Allison Leigh - The Bff Bride

Tristan chuckled. “Eat.”

“Not before we say grace,” Gloria said mildly. And inflexibly. So they all bowed their heads while Gloria said the blessing.

Justin leaned close to her again. “Nothing changes,” he murmured almost soundlessly.

Tabby’s jaw tightened. She looked from her clasped hands to the insanely handsome, violet-eyed man sitting only inches away from her.

“You changed,” she whispered back.

Then she looked back at her hands and closed her eyes. Gloria was still saying grace.

Tabby just prayed that Justin would go away again, and the sooner the better.

He’d been her best friend.

But he was still her worst heartbreak.

Chapter Two Contents Cover Introduction He just wanted things the way they’d been. When they’d been as comfortable and familiar as a pair of old, beloved boots. He dropped his hand and looked at Tabby from the corner of his eye. “If I let you punch me in the nose, would you finally get over your anger?” She stabbed her fork into her pie, seeming to focus fiercely on it. “We’re not five.” “We were nine.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I remember it vividly, since you managed to break it.” “I never intended to break your nose,” she muttered. “I know.” He waited a beat. “We survived that. So can’t we survive another kiss, even one—I hate to admit—as badly executed as the last one was?” It had been a helluva lot more than a kiss, but he didn’t figure she wanted to get into that territory any more than he did. “It doesn’t matter. It was years ago.” He leaned over the arm of his chair toward her. His gaze caught on the wedge of creamy skin showing between the unbuttoned edges of her shirt. Stupid, because there wasn’t anything like that between him and Tabby. Except that one time they were both trying not to think about. About the Author A frequent name on bestseller lists, ALLISON LEIGH ’s high point as a writer is hearing from readers that they laughed, cried or lost sleep while reading her books. She credits her family with great patience for the time she’s parked at her computer, and for blessing her with the kind of love she wants her readers to share with the characters living in the pages of her books. Contact her at www.allisonleigh.com . Title Page The BFF Bride Allison Leigh www.millsandboon.co.uk Dedication For my daughters and the fine young men who love them. Prologue 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 Epilogue Extract Copyright

His mother might have put the meal on the table, but it was up to her husband and sons to cart everything back to the kitchen when the meal was done.

Not even the Thanksgiving holiday—or televised football games—got them out of that particular task.

So even though Justin generally would rather poke sharp sticks into his eyes than load a dishwasher, he did his fair share, carting stacks of plates and glasses from the dining room to the kitchen, following on Erik’s heels.

And while the rest of the women in the family had pitched in to help Hope, the three men were brutally left on their own by their fellows.

“Typical,” Justin muttered, dumping the plates on the counter next to the sink his dad was filling with soap and water. “Couldn’t even get Caleb to help.”

Erik chuckled. He was five years older than Justin and he good-naturedly threw a clean dish towel at him. “You ever help clean up when we have a meal at his folks’ place?” The question was rhetorical. “Be glad that half the crowd today used disposable plates.”

Justin had personally filled a big bag with the trash. He would have been happy to fill a half dozen of them if it meant not having to load a dishwasher.

“Stop grousing and get it done,” their father ordered. “Dessert’s waiting on us, and Squire never likes waiting for his dessert.”

“The old man looks good,” Justin said. He left the dish towel on the counter and pulled open the dishwasher. He began to load it methodically, mechanically transferring the items his dad rinsed into the racks.

“He’s gonna run for city council,” Tristan said, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “There’s a special election coming up in February.”

“Squire?” Justin couldn’t help but laugh at the notion of his ninetysome-year-old grandfather sitting at a council meeting. “That ought to shake things up around Weaver. He’s always hated politicians.”

“Which is the reason why he figures an old rancher ought to try his hand at it.” Erik started filling containers with the leftover food. They heard a cheer from the great room and he groaned a little.

“Shouldn’t have bet against Casey on the game,” Justin said knowingly. Their cousin had an uncanny gift for picking winners. “What’re you gonna lose to him this time?”

“Week out at the fishing cabin. And I haven’t lost yet.”

“When’s the last time you won a bet against him?” Tristan stacked more rinsed plates on the counter. “What’s going on with that promotion of yours, Jus?”

Justin added the dishes to the rack with a little more force than necessary. “Not a damn thing.”

“You crack those plates, son, you’ll be the one to face up to your mother.”

Justin straightened again and met his father’s gaze. “It’s gotten...complicated.”

Erik blew out a soft whistle. “Probably happens when you’re dating the boss’s daughter. Warned you.”

“I didn’t get the job at CNJ Pharmaceuticals nine years ago because of Gillian. I won’t lose it because of her, either.” He was trusting that his relationship with Charles Jennings, her father and the owner of the company, was on firmer ground than that, at least. He swiped his damp hands down his jeans and retrieved a cold bottle of beer from the refrigerator. “And we stopped seeing each other almost half a year ago.”

“Thank God,” Erik muttered. “Woman was a nosebleed.”

Justin grimaced. “I don’t sneer at your choice of women.”

Erik grinned. “How could you? Izzy is the perfect girl.”

Justin couldn’t deny the truth of that, though he liked arguing with his brother merely for the sake of it. And he didn’t really want to think about Gillian, anyway. Because she was a nosebleed, even though his brother shouldn’t rub it in. And even though it had taken Justin several long years to face it.

He toyed with the beer cap but didn’t actually twist it open. “The complication isn’t because of Charles’s daughter. He’s put me on a special project we’ve had some problems with. If I can bring it in on time, the VP position should be mine.” Making him the youngest vice president in the company’s century-long history.

“Give me cows over pharmaceuticals,” Erik said, hanging his arm over Justin’s shoulder. “But I suppose if anyone can do it, it’s my genius little brother, Dr. Justin Clay.”

Justin shrugged off the arm. He had a PhD in microbiology and immunology, and dual master’s degrees in computer science and chemistry. But he rarely used the title that went with the PhD. The fact was, he’d often felt a little out of step among his extended ranching family, even though his computer-geek father had bucked that trend, too.

“I want to work on the project from Weaver,” he announced, and saw the look his brother and dad exchanged. “I’ll be able to concentrate on it better here. I figure Aunt Bec might clear the way for me to work at the hospital, since she runs the place.”

“Rebecca probably can, though that’s—”

“Rebecca probably can what?” Justin’s eldest uncle, Sawyer, entered the kitchen carrying several empty beer bottles.