His Darling Bride (Echoes of the Heart #3) Read Online Free PDF

brunette who’d been sitting to Bethany’s right stirred her cocktail with her finger.
    Heads nodded all over. Including Law’s, behind the bar.
    Law had been friendly enough to Mike all shift, but he wasn’t looking entirely pleased with the current turn of events. Mike was right there with him. There was a fine line between helping and causing more harm than good. And his involvement in whatever this situation was had most definitely tipped into the latter category.
    “Get out of here,” Armani told Bethany’s ex. “Stay clear of my sister if you know what’s good for you. My family’s been patient. My sister’s been more than reasonable putting up with you after what you pulled in high school. Now I’m telling you to get. And stay gone.”
    “This is between Bethany and me.” Benjie used his Braves jersey to wipe at the mess the mountain had made of his nose.
    Armani cracked his knuckles.
    The gutless wonder inched closer to the door.
    “Our family’s a package deal, Carrington,” advised the blond guy cuddling with Bethany’s friend.
    “You nip at one Dixon,” the third brother weighed in, “we all bite back. That glass jaw of yours’ll stay intact a whole lot longer if you remember that.”
    Benjie stormed out the door.
    “I can fight my own battles, Oliver.” Bethany looked regal as a queen as she confronted the posse of male disapproval that was now being directed toward Mike. She was all of five-foot-nothing. And she wore what looked like a vintage dress that she’d thrown on over a pair of paint-splattered jeans, frayed down to holes in both knees.
    Mike would have recognized her as a kindred artistic soul, even if he hadn’t overheard her and her girlfriends talking about her painting. She was vibrant, vivacious, with an uncontainable energy he’d felt instantly drawn to. So when she’d outright asked him for his help, and then kissed him senseless to sweeten the deal, and then had gone along with his lie about them dating in Atlanta . . . Was it any wonder that he’d lost his mind and dove headfirst into bedlam?
    He caught himself grinning down at her like a besotted ass.
    “Nice boots,” he teased.
    They were red leather and coated with the same misting of vermillion and fuchsia as her Levi’s. When she scowled at his smirk, and then the heel of those audacious Justin ropers came down on his instep, he bit back a curse that was part pain, part admiration at her gumption.
    “You’ve invited a stranger to the wedding?” the blond brother asked.
    The man’s curve of a smile suggested that he might be enjoying himself more than he was letting on. He and the bad boy still standing beside Oliver sported identical navy T-shirts with what looked to be a sheriff’s department insignia stenciled over their hearts.
    “Dru said you’d RSVP’d stag.” The third guy’s Southern accent ran the deepest.
    Bethany inclined her head toward the room full of avid spectators. “My dating life isn’t fodder for public discussion.”
    “Does your dating life have a name?” Oliver asked. “Who is this guy, Bethie?”
    “Mike Taylor.” Mike didn’t bother offering his hand, mostly for fear that he’d pull back a bloody stump.
    “He and I were . . .” She searched Mike’s features, as if asking if he was sure he wanted to do this.
    “Bethie and I”—he shot her a disbelieving smirk at the adorable nickname—“have been dating off and on in Atlanta.”
    “Right.” She looked more than a little shell-shocked by the story they’d concocted on the fly.
    “I’ve just moved to Chandlerville temporarily,” Mike added, keeping his end of things neutral.
    “Only family calls her Bethie,” the blond cop said. “And except when our parents do it, she hates it.”
    “Which is exactly why you oafs keep at it.” Bethany ran her fingers through the spiky bangs that looked just right on her.
    She studied Mike again, long and hard, as if measuring him for a suit.
    Or a coffin.
    If she