At six foot, Hawtie was taller than many men, including her groom, but even with her height, she was entirely womanly with her lethal curves. In her fifties, Hawtie could still turn anyone’s head when she strutted by with her hips swaying. There was a reason she’d been called Hawtie the Body since she was a teen, and the clinging dress she wore showed off that reason.
It had been three months since she’d seen last seen Hawtie and Clint. The two of them had been busy traveling in their RV while Quinn had been in Canada with Julian and the others. She and Julian had left Canada a couple of times in order to meet with Vern and some other vampires, but for the most part they’d spent the past three months with Cassie, Devon, and the children.
Quinn had hated to say goodbye to all of them and leave the warm environment they’d created for the children to thrive in, but it was time for them to meet with the vampires in Oregon. When she’d told Clint and Hawtie that she would be heading to Oregon soon, they had asked her to meet them in Vegas on her way there and she’d happily agreed. She’d squealed in delight when they’d announced that they were getting married while she was here.
Hawtie’s smile caused her warm brown eyes to crinkle when she turned to Quinn. “I think I’m ready to go.”
Quinn grinned at her as she briefly adjusted the small tiara on Hawtie’s upswept auburn hair. Behind her, Julian unfolded himself from the booth and rose to his feet with supple ease. Quinn gathered her own bouquet of red roses from where she’d left it on the table.
Her eyes flicked to the mirror before she could stop them. The memories of the fire didn’t come screaming to life like they had for the first couple of months after it, but the blistering heat of an imaginary flame licked at her skin before she abruptly shut the memory away.
She ran her hand over the soft brown hair sticking nearly an inch off her head now. Her eyebrows and lashes had come back in, but it was neither of those things that gave her a shock of memory every time she caught her reflection.
She knew, with more time, she would get used to not seeing her scars, but their disappearance was still too new for her. Her finger briefly traced over one of the remaining scars on her palm before she turned away from the mirror to face Hawtie.
“Let’s go!” Quinn declared brightly.
Hawtie squeezed her arm before Julian took hold of Hawtie’s hand. He led her to the doorway and pulled the door open. They stepped out into the main area of the small chapel. Clint, Chris, Melissa, Luther, Dani, and Lou were all standing in the room, waiting for them. Clint’s lined face broke into a broad grin. He threw his shoulders proudly back as he surveyed Hawtie from head to toe.
“You look beautiful!” Clint declared.
“I know,” Hawtie replied. “You’re not looking so bad yourself.”
And he wasn’t. Clint had somehow managed to get his bushy gray hair under control without a baseball cap, and he surprisingly wore a sports coat well. Quinn never would have believed Clint could look at home in anything other than jeans and a flannel, but she was completely wrong.
“I’ll take it from here, Billy Idol,” Clint said to Julian.
Julian scowled at him. “You’ve used that one before.”
“Still applies. Move aside,” Clint commanded.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to kill him for you?” Julian asked Hawtie. “You can do better.”
Hawtie laughed as she released Julian’s hand and stepped forward to hook her arm through Clint’s. “This short little man ran away with my heart in grade school.”
Clint chuckled. “I got to her before she knew better. Now all of you, go. I’ve been trying to get her here for almost fifty years, and I’m not taking the chance of her running from me now.”
“Wouldn’t blame her,” Julian replied with a smile.
“Go,” Quinn said and nudged him in the back.
Julian kissed her before turning away to walk down the aisle with the others. Quinn remained waiting at the back of the white carpet running down the center aisle to the small pulpit at the front. The others split up to sit in the front pews. When the music began to play, Quinn walked slowly down the aisle and slid into the pew beside Julian. He took hold of her hand, and his fingers traced over the gold wedding band and ruby ring he’d given her a week after they’d discussed rings in the RV.
“Mine,” he whispered.
She turned to smile at him and leaned over to kiss his cheek as her hand fell on the silver ring she’d given him. “And you have been branded.”
“Repeatedly,” he replied with a grin that had her imagining wicked things that had no place being thought of in a chapel.
Pulling away from him, she turned to wait for Hawtie and Clint to make their way down the aisle. Julian’s finger trailed over the skin exposed by the off-the-shoulder black dress Hawtie had chosen for her. His hand wrapped around her nape, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin there. She was sure he’d caught a glimpse of some of her thoughts when his finger stilled on her, and his body went rigid against hers.
Leaning forward, his lips caressed her ear while he spoke. “It’s not a real church.”
She laughed as she shot him a look over her shoulder. “It is a real wedding.”
“After the wedding.”