Blissed (Misfit Brides #1) by Jamie Farrell Page B

back.
    Best he could do these days.
    He popped upstairs into the simple bedroom he’d been assigned, changed into the only pair of shorts and T-shirt he had, laced up his shoes, and set out to visit a few places Serena had introduced him to.
    He was here. Might as well look into some of that closure his family kept harping on. He’d start small. Look. Maybe remember, maybe not.
    But he got lost trying to find the football stadium where he’d played in the Husband Games and gave up on finding it. Might’ve been his subconscious’s way of weaseling out of memories he didn’t want to face. Might’ve been time had healed his wounds while he wasn’t looking.
    Or he might’ve been the pansy-ass he’d accused Basil of being.
    CJ jogged through the streets of Bliss, not paying much attention to where he was going once he’d decided to actively avoid the courthouse and the stadium. He concentrated on nothing more than the ground beneath his feet, the burn of the just-this-side-of-chilly air in his lungs, and the strain of his muscles.
    It hadn’t been long since he’d gotten down from Kilimanjaro, and he’d trained hard for it, but that was no excuse to slack off. He had plans to hit Utah for some rock climbing soon as he was done in Bliss, and he wanted to stay in top shape.
    Soon, he was approaching the monstrosity of a wedding cake.
    That , he would never forget. On the rare nights over the past few years, when a beer and a persuasive companion had talked his story out of him, he’d always mentioned the wedding cake statue. A hundred feet high if it was an inch, with a fountain beneath the middle columned tiers of cake and staircases sloping down to fifty-foot columned cakes on either side.
    He had the gear to climb it. He could pretend he was in the mountains. Had to be some kind of law or ordinance against scaling it, which would make it about the biggest adrenaline rush CJ could hope for while he was here.
    He rounded a corner, and the full thing came into view. He hadn’t paid attention the last couple of times he’d driven past it this last week, but today, he did. Looked just like he remembered except for the missing fountain. Must’ve been taken out by the flood.
    A dark-haired little boy twirled on the flat surface beneath the middle statue, his navy jacket unzipped. CJ kept running, but he watched the kid, squinting to make out exactly what the boy was swinging around. Looked like some kind of stuffed animal with a horn and a dress.
    Saw it all in this town.
    He put his attention back on the road in front of him. St. Valentine’s was another half a mile up the road, and he was stretching his limits. Hadn’t eaten since Fiona stuffed him full of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and apple slices at lunch.
    A pop-pop-squizzz! shuddered at the cake, then a child’s scream splintered the crisp evening air.
    CJ whipped around. The little boy under the cake danced in place, shrieking and shielding his face while a spray of fountains erupted around him.
    “Mommy!” the kid wailed.
    CJ darted for him. He was almost there when a flash of denim and dark hair swooped across the fountain and grabbed the boy, hauling him up and hustling him to safety.
    Holy shit .
    CJ paused.
    Stumbled to a shocked halt, really.
    Hadn’t pegged her for having maternal instincts.
    She put the kid down and dropped to her knees, petting his hair and pulling off her jean jacket to wrap around him. Her eyes lifted, momentarily locking with his, and something both vulnerable and indomitable flashed across her features.
    Lungs heaving, muscles burning, CJ looked at the little boy again. Dark brown eyes. Mussed dark hair. Lips curled in a howl of fear and pain.
    He stumbled another step back.
    “Cindy,” the kid was sobbing. “Save Cindy.”
    Natalie looked back at the fountain. CJ did too. The stuffed animal lay in the middle, getting soaked. From one of the side cakes, an older woman in a floral print dress and Coke-bottle glasses