Hit & Miss Groom

by Misty Evans

  Hit & Miss Groom

  by

  Nana Malone

  & Misty Evans

  Hit & Miss Groom

  Copyright © 2015 Nana Malone & Misty Evans

  Editing by Valerie Hayward and Marcie Gately

  Cover Art by Hot Damn Designs

  Formatting by Author E.M.S.

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  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Chapter One

  “You know, it’s not too late for us to gas up the limo and ride off into the sunset.” Vanessa Rodriquez said as she attached the specially made orchid clip to her best friend’s hair.

  Becca grinned up at her. “Okay, Louise. But I think I’m good. I’m getting married today.”

  The two of them met when Becca started working at the same sports marketing firm. They’d been pretty much inseparable ever since. “Why do you always get to be Thelma?”

  “Because, I think Louise was the sane one. Or am I remembering that wrong?”

  “You probably are, but it’s okay.” Van stepped back to admire her handy work. “You look gorgeous, Becca. Liam is going to lose his mind.”

  “That’s if he hasn’t had Alex gas up the limo so the two of them can run off to enjoy the honeymoon without me.”

  Van ran a thumb over Becca’s furrowed brow. “Stop with the frowning. No wrinkles on this makeup job, you hear me? And you’re forgetting two key facts.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Liam is nuts about you. Honestly, the man might be certifiable. He kept trying to move up your wedding date. And second, Boy Scout isn’t the type to steal the limo, unless, of course, it’s filled with bimbos.”

  Becca giggled. “Yeah, good point. The Boy Scout has a dark side, but only when it comes to women.”

  Van doubted Alex had ever done anything daring in his life. He was fine, but that pretty packaging was missing a serious swagger gene. Total white bread. Nothing interesting about him.

  Except the way she caught him looking at her sometimes. But then, he looked at every pretty girl around, and most of them looked back. “Nope. You know how much I love Liam, and coming from me, that’s a lot. I barely like anybody but you. But if you said let’s go, I’d bust out the cat burglar chic and we’d be out.”

  “I know, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere. I’m doing this.”

  Van breathed a sigh of relief. She really did like Liam and he and Becca were perfect together. “That’s what I want to hear.”

  “It’s funny, I’m not nervous about the whole being married thing. If my mother would have allowed it, I’d have run off to the courthouse and done this months ago.”

  “Then what is it?” Van couldn’t even imagine getting this far. Her longest relationship was with a guy she hadn’t even known she was officially dating until he wanted her to meet his parents. And even that had been three months. This kind of commitment to anything other than her job was foreign to her, but it looked good on Becca. She’d never seen her friend smile so much.

  “It’s more about the day I guess. I want it to go right. To be special like I planned. I feel like for years, I pictured the perfect wedding, then I got the perfect guy and none of the other stuff mattered. Now that I’m here, in this dress, I’m a little nervous it won’t go off like I planned.”

  “That’s just the obsessive compulsive part of you talking.” Luckily Van had practice at calming Becca down. “First thing’s first, take a deep breath and repeat after me. Van will not let anything go wrong.”

  Becca grinned showing off even, white teeth. “Van will not let anything go wrong.”

  “And if something does go wrong, she will slaughter the causer of said shenanigans.”

  Becca repeated, then she exhaled. “Tell me what’s up with you while we wait, otherwise I’ll start climbing the walls.”

  Van stood, lifting her dress so as to not step on it. Like Becca’s dress, hers was Monique Lullier. And like Becca’s it was a mermaid style, but hers was a deep red and had a slit so high, it would make her mother blush. Good thing her parents weren’t there. Becca had invited them as a nod to her, but the Major had been too busy and her mother never went anywhere without her father. As she slipped on her Louboutins, she said, “Not much really. Erin Lassiter is leaving in three months for good so her Director of Projects position is open. They’ve been interviewing to fill it.”

  “Tell me they’re smart enough to interview you for it.”

  They had damn well better be. It was the next logical step towards her goal of one day being CEO of her own company. She’d worked her butt off since starting at DIVE two years ago, most of the time doing the job of three. But it would be worth it in the end. This was her first job out of school and she was soaking up the experiences. She’d be running her own place one day and the tools she gained here were going to help her do that. “They are. I just have to kill my next few presentations. I’ve proved myself. I hope.”

  “Of course you have. And unlike the fact they hated me, they love you there.”

  Becca had had a difficult time fitting in at DIVE. Her retail experience had been lost on the yoga pants-obsessed employees. But her bestie was a marketing genius and had landed an even better gig running her own marketing department for a former Olympic swimmer. “It’s not about love, it’s about respect, and Erin’s job will get me one step closer to management.”

  From childhood, her parents, and particularly her father, had drummed the idea of success into her. He was career military, a major. He hadn’t wanted the military path for her, but he pushed her to excel so one day she would call the shots in her own right. Sometimes Van wondered who’d be happier about her promotion, her or him. She wanted him to be proud of her, but he had no idea how hard it was for her. It wasn’t a natural fit.

  “You are amazing when it comes to goals. I know you can do it. And if they don’t give it to you, you tell me and I’ll kick some ass.”

  “Done.” Van checked the clock. Five minutes past two. Someone should have come to get them by now.

  Becca kept talking, and Van half listened as she typed out a message to Alex. Liam would be at the altar hopefully, so he wouldn’t have his phone.

  Dude, what’s going on out there? You know how Becca is all about time.

  She waited a minute, but there was no response. In the distance, she heard sirens and her heart rate ticked up. Becca heard them too, and stood. “Oh, God, I hope it’s not Liam’s mom.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” The last thing she needed was Becca running out there. Liam’s mom had been doing fine after her last round of chemo and her doctor had cleared her for travel. “You, sit, I’ll go check what’s up.”

  Her friend chewed her lip, “But they’ll see you and that will ruin
the effect of the dress.”

  Van suppressed a smile. “Nothing will ruin the effect of this dress. It’ll be hot no matter if they see me before the ceremony or walking down the aisle.” Besides the damn thing pushed her boobs up under her chin. No one would be looking at the dress. “Stay put. I mean it, Becca.”

  Her friend nodded, and sat back down on the settee. A pang of emotion speared her. Becca really was beautiful. A faint longing she never addressed planted an unwanted seed. Will that ever be me?

  Before slipping out the door, she took off the gorgeous Louboutins. The last thing she needed was to twist an ankle before the ceremony. That would ruin Becca’s day.

  It didn’t take her long to find the source of the commotion. Down the exterior corridor lined with stone archways, a small crowd gathered.

  The bridesmaids, Becca’s friends from high school and college, a couple of EMTs, a few guests, and him. Alex.

  A lone butterfly fluttered low in her belly and she silently cursed. She didn’t even like him, and she certainly didn’t want him. Hell, he wasn’t her type. Van liked her men driven and determined. Alex was a Boy Scout. The kind of guy to bake cookies and take them to his elderly neighbor. Sweet, but no hint of swagger anywhere. Not to mention, he seemed perfectly happy to work for the family business and didn’t seem to be driven to do anything else.

  So why do all the women want him?

  The question of the ages. Everywhere Van turned, women threw themselves at Alex. She just didn’t get it.

  It made no sense to her why Alex attracted women like the proverbial moths to a flame, or why there would be any damn butterflies in her stomach when she saw him. He went out of his way to annoy her. Planning the wedding with him had been like the slow drip of water torture.

  For every roadblock or negotiation, he’d ridden in on his white steed and solved it. Even when he shouldn’t. Like the negotiations with the florist. The chick had been trying to rip Becca off. Van had given him terms and they’d almost worked it out. Then Alex had rolled in and paid the guy, saying it wasn’t worth the stress. Which was what Liam had wanted to do.

  But Liam had come from money and Becca had been serious about paying for half the wedding herself. To make matters worse, the female florist had gone gaga over Alex and provided extra flowers, slipping him her phone number with them.

  When Van went off, Alex hadn’t understood what the problem was. It went on like that for months. It was a wonder she hadn’t killed him.

  Van tried to stay out of sight behind a pillar, but at the same time catch Alex’s eye. Of course, he was in save-the-world mode, so he didn’t see her. Instead, he spoke to the EMT. “Her breathing is stable, pulse a little thready. She was taking a picture in the garden courtyard, then passed out. I think it’s probably heat stroke and dehydration.”

  The medics put an elderly woman—not Liam’s mother, thank God—on a stretcher and carted her off. True to form, Alex had adoring fans cheering him on. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it, you saved her life,” one trilled.

  Another one said, “A real life hero.”

  One of the bridesmaids wasted no time. “I think I’m feeling faint myself. Maybe after the wedding you can escort me to go lie down.”

  Van scoffed. Idiots. She cleared her throat, caught Alex’s attention. The moment their gazes locked, heat flooded her body and she felt suddenly flushed.

  Stop it. Alex McIntyre was not on the menu. “If you’re done saving the women of Princeton, New Jersey, do you think we can get the show on the road? I’ve got a nervous bride.”

  For a long moment, he didn’t speak, just stared at her. When his gaze dipped to her chest, she resisted the urge to cover up. She had boobs, he could deal with it.

  Finally, he blinked. “W-what was that?”

  Van snapped her fingers. “My eyes, they’re up here. If you’re done with the fan club, do you think Becca and Liam can get married now?”

  He met her eyes and gave her a smug grin. “I’ll get everyone seated.”

  “Thanks.” Van locked her jaw and strode away, the heat of his gaze boring a hole in her back as she went.

  * * *

  The reception was in full swing and Alex did everything in his power to keep his eyes off Van.

  He’d seen her a hundred times. Her sexy curves, her long, dark braids, and that perfect skin. Noticed those big, dark eyes. What man wouldn’t?

  But seeing her in that dress, her luscious curves and mouth-watering skin on full display had gobsmacked him. Totally melted brain cells. She was a striking beauty on her worst day. Today, she was a full-on weapon of massive destruction. He hadn’t been prepared for the assault. All through the walk down the aisle and the exchange of vows, he’d had to make sure he wasn’t drooling.

  Liam and Becca were finally married and had left the reception an hour ago for their honeymoon. Thank God, that madness was over. Alex was happy for his friend and Becca was a catch, but the whole thing had almost been a disaster when Liam’s aunt had passed out.

  In the bar, music played and people danced, drank, and embarrassed themselves singing Taylor Swift karaoke songs. Everyone except Vanessa Rodriquez, the most beautiful and interesting woman in a three block radius. Maybe in all of Princeton.

  She sat at the bar nursing a Perrier, her credit card in front of her. She didn’t talk to anyone, staring off into space like she’d just lost her best friend. Her dress slit had fallen open and he couldn’t help but stare at the leg bomb it exposed. What he wouldn’t do to run his fingers over her skin, massage her thigh, kiss the back of her knee.

  Odds weren’t on his side. The woman never relaxed. Never took a breath. The only time he’d ever seen her smile was at Becca. Scratch that, she smiled at other things too, Liam, movies, comedy shows. Just never at him.

  Time for the A-man to do his thing. More like time for a suicide mission.

  As the last dance ended, he broke away from the bridesmaid clinging to him. She was pretty and probably smart, but he wasn’t interested. He pried her fingers off his bicep.

  “Where are you going?” she said, slurring her words.

  “You wore me out. I need a break.” He guided her back to her table of friends. “Are you staying here at the hotel tonight or do you need a designated driver?”

  She waved at the air. “We have a room. 415. Will you come visit us later?”

  The whiskey on her breath nearly dropped him. He wasn’t sure how she was still standing. “Absolutely.” He knew she’d never remember this conversation. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

  He made sure her butt hit the chair before he let loose of her elbow, then stood for a moment as he turned up the charm quotient a notch and headed Van’s way.

  The barstool next to hers was open and he slid into it, signaling the bartender as he did so. “You look like someone kicked your puppy.”

  She stiffened and her perfume floated over to him. Spicy. Smoky. Whatever is was, it fit her perfectly. “Go away.”

  Ignoring her, Alex ordered a martini. Straight up. “And another water here for my friend,” he told the bartender.

  “No,” Van said, turning her eyes on him. One of her eyebrows arched in anger. “I’m fine.”

  She was not fine. “Becca will be back in two weeks. You’d think she’s the only friend you have.”

  “Are you trying to be an asshole or does it just come naturally for you?”

  Alex smiled, handed the bartender his credit card, and accepted his martini. The guy trotted off and Alex took a sip. Usually women fell all over him. Van was going to be a challenge, but then he liked a good challenge. “It’s a party, Van. A celebration. You know, drinking, dancing, having fun. Ever tried it?”

  The ice queen curled her lip. “I danced. Tore up the dance floor. You missed it. I think you were occupied with the bridesmaids.”

  At the start of the reception, she had danced. And he’d seen her chatting with several guests. But she hadn’t moved from the barstool since Liam and
Becca had left for their honeymoon. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her, even when surrounded by the bevy of lovely women here tonight.

  The bartender set his card back on the bar with his receipt. Alex took another sip. The martini was mediocre but it would do. “Why didn’t you sit with them instead of over here alone?”

  “Well, if I wanted to talk about the latest Pilates, Pure Barre or cardio strip tease class, then I would have, but I get plenty of that kind of talk at work. Is it so hard to believe that I like being by myself?”

  Sounded awful to him. He thrived in social environments. Felt alive. “Cardio strip tease, huh?” His eyes dropped to her full cleavage. “How exactly does that work?”

  “You’d be surprised. Takes a whole lot of muscle to hold yourself up on a pole.”

  “I dunno. I think I need a demonstration.”

  He winked at her and she drew back. “Are you flirting with me?”

  Jeez, you think? Could he make it any clearer? He’d been flirting with her since the first time he’d seen her.

  The purse of her lips and narrowing of her eyes told him she truly wasn’t interested. Which was ruining his goddamned night. Maybe he should cut his losses and save face. “What did I do to piss you off so much, Vanessa? We had to work together on this wedding thing and I did everything you wanted and then some. Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

  She sighed and looked completely annoyed that he would apologize. That confused him even more. Most women loved a man who could say he was sorry, and if it meant getting on Van’s good side—if she had one—he’d say it until he was blue in the face.

  “You’re not pissing me off. I just don’t buy it. You can cut the Boy Scout show. No one is watching you. You don’t have to pretend. Can’t you be real for once?”

  Real? “Um, I hate to tell you this, but I am a Boy Scout. Or was.”

  “Now, there’s a surprise.”