Claimed By The Best Man: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  Claimed By The Best Man

  AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE

  _______________________

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS, 277

  FLORA FERRARI

  Contents

  NEWSLETTER

  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

  Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  Extended Epilogue

  NEWSLETTER

  A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS

  BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS

  LAIRDS & LADIES

  RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD

  IRISH WOLF SHIFTERS

  Collaborations

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2022 by Flora Ferrari

  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.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.

  Claimed By The Best Man

  Reeve

  A pre-rehearsal for a wedding rehearsal? Who does that?

  I’d normally hang up, but when my best buddy and ex-marine right hand man there’s no way I can say no.

  Even though I’m not exactly his fiancé’s cup of tea, I am still Rhys’s best friend as well as best man.

  Rhys has been on and off again with Clara for years, but something tells me they’ll actually go through with it this time.

  Get married.

  For keeps.

  We’re both civilians now, but a Marine is for life, and Rhys served less time than I did through injury, not by choice.

  Realizing he’s getting married, at our age too?

  It makes me feel old.

  Makes me feel like I might have missed out in the romance department.

  Until he mentions Piper. She’s Clara’s only daughter and also a bridesmaid.

  She must be all grown up now… eighteen or nineteen?

  Time flies.

  “You remember Piper, don’t ya?” Rhys asks. “The one who threw up all over you on that rollercoaster…”

  Little Pukey Piper?

  She’s no little girl anymore.

  In fact, she’s bloomed into the most beautiful young woman I’ve ever seen.

  And once Rhys hints that he has another little favor to ask, one involving Piper?

  Well, I’m more than happy to lend a strong hand and anything else where it’s needed.

  Could a younger girl like her really go for an older guy like me?

  It’s not the first thing to enter my mind when I spot her, but it’s the cleanest thought I have from that moment on.

  Already vowing to not only stake my claim but to claim her as my own.

  No matter the cost.

  Piper

  I’m not a kid anymore and I certainly don’t need a babysitter.

  Playing bridesmaid for a day is one thing, and enduring how many pre-rehearsals?

  Jesus.

  But the one thing, the one thing I’ve been looking forward to most since all this wedding business got real is having the house to myself for a whole week.

  I love my mom, I really do… most days.

  But living on top of each other, depending on her for everything?

  We both need a break, and if her new husband Rhys has anything to do with it, we’ll all be one big happy family.

  Living in his huge house singing kumbaya around the campfire, roasting hot dogs on Memorial Day.

  Or whatever it is Marines do when they’re not blowing stuff up or eating crayons.

  As if things couldn’t get any worse, I find out the best man is Rhys’s best friend, Reeve.

  I only remember one thing about him.

  Throwing up on him on a rollercoaster.

  God, I hope he doesn’t bring that up.

  So it’s Pukey Piper as a bridesmaid, and then having someone babysit me for the same week I’m supposed to be having the house all to myself.

  What next?

  Reeve Bannon is what’s next.

  He’s an older man now. Same age as Rhys, but with a body carved from granite and a smile that could drown a woman in her own juices at fifty yards.

  Not to mention the national monument of a bulge in his pants.

  He… He’s the babysitter they had in mind?

  Then why didn’t they say?

  I suddenly feel like a Marine is the only man I’d ever feel comfortable with, watching over me for the whole week.

  And I’ll be doing a lot more watching of my own.

  More if he’d give a younger, thick girl like me just half a chance to show a real man just how much I’m willing to learn.

  Just one week, huh?

  Within two seconds of seeing the man for the first time in a decade, I can tell a week’s not gonna be enough.

  I’m gonna need a lifetime with him.

  * Claimed By The Best Man is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with a HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.

  NEWSLETTER

  Get a free, new, original story NOW by joining my mailing list and staying subscribed.

  CLICK HERE >> Get a FREE book now

  Chapter One

  Friday

  Reeve

  “A rehearsal for the wedding? I thought the big day was next weekend?”

  I have to ask.

  Even though it’s my oldest friend, Rhys, I still have to ask.

  Even though we can practically read each other’s minds.

  “Pre-rehearsal,” Rhys corrects me, making me click my tongue in disbelief as I roll my eyes.

  Wondering what the hell happened to us.

  When did we get so fucking old and Rhys so ‘owned’ by his on-again-off-again fiancé, Clara?

  Private Rhys Conner and his best buddy Reeve Bannon. We were the stand out recruits in our Marine Corps trainee unit.

  And for every year we served together after that.

  And for all the wrong reasons.

  I was Reeve Bannon ‘The Cannon’, and Rhys ‘The Piece’ Conner.

  Nicknames on account of our crazy behavior and daring when serving active duty, as well as our medal winning marksmanship.

  But what we really did learn is trust, respect, and honor.

  Something you discover keeps you and your buddies alive in the field.

  So when my best friend and ex-marine buddy interrupts my already crazy busy day on a construction site to remind me about the ‘pre-rehearsal’ for his upcoming wedding. Well… I just have to ask myself:

  Bro. Are you serious? That’s like practicing for your next shit, or ‘pre-rehearsing’ how you’d eat a box of fucking crayons.

  Rhys’s dry laugh sounds a little strained over my silence, and I move back into my mobile office so I’m not shouting over the construction noise.

  “I know, I know,” he groans. “But I… We just want our big day to go off without a hitch,” he explains.

  “Think of it more like a… mission briefing,” he adds thoughtfully.

  “All that physical training, all those midnight hikes and swims carrying hundred-pound packs. Wasn’t that rehearsing?” he asks me, with just the slightest hint of been there done that in his voice.

  I make a low growling sound. “Pre-rehearsing,” I rumble in a sarcastic tone.

  Always hating it when he’s right.

  “I guess you just caught me on a bad day is all, buddy. End of the week, you know how it is,” I confess, nudging the chip off my shoulder.

  Still unable to tell Rhys how much I envy him for finding someone. Even if it is a chaotic decade-long relationship.

  Those two certainly do love each other, no doubt about it. Rhys is one lucky guy especially now they’re tying the knot.

  Me?

  I’ve flown solo my whole life. ‘Bannon the loose cannon.’ That’s what they really called me behind my back.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Rhys asks, breaking my silent reverie.

  Always ready to do a solid for a friend. For a fellow Marine.

  The only question asked is always ‘How can I help? Tell me what you need.’

  “Not unless you can get three ten-ton truckloads of concrete here in under an hour on a Friday,” I try to joke and remember that these problems are all tiny compared to active duty.

  “Cement, huh?” Rhys asks. Letting me know by his tone that he’s thinking the same about everyday problems.

  “Concrete,” I correct him. “Got cem
ent in it, but we’re pouring foundations,” I tell him. Sure he’s just winding me up now.

  His post-Marine life as an architect and mine as a construction foreman are filled with daily problems. But all of them are easy compared to what we’ve already lived through.

  Rhys broke his back the one and only time we weren’t deployed together. His last and final deployment, but he’s never lost his Marine’s sense of humor.

  He got an honorable discharge and I finished the rest of my Marine career without him next to me, but we talked every chance we got.

  Friends and Marines.

  For life.

  I’m officially retired from service now, and with a choice between building stuff and breaking a man in half with my pinkie as life skills, it was a helluva lot easier to just start my own construction business.

  Rhys has done very well for himself, so have I. And like all Marines, we help each other out.

  He designs ‘em, and I build most of his commercial and residential projects.

  We could joke about years wasted, our youth could’ve been better spent stacking cash. But Marines are for life.

  They teach you everything you need to make something from nothing or to manage a whole lotta something the best way possible. Whatever that something might be.

  This time around, that something is Rhys’s fiancé. Clara.

  And although I’m off-guard at the minute, and not Clara’s biggest fan if I’m totally honest. I’ll do whatever he asks to make sure Rhys has his special day and every day after that.

  I’m about to tell him as much when in true Rhys ‘The Piece’ style, he has a solution for my little problem.

  “I know a guy,” is all he says at first. “For your concrete,” he adds, filling in the blanks my mind’s suddenly full of.

  I’m back in a jungle somewhere, wishing Rhys was right by my side to back me up, but we’re here now.

  Modern day, real life. And he’s still got my back.

  “Uh… Well. I know all the suppliers too, Rhys,” I explain to him, the tapping of a keyboard audible from his side.

  “I don’t mean to—”

  “Done!” he says with a tone of triumph. “Just tell me where you need it, and it’ll be there within the hour.”

  Not even pretending to fuck around now.

  Mission accomplished.

  I give him the location of the site automatically. Like coordinates on a map which he registers with a low grunt. Already making things happen from his end.

  “Now… About the pre-rehearsal,” he reminds me, chuckling as if it’s priority one over several tons of foundation we need to pour within the next few hours.

  “Alright, buddy,” I sigh. Shaking my head.

  I’ll be damned.

  Rhys Conner does it again.

  The Marines lost one of their best to injury but the world gained a true hero.

  And I got to keep my best friend.

  Ya got me. I’ll scratch your back now. Fair’s fair.

  “You don’t need the suit or anything, it’s just a run-through of the ceremony. Meet n’ greet with the padre. That kinda thing. Real casual,” Rhys tells me, in a low tone.

  Starting to sound more like he’s outlining a black ops mission instead of a wedding ‘pre-rehearsal’.

  It’s just the way he describes semi-serious stuff sometimes. Yet it still makes me laugh.

  “Oh! Almost forgot,” he adds quickly, sounding like he’s suddenly pressed for time. I check my own watch out of habit.

  “Clara’s daughter will be there as a bridesmaid and Clara’s friend, Denise, is the maid of honor.”

  I feel my eyebrows furrow.

  “Just tell me where and when, Rhys,” I clip, realizing I have more than a foundation to pour before my day’s done.

  “It’s tonight. Seven o’clock, remember? Did you even read my text and emails?” he chuckles.

  My face knots a little harder.

  My memory these days. It’s not as good as it used to be. One boom or bang too many over the years, I guess.

  “Just don’t go mouthing off is all,” Rhys cautions me, knowing I’ll be there, come hell or high-water.

  “Me? Mouth off?” I ask, feigning offense, but taking it as a compliment.

  “Clara’s kid, Piper. You remember her? She’s still being fitted for her dress, so just don’t go saying anything about her being the only one all dressed up.

  Piper?

  The name rings a bell.

  I haven’t seen Clara for years, only kept tight with Rhys.

  I think I remember her daughter now. A kid the last time I saw her.

  “She's the one who—” I begin to ask, but Rhys butts in, talking over me quickly.

  “Yeah, yeah. She’s the one who puked on you on the rollercoaster that one time. Glad we sat in front of you two.” Rhys reflects with another dry laugh.

  “I’ll see you at seven,” I clip, knowing we both have plenty of other things to do beforehand.

  “And don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance from Pukey Piper,” I add.

  Not realizing for a second just how one simple thing, something as strange as a ‘pre-rehearsal’ for my best buddy’s wedding could change my life forever.

  SEVEN FIFTEEN P.M.

  A Marine is never late.

  Late, or even early. Both can mean you’re dead when you have orders and timing is a factor.

  Seven-fifteen means seven-fifteen. On the mark.

  But today it seems everything is in my way, holding me up or back from getting to Rhys’s pre-rehearsal on time.

  I call and text him on the way, but I get no reply.

  Sorry, buddy. I’m on my way.

  I prepare myself for ‘the look’, maybe even a few words of disappointment from him. I have to suck it up though and just do my best once I get inside.

  Finally finding a parking spot after circling the block a half dozen times.

  It’s in a local church, quiet inside the foyer until my already agitated, big body pushes the doors open way too hard, making the whole place echo like I’ve just detonated a grenade.

  Bannon ‘The Cannon’ has arrived.

  There’s Rhys, spinning on his heel at the sudden noise. Always ready for anything.

  Clara cranes her neck and scowls at me. Her friend giving me daggers too.

  The priest makes a clicking sound and breathes out heavily through his nose. Eyes looking over the rims of his glasses, instantly vexed by my entrance.

  All of this echoes through the church like a giant speaker.

  But the only thing I can really focus on?

  The one thing in the whole building, this whole day that has my attention, is the incredible blonde standing next to Clara.

  From behind she’s…well… let’s just say she has the kind of hips and ass that a man my size could truly appreciate, given half a chance.

  Her natural golden blond hair is up in a ponytail, and she’s in a fancy dress.

  Like a wedding dress, but no train or whatever they call it.

  All that shit that drags behind it.

  She takes her time to turn, giving me some time to do some more of my own reconnaissance of her curves and smooth skin.

  Her neck turns to reveal her round face, button nose, and just enough cleavage that tells my body she’s built for active duty.

  Her front is as stunning as the back, but those eyes.

  Those aquamarine, deep blue eyes take any wind I have left right outta me.

  I stand frozen to the spot, scanning her from top to bottom one more time, wanting someone to pinch or slap me so I know this is real.

  Her dress is pure white, with lace sleeves and a lace-up, satin bodice design that only highlights her stunning figure even more.

  I stand in between two rows of large wooden pews, frozen.