

  All questions you should have asked before you were ready to walk down the aisle, you big coward.

  “You shouldn’t joke about that,” my twin says, disapproval twisting her lips. “You’re really lucky to marry Marcus. He’s . . . amazing.”

  “I know that.” I force a smile. Because I do know that. Assuming he’s not screwing around on me. But I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours listening to women tell me how lucky I am to marry this man, as if I won the lottery or something. Are people telling him how lucky he is to marry me? Pro
bably not. They’re probably warning him away. “This is your last chance to run, Marcus. You can do better than some foster kid nobody wanted.”

  I suppose from the outside looking in, Marcus is brave for marrying me, and I’m lucky to marry him. Unless he’s a backstabbing, no-good, lying, cheating asshole.

  “I didn’t mean I wanted you to marry him,” I tell Veronica, and my voice is doing that nasal thing that happens when I get defensive. “Just that I don’t want everyone staring at me.”

  Veronica presses her lips together in a thin line. I wish we had that twin telepathy everyone always talks about in books and movies. I want to know what she’s thinking. I wish we were close like we used to be so I could tell her about what I heard—or thought I heard—and get her feedback. I guess I could have run it by a friend, but there are the friends you laugh with and then there are the friends you cry with. I’ve always struggled to open up enough to make the second kind.

  It’s stuffy and crowded in here. Maybe there isn’t enough oxygen for all of us. I have seven bridesmaids—Veronica and all of Marcus’s female cousins, ages thirteen to twenty-eight—because every respectable Southern girl knows the bigger your bridal party, the happier the marriage.

  I stick my hand between the flaps of the tent I’ve been peeking through and gulp in the fresh air.

  Marcus’s mother, Martha, tugs my arm, pulling me away from the fresh air and my view of my maybe-cheating groom. “Someone’s going to see you!”

  “It’s just so hot in here.” The lace on my wedding gown is itchy, and it feels like there are four thousand people sitting out there—though I know it’s only one hundred and ten. Martha was really embarrassed about that. “When my niece Kristen got married, she had one hundred and ninety people. Now I’m going to have to listen to my sister gloat.”

  “This is the happiest day of your life,” Martha says. Her cool hand cups my bare shoulder. “Don’t ruin it by having one of your freak-out moments.”

  I force a smile. Martha isn’t just another woman who thinks I’m lucky to be marrying Marcus—she’s the founding member of the club. If I want any hope of a decent relationship with my mother-in-law, I need to stop acting like I’m terrified of what’s about to happen. “I’m fine.” I’m lying.

  Everything is just as we planned it. I wanted an autumn wedding so I could say my vows against the backdrop of technicolor leaves. I wanted an outdoor ceremony and reception, so I chose a date after the Alabama summer humidity was supposed to have spared us for the season, but before the leaves fell and left the trees looking barren.

  Choosing to hold the ceremony and reception outside was a gamble, and I’ve spent the last month and a half with nightmares about rain and thunderstorms. But today, we have soft blue skies and white clouds so fluffy they look like you could take a bite and they’d melt on your tongue like cotton candy. And instead of nightmares about thunderstorms, I had dreams about running.

  I’ve been blaming my nerves on worries about wedding logistics—the weather, the caterer, the flowers. But now that it’s here and everything’s in order, I can’t blame this hitch in my belly on anything but the words Marcus may or may not have whispered into the phone.

  Why didn’t I tell him what I heard? Why didn’t I demand an explanation?

  “You okay?” Martha asks. “You look a little green around the gills.”

  I loosen my grip on my bouquet. I’m going to crush the stems if I hold them any tighter. “I’m fine, Martha.” Too late, I realize she’s talking to Veronica, not me. And she’s right. My sister looks ill. Come to think of it, she wasn’t feeling well earlier this week either. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own anxieties that I didn’t consider she might be coming down with something.

  “Must’ve eaten some bad catfish last night,” Veronica says.

  I frown as I study her face. It’s like staring in the mirror. She has the same light brown hair, pert nose, and heart-shaped face. But today she’s pale under the blush Marcus’s cousin Raina applied. “Did you go out drinking with the boys?”

  Marcus and his cousins hit the bars last night, and I know they invited the bridesmaids who are of legal age—and those close enough to pass. I didn’t get any such invitation, though, being Marcus’s “good girl” and all that. Who else did Marcus spend last night with?

  “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  The pinch in my stomach grows tighter.

  Everyone says, Trust your intuition, but I think maybe I was born without one of those. There’s no other explanation for my romantic history.

  “I stayed in,” Veronica said.

  “If she’d been drinking with us, she would have puked up the catfish by now,” Kate, the oldest cousin, says. “Jesus protects those who protect themselves.” She pops a couple of Tylenol into her mouth and takes a big slug from her water bottle. “Does anyone know how many shots of tequila I took?”

  Martha tsks.

  Marcus’s brother ends his song, and his aunt begins to play “Canon in D,” which everyone told me was quintessential wedding music. For some reason, it’s always made me think of funerals, but I agreed to include it in the processional because I didn’t want Marcus’s family to think I was a diva.

  “Ready or not,” Kate says, smirking at me.

  “Course she’s ready,” Martha says. “She’s marrying my Marcus. Half the girls in town would cut out their own eyes for this chance.”

  That’s a disturbing image. The pinch in my stomach has morphed into a gnawing ache. Maybe I’m not nervous at all. Veronica’s sick. Maybe I’m coming down with whatever she has.

  The girls pull mirrors from their purses and reapply their lipstick.

  I thought my wedding day would be different. I thought I’d be more excited than scared. Maybe we should’ve waited. Maybe what Veronica said is true, and eight months isn’t enough to go from dating to married.

  But Marcus said, “When you know, you know,” and I’ve been dreaming of this day since I was five. More, I’ve been dreaming of what comes after—making a home, making a family—and I’ve never been good at waiting for what I want.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Martha asks my sister.

  “I’m fine,” Veronica says. She doesn’t sound fine.

  “It’s probably nerves about that new job,” Kate says. “Who moves to a new state the day of her sister’s wedding?”

  “Today?” I stare at my sister, who’s studying the ground as if she’s seriously contemplating lying down. “You’re leaving right after the reception?” I knew Veronica took a job in Michigan, but I assumed she’d be leaving sometime next week.

  She lifts her eyes to meet mine and shakes her head. “I’ll have to leave the reception early to catch my flight.”

  I stare at her. “It’s my wedding day,” I whisper helplessly. How could she have plans to leave in the middle of everything and not even tell me?

  “Why aren’t you driving if you’re moving there?” Kate asks. “Don’t you need your car?”

  Raina snorts. “You think that pile of junk would make it to Michigan? Anyway, they’re giving her a car at that fancy new job.”

  I scowl at my bridesmaids. I don’t care how she’s getting there. I care that she’s leaving in the middle of my wedding day.

  “I’m sorry.” Veronica covers her mouth, closes her eyes, and lets out a long, slow stream of air.

  “She’s already anxious, Nicole,” Martha says. She always did like my twin more than me—her and everyone else. “Don’t make her feel worse.”

  “Do you need to lie down?” I ask Veronica. We might not have that psychic twin link, but I’m not some bridezilla who’s going to make a sick girl walk down the aisle. Even if said sick girl is my twin and should be by my side on the most important day of my life.

  Martha pulls a handkerchief from her purse, pours water onto it, and blots the back of Veronica’s neck. “You’ll feel better once we get out there. Just need fresh air, is all.”


  Veronica steps away from Martha’s blotting. “I’m fine. It’s fine.” She looks at me. “I’m so sorry.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not your fault.”

  The music changes.

  “That’s my cue,” Martha says. She kisses me on the cheek. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I say. But I don’t feel beautiful. I feel like every doubt and insecurity is written on my face. Like I’m going to walk down the aisle and everyone’s going to see Marcus’s “I can’t stop thinking about you” scrolling across my forehead like a teleprompter.

  His mother slips through the front of the tent and starts her graceful trek down the aisle to take her seat in the front row. The bridesmaids follow, one by one, and I peek through the flaps and spot Marcus at the altar, handsome as ever. He’s tall and slim, with rough hands and a secret romantic side. His best friend whispers something to him, and his dimple makes an appearance as his chest shakes with a repressed chuckle. His brown eyes crinkle in the corners. Sweet Lord, he’s gorgeous.

  And maybe a cheater. Possibly. Probably.

  The flower girls take their turn down the aisle to a chorus of “aww,” and then it’s my turn, and Marcus’s father, Dean, appears to escort me down the aisle. I take his arm and meet Marcus’s eyes. His chest rises and falls, and he shakes his head in awe.

  Now I feel beautiful.

  Was I really worried? Did I really believe that Marcus, my Marcus, could do something so terrible?

  I pull my shoulders back and smile at him—my strong, capable fiancé, my soon-to-be-husband, the father of my future children. The anxiety in my gut fizzles away. Later, I’ll tell him what I thought I heard, and we’ll laugh together over how my shit luck with men has made me think the worst.

  Everything is going to be fine.

  Dean squeezes my arm when we reach the end of the aisle.

  “Who gives this woman to this man?” Pastor Rickman asks.

  “In honor of her mother, I do,” Dean says, and my eyes well with tears, but I don’t know if it’s because of the reminder that my mom isn’t here or because I’m so grateful for Marcus’s family, and I’m literally minutes away from being one of them.