Page 1 of The Stolen Bride

Chapter

One

“I turn your pet’s bad hair day into a paw-some fashion statement!”

Clover Deering,

Owner of Fur-Ever Pet Spa

Where Every Animal Feels Fur-Tastic!

Ireached up to flip the OPEN sign in my shop window to closed, accidentally brushing the jingle bell that had rung non-stop for hours. What a day. A German Shepherd peed on my leg after stealing my lunch. A Persian shredded my arms with her razor-sharp claws–now filed, thank you—and a Pomeranian yipped until my last nerve frayed beyond repair.

My lower back and feet ached, and exhaustion saturated every muscle in my body. I reeked of wet dog. Worse, I hadn’t eaten in forever—nearly two whole hours!—but right now I was too tired to even slap together a sandwich. Proof I’d reached my limit.

Attempting to fill my bottomless pit of a stomach wasmy second favorite hobby. The honor of top spot belonged to rescuing animals in need. One of the many reasons I’d chosen grooming as a career.

I loved Fur-Ever Pet Spa and could only smile at the framed business certificate that hung on the pale blue wall. The shop’s first decoration. My hometown of Aurelian Hills, Georgia, offered wonderful entrepreneur resident loans, and I’d taken full advantage, building the pet spa from scratch.

My stomach grumbled, refusing to let me forget my hunger. Okay, so, after I finished my chores and showered, I’d call in a delivery order at Daisy’s. The German Shepherd’s owner had given me a generous tip, so I could splurge without guilt.

Quickening my pace, I disinfected the check-out counter, stored all leftover complimentary treats in a bag, and swept up any remaining fur. That done, I hosed down the bathing area then put the used towels and comfort blankets through an intense cleaning cycle via the industrial washer in back. In the morning, they’d go in the dryer.

Beginning a day with a messy shop always soured my mood. Satisfied, I switched off the lights and headed for the wooden staircase that led to the second floor. My private retreat and the reason I’d purchased the building. It served double duty as work and home.

A long, hot shower failed to ease my aches. The hydraulics on the grooming table I’d picked up second-hand had stopped working again, forcing me to lift my clients onto the station with physical strength alone. I was stronger than I looked, thank goodness, but even so. Yikes.

I exited the bathroom ahead of a fragrant cloud of steam and entered my walk-in closet. With summer in full swing, I donned a tank top and shorts, then grabbed myphone from the charging dock on the built-in dresser, intending to call Daisy’s. Oh. Two new voice messages and a text.

I checked the text first and ground my teeth. From Benjamin, my ex-fiancé.

Benjaboy: I left my favorite game at your place. I’ll swing by tomorrow and get it.

I responded:

No. You’re not welcome here. Lose my number.

We’d broken up six months ago. If he’d truly enjoyed the game, he would’ve realized it was gone long before now. Besides, I didn’t want to see him. Every interaction reminded me of my failures. How I had ignored a thousand red flags, doing my best not to make waves, all to keep him happy without ever actually making him happy. How I’d forgotten that I had always desired real, genuine love. The kind my parents had shared. Instead, I’d caved to my desperation to experience contentment and settled for conditional affection. Little wondered I’d constantly felt as if a part of me was missing.

Three little dots appeared in the text thread, and I sighed, anticipating Benjamin’s reply. Sure to be a doozy. At least he wasn’t waiting the usual three days to respond.

Benjaboy: Your heart is pure ice, Clo. That’s what broke us. You know that, right?

Wow. He never hesitated to go there. My supposed lack of emotion was his excuse for cheating with my (former) best friend. Granted, I wasn’t the most expressive of people. But suppressing my emotions was a gift to all, includingmyself! I’d let loose around him only once, and he’d acted scared of me for weeks.

Pushing thoughts of Benjaman into a shadowed corner of my mind, I listened to the voice mails. Cancellations. Another sigh slipped out. Despite today’s influx of patrons, business had slowed the past year, and I was in danger of getting behind on my loan repayments. Every cent counted.

Okay, so, no Daisy’s tonight. Tamping down my disappointment—you’re welcome world!—I did my best to rally. I had some cheese and crackers in the kitchen. Maybe I’d finish off my jar of peanut butter too.

I returned my phone to the charger. No reason to carry it around, hoping for a longed-for text or a call I wouldn’t get. My parents were gone, and I had no other family. Benjamin had won all our friends in the breakup. A blessing, I realized now. Better no friends than bad ones.

As I exited the closet, I braided my wet hair. T minus thirty seconds until I stretched out, closed my eyes and—I skidded to a halt. A man. An enormous man dressed in a black T-shirt, leather pants and combat boots. He sat in a navy blue armchair where I enjoyed playing my violin, mere feet away from me.

The bruiser toyed with the edge of the cozy knit throw draped over the top while sipping a glass of my favorite vodka. The last of my grandma’s supply. He stared straight at me.

“Hello, Clover.”

“Úristen!” My Hungarian mother’s favorite expression burst from my mouth. Fury spilled through my veins, both boiling hot and ice cold, and I balled my hands. Some people had a flight or fight response. I only possessed fight.

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