“Coming up,” Eli said through the radio.
“Ready,” Brek replied.
The van lurched to a stop. Several cars outside honked in apparent disagreement with their decision to park in the middle of the street. The door slid open and the plan went into action. A thundercloud rolled in the distance. Brek popped his umbrella open and hopped out of the van. He immediately helped Velma down. She tripped over the lip of the edge, right into his arms.
He caught her. “Eyes on me. Don’t look down.”
Her expression went soft. “Thanks.”
Troy came next, then helped Sophie down. She glanced at the impromptu space at the edge of the intersection, right where the finish line had once been. Brek had checked the location and confirmed this was where she had handed Troy his water bottle.
“This is perfect.” She stepped beside Troy and took Buttercup’s leash. Buttercup tore at the collar of his mini tux with his teeth.
Velma popped open her umbrella and held it over Sophie. Brek did the same for Troy. The rain was light, but thank fuck Velma had thought to bring the damn things.
Dean and Jase, decked out in orange reflective vests, directed traffic around them, but many of the cars stopped. The drivers openly gawked. This led to honking, but Sophie and Troy didn’t seem to mind. Pops had already started the vows. Sophie slipped a plain gold band on Troy’s finger. Her fingers shook, but her words were strong as she repeated after Pops.
The photographer snapped photos. Brek glanced to Velma. She’d been totally caught up in the ceremony, but when he glanced her way, she turned her head to him and a slight smile tipped her lips. He couldn’t pull his gaze from her.
She gestured toward the ceremony and mouthed something about paying attention. He should probably listen, but he literally couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not when she’d managed to grab his heart and hang on tight without even realizing what she had done. His entire body tensed. She’d become everything to him. When the hell had that happened? He shook away the feeling.
A siren wailed in the distance. Brek gave the signal to Pops to wrap it up. Jase and Dean blocked the traffic completely so Eli could collect the cones. This resulted in quite a lot of honking and some jackoff calling Dean a multitude of names.
Pops got the message to get things done and pronounced the happy couple man and wife. They kissed. Brek switched into panic mode to get everyone back in the truck. The sound of sirens moved closer. He had about thirty seconds before everything fell apart.
Jase peeled the decals off the side of the van. Brek’s heart skipped as he helped Sophie inside. Troy followed with the dog, and they took their seats. Brek didn’t stop to let Velma climb up. He just lifted her at the waist and climbed in. Pops scrambled in behind them and Eli slammed the door shut.
“Everybody sit.” He adjusted the small train of Sophie’s dress. “Where’s Alan?”
He glanced around; his heart skipped uncontrollably. Alan hadn’t gotten in, and they’d already left. They couldn’t circle back for him or they’d get caught up with the police.
He held up the radio and pushed the button. “Dean, we’re down a photographer.”
The excruciating pause that came after had his heart thundering against his ribs.
“Got him,” Dean finally replied. “We were mid-evacuation when you radioed. He wanted to get some parting shots of the van driving away. We’re headed your direction now. Will meet up at Walgreens.”
Brek’s shoulders sagged. Thank. Fuck.
“That was crazy.” Velma settled on the bench beside him. “And super romantic.”
He caught her gaze in the dim, lit-by-flashlights glow. “Thanks again for the umbrellas.”
She gave him a wry smile. “No problem.”
“We make a good team,” he said.
If they weren’t being bounced around in the back of a bread van with her grandfather across the aisle, he would lay a kiss on her. Hell, if they were alone in the back of a bread van he would do a hell of a lot more than that. Instead, he squeezed her arm and relaxed against the metal siding.
Aspen would be over the moon that they’d gotten Sophie and Troy hitched. Next up, Claire and Dean, a big spread in Rosette, and then he’d never have to plan another wedding again. His gaze slid back to Velma, and visions of blue garters and honeymoon lingerie swam in his vision.
Fuck it. If they got that far with things, she’d have to deal with the wedding bullshit. He’d be in charge of showing up on time and the consummation afterward. Hopefully, directly after the ceremony—like in the limo on the way to the airport. But that wouldn’t happen. He had to get a grip and stop thinking about forever. He didn’t stay in one place long enough for forever.
A stretch limousine was waiting in the parking lot when they returned. He’d arranged for it to meet them at Walgreens and whisk Troy and Sophie off for their two-day honeymoon in the mountains.
“Brek?” Sophie asked.
He turned from where he’d started taking out the benches.
“Thank you. For today. I’ll talk to my mother. Troy and I both will. We’ll see what we can do to get her to halt her vendetta.”
He nodded. Maybe Sophie wasn’t so bad after all. “Appreciated.”
The happy newlyweds left, Velma and Dean went back to work, and Eli set to pulling off the rest of the vinyl pizzeria decals while Brek disassembled the benches he had added inside the van that morning. He rolled up his sleeves and wiped sweat from his forehead.
“I suppose now would be a good time to ask what your intentions are with my granddaughter.” Pops climbed into the back.
Brek’s heart dipped. Words wouldn’t come. What the hell were his intentions with Velma? They were sure as fuck not to let someone else bang her every night for the rest of their lives. He understood that much.
Pops grabbed a screwdriver and helped with one of the seats. He’d taken off his robes, revealing tan slacks and a blue polo shirt. “Saw the way you watched her during the ceremony. Reminds me of someone I used to know.”
Brek dropped a handful of bolts into a waiting zip-top bag. “Yeah?”
“Me, son. Reminds me of when I was young and a different Velma caught my eye.” He chuckled. “She looked a lot like your Velvet. Prettiest girl I ever saw.”
“She meant a lot to Velma. She talks about her.” Brek used the wrench on a particularly tight bolt, finally loosening it.
Pops held open the bag. “Back then, I was a traveling minister. Loved the life. Never thought I’d settle down until I met her. Best decision I ever made.”
Brek paused, his gut twisting. He wanted Velma. He also wanted freedom. The two wouldn’t mesh well. But he wasn’t willing to give up either one. There had to be a third solution. Except, he couldn’t figure it out. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Pops sighed. “Spent forty years together. My Velma could wind herself up tight about anything. In the end, before she passed, she wasn’t worried about what would happen to her. Said she’d figure it out when she got there.” He paused, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “She fretted over what would happen to me. Who’d make me oatmeal in the mornings? Make sure my robes got ironed? That’s what she bothered herself with those last days. It all worked out, though. There’s a diner up the road from our house that makes me breakfast, and I learned to use the iron.”
Brek stood to stretch his back. He grabbed a bottle of water and handed another to Pops.
“Who’s gonna make your breakfast?” Pops asked, tightening the cap on his bottle and setting it beside the bench.
Brek ran a hand over his face. “What?”
“Things you’ve gotta think about now, while you’re young. Diner food is nice, but I’m grateful I didn’t have to spend forty years eating it.”
“Velma makes good breakfast.” Brek gripped the water bottle in his hand, the plastic crunching under his grip. “I…uh…I know you’re a minster, and she’s your granddaughter. I don’t mean to imply—”
�
�Things are different with kids these days.” Pops opened his worn leather briefcase and reached inside. “My Velma, she had a few requests before she passed. Wanted Velvet to have this.” He handed a small box to Brek. “Told me to hang on to it until the right time. I understand Velvet was upset about the wedding dress, so I figured I’d give her this today. But watching you two, my gut says to go ahead and give it to you instead.”
Brek lifted the top, and his lungs spasmed against his rib cage. Inside was a thin gold wedding band with leaves carved into the metal. Not extravagant, but beautiful and clearly vintage. He’d been contemplating a life with Velma, but he hadn’t expected to be holding a ring so quickly.
“Claire got the dress. Velvet gets the ring.” Pops nodded toward the box. “Go ahead. There’s an inscription. Paid extra for it. Jeweler charged by the letter, so I kept it short.”
Brek lifted the gold band and squinted. The inscription had rubbed down with time, but he could still make out the words. “To Velma, Forever,” he read aloud.
“Short and to the point.” The edges of Pops’ lips dropped slightly.
“I can’t take this.” Brek tucked the ring into the silk lining and handed it back to the old man.
Pops shook his head. “Hang on to it. Might come in handy.”
Yes, exactly. That was what scared the shit out of Brek. “No, really. I can’t take this. I’m leaving Denver soon. Velma’s staying.”
“Keep it for now. You can give it back later. Consider it a favor to an old man.” Pops’ eyes sparkled with mischief. He snapped his briefcase shut and gave a little nod. “Well done today. Haven’t had this much fun in ages.”
The ring box weighed heavy in Brek’s palm. “How’d you know? That your Velma was the one?”
“Didn’t. Not at first.” Pops glanced to the box and shrugged. “But knew I loved her and couldn’t imagine a day without her, so I figured it was as good a place to start as any. Thought we’d travel together for a few years, but the babies came quicker than either of us planned. So, I found myself a flock, and we put down roots.”
“Do you miss it? The traveling?”
“No.” Pops caught Brek’s gaze and held it. “Not for a second.”
Brek swallowed against his thick throat. “Thanks for handling the ceremony today.”
“Happy to do it.” Pops nodded. “It’d mean a lot if I could officiate your nuptials…again, when the time comes. No rush, but, ah…keep in mind her mother may never forgive you if you two get married in the middle of an intersection.”
A smile twitched at the corners of Brek’s mouth. “Noted.”
Pops stepped down from the van. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I’ve married a lot of people and trust my experience—a man doesn’t look at a woman the way you looked at Velvet today unless he already knows.”
“Hey, I think I lost my earring…” Velma’s out-of-breath voice trailed close.
Brek sucked in a breath. “V, I thought you left.”
“Unless he already knows what?” Velma asked, climbing up into the bread-mobile.
Chapter Twenty
“Scripture,” Pops said. “Unless he already knows the…scripture. Brek here’s a real theologian.”
Brek? No way. Then again, Pops could convert anyone.
“Scripture?” she asked, confirming she’d heard him right.
“Yeah, you know, Bible shi—tuff.” Brek shoved his hands into his pockets. “What are you looking for?”
Somewhere between when they’d originally left and when they’d returned, one of Velma’s favorite pearl earrings had disappeared.
“My earring. I barely got out of the parking lot before I realized one of the pearls was gone.” She gave Pops a quick hug and grinned at Brek. “Have you seen it?”
“Seen what?” Brek asked, rubbing his forehead.
Velma raised her eyebrows. Was he serious? “My earring, silly.”
“Oh. Uh…no.” Brek shifted like he’d gotten caught with his fist in her candy jar of suckers. What was that all about?
“You’re acting weird.” She looked between Pops and Brek. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh fine, just fine.” Pops had a mischievous glint to his expression.
“What he said,” Brek muttered and knelt to run a hand along the floor.
She followed suit. “I swear if I dropped it in the street, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Dropped what?” Brek asked, glancing up.
“My earring.” She scrunched her forehead.
“Earring. Yeah.” He glanced back under the bench.
Velma looked to Pops. What the heck was going on here?
He raised a shoulder. “Long day for everyone.”
“Uh-huh…” She stretched to feel along the edge. Something sharp poked her fingertip. “Got it!” She held up the small white bauble. “Thank goodness.”
She caught Brek’s blank stare. He was pale and being super weird.
“Are you feeling okay?” She lifted the back of her hand to his forehead. No fever.
“Long day, that’s all.” He kissed her palm and tangled his fingers with hers.
Pops cleared his throat. “Earring found. Crisis averted. I’ll be going.”
“Are we having brunch on Sunday?” Velma dropped Brek’s hand to slip the pearl into the side pocket of her purse.
“Of course.” Pops helped her climb down to the concrete parking lot. “No one makes pancakes like you.” He winked at Brek.
They were both being so odd.
She glanced back up to where Brek stood at the mouth of the van. “Great. I think Brek can come, too.”
“Yeah. I’ll be there.” Arms crossed, he had that funny look on his face again. “Can’t miss breakfast.”
“Sure you’re okay?” She cocked her head to the side.
“Leave the boy alone, Velvet.” Pops pushed his hand to her back, propelling her toward her Prius.
She glanced over her shoulder to Brek. “See you at home?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “Home. Breakfast. All that.”
Velma finished up at work and hit Nordstrom before she hurried back to the apartment. Her big plans for the evening involved candles, massage oil, and Brek naked.
She tossed the brown take-out bag with dinner on the table, along with a bouquet of hyacinths.
Brek lounged on the couch with his guitar, picking out the notes to one of her favorite country music songs.
She paused when he got to the chorus, her mouth dropping open. The music flowed through the room, and he caught her gaze and sang the rest to her.
Her whole being warmed. “Was that for me?”
“They all are, V.” He set the guitar aside and eyed her plastic dress bag warily. “Another dress for the big dinner?”
“The other one bunched. I don’t want to give the impression I don’t care about my appearance.” She let out a weighted sigh and draped the new outfit carefully over a chair. “And Jase said not to dress too formally, so I found a casual dress that doesn’t bunch.” She fiddled with the plastic film covering her new dress.
“V, seriously, you’re gonna do great. You could wear a paper sack, and they’d still love you. Or you could go without a shirt. That’s how I prefer you.” His eyes were soft. “You didn’t have to buy me flowers,” he said, his voice light.
“I believe they’re a you-were-right-and-I-was-wrong bouquet.’” She shook off all thoughts of tomorrow, plopped next to him on the sofa to peel off her red pumps, and stretched her toes against the rug.
“Wrong about what?”
“The wedding today. You were exceptionally romantic about everything, and I was wrong. You pulled it off.” She twisted to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Out of curiosity, when did you become such a romantic?”
“About eighth grade, when I realized chicks pay more attention to guys who do all that crap.” His eyebrows bunched as he moved a pencil over some paper.
“Exactly what kind of romantic
‘crap’ can an eighth-grade boy do?”
“Flowers and chocolates and paying attention to the shit girls say.”
He glanced at her then, and her insides melted. He didn’t need to do any of that when he could get a girl hot with just a look.
She shifted for a better glimpse of the sketch pad beside him. “What’s this?”
“Thinkin’ about a new tattoo.” He held up the drawing, and, holy goodness, it was really good—a charcoal sketch of a compass against an old-style map.
“That’s fantastic.” She ran a fingertip along the edge of the white linen paper. “Where will you put it?”
He tapped his right shoulder. “Thinkin’ here, next to the dragon. Bleed the two images together.”
“What does it mean? The compass?” He had cataloged his other tattoos for her one night after she’d asked. Each of them held special meaning. She hadn’t realized he did the artwork himself. There was so much they still had to learn about each other.
“Nothing, just an idea. We’ll see what happens with it. I drew you one, too.” He flipped the page, revealing a gorgeous pencil drawing of a lily.
“For me to get a tattoo?” He couldn’t be serious.
He studied the sketch. “Yeah, figured…maybe…eventually.”
“It’s really big. Don’t you think? Where would I put it?” She lay alongside him to rest her head against his arm.
“Upper back, I think. That’s what I had in mind while I drew it.” He squinted at the pad. “It’ll fit.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tattoos hurt? A lot?”
“The pain’s temporary.” He closed the book and reached over her to place it on the coffee table with the charcoal pencil.
“You want me to get a tattoo of Jase’s favorite hookup flower?”
He grinned and flexed his arms around her. “Nah, I want you to get a tat of my hookup flower.”
She chuckled and snuggled into him. “Mr. Montgomery, you get an A-plus for avoiding my original question. What does the compass mean?”
“Told you, it doesn’t mean anything.” He tapped the tip of her nose with his fingertip.
Going Down On One Knee (A Mile High Matched Novel Book 1) Page 19
