I snorted. “Some snack.”
“I worked up an appetite. I was out with Van earlier, looking at Bentley’s newest project. He wants to put a small workout room in the basement, so I went to give him some advice. Gonna be great when he’s done.”
“That will be an added feature.”
“Yeah. There’s a built-in sunroom in the rear of the house with a hot tub in it Van’s going to remodel. It’ll add another level to the place.”
“Great. Bentley’s found some terrific properties lately.”
He wiped his mouth, crushing the napkin and tossing it into the wastebasket. He lifted his arms. “All net!”
He slouched in the chair as I chuckled.
“He has some great projects on the go. I talked to Van about the cottage too. We’re going to go up this weekend and have a look at the property.”
“Awesome.” I picked up a folder. “Have you seen these leads for other pieces of real estate?”
He took the folder, shaking his head. “Anything good?”
“I like the one on page two. Great potential for investment.”
He opened the file and began studying it in his unique, methodical way. I knew not to rush him, so I opened my copy, rereading the particulars.
Aiden and I looked at the door as Bentley hurried into my office.
“What are you two doing tonight?”
We shared a glance, both of us knowing we now had plans.
I relaxed in my chair, twirling my pen. “What’s up?”
“Emmy had the sniffles this morning and when I spoke to her just now, it’s a full-blown cold. She can barely swallow, and her taste buds are nonexistent.”
“And?”
“Tonight is cake testing. She can’t taste anything, so she can’t go. I don’t want to go alone, so I’m using you two as backups.”
Aiden grinned and clapped his hands together loudly. “Cake? I’m in.”
“The consultant is going to work with us on our tuxedo choices while we’re there as well. Save us another trip. The girls are coming after for a dress fitting.”
“We all own tuxes. Why do we need new ones?” I asked.
Bentley ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I’ve never been married, or been involved in all these decisions. Something about special occasion and custom fabric—really, I have no idea. I’m simply doing what I’m told to do.”
“You said this was going to be small.”
“It is small, but I want her to have everything she wants. This woman, Jen, is simply taking the little stuff off her plate. I have to admit, since the girls met with Jen, Emmy has been more relaxed. She tells Jen what she wants, and Jen handles it all.” He smirked. “I pay the bills. It works out well for all of us.”
“Okay, what time?”
“Seven. She works from her loft. Emmy’s message says the cakes will be waiting, we’ll do the tux thing, and after, I can go back to being blissfully ignorant of the entire procedure. My other job is to show up and say I do.”
We all laughed, because it was true.
“Okay. I’ll drive us over,” Aiden offered.
“Great. I’ll let Emmy know, and she can contact Jen. I’ll get the address.”
“Okay. Tell her I hope she feels better.”
He frowned. “She looked bad this morning and I was worried. If she gets worse, I’ll take her to the clinic.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” I assured him. “Lots of colds going around. Maybe take her some soup later.”
“That’s a good idea. In fact, I’ll call Andrew and ask him to go get her some now. And ginger ale. She likes ginger ale when she isn’t feeling well.”
I hid my grin. Bentley always fussed over Emmy. I didn’t bother to tell him his houseman, Andrew, was probably ahead of him. He was very fond of Emmy too, and I knew he would look after her well.
Bentley left, and I grinned at Aiden. “I’m surprised you didn’t demand dinner first.”
He chuckled. “Nah, the sandwich was a good snack. We can grab dinner after we’re done. I want room for cake. Lots of cake. I hope there’s chocolate.”
“You are such a girl.”
He rolled his eyes. “Like you weren’t thinking that too.”
“I was hoping for carrot cake, actually.”
His eyes lit up. “Maybe we can request it.”
I picked up the file I’d been reading when Bentley came in. “We’ll see, I guess.”
After arriving at the right building, Bentley pressed the intercom button, and the door opened. We took the elevator to the top floor as Emmy had instructed, entering a vast room. The three of us stood in the middle of what I could only describe as a cyclone. Everywhere we looked, there was color. Bolts of fabric, dresses scattered, shoes lying on top of tables. Wedding dresses hung from the ceiling, lacy trains moving in the air. A huge boardroom table held multiple laptops and monitors plus stacks of invitation and gift samples. Garment bags draped over the chairs. Racks of suits and tuxedos lined the walls. Another table was set up with arrangements and candles, more color swatches piled high. Wedding cakes, fake ones I presumed, were arranged on a shelf. There was so much to take in; I had to shut my eyes. It was overwhelming.
“Holy shit, what is this place?” Aiden hissed.
“Hell,” I muttered. “This is hell. Bent, I thought we were going somewhere to eat cake, then a tailor shop?”
“I have no idea,” Bentley replied, confused.
“Ah, the three musketeers!” A voice greeted us.
Like a single unit, we spun, to face . . . Jen?
He was tall and thin, wearing a kimono with vibrant colored parrots on it, black pants, and flip-flops. He had his bright white hair buzzed, and it matched his short goatee and mustache. Gold glinted in his ears and at his neck. He clapped in delight. “Oh, you are all stunning!”
We exchanged puzzled glances, Bentley looking especially shocked.
Jen came forward, his hand outstretched. “Now, let me guess. You must be Bentley. Your Emmy described you to a T.” He winked. “Of course, I may have cheated and checked you out on the internet. But your pictures don’t do you justice! So imposing!”
Bentley blinked and reached out his hand. “Bentley Ridge. How do you do, ah, Jen?”
“Jensen Bailey. But I prefer Jen. Aren’t you utterly delicious!”
Aiden chuckled, and Jen swung in his direction. “Now you, Tree Trunk, have to be Aiden. Take me to the gun show, my good man.”
With a grin, Aiden flexed, and Jen clapped his hands in glee. “Oh, I know the exact tux for you. Tom Ford always gives extra room in the shoulders and forearms. We’ll have you comfortable and dashing!”
He turned to me. “And you are exactly as your Dee described. Maddox, the silver fox. Look at you with those bedroom eyes and slim build. I bet you’re all muscles under that shirt, aren’t you?”
I heard two words in that sentence. Your Dee.
I wanted her to be mine.
Aiden began to laugh. “Mad-dox, the silver-fox! That’s awesome!”
“Shut it, Tree Trunk.” I hissed.
“Both of you shut it,” Bentley demanded. “I’m sorry, I, we, had expected a woman. Emmy never mentioned your gender.”
Jen shook his head, settling his hand on his hip. “Of course she wouldn’t. It matters not to her if I am a man or woman—simply that I do my job and make her life easier. Does it bother you?”
“No.”
His gaze swung to Aiden and me.
“Boys, do we have a problem?”
“No,” Aiden and I spoke in unison.
“Excellent.” He turned to Bentley. “Your Emmy is a force unto herself, and I’m thrilled to be assisting her. No matter how simple a wedding is, the devil is in the details. I know you want the day to be perfect for her—am I right, or am I right?”
“Absolutely. Whatever she wants, she gets.”
“Then we’re on the same page. With me in charge, all your guests will see
is a perfect day. All you will see is a happy bride.”
Bentley nodded, seemingly at a loss for words.
Jen pointed to a table I hadn’t noticed in the chaos. It was set with plates and cups, and lined with boxes all with a bakery logo emblazoned on the side. “You go sit over there. I’ll go and get a knife, some utensils and we’ll start with the cake tasting. I hope you boys are prepared for heaven!”
He disappeared around the corner, and the three of us sat, dumbfounded. Aiden broke the silence. “Emmy never mentioned Jen was a guy?”
Bentley shook his head. “Not that I recall. All I remember is her telling me she met a friend of Cami’s who was a wonder with wedding details and decided to use them for help.” He shook his head. “We’ve both been so busy lately, she might have, and I missed it.”
Aiden chuckled. “I like him. He’s gonna be fun.”
“He’s been very helpful. Taken a lot off her plate. He narrows everything down to a couple of choices, and she picks what she likes best,” Bentley mused.
“Have you been any help at all?”
Bentley chuckled and shook his head. “No. Other than asking her to marry me and giving her carte blanche with the bank account. I only want to make her my wife. I’d happily do it at the registrar’s office and have tacos for dinner after we were done. But she wants something more, so I’m giving it to her.”
Jen came around the corner. “Spoken like a true man in denial. Good thing she has me.” He sat in front of us, smiling. “Weddings, no matter how small, need attention. I handle all that and let her have the day she is dreaming of. You look after the rest of her life. Deal?”
Bentley relaxed and grinned. “Deal.”
Aiden clapped his hands. “Enough of what Emmy wants. I want cake.”
Jen grinned, reaching for a box. “And cake you will have.”
Maddox
AIDEN GROANED, LICKING the icing off his fork. “The banana chocolate cake. And the fudge one.”
I shook my head. “No, the carrot. And that salted caramel thing.”
“Torte,” Jen informed me. “It’s a torte.”
“I liked the vanilla with the buttercream frosting,” Bentley said. “And the red velvet.”
“That spiced raisin one was pretty awesome too,” Aiden pointed out.
Jen laughed. “So far the cake none of you have mentioned is the coconut.”
We all grimaced. None of us liked coconut, although I admitted it looked nice. It tasted like shit.
“I think I need a few more bites, you know, before we decide.” Aiden grinned.
“Which kind?” Jen asked, lifting the knife.
“Um, all of them. Just to be sure.”
Jen’s laughter was loud and highly entertaining, as we tasted the cakes. He shared horror stories of bridezillas and fainting grooms. Disappearing bridesmaids and fathers’ speeches that had run the gamut from oversharing to threatening. All of the stories made us laugh.
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve already tried them all twice, Aiden!”
“Hey!” he protested. “I’m doing this for Bentley. I take my role as best man seriously.”
I snorted, then held out my plate. “As second-in-command, I think I need more carrot cake.”
Jen sliced a generous piece and slid it onto my plate. He held up a piece of vanilla and Bentley accepted it with a grin.
“I’m not sure how to decide,” Bentley admitted. “I don’t think Emmy wants a seven-layered cake.”
“Maybe we should draw straws,” Aiden offered.
“Or vote,” I mused.
Jen shook his head. “We could go a different route and have a cake table.”
“What is that?”
“Instead of one cake, have them all. We can have servers there, and guests can pick one piece or a taste of each, the way you have tonight.”
Aiden grinned. “That’s my vote!”
Bentley pursed his lips, then looked at Jen. “Do you think Emmy would like that? There won’t be a cake to cut, and I think that was something she wanted.”
“We can do both. We’ll do the white one with the buttercream icing you liked as the wedding cake. Emmy already chose a simple three-tiered design. That will be the centerpiece. You cut that one, have pictures, and the guests still get to choose. It’s a very pleasing option.” He smiled. “Terribly extravagant, but pleasing. I think Emmy would love it.”
“Done.” Bentley nodded.
“Woo-hoo,” Aiden crowed, finishing his cake and setting his plate on the table. “So, ah, what happens to the rest of these cakes? You don’t throw them out or something awful, do you?”
Jen chuckled. “No. They go home with Bentley.”
“Oh.”
Jen stood. “Of course, I could always put a few slices into another box.” He winked. “That happens on occasion.”
I cleared my throat, and Jen patted my shoulder. “Or two boxes.”
Aiden beamed. “Jen, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I love you.”
Jen waved his hand. “Happens all the time.”
I had to laugh. I bet it did.
“Do you lift small children on a daily basis?” Jen murmured, measuring Aiden’s arms. He double-checked the tape measure with a shake of his head.
Aiden grinned. “Only on Thursdays. Otherwise, I use Cami.” He mimicked an imitation of Cami on his hips riding him, making Jen guffaw and slap his arm. I held back my chuckle at his lewd gesture.
When Jen tried to measure Aiden’s chest, he stared over the top of his half-moon glasses in amazement. “I have four inches of tape measure left over. You’re built like a brick shithouse. Solid.”
Aiden’s head fell back, his chest shaking with laughter. “Bentley would tell you I’m full of shit too.”
“Uh-huh,” Bentley muttered, tapping away on his phone. “He is.”
Jen patted Aiden’s arm. “Ignore him.”
“I usually do.”
Jen finished with Aiden, describing the cut he was having made for him, then I was next.
“Now, you, Mr. Silver Fox.” Jen winked. “Gucci. Their suits are wonderful on lean frames.” He wrote down measurements and notes, efficient and professional.
“What color?” I asked, as he measured my arm length.
“A dark charcoal gray. All of you. Emmy felt black was too harsh.”
“What about the girls?” I queried.
Jen smiled. “A rich blue. Bentley’s favorite, I believe.” He reached for a jacket. “Slip this on. It’s the wrong color, but you’ll see what I mean about the cut.”
I studied my reflection. “Nice, but it needs something.”
“No,” Bentley objected. “Classic tuxes.”
I shook my head, catching Jen’s eye with a subtle wink. “No, it’s bland.”
Aiden hunched forward, his hands resting on his knees. “I like mine plain, but I know you prefer to jazz things up, Mad Dog. What did you have in mind?”
“A vest.”
Jen nodded. “Always an option. Bentley’s will have one.”
“It will?” Bentley asked.
“Oh yes. Emmy wants you in the full package. Tails, vest, a top hat if I can talk you into it.”
“I don’t fucking think so. I am not wearing a top hat.”
Jen shrugged. “Your choice. But you’re wearing tails. And a vest.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I hid my smile. “Well, if Bent gets a vest, I want one.” My gaze fell on a wild fabric sample, and I grabbed it, holding it to my chest. “Like this.”
Bentley’s eyes almost burst out of his head at the bright swirls of teal and green. A vein pulsed in his forehead like a volcano about to erupt. “Like hell.”
“Yep,” I egged him on. “I need it to pop.”
“I am going to pop you if you don’t shut up. No fucking swirly vest. And if you think you’re wearing one of your clown-loving pairs of socks, you can think again, Maddox Riley. Black socks. Gray tux. No swirls
. It’s my fucking wedding.”
“Groomzilla, I presume?” I managed to get out before I started to laugh. Aiden leaned back, his guffaws loud, and even Jen couldn’t stop his amusement.
“Your face, Bent.” I snorted. “You should see your face.”
He glared at first, but then stopped when he thought about it. “Holy shit, I said that, didn’t I? My wedding. Like those shows.” He wiped a hand over his face. “A few hours in here and I turn into a damn girl.” He joined in our laughter.
Jen wiped his eyes. “Oh, you three.” He pulled a fabric swatch from the pile. “Emmy already knew you would want a vest, Maddox. She chose this—it will go with the ties and pocket squares, which match the girls’ dresses.”
I took the fabric from his hand, studying the print. The silver and deep, rich blue brocade was subtle but striking. “I like this.”
“I thought you might. I am having it made for you to go with the suit.”
I looked over to Bentley. “Will this bother you?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m over my tantrum. But I don’t want a patterned one,” he insisted.
I slipped off the jacket and sat down, still grinning.
Jen waved Bentley over. “You each get a different tux, catered to what suits you best. The same with the girls. Same color, different dress. Emmy wants everyone happy.”
Bentley was patient as Jen measured him, but he frowned often.
“Tails?” he repeated. “I was hoping for a simple, classic tux.”
Jen walked to a rack, pulling off another jacket—that one longer. He stood behind Bentley. “Arms up,” he instructed.
The jacket slid across Bentley’s shoulders. It fell mid-thigh, the cut sophisticated and suited to his broad shoulders. He stared at his reflection.
“You will have a vest as well, but the same fabric as the tux, unlike Maddox. It’s an old-fashioned look, but very stylish again. The cut flatters you.”
“It looks good, Bent,” I offered.
“It does suit you,” Aiden said.
Bentley tugged on the sleeves, still silent.
“Emmy thought you would like it. She wanted you to wear it, but if you prefer a more modern cut, I’ll tell her,” Jen stated.
Maddox: Vested Interest #3 Page 18
