Page 14 of Bernadette
Hank sighed heavily as he looked up and around. He looked at Bernie, then back up and gave a whistle. “Dryden!” he yelled, then turned back to Bernie. “There should be close to eight hundred people at the wedding reception.”
“Holy shit, Stuart knows that many people?”
“No, it’s that the Erwins are famous for their BBQs, and decided to invite the general public for the reception.” Hank paused as a man approached them, and with his hand on Bernie’s elbow, he held her arm out toward the newcomer. “This is Chuck Dryden, he’s known Morgan all her life. If you have any questions, he’ll be able to answer them. Chuck, this is Bernadette Cromwell.”
“The Commander for the EWMs?” Chuck asked in shocked awe as he took the hand offered him, and when he felt a tingle in his palm, he immediately tightened his grip. He liked that she didn’t shrink away from him. It wasn’t like he always blended into the background. At six foot four, and almost two hundred and fifty pounds, he wasn’t a shrinking violet. He liked to contribute his well-muscled body to the fact that he worked construction every day of his adult life. Yes, he was the boss supervisor, but he could be found most days in the trenches with his workers, some days more literally than the others. With their hands still entwined, he nodded to Hank. “I got this.”
“You know about me?” Bernie asked in shock, wanting to hold onto the guy’s hand longer, but they turned and with one of his hands on the small of her back, they made their way toward a large farmhouse. When they went around to the side, she assumed he was taking her to the seating area. She didn’t have long to realize she was correct.
“Morg said she was expecting someone who was a commander to come work for her and the others at Boswell.”
“Do you work for Boswell?”
“Not directly,” Chuck grinned at her, and had to pause when they got lost in each other’s eyes. He cleared his throat, then indicated with one hand for her to precede him.
“What does that mean? Not directly?”
“It means that I help when and where I can. If Morg and the others don’t need us men, we have other jobs. I am the supervisor for Stuart Construction. A company that two of the brothers own.”
“How many brothers does Morgan have?” Bernie asked in confusion, and when she stumbled over an uneven pavement, she felt her girly parts wake up after a long, dormant period, when the man named Chuck grabbed her and held her tightly to him.
“Six.”
“Six what?” Bernie asked, seemingly unable to follow the conversation.
“Brothers.”
“Seven,” came a voice from behind them, and Bernie jerked, but sighed in relief when Chuck’s arms tightened around her.
“You’re her brother?”
“Might as well be,” another man said, and Bernie turned to see who had talked, and her brows rose to her hairline when she and Chuck were surrounded by six strapping men, all dressed in black jeans, and some variation of a button-down shirt. It wasn’t until she saw one of the women with them that she jerked to attention.
“Rizzo?” Bernie barked out and watched as the woman looked around, then stood at attention and actually saluted Bernie. “No need for that, I’m retired.”
“Sorry, Sir,” Rizzo said, then looked at the other women, and grinned. “Are you here just for the wedding?”
“No, I’ll be staying after. Stuart invited me to join Boswell.”
“Thank god,” someone said from the side, and Bernie turned and grinned at the other women standing there. At first it was awkward for about ten seconds, then hugs were exchanged with the women, and they introduced the men they stood next to, telling Bernie that they were Morgan’s brothers. By the time they completed the introductions, the man Bernie had first encountered out in the parking area walked up and down the rows, and everyone took their seats. When they were settled, Bernie looked to her left and saw several single men enter the row beside her. As they gained their seats, they all nodded at her.
“Get to know those faces,” Chuck said from her other side. When she whipped her head around to ask what he meant by that, she hadn’t realized he was so close, and their lips almost touched. Bernie didn’t want to make a scene, so she laid her hand on his thigh, squeezed, then leaned her head back enough to whisper in his ear.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Only that you’ll be collaborating closely with them. Mind if I introduce you?”
Bernie shrugged, then smirked as Chuck laid his hand over hers on his thigh, then leaned forward. “Gentlemen, this is Bernadette Cromwell. From my understanding, after the wedding she will be working for Boswell.”
Bernie watched at the men whipped their heads around and stared at her, but she didn’t feel any animosity from them. More like curiosity.
“What are your qualifications?” The man that sat four chairs away from her asked. His tone made Bernie bristle.
Sitting up straighter, she looked down her nose at him, and without saying a word watched the man practically wither before her eyes. She ignored the giggles from the women seated in front of her. Instead of answering the man, she asked a question of her own.
“And you are?”
The man audibly swallowed, and answered quietly. “David Helm, Homeland Security.”
