Always Mine by Christie Ridgway

be, too. She was a librarian, for God’s sake! He expected more of her nose in a book and less of her nose in his life.
    She’d casually asked him a couple of questions about the fire. The name Jerry Palmer had passed her lips a time or two.
    He didn’t want to talk about the fire or Jerry.
    â€œYou asked me,” Will said, breaking into his thoughts, “if I was so sure that what we’d done in Vegas was a mistake.”
    â€œOf course it was a mistake,” Owen blurted out. Then he realized the women had gone quiet and that both of them were looking at him. Great. He’d just insulted his best friend and his best friend’s wife. Not to mention the woman he’d married, too.
    â€œI mean…I mean…” He shoved his plate off his lap. Hell. “No offense meant, okay?”
    Will calmly took another bite of his sandwich. “Best damn mistake of my whole life.” Reaching over, he ruffled the ends of Emily’s hair. She beamed back sexy sunshine that softened her husband’s face.
    Izzy was the one sending him a dirty look. Her usually warm brown eyes were cooling, and that plump bottom lip of hers was pushed out in disapproval. “I’m sure the newlyweds appreciate your best wishes.”
    He swallowed his groan. “Look—”
    Emily hopped up, interrupting his apology. “I brought chocolate chip cookies, too. C’mon, Iz, help me get them.” She dragged her friend up by the elbow.
    As the women left the room, taking the remains of the sandwiches and plates, Will grinned at Owen. “That’s right. She said chocolate chip cookies. My wife bakes.”
    Wife. “But…but…” Regardless of what he’d expressed on the night of the fire, could this really behis best friend’s happy ending? “Are you absolutely sure you want to be a married man?”
    That, after all, had been the opposite of what Will wanted for himself as they’d headed for Vegas going on six weeks ago. Finally freed of the responsibilities of raising five younger siblings, Will had professed to be ready to take up the reins of a wild bachelorhood.
    Will propped his feet on the nearby ottoman. “I want to be married to Emily.”
    And she was already living with Will, just as Izzy was living with Owen. Didn’t Will find all the female companionship distracting? The soft patter of their footsteps, the heady smell of their perfume, the way they looked in jeans, or a robe or even a towel turban? But then, Will got to work out his distraction between the sheets, while Owen had to ignore his by watching college football on TV or pretending to take another dozenth nap.
    â€œYou okay, Owen?”
    â€œHuh,” he grunted again, and grabbed up the remote to thumb up the sound on his set. More little insects scrambled across the green screen. Go…whichever team was losing. He was identifying with the underdog these days, big time.
    â€œHow’re things with you and Izzy?”
    â€œI don’t want to talk about it.” Remember, he didn’t want to talk about anything! Why else did Will think he had the volume up loud enough to hear theannouncers drone on about their glory days throwing the pigskin around? Good God, was there no one more self-involved than a sports announcer with a pretty face and a half-dozen seasons in the NFL?
    â€œWhat about the night of the fire? The night that Jerry died and we were hurt?” Will asked.
    We were hurt. Oh, crap. Yeah, there was someone more self-involved than those bull-necked bobble-heads on TV. And that would be him. Will had been injured that night, too—he’d gone through his own harrowing experience. “Are you okay?”
    â€œTwisted ankle, already all healed up. Nothing close to what you’re dealing with.” He looked at his feet, propped on the ottoman, then he looked back over at Owen. “The worst part was when I was trapped under that