Bad Boy’s Bridesmaid(11)
Lindsey, Sandra, and my mother all gasped. Conrad apologized immediately, but the damage was done.
Marcus chuckled, despite Bryce’s shushing. “Nice knowing ya, Conrad.”
Sandra’s voice rumbled low. “I should have prepared for your selfishness. Everything is money money money to you. Payday was more exciting than our honeymoon!”
Mandy stood, forcing a smile as my parents slurped their scalding coffee. Second degree esophageal burns were preferable to the awkwardness of excusing themselves from the room.
Conrad blew his fuse, and probably an artery in his neck. His eyes bulged, and he pointed a thick finger at Sandra. “Of course I looked forward to pay day. About as much as you’ll look forward to your alimony check!”
“Don’t you throw that in my face,” she said.
“Get a job!”
“Support your family!”
“Stop bleeding it dry and maybe we’ll have a chance to save some money!”
“Stop denying your child the wedding she deserves so you can pinch more pennies. For God’s sake, Conrad, it’s not like Mandy’s going to find a man.”
Mandy threw the tray against the wall. The room silenced.
“Stop it!” Tears rolled over her cheeks. “Can’t we talk like normal people for once? You used to love each other! Just be civil for one hour!”
Sandra huffed, her mouth falling open. “Mandy, don’t make a scene. You’re embarrassing yourself!”
Silence.
Almost. Bryce tried to play it cool and turned on the TV.
“Next week on Wedding Hunters, Denny wants to propose, but he can’t afford a ring! It’s off to the plasma bank for a donation in the name of love—”
Mandy stormed out of the living room. I followed. I didn’t have to hurry. She trembled in rage and couldn’t unlock the back door. I helped her, but she didn’t speak, just rushed outside.
It tore me apart to see her that upset. Mandy’s smile was too pretty to lose to tears, especially when it was bullshit family drama sapping her energy and…
Getting her sick in the bushes outside?
Damn. She took her family seriously. There was her first problem.
“You okay?” I asked.
Mandy flinched. She froze, staring at me.
“I’m sorry. I’m…worked up.”
“It’s okay.”
She heaved a breath. “I can’t go back in there.”
“Come on.” I guided her away from the bushes. “I’ll take you out. Get you something to eat.”
“I’d rather crawl under a rock.”
“How about under the sheets?”
I regretted it as soon as I said it, but she actually giggled.
“You know…” Mandy bit her lip. “Yeah. That sounds good.”
It was the first time a beautiful woman’s proposition ever took me by surprise.
And it was the first time I ever considered refusing one.
If she was this hot and cold when she wasn’t dealing with the DMZ imploding in her living room, Mandy wasn’t ready to get fucked. She needed someone to talk to.
For whatever reason, I liked that I was the man who’d listen.
Chapter Five – Mandy
“Good families do exist, right?” I posed the question to the universe. The universe didn’t answer, but it did make me nauseous. Maybe it was a sign.
“I’m sure they do,” Nate said. “Somewhere.”
“It’s just not fair. I barely survived my mother’s endless judgment during my childhood. Now I have to be voluntarily humiliated as an adult?”
“Can’t pick your family.” Nate leaned over his bar and passed me a basket of French fries fresh from the fryer. “But you can run far, far away from them.”
“If only.”
“Lindsey can’t chase you wearing heels.”
I snorted. “Yeah, except I’m the one breaking them in for her.”
“Tell me you aren’t serious.”
“I’ll show you the blisters.”
I dipped my French fry in the ranch dressing. Nate passed me a beer. I wished. I asked for water instead. He poured it into a frosted glass, and I dove into my fries.
Nate had a bad reputation. He was a womanizer, a commitment-phobic, a man who’d chase me to the ends of the earth just to steal my panties—but he whipped up the best ranch dressing I’d ever tasted.
I didn’t know how he did it, but my stomach soothed around him. I’d blame the pregnancy hormones. Just sitting with the father of my secret baby was relaxing enough that I could eat more than a single saltine and half a tangerine.
But the one person who made me feel halfway normal was the one person I couldn’t have feelings for.
Except Nate had whisked me away from home, delivered me to his bar, and served me a plate of salty and crispy French fries the instant I sat down.
For someone who claimed to screw ‘em and leave ‘em, Nate knew how to please a lady—besides the obvious oral sex, passionate fucking, and complete fulfillment of their physical needs.
I bit my lip. Not the thought I should have had in a crowded bar.
Arrogance attracted a lot of people. Nate knew half of the patrons by name, and the rest were casuals or newcomers who seemed to enjoy his brews and the classy atmosphere. Three men greeted him with handshakes and grins.
A couple of blondes tried to swoop in.
Nate stared only at me and stole a fry. I shouldn’t have smiled.
He sipped his drink and gestured to the multitude of beers on tap. “Sure I can’t get you anything? You need something stronger.”
I deflected like a pro. “I just had to get out of the house. The wedding turned into a zoo overnight, and I’m not allowed to tranq the bride.”
“Would make for a more entertaining reception.”
“More entertaining than what? The choreographed dancing? The ten ton cake? The musicians I’m supposed to audition next week?”
“Maybe?”
“We have a DJ and a string quartet, a five course dinner and dancing, two hundred and fifty people in attendance.” I nibbled my fry. “And let’s not forget the best part. Sandra and Conrad Prescott entertaining the guests by performing their latest hit act—Marital Grievances of the Past Thirty Years.”
Nate laughed. The deep rumble warmed me despite my best efforts to wallow in misery.
“I hate being caught in the middle,” I said. “The bull’s eye on my forehead won’t match my bridesmaid’s dress.”
“So shrug it off.”
“I can’t. This is too important. My family is falling apart. I’m trying to do anything I can to stop it.”
He frowned. “Sometimes there’s nothing you can do.”
“Don’t say that. I don’t want to give up.”
“But it isn’t your responsibility to mediate. That’s a horrible position to be in.”
My eyes prickled with tears. I’d much rather lose my lunch than my cool.
Crying wouldn’t solve anything, but the damn hormones made me seem even crazier than I was before. Nothing I did or said would ease the fear creeping around my heart.
“My parents were married for thirty years,” I said. “Thirty. They lived together. They raised a family. Mom stood by Dad while he built his advertising business. And now look at them.”
Nate nodded. “They are pretty damn explosive.”
“Today was just a firing range. You missed the nuke last week.”
“What happened then?”
“Dad stopped by to give Lindsey a check for her bouquet. He asked for a drink. I got him some water, and the glass’s condensation dripped on the table.”
Nate shrugged. I sighed. Maybe the trickle of water on my great-grandma’s antique end table meant more to Mom than normal people.
My family’s fights lacked foxholes, but that didn’t mean we weren’t digging shrapnel out of our butts every time Dad napalmed what good memories we had left with a careless water ring.
“I’ve never heard them fight like that before. I was in the room for the bombshell about every sexual incompatibility they ever had.” I pushed the fries away. Not even they could help block out that particular memory. “I know every repressed fantasy, Dad’s treatment for low testosterone, and one very bad experience with some sort of warming lubricant that, frankly, might turn me celibate.”
Nate smirked. “Don’t say that.”
“The PTSD is real.”
“Well, we absolutely can’t let celibacy happen. Tell you what…I’ll help you out. We’ll experiment with all the warming lube you want, baby. We’ll get through this together.”
“My hero.”
“Gotta help a damsel in distress. Closing those legs? That’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.”
I was pretty sure opening them was the biggest mistake I’d made to date.
I don’t know what was worse—getting pregnant…or staring into the beautiful green eyes of the father-to-be that had no idea how much his life was going to change.
I never expected Nate Kensington to actually give a damn about anyone but himself, but he served me food and listened while I blabbered about how I was feeling. I always felt confident and sexy after flirting with him. Suddenly, I was…comforted after just talking with him.
His smile made me feel like the most beautiful woman in his bar. And when he touched me? It was like no one in the world could tear us apart.