Wanted Wed Or Alive: The G.D. Taylors Series Read online

  Wanted Wed or Alive

  The G.D. Taylors Series, #1

  Willow Aster

  Laura Pavlov

  Copyright © 2021 by Willow Aster & Laura Pavlov

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7335137-9-1

  Cover by Jena Brignola

  Editing: Edits by Sue

  Proofreading: Christine Estevez

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  To Catherine Cowles—thank you for being our biggest cheerleader! We love you!

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Willow Aster

  Other Books by Laura Pavlov

  Chapter One

  Jesse

  What the hell am I doing?

  I glance in the mirror and see a stranger. I’m not this guy. I’ve always been reliable. Dependable. Trustworthy. But I’m going to die if I don’t get out of here.

  I turn around and I don’t think about it anymore.

  I bolt.

  Before I turn the corner and go deeper into the trees past the church, I look back and see the limo we rented for the day pulling into the circular driveway. I stay out of sight as the chauffeur opens the door, and the woman I’m supposed to marry steps outside in her long, fitted cream dress.

  I deserve every bit of hell that comes pouring down on me for doing this, but I keep running. Am I a coward? Maybe, but I toss my tie in the air and my feet move of their own volition. A belly laugh shocks me when I realize it’s mine. The farther I run, the better I feel. Almost normal again.

  I never imagined I’d be a runaway groom, but I already know it’s the best decision I’ve made in a long time.

  A few miles down the road, I grab a cab and go back to the hotel. My brothers and I stayed in a suite the past few nights so we could all be together before I took the big plunge. My phone rings and I push ignore once again. So far it’s been my brothers, my parents, and the rest have been my sister Penelope and the woman I just left at the church … Tiffany. I feel bad for my parents sitting and waiting for me in the sanctuary but not bad enough to go back and explain. Hopefully, the church is clearing out by now and they’ve given up on me coming.

  It rings again and this time it’s my mom. The thought of her being disappointed in me grates on me as I answer.

  “Jesse?” I hear her before I even get the phone up to my ear.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Son, you okay?”

  “I’m better now. Sorry to embarrass you and Dad. I just couldn’t—”

  “Listen,” she interrupts, “it’s chaotic over here, but I just had to make sure you know that Dad and I are so happy you didn’t marry Tiffany Baker today. She is a selfish, ungrateful B and we all know it—” The phone sounds muffled and I hear her telling my dad, “Well, she is, Garrett, you know it’s true.” Her hand must move off of the mouthpiece because when she speaks again, it’s crystal clear.

  Only this time it’s not her.

  “You know how I feel about you ditching my calls.” Penelope.

  I groan. My baby sister is five years younger than me, but she considers herself the authority over all four of us boys.

  “I think this calls for an exception, don’t you, Pen?”

  “I damn well don’t.” I can hear Mom in the background fussing at her swearing and Penelope sighs into the phone. “I D-well don’t. Happy, Mom? Look, Jess, you know Tiffany is not my favorite person in the world. Or in the greater Chicago region ... or in any room. Ever.”

  I put my head in my hands as I respond to my little sister. “I get the point, Pen. You don’t like her. So why do you sound like you want to rip my head off and feed it to Nessie?” The Loch Ness Monster is Penelope’s love language. She’s gone on two expeditions searching for signs of the creature.

  But she is having none of it today.

  She lowers her voice and the bite in her next words makes me sweat.

  “Because no one deserves this on their wedding day. No one.”

  I’m a terrible person.

  There’s more shuffling noise and it’s my mom again. “You get as far away from Chicago as you can for a while, you hear me? Let this die down and it’ll be okay.”

  I’m stunned silent and nod like an asshole to a dead line. My mom is probably telling my dad to get them the H out of there.

  Spence pounds me on the back and wipes his eyes. “I still can’t believe you pulled a runner.” He shakes his head and laughs harder. He’s normally stoic—humor does not cut through his armor—but this he finds funny. “Could you not have decided you wanted out before she was ready to walk down the aisle?”

  Caden and Gus both think that’s hilarious.

  I take a long pull on my gin and ignore the brothers. We’ve ordered room service and raided the loaded mini-bar, and now they’re letting their thoughts fly. Apparently, it took getting out of the wedding to hear the extent of how much my family dislikes Tiffany. They’re shocked I bailed, but oh, so elated.

  Go figure.

  Loyal to a fault—that’s what my family has said about me for as long as I can remember. I’m the youngest of the brothers—we were dubbed “the brothers” by Pen when she was little—and the only one to be in a relationship for longer than a year. Or in our case, eighteen months. I met Tiffany and liked how decisive she was, including when she set her sights on me and I overheard her telling her friends we’d be married within the year ... after two dates.

  I don’t know how it happened. It’s all a blur. One day I’m dating a beautiful woman, though shallow as hell as I’ve come to learn—and a year and a half later, I’m running from a church like my life depends on it. I’m not proud to admit that her looks were what drew me to her. She’s beautiful in the way Victoria’s Secret models are. A constant sultry expression on her face and her tits leading the way just so ... what man in his right mind wouldn’t be appreciative? Now I know better. And her gift for getting what she wants could rival any powerful mob boss on reckoning day. I never stood a chance.

  Nine months into our relationship she said she had a surprise for me. She took me to a jewelry store and had the owner pull out a ring that she’d picked out a week earlier.

  An engagement ring.

  She clapped her hands together, her eyes full of emotion. She wore a ridiculously low-cut blouse that showed off her perfect double Ds. The woman is more manipulative than a politician during election year.

  “Jess, this is a sign. This is the ri
ng. You’re the guy. Yes. Yes, let’s do this,” she’d purred, as tears streamed down her face.

  That was the moment. The one I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I didn’t speak up. I stared at her like a deer in headlights as she slipped the ring on her finger. She leaned into me and held up her hand. A woman that worked there was suddenly holding Tiff’s phone and snapping pictures. Like the whole thing was planned out.

  Because it was.

  And I was just a pawn in the game. A game I wasn’t aware I was playing.

  Fast forward three hours. The photo is splashed all over her social media with a caption that read: He asked. I said yes. This is happening.

  But he didn’t ask, and it didn’t matter.

  My family found out about my engagement on social media. Did I mention that Tiff is an “Influencer” and has over half a million followers that “Tune in to Tiff” to see her exciting life each day? Her Instagram skyrocketed first and then her website took off, with sponsors paying her out the wazoo for her to mention them. She takes her shit seriously, and most of the time our dates consisted of staged scenarios that weren’t all that great. Picnics at the beach where she’d coordinate our outfits and insist I wear a white linen shirt unbuttoned far too low, only to end up leaving after she shot eight million photos of us from her selfie stick. Because let’s be real, Tiff doesn’t do sand. Or wind. Or reality.

  But I didn’t speak up and I only have myself to blame for that.

  She wore me down, what can I say? It doesn’t in any way excuse what I did, but now I can admit that I was just an idiot all along where she was concerned.

  Once we were engaged, things moved fast. We were deep in wedding planning and I just figured my fears were normal for a guy my age. So, I went along with all of it for reasons I can’t explain. Tiffany is like a storm that’s always moving, and when you’re in her path, it’s difficult to get out. Her world is exciting and constantly shifting, and she has a way of making you feel like you’re fortunate that she allows you to be there. There were constant distractions from wedding venues, to menus, to buying a condo. She moved from one thing to the next without pause, never actually living in the moment. There never seemed to be a good time to stop. To think. To speak. To get off the ride that was our life together.

  And I’m ready to shed that like yesterday’s dirty shirt.

  Caden fills my glass and slides it down the table toward me—thank God for the brothers. “It’s time you come to New York and work with us anyway. Business is great and the women there aren’t looking for commitment. Add a fourth Taylor brother to the mix and the city won’t know what hit it.”

  They’ve tried to get me to go work with them at least once a week for the past few years. They started flipping houses and renovating old buildings in Brooklyn and are making a load of money. Up until a year ago, most of my time was spent as an accounting consultant for a hotel chain, but our family business has taken off and needs more of my attention. I man the books and help where I can but being twelve hours away and in a different time zone isn’t the most convenient.

  Tiffany never wanted to leave Chicago. Maybe that is exactly why I need to go.

  “I’ll do it.” I might be slurring my words, I’m not positive.

  “You’llllll doooit?” Gus mocks.

  Definitely slurring.

  I lift my glass in a salute and we drink to it.

  Much later, I wake up to someone pounding on my bedroom door.

  “You alive in there?” Gus calls.

  “Go away,” I mutter.

  “You’ve been in there forever. Come eat something. I booked you on our flight. We need to leave here in less than an hour. Get up.”

  I sit up and try to make out the clock ... God, I’ve slept over twelve hours. I take a quick shower and get dressed, throwing a few things in a small duffel as I go. I’ve done more spontaneously in the past twenty-four hours than I have in my entire life. It feels pretty damn good. I’m ready to get out of here.

  We barely get to the airport in time. The brothers are smug as I pass their business class seats to find my cramped one in the back.

  “There’s our little aisle blazer,” Gus says and the brothers snort and carry on like he’s a fucking comedian.

  “Oh, the hilarity,” I say flatly. Which just makes them laugh harder. “Dickdonkey,” I mutter under my breath and that sets them off more. Enormous asses is what they are. I like to think we’re all mature on our own but put us together and we revert to childish stupidity.

  Window seat. Planes aren’t made for tall people. I can’t complain. I walked away from a church filled with three hundred people waiting for me; I deserve to be miserable. I scrunch into the seat, my legs nudging into the seat in front of me and a bead of sweat trickling down my back.

  The flight gives me too much time to think. And the hangover from hell doesn’t do me any favors, pounding through my head like a semi-truck.

  I ignore it and enjoy an “in-flight” beverage. The brothers are probably on their second glass with a full course meal up in first-class while I’m looking forward to opening the bag of pretzels. I open up my calendar on my laptop and type in all that I need to do in the next week. I wonder if I could get everything closed up with Chicago from Brooklyn. I’ll need to check in with Tiffany and see if she wants to keep the condo—it’s in a prime spot in downtown Chicago. I’m sure she’ll want to stay there, and I don’t want to take any of the furniture, even though I paid for it. Not my taste. I’ll just need to sell my car. Find a new bank, get my license, and all that shit. This should be about as uncomplicated as a move can get, seeing as I don’t have anything at home that I want to keep.

  If I’d thought about it, my lack of attachment to our place should’ve been a sign to me that I didn’t need to settle down. It’s like I’ve been on autopilot and for no good reason.

  The flight was as uneventful as the Uber ride is subdued. We all imbibed our body weight in both quality and piss-poor liquor this weekend and it shows. When we step in front of our building—it still hasn’t hit me that I’m moving here—Gus puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes hard. His hair is lighter and shorter than mine, definitely tamer in comparison.

  “I’m glad you’re finally here, brother. I don’t care what it took to happen, it feels right that you’re with us.” Gus pounds me on the back and I flinch. He’s been lifting since he moved to New York and could probably take me in a fight now. Okay, he’d totally annihilate me.

  “Thanks.”

  “Let’s show our little escapee his new digs,” Spence says and they all chuckle.

  I’ll never live this down. The brothers have the memories of dolphins. Twenty years from now they’ll have come up with dozens of nicknames for what I’ve done. I should have thought this through for that reason alone.

  “Shut up.” But I’m grinning and with each step forward, the tension loosens more.

  “It’s a good thing we’ve finished another unit or you’d be bunking with one of us,” Spence says. “Sorry it can’t be one of the penthouses, but you’ll survive.”

  I flip him off and he laughs.

  Caden’s phone buzzes before we reach the door and he groans. “I’ve gotta take this. Welcome home, man.” He grins and then hurries inside.

  Spence’s phone is next. “I shouldn’t have let the crew know we were coming back early.” He points at me. “This is why it’s great that you’re here. I know you’re manning the books, but we could use another hand around here. Business is boom—” He’s cut off as his phone nearly vibrates out of his hand. He gives a salute and takes off.

  “Just you and me.” Gus lifts an eyebrow and holds the door for me.

  “Wow, the lobby is a masterpiece.” I stare up at the elaborate chandelier that wasn’t there the last time I visited.

  “Wait until you see Spence’s place. He definitely has the best view. Mine isn’t too bad either. I’d let you stay with me, but I don’t want you to crash my game.” H
e grins and I shake my head, laughing.

  “I’ll leave you to your game, don’t you worry. I don’t need to even look at another woman for an eternity. Tiffany put my game to rest in the graveya—”

  I stop in mid-word, seeing a sight from heaven. She’s standing near the elevator, suitcases surrounding her, along with a huge case that looks almost as tall as she is. Her lips are beguiling, and her light brown eyes stand out against her olive skin. Long brown hair hooks over her breast like a comma taking a breath before continuing the sentence. I struggle to not let my eyes trail down the rest of her. I know I wouldn’t be disappointed, further proof that the last thing I needed to do was get married this weekend. I never cheated on Tiffany. Never even flirted with another girl while we were together, but damn if I don’t want to get to know this beautiful woman the second I’m free.

  I’m simultaneously ashamed of myself and dancing on the inside.

  Gus looks at me and smirks. We stand at the same height and his blue eyes are filled with mischief. He’s always been able to see right through me. He points behind him, already backing up. “I’ll run get us some coffee. Meet you in a few.” He hands me the key and I turn to the girl.

  “Need some help?” I ask.

  “I’ve got it.” She eyes my duffel bag. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full anyway.”

  “That’s what he sai—” I stop when her eyes cut to mine. It’s obvious she is not in the mood for humor. “This? Nah.” The elevator dings and I hold it open for her. “At least let me help you get this inside.”