Bad Boy's Bridesmaid(2)

     



 

"So … " He crossed his arms. His copper eyes still sparkled, though maybe  not as bright as they once did. Dad and I always did look the most  alike-a more delicate dark with high cheek bones and almond eyes. Maybe  that's why Mom favored Lindsey? "You should probably go."

"I can stay."

"You don't have to," he said. "I know you have responsibilities to your sister."

I tapped the computer monitor. "But we're supposed to make a logo for Pebblemill Incorporated."

"I can draw that up. I'll scan it in for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Lindsey needs you. The wedding is a big event for this family. We probably won't have this kind of good news for a while."

Especially since my news probably wasn't what they wanted to hear.

I grabbed my purse and kissed Dad's cheek. His tone wasn't as casual as  he thought-less easy-breezy and more a hurricane-force gale of  insecurity.

"Mandy … your momma … "

I braced myself with a smile. "Yeah?"

"Is she … bringing anyone to the wedding?"

Without the divorce papers officially signed? No way. The only person  Mom could officially take was Jesus, and he hadn't rsvp'ed because she  refused to drop off his cross long enough to hand him the invitation.

"No," I said. "She's coming alone."

"Ah, okay." His smile wasn't that confident.

"So no wild dates for you then?"

He slumped. Oh, I shouldn't have made the joke. Was it too early to blame pregnancy hormones?

"Oh, no. No, no, no." He chuckled, nervously. His eyes suddenly widened. "Why? Does your momma think I'm dating?"

"Oh, no. Not at all. I was just-"

"She's not dating?"

I shuddered to think. "No. She's all alone."

Dad's expression crumbled. "Well … that's not what I want either."

Shoot. "That's not what I meant-"

"I mean, if I could be at home-"

"Oh, I know. She knows. We all … know."

"We have some things to work out. But it's never been about you girls. You know that, right?"

I wasn't a child, but it was nice to hear it, even if I knew it wasn't the truth. "Okay, well-"

"You know … I let her have the house."

Oh, the alimony pony was a poor substitute for the horse Lindsey and I  so desperately wanted as kids. I couldn't get in the middle of my  parents' fights anymore. It hurt too much.

"Dad, I gotta go. Lindsey's gonna turn as blue as the invitations if I don't get over there-"

"I know. That's why I wanted your mom to have the house. So she and  Lindsey could have a place to stage all this stuff for the wedding, and  we could sort through our problems without that stress." Dad squeezed my  hand. "You'll see, Mandy-Pandy. Once the wedding is over? Everything's  going back to normal."

Unfortunately, that wasn't possible. I longed for normal. I had no idea  how much I loved normal until my life became defined by a single  frightening test. When I was younger, everyone said it was the SATs that  would define our future. At least the analogy section didn't require a  urine sample.

Dad offered me his fries again before I bolted out the door. I took one  to be polite, even nibbled it, but I knew how it would end. I pitched  the fry and fought the sickness before hopping into my car.

The Honda's air conditioning didn't do much. Whatever glow I was  supposed to have sure as hell felt a lot like the cold sweat of terror. I  hoped that would go away.

I had nine months to get ready for the baby.

Well … eight now, I guessed.

That wasn't helping.

I focused anything that wasn't the circus renting out my uterus. My  to-do list was folded in my pocket. The checklist wasn't simple, but it  kept me occupied in the months leading up to the wedding. Two months  out, and we still had a lot to do.

I grabbed a pen-one of Lindsey's bachelorette decorations with the  frilly pink pom-poms on top. A rather expressive part of the male  anatomy had once nestled within the pink as well. In an attempt to  appear professional at my job, I'd snapped off the top before meeting  with a client. Of course, Dad walked in on the impromptu bris and  assumed I made a declaration against all men, specifically directed at  him and the messy divorce.

That's when he decided to explain his side of the separation.

The therapy I'd need to suppress the words libido, mid-life vaginal  dryness, and swingers' retreat would cost more than Lindsey's wedding.         

     



 

Maybe it was for the best they'd decided to get divorced. Like Mom said,  some people didn't belong together, no matter the babies they made. Of  course, it took my parents thirty years to realize it. I just couldn't  imagine how either of them walked away from the love of their life like  that …

I teared up. Not good. I wasn't thinking about it now. Not a thought about parents or babies or relationships or … Nate.

My tummy flipped in a good way-how it always did when Nate looked at me, spoke to me.

Touched me.

"What can I check off … ?"

I scratched off the tasks that were impossible or potentially illegal.  Another couple had already reserved Lindsey's preferred venue, but she  begged me for the favor.

Because I loved my sister, I called to ask if they would trade dates or venues.

Because I wasn't insane, I crossed off the line encouraging me to  impersonate the county health department and scare away the couple with  concerns of a norovirus outbreak.

Only Lindsey would compromise the Geneva Convention to plan her wedding.

I scribbled on my list.

Venue Change

Invitations

Seating Chart

Doctor?

Cake Tasting

Hide the baby

Musicians

Talk to Nate?

Don't talk to Nate.

Bridesmaid Dress Colors





At least they were all doable, or would be, if Lindsey was in an accommodating mood. Otherwise it was time to prepare for war.

I drove to Mom's house. Lindsey chose our childhood home as the  battleground for all things wedding, and Mom supplied the ammunition. I  didn't know what I worried about more-the pregnancy or the grief I'd get  for ruining Lindsey's special day. This would be worse than the  nosebleed I got at Lindsey's sweet sixteenth-when the family was told I  hemorrhaged for attention.

It'd be different if I had more money. A better job than just working for Dad at the advertising agency.

If I were actually dating Nate.

He might have been my first one-night stand … but I wasn't his. I knew  exactly the type of man I'd invited into my bed too. I had wanted  something quick, easy, fun. No strings attached.

Nate was good for that. He had been string-less since he was a  teenager-the original wooden boy, except this Pinocchio did lie, and it  wasn't Nate's nose that grew. That part stayed nice and woody.

Impressive. Memorable.

Gorgeous, like the rest of him.

Fertile too, apparently. What I wouldn't have given for termites that night.

Worst of all? Nate wasn't the type to hang around once he got what he  was after. Usually. He'd chased me for years, high-school into college,  and while that sort of dedication earned an amazing night where the  earth moved, the skies opened, and angels sang, I had hoped it'd last  only one night. I guessed the consequences lasted longer … more like nine  months.

I'd have to tell him. My stomach turned. That wasn't going to be an easy  conversation, but it was early in the pregnancy now anyway. The last  thing I wanted was to tell him and then have something … happen.

I teared up again.

The little guy was still so new to me, but it was good to see the momma bear instincts kicking in.

I shouldered my bags and grabbed as much paperwork as I could carry  within the binders of wedding plans and bridal magazines. Lindsey's  obsession with Pinterest was only the beginning, and organization became  a full-time job.

The door opened before I made it into the house. I thought it'd be my sister.

I was wrong.

Nate's green eyes crackled with an electric amusement that teased as  much as it shocked. His gaze wrapped around me like a pair of wandering  hands, tickling everything he'd already touched, tasted, and catalogued  for his own wedding memories.

Oh, this was bad. What was he doing at my house?

I nearly dropped the binder and ran.

Nate Kensington was pure sex-a man made of muscle and wicked ambition  wrapped in a depraved, sensual fantasy. He was the best and worse idea a  woman could have, and such thoughts belonged only in the darkest  bedrooms, imagined under silken sheets.

That's why I'd propositioned him. Nate embraced trouble as easily as he  captured women in his charm. He didn't even need a net. He wielded a  glance that'd unhook a bra strap through the strength of his willpower,  and it wasn't a talent that should have belonged to a man more confident  in a pair of beat-up jeans and boots than a wedding tux.

The blonde scruff on his hard jaw was as intimidating as his smirk, like  a wolf licking his chops and preparing for the next course.

Which, of course, was me.

It had always been me.

Nate spent a majority of our time together eating me up, and it was pure  bliss to be absolutely devoured by this man. I wished he took his taste  and moved on, but Nate hadn't let me escape from our one night  unscathed.