Bad Bridesmaid (Billionaire's Club Book 11)

by Elise Faber

  Bad Bridesmaid

  Billionaires Club #11

  Elise Faber

  BAD BRIDESMAID

  BY ELISE FABER

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  BAD BRIDESMAID

  Copyright © 2021 Elise Faber

  Print ISBN-13: 978-1-946140-96-8

  Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1-946140-95-1

  Cover Art by Jena Brignola

  Contents

  Billionaire’s Club

  Billionaire’s Club Cast of Characters

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Bad Swipe

  Billionaire’s Club

  Also by Elise Faber

  About the Author

  Billionaire’s Club

  Bad Night Stand

  Bad Breakup

  Bad Husband

  Bad Hookup

  Bad Divorce

  Bad Fiancé

  Bad Boyfriend

  Bad Blind Date

  Bad Wedding

  Bad Engagement

  Bad Bridesmaid

  Bad Swipe

  Billionaire’s Club Cast of Characters

  Heroes and Heroines:

  Abigail Roberts (Bad Night Stand) — founding member of the Sextant, hates wine, loves crocheting

  Jordan O’Keith (Bad Night Stand) — Heather’s brother, former owner of RoboTech

  Cecilia (CeCe) Thiele (Bad Breakup) — former nanny to Hunter, talented artist

  Colin McGregor (Bad Breakup) — Scottish duke, owner of McGregor Enterprises

  Heather O’Keith (Bad Husband) — CEO of RoboTech, Jordan’s sister

  Clay Steele (Bad Husband) — Heather’s business rival, CEO of Steele Technologies

  Kay (Bad Date) — romance writer, hates to be stood up

  Garret Williams (Bad Date) — former rugby player

  Rachel Morris (Bad Hookup) — Heather’s assistant, superpowers include being ultra-organized

  Sebastian (Bas) Scott (Bad Hookup) — Devon Scott’s brother, Clay’s assistant

  Rebecca (Bec) Darden (Bad Divorce) — kickass lawyer, New York roots

  Luke Pearson (Bad Divorce) — Southern gentleman, CEO Pearson Energies

  Seraphina Delgado (Bad Fiancé) — romantic to the core, looks like a bombshell, but even prettier on the inside

  Tate Connor (Bad Fiancé) — tech genius, scared to be burned by love

  Lorelai (Bad Text) — drunk texts don’t make her happy

  Logan Smith (Bad Text) — former military, sometimes drunk texts are for the best

  Kelsey Scott (Bad Boyfriend) — Bas and Devon’s sister, engineer at RoboTech, brilliant

  Tanner Pearson (Bad Boyfriend) — Bas and Devon’s childhood friend, photographer

  Trix Donovan (Bad Blind Date) — Heather’s sister, Jordan’s half-sister, nurse who worked in war zones, poverty-stricken areas, and abroad for almost a decade

  Jet Hansen (Bad Blind Date) — a doctor Trix worked with

  Molly Miller (Bad Wedding) — owner of Molly’s, a kickass bakery in San Francisco

  Jackson Davis (Bad Wedding) — Molly’s ex-fiancé

  Kate McLeod (Bad Engagement) — Kelsey’s college friend, advertiser extraordinaire, loves purple and Hermione Granger

  Jaime Huntingon (Bad Engagement) — vet, does excellent man-bun

  Heidi Greene (Bad Bridesmaid) — science, organization, and Twilight nerd

  Brad Huntington (Bad Bridesmaid) — travel junkie, dreamy hazel eyes, hidden sweet side

  Additional Characters:

  George O’Keith — Jordan’s dad

  Hunter O’Keith — Jordan’s nephew

  Bridget McGregor — Colin’s mom

  Lena McGregor — Colin’s sister

  Bobby Donovan — Heather’s half and Trix’s full brother

  Frances and Sugar Delgado — Sera’s parents

  Devon Scott — Kels and Bas’s brother

  Becca Scott — Kels and Bas’s sister in law

  Heidi Greene — Kels’ friend since college

  Cora Hutchins — Kels’ friend since childhood

  One

  Heidi

  She was wearing a bridesmaid’s dress and holding a leash.

  Not the strangest sentence ever uttered.

  Unless, perhaps, she included what was on the other end of the leash.

  Because she’d been escorted down the aisle by a rooster name Sir Fuzzy McFeatherston, or the Fuzz, for short.

  He was cute. He was cocky—ha—and he was not happy to be on a leash.

  Thankfully, though, the ceremony was wrapping up. The bride and groom—her best friend, Kate, and her almost-husband, Jaime—were kissing. Soon, she’d be able to put the rooster in the cage, and she could get to drinking.

  Because her best friend was getting married.

  After an engagement she had promised Heidi would be extremely long but had ended up sort of average because Kate hadn’t been able to wait to make Jaime officially hers.

  Barf.

  Heidi loved Kate, loved Jaime, and how he treated Kate.

  But she was losing her best friend.

  So, yeah, maybe she was feeling a little mopey, but she wasn’t going to let her funk ruin her friend’s night. She was going to be the best rooster-wrangling bridesmaid there was.

  Not maid of honor.

  Kate hadn’t wanted to hurt Kelsey or Cora’s feelings, the other half of their quad-sized friend group, so they were all bridesmaids, each with a different job.

  But that was Kate.

  Kind. Sweet. Inclusive. In a word, the absolute best.

  That was two, or three, Heidi, supposed, but the point still stood. Kate was awesome and her best friend in the whole world.

  And now she was married.

  God, they were all growing up. Sniff.

  She hated it.

  Still, her heart was full, and she sniffed again, dashing away a tear as the officiant declared the newlyweds officially married before they strode down the aisle hand-in-hand.

  Heidi followed, striding—hand-in-leash?—with the rooster.

  And, well, if that wasn’t an apt description of her dating life . . . she didn’t know what was. She could find a man who wanted to sleep with her—cough, cock—but couldn’t find one with staying power.

  “Not the point,” she muttered under her breath, somehow getting herself and Sir Fuzzy McFeatherston safely down the aisle. The rest of the bridal party paired off and followed her.

  They sna
pped some pictures, but eventually the Fuzz got tired of the paparazzi, and Heidi wrestled him into her arms, taking him to the crate Kate had ready for him.

  She was just bending to place him inside—while trying to slip off the harness without letting him escape—when she felt someone come up behind her. Assuming it was Kate, she said, “I’m fine, Katie girl. Go enjoyed your husband. I’ve got your”—she giggled, a twelve-year-old at heart—“cock well in hand.”

  Silence instead of her friend’s cackling.

  Shit.

  Heat stained her cheeks, and Heidi yanked the leash and harness out before slamming and locking the cage. Then she shored her spine and spun around.

  Tall. Dark. A smirk on a gorgeous mouth.

  One that grew as his gaze traced her down then up. “Sure you can handle that cock, baby?”

  She had handled that cock.

  Six months ago, Jaime’s brother Brad had stopped in the Bay Area for a quick visit, and she’d had a few too many glasses of wine. He’d offered her a ride home . . . and then he’d given her a fucking ride.

  So yeah, she’d had that cock, and she couldn’t lie, it had been incredible.

  But . . . he’d been gone before she’d woken the next morning.

  And she might be tough on the outside, she might be a strong, independent woman who hadn’t been expecting a ring and a relationship, but she’d thought she at least warranted a note or a text or a fucking goodbye.

  Heidi sniffed. “I’ve had plenty of cocks in my life,” she said, chin lifting, eyes narrowing. “And none are more than I can handle.”

  She pushed past him.

  He snagged her arm.

  She yanked it free, stepped back when he went to grab her again. “Don’t,” she snapped. “Just because I made a mistake once doesn’t mean I’m easy prey now.”

  A cocky—no pun intended this time—smile. “Mistake? I happened to think we were—”

  “That was your mistake,” she said, glaring. “Thinking.”

  Pretty hazel eyes flared. “Baby—”

  “Not. Your. Baby.”

  A sigh. “Heidi.”

  “Yes, Brad, the groomsman who should be paying attention to his brother’s wedding instead of bothering a woman who isn’t interested?” It wasn’t a sweet question, for as sickly saccharine as her tone was.

  “I think—”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not that again.”

  Heidi didn’t mean to. It just . . . it all happened so fast.

  Brad grabbed her arm.

  She shoved him back at the same time the crate door burst open, and Sir Fuzzy McFeatherston shot out of the pen.

  The rooster took off running.

  Brad lost his footing, crashed into a waiter, who was carrying a large tray of appetizers.

  The food went flying.

  Brad went flying . . . into the cake table.

  Sir Fuzzy McFeatherston went flying, feathers scattering in all directions.

  The tray came down.

  And Heidi didn’t think she’d ever forget the sound of it colliding with Brad’s head.

  Nor how much joy it gave her.

  At least until she took a step back, promptly tripped over the fucking rooster . . . and ended up sprawled across Brad’s chest.

  Fuck, she loved that chest.

  Two

  Heidi

  “I am so, so, so sorry,” she said, wiping cake off her temple. “I—”

  Kate giggled and swiped a finger through the frosting currently occupying space on her cheek. “I told you, it’s fine. The Fuzz is a naughty rooster, and I should have known better than to think he would behave at a wedding of all places.”

  Heidi grabbed her friend’s hands. “He was the cutest ring bearer ever.”

  Kate’s face softened, and she pulled free to grab another towel from the counter of the tiny bathroom they’d sequestered themselves in after the cake debacle, dampening it and working at the frosting embedded in one of Heidi’s curls. “He was, wasn’t he?”

  Heidi snagged the towel and nudged her friend toward the door. “Go, babe. Enjoy your big party.” She forced a smile. “I’ll do my best to not ruin anything else.”

  “Heid—”

  She reached for the handle, tugged open the wooden panel, nudged her friend out into the hall. The music vibrated through the airwaves, punctuated by laughter and conversation. “Go. Dance yourself into sweaty exhaustion. I’ll be out once I’m frosting free.”

  Kate hesitated.

  “Go. This is your night. I’m fine.”

  With a nod and a squeeze of Heidi’s arm, Kate disappeared down the hall, her dress swishing and sparkling in her wake.

  Her friend was a goddess.

  Thankfully, Jaime realized how lucky he was and treated Kate right.

  Which meant Heidi didn’t have to kill him.

  Snorting to herself, she closed the door, going back to work on her frosting-filled curls, and eventually just gave up on her half-up, half-down hairdo and started to take bobby pins out, lining them up neatly on the counter.

  The door opened as she had her chin tucked to her chest, staring at the line of pins on the white granite while fighting with a pin stuck right at her nape.

  “Go party, Katie,” she said, fingers trying and failing to grasp the little folded piece of metal. “I’m fine.”

  Fingers on her nape, tugging the bobby pin out.

  “Thank—” She glanced up and saw that it wasn’t Kate in the bathroom with her, guilt drawing her back from her own party to help Heidi out.

  It was him.

  Brad.

  Brother of the groom, best lay of her life, and a complete and utter player who was . . . looking at her like he wanted them to play all over again.

  Look, she couldn’t lie. A part of her wanted that—wanted the hot, sweaty sex, wanted him to hoist her up onto the counter, lift her dress, and plunge home, over and over again. But the rest of her still had some self-respect left. She was smart and reasonably pretty. She couldn’t hold her booze, but she was a funny drunk on the odd occasion she got that far. Plus, she could cook a mean meatloaf, bake killer chocolate chip cookies, and she always made coffee for herself and whoever stayed over—whether it be friend or fuck—first thing in the morning.

  Heidi was more of a catch than not.

  And she was tired of being with people who didn’t recognize that.

  So there would be no hoisting onto counters or dress-lifting. And the man certainly wouldn’t be getting any of her special chocolate chip cookies or expensive, caffeine-laden coffee.

  He reached up to grab another pin, and she smacked his hand away. “You can go.”

  A slow, sexy smile. “I made the mess. I don’t mind cleaning it up.”

  “I guess I wasn’t clear.” She kept her back to him, glaring at him in the mirror. “Go away.”

  Silence.

  But he didn’t move. She could feel him at her spine filling up the small bathroom, didn’t know how she could have ever thought he was Katie. The man exuded pure heat and sexually, and . . . the fucker just standing there had her lady parts all perked and at the ready, his mere presence a temptation all its own—

  U.G.H.

  No.

  Her fingers went back to her hair, plucking out pins left and right, pretending he wasn’t there . . . even as she felt him in every cell.

  “So, I was thinking—”

  She snorted. The man just couldn’t stop thinking.

  “—that I should go out and buy a cake for Jaime and Kate.”

  Unbidden, she felt her heart give a little squeeze before she shored it back up, before she slapped a heavy chain and padlock around it, protecting the bruised organ. “I already Instacarted one.” She picked up her purse, digging past the various items that had made up her bride emergency kit—clear nail polish for runs in stockings, safety pins, Band-Aids, wet wipes, energy bars, and more—for her cell. Feeling like she should cheer when she managed to retrieve her p
hone from that black hole, she tapped a finger on the screen, checked on the cake’s process. “See?” She turned, showing him the screen. “It should be here in fifteen minutes.”

  His eyes changed, emotions mixing in them that she couldn’t read, but then he shifted back slightly. “Ah.”

  Right.

  She gave him her back again, set her cell down, and focused back on her hair, searching for any bobby pins that might be hiding in the heavy, dark locks. Not finding any, she resumed her patting, scrubbing, and picking at the frosting that had hardened into her curls during the time she’d spent trying to save her friend’s wedding.

  Capturing the freaking rooster—who was far more agile and much quicker than she was—and wrestling him into the cage, double-checking that the lock was properly secured the second time around.

  Righting the cake table and managing to salvage one tier, so at least Kate and Jaime would be able to cut something that resembled a wedding cake for pictures.

  Getting ice for the pain-in-the-ass’s head who was still standing behind her.

  And finally, with frosting and cake bits coating the gorgeous purple dress Kate had picked out for all the bridesmaids, she’d attempted to salvage her outfit.

  And hair.

  And makeup.

  All of which were proving to be . . . unsalvageable.