Table of Contents
Sneak Peek
Blurb
Dedication
Oh, I Do!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About the Author
Love Romance?
Visit Dreamspinner Press
Copyright
“Hi,” Holt said after gathering Wiley close again, almost intimate but more for the audience’s benefit. He was steady and open, seeming to will Wiley into not freaking totally out and diving off the back of the stage into the river.
Holt tightened his arm when Wiley unconsciously glanced behind them at the appealing thought. His smile was more chagrin than humor, and he closed his eyes and touched Wiley’s hairline with the briefest, softest of kisses.
Wiley unexpectedly shivered from that spot all the way to his toes.
Holt pulled back, stood still a breath, and then lifted his microphone.
Say Yes to a Mess
By Elle Brownlee
Can a fake engagement become a real marriage?
Wiley Grey is stuck in a rut. He loves his picturesque hometown, helping in his best friend’s bakery, and the house his grandmother left him. But something’s missing.
Holt Leydon never intended to become a reality TV show host. When his flamboyant brother, Kit, needed a handyman on the set of I Do!, Holt fell into the role, using his expertise to make Kit’s wildest wedding designs come true. Now he’s ready to move on. Kit has agreed on one condition: they rescue Kit’s would-be ratings bonanza “coming home” episode by making Holt the groom.
The problem is Holt needs someone to marry, and fast. Something compels him to ask childhood friend Wiley—and Wiley agrees to the pretense.
Kit gets his dramatic last episode, Holt gets off the show, and Wiley gets some artificial excitement and a “honeymoon” on the show’s dime. It’s perfect—until the grooms start wishing their pretend engagement was more reality and less TV….
For Tere. You were right.
OH, I Do!
Okay all you superfan (Team Kit!) Kittens and (Team Holt!) Holsters—and the rest of you lurkers reading out there—what do we think this big doozy of an announcement the Leydon brothers have been teasing for ages is about?
As we’re painfully aware here at OID, Marry Me! is in its fifth season, and no matter how many online polls we brigade and hashtags we make trend, it’s on the bubble for renewal. How the best, most charming show with the best, most charming gents making wedding dreams come true could be in trouble, while those insufferable house-hunting couples are rolling strong into their gazillionth season, I’ll never understand.
Anyway! I’m thinking the big announcement is to goose ratings and interest. I mean, of course it is. But it also seems like there’s more going on.
Kit was recently on that super cozy vacay with his honey in Maui!
Kit let slip the big announcement will be made live in his hometown of Odalia!
Kit said we’d never guess, but I’m about to make a guess.
Someone—and I don’t mean a very special guest star—is getting married.
I try not to give too much allegiance to one brother over the other, and yes, Holt is always super yummy with his tool belt and know-how, but we’re friends (frenemies) here, so let’s be real: how much would I lo-o-o-ve to see Kit finally get some magic of his own? So much.
Whatever happens, it promises to be amazing.
As always: Claws out and drills drawn, let’s get into it in the comments!
Chapter One
“WHAT are we doing? What am I doing?” Wiley stopped abruptly and turned around. “I can’t.”
“Wiley, don’t you dare.” Carla’s short legs kept brisk pace directly behind him. She levered onto her toes and pushed on his shoulders to turn him back the other direction. “You always say no. It doesn’t matter what, you start with no. You don’t get to no your way out of this.”
“We live in a small town with three streetlights, two greasy-spoon diners, and zero dating options. Saying no is a survival strategy.”
Carla scoffed. “There’s things. Things here you could not say no to.”
“Name one.” Wiley glared at her over his shoulder. “Aside from getting out of here for a while.”
She was unmoved. “A list is unimportant. Also, we’re going so you can see Kit in person after all these years so, hah. There’s a huge one.”
The reality of that hit Wiley in the chest at the same time as a huge well of apprehension.
“This is so not a good idea. Maybe I should take that big trip to anywhere I’ve talked about—” He checked his watch. “—in five minutes.”
“No, you can’t say no again. And running away to a trip you’ve put off for two years isn’t a pass.” Carla punched his arm. “This is your Year of Yes! Remember?”
He considered fighting it. He could roll a reverse and break into a run—Carla was good in the sprint, kind of like an adorable rhino, but she had nothing on his stamina. He’d be home and fortified, and it’d take the rest of the day for her to try and pry him loose. He could actually book a trip—whatever was the cheapest flight to somewhere with an ocean and hot temps and one museum—and go. Not for good, necessarily, but to leave. To get the change of pace and scenery he’d pined for since… too long.
She dug a knuckle into the small of his back, and he started to shrug it off, but her frazzled, desperate sigh was what got to him.
“It’s June and I haven’t said yes to anything. Which, I’ll note, has worked great for me so far.”
“Uh, my point exactly. The Year of Yes starts here and now.” She huffed and began to push, propelling them both forward. “What we’re doing is fine, and yes, you can. For the millionth time already. Also, there’s free food.”
“That isn’t a good enough reason for humiliation.”
“Who says you have to be humiliated? Don’t plan for this to be awful. You know I hate your self-fulfilling prophecies.”
“Only because they come true so often and you’re left having to talk me down from the ledge with pints of ice cream and our shared Persuasion DVD.”
“If you didn’t like only the super expensive brand best and didn’t always lose the DVD under the sofa or in the laundry or putting it in the cabinet when you got crackers, I wouldn’t mind so much.” Carla lessened the pressure but kept them moving. “We can go do this and have fun and nothing bad has to happen. Nothing good has to happen either. It can be neutral, something different and of passing interest to do, nothing more.”
Wiley made a low noise of complaint and uncertainty.
“Besides….”
He waited but she didn’t elaborate, so he reached back and hooked an arm in Carla’s, dragging her forward to walk alongside him. “I’m not gonna bail,” he promised and tightened the link of their elbows. “Besides what?”
“I just… I want you to have fun. You need to have some fun. You need to get out and have fun.”
Carla rarely got serious, but that was her serious voice, and it gave Wiley pause.
“I get out.” Wiley’s protest was weak. “I have fun,” he added, even weaker.
Carla grumbled but didn’t mention all the ways they both knew he did neither.
“If you get flustered, remember we’re here professionally. That’s a good cover.”
“What?” Wiley pulled up from his musings.
“A cover, in case seeing Kit makes you blus
h twenty shades of oh-my-god-he-looked-at-me and nearly pass out.”
“Please. Why would I pass out? Why would I even blush?”
Carla slowed until Wiley was the one tugging them down the block. Refusing to acknowledge what she was talking about.
“Hmm, let’s see. Wait, I know—only that Kit Leydon is your lifetime forever crush, and your arm is like Richard the Third-level huge from hauling around the ginormous torch you’ve carried for him ever since you two collided next to the jungle gym in third grade.”
“We collided next to the slides. And wow, deep-cut historical reference, there. I’m impressed.” Wiley sidestepped her very on-point point. “But it’s a bit of an exaggeration—I’m very nicely symmetrical from all the running I make you do, thank you.”
“Sure, sure. One look in Kit’s sparkling cerulean pools and it took you an hour to remember your name. In third grade.” Carla glanced at Wiley with narrowed eyes. “Hah, you’re blushing already.”
Wiley definitely was. He couldn’t ignore the heat that rose from his chest to spread down his arms and up his face at the very thought of Kit. But he could get it under control by the time they arrived, same as the butterflies that had surged to life in his belly. At least he could blame it all on the powerwalking they’d done to get from the bakery to the park.
“Look—there’s the Marry Me! bus. Oh my gosh, it’s somehow more tacky in person than it looks on the show. I guess that means they’re here and this is happening.” Carla pointed at it, as if he could miss it, dominating the quaint cobblestone road alongside the park, gleaming in the sunshine. She checked her watch and increased their pace.
“Are we late?”
“No, but I want a good spot near the front.” Carla snapped her arm the other direction and motioned over the gathering crowd by the park’s big gazebo. The town’s showcase feature, a wide and lazy river, rippled in the background.
Wiley swallowed and focused on the water. He tried not to look at the bus and the huge portrait of Kit emblazoned on the side, grinning and carefree, surrounded by sparkles and swags of tulle.
Kit, youngest of the Leydon brothers: voted most popular and most likely to succeed, now a superstar reality show wedding planner and Wiley’s first crush and first awareness he was wired to crush like whoa on other boys. Over the years, Kit’s eldest brother had come to the house to do some yardwork and chores for his grandma, and sometimes Kit would tag along and hang out. It gave Wiley an in with their grade’s most popular kid, and Wiley had considered them friends growing up.
Kit had flown like a shot from Odalia immediately after graduation, and they’d lost touch. But that’s what happened—people drifted. Even friends. Wiley had other things to worry about once in college and then moving to new places to start new jobs. He figured being a famous television personality had to be doubly busy and distracting, if not more.
Carla wanted to push into the cluster of people and get closer, but Wiley hung back. “You elbow through them if you want, but I can see fine from here.”
“If we hang back, how am I going to catch Kit’s eye as they make his big announcement?”
“I think it makes more sense to stand to the side and literally catch him as he walks offstage. Everyone will be up there trying to catch his eye. We can be positioned right here and nab him after it’s over.”
Carla blinked. “Hey, that’s actually good. We’ll do that.” She planted her feet and rolled her hips. At Wiley’s look she said, “Gotta stay limber and ready to lunge.”
It did sound good. Reasonable. Way better than telling Carla he didn’t want to accidentally catch Kit’s eye and flail and look ridiculous or….
Or worse, have Kit’s eye pass over him without a flicker of recognition.
He sighed but told himself it wouldn’t be Kit’s fault. Ten years was a long time.
“Excuse me—Coy?”
Wiley hadn’t heard that nickname in years.
“You’re Wiley Grey, correct?”
Wiley’s heart dropped so fast it bounced off the ground and lodged in his throat. Light-headed anticipation surged through him, and a huge grin curled across his face as he turned.
And promptly choked on disappointment.
His grin faltered and he coughed. “Holt, isn’t it?” It was Holt without a doubt, but it seemed better to match Holt’s polite inquiry. He cast about for a reason why his grin had turned into a grimace and said, “You surprised me. No one’s called me Coy in ages.”
At least that much was true.
“So you remember me. I’m relieved I was right in remembering you.” Holt’s tone was clipped, and he inclined his head. “Maybe you hate the nickname. I’m sorry. It’s the first thing that popped into my head when I saw you.”
For no good reason, Wiley’s grin returned.
Holt smiled too, and disarming crinkles appeared around his striking blue-white eyes, making him suddenly friendly and familiar. His thick waves of light blond hair looked silver when the sun hit them, and Wiley had to tilt back a bit to meet his gaze. Details Wiley hadn’t noticed before, but then he hadn’t really paid attention.
“Do you?”
“What?” Wiley’s gaze had strayed to the breadth of Holt’s shoulders, making a ridiculous display under an expensively casual blue button-up. “Oh no. I don’t hate it. But it’s been long enough I wasn’t sure you were talking to me at first.”
He had never liked it. Did hate it. At twelve and trying to hang with the cool kids, he’d worried it sounded dorky and juvenile, especially since it was inspired by a cartoon. But Kit had thought of it, an inelegant play on his name using an imprecise truncation of the hapless animated roadrunner victim, so he’d agreed it was super clever and accepted it with a smile.
He’d wondered if it should be said ki not coy all considered, but whatever. It had worked for Kit, so that meant it had worked for him.
Kit had called him Coy for maybe a week before losing interest. Holt heard it while at the house doing something for Grandma, studied him, and pronounced he did look like a dusky little coyote, with his brown eyes and red-brown hair. From then on Holt called him that, usually with a ruffling of said red-brown hair and a friendly wink. Wiley found he hadn’t minded when Holt entered the house in grubby work clothes and said, “Heya, Coy,” before drinking all the cold lemonade Grandma always had at the ready.
Come to think of it, Wiley didn’t remember being called Coy since Holt left town, disappearing off to college not long after Wiley started to really notice how much he really liked Kit.
Wiley was counting the buttons downward toward Holt’s narrow hips when Carla nudged him.
“Oh, right. Holt, this is Carla.” He nodded at her and then at Holt. “She was in Kit’s and my class in school. Carla—Holt is Kit’s brother.”
“You’re better looking in person than on camera.” She grinned, and from her, that was somehow charming instead of terrible. “And oh, I remember now. There’s three of you with… Brent in the middle. Isn’t there? And Kit’s the baby?”
“That he is. And thank you.” Holt made a wry face. “Making me the senior?”
Wiley wasn’t sure what to attribute Holt’s tone to, called out as older or some shade at Kit. He tilted his head and got a quick eyeful of Holt’s commanding posture and, uh, surprisingly great ass. Holt caught his eye and he straightened.
“Eldest, but not old,” Wiley offered.
Holt’s gaze brightened at that.
Carla popped her lips and stuck out her hand. “No, you’re years from falling apart. And I thought so. Hi. Carla of CarlaCakes—we’re on the square downtown?”
“Good to meet you, Carla. I read about your bakery.” Holt allowed Carla to lever his hand several times before carefully extracting it to fish his phone from a pocket.
“Wait, you did?” Carla shot Wiley a speaking look and waggled her eyebrows. “Soooo, does that mean you guys are in town for an episode? One you’ll be needing a cake for?”
H
olt paused his phone tapping, and Carla held out her palms.
“I’m not asking for any spoilers or secret intel. I’m just on the hustle, same as you. And saying we can whip up a dream of a cake and to keep us in mind.” She elbowed Wiley. “Can’t we?”
“We?” Holt lowered the phone and pinned Wiley with a look. “Did you become a baker too? I thought it was all art all the time—weren’t you going to draw comic books or animation or something?”
Wiley’s stomach butterflies surged to knock around his ribs. No one remembered the comic-book thing. Not even Grandma had talked about it once he moved back here to take care of her when she got sick. He used to fill notebook after notebook with drawings, copying his favorite panels from comics and making up his own characters in alien worlds, with outfits and weaponry and galactic pets. But that stopped the minute after graduation and reality set in.
“He helps out when I’ve got a big order and on Sunday mornings—brunch rush, you know.” Carla made big eyes. “Wait, you don’t. You should come by on Sunday and see for yourself!”
Holt kept focus on Wiley a moment more and then shifted to smile at Carla. “I’m going to be pulled in all directions while here, but Sunday brunch sounds nice. Maybe I can make something work. Thank you.” He seemed on the verge of asking something else when an alarm on his phone sounded, music crackled from the speakers lining the gazebo front, and the crowd started to murmur.
The hair on the back of Wiley’s neck stood on end, and he craned to see past Holt to the bus right as Kit emerged, sparkly and gorgeous and waving at everyone.
Holt cleared his throat. “Well, that’s my cue. Good to see you, Coy—Wiley—and pleasure to make your reacquaintance, Carla.”
“Samesies. And c’mon over Sunday. Don’t forget,” Carla said, voice rising above the noise.
Wiley nodded distractedly, his gaze riveted to Kit. Even the scattered clouds cooperated, parting in the exact right place so the sun bathed Kit in full light as he approached.
Say Yes to a Mess (Dreamspun Desires Book 103) Page 1
