Daughters Of The Bride(49)
Her sisters and mother were staring at her. She carefully pressed her lips together, then cleared her throat. “What?”
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” Sienna said flatly. “When did that happen?”
“Hey,” Rachel started.
Courtney stopped her. “I’m sure Sienna meant that as just a maid, I shouldn’t know any of this.”
“What she said,” Sienna told Rachel. “You always assume the worst about me.”
“You usually deserve it.”
“Courtney’s a grown-up. Stop babying her.”
“Girls,” Maggie said mildly. “Let’s focus our attention on me and my wedding.”
Courtney laughed. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”
“Awhile now. I get to be the bride. Perhaps even a bridezilla. This time around, I’m going to have exactly what I want. Neil and I are determined to have the wedding of our dreams.”
Sienna made another taco. “Mom, what did Neil do? I know he’s retired now, but before? He never talks about it.”
“Oh, he owned a few of those gaming places.”
Gaming? “Like a casino?” Courtney asked.
“No, those places where you play video games and eat pizza. There was a chain.”
“Like a franchise?” Rachel asked.
Maggie busied herself pouring more drinks. “Yes. Like that. So back to the wedding. I can’t decide on the dresses for you three. We can do the same style in different colors or different styles in the same color. What would you prefer?”
“Different styles.”
“Different colors.”
Rachel and Sienna spoke at the same time. They looked at Courtney. She held up both hands. “I am so not breaking that tie. Mom?”
Maggie picked up her glass. “I say we all get a little drunk, then decide.”
Quinn sat in the lobby of the hotel, reading. It was late—close to eleven. The French doors were open and despite it being nearly the first of June, there was a cool breeze blowing in off the ocean.
Sarge lay on the carpet, chewing on a stolen sock. Every couple of months someone on the staff went through the lost and found, rescuing any socks. They were then left in strategic spots around the hotel for Sarge to find and destroy.
Pearl lay next to him. As Quinn watched, she stood and stretched. After shaking, she gracefully jumped onto the sofa and pushed her head under his arm in a not-very-subtle bid for attention.
“Missing your mom?” Quinn asked as he rubbed the side of Pearl’s face. “Joyce will be back in tomorrow.”
His grandmother had driven to San Francisco to have dinner with a friend. Rather than make the return trip late at night, she would stay over and drive back in the morning.
He continued to stroke the dog. Eventually, she stretched out next to him, her head on his lap. He could see the white spot on her chest—the one that gave the beautiful blonde poodle her name.
They were an odd pair, he thought with a smile. Sarge—fourteen pounds of bichon-mix terror—and Pearl, a lean, elegant poodle princess. But their relationship wasn’t about appearances. It was about being a family. They were a bonded pair. Years ago he’d promised Joyce that if something ever happened to her, he would take her beloved dogs and make sure they were always together.
“Not to worry,” he told the two. “Joyce will outlive us all.”
Sarge growled in agreement as he continued to show the sock who was in charge. Quinn turned his attention back to his book. Sometime later, close to midnight, when he was thinking he would take the dogs for a last quick walk before turning in, the main lobby door opened and Courtney walked inside.
He hadn’t seen much of her since her mother’s engagement party. He’d been busy looking for a place for his business and she’d been doing her thing here at the hotel.
He watched her careful and controlled stride as she walked across the hardwood floor and realized she was completely drunk.
He held in a grin. “Have a good time?”
She jumped and shrieked. Sarge came to his feet as if ready to take on danger, while Pearl simply appeared anxious.
Courtney put a hand on her chest. “You scared me. What are you doing, lurking like that?”
“I’m reading with my peeps.” He stroked Pearl. “Joyce is visiting a friend in San Francisco.”
Courtney dropped her arm to her side. “So you’re pet sitting? That’s nice.”
Her gaze was slightly unfocused and her cheeks flushed. She looked about seventeen—all bangs and long legs. She wasn’t wearing anything special. Just a plain yellow T-shirt and jeans. No makeup. But there was something appealing about her. Something that spoke to that dark, empty place inside him.