“Sorry, this is a girls-only table. Bachelorette party.” I shrugged and then signaled for him to move so the waitress could set our drinks on the table.
The man smiled and moved to the side, his eyes on me and Jenna. I already knew what he was thinking. “Are you two twins?”
Jenna opened her mouth to say something, but I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into my side. “Yep. Twins.”
Something sparked behind the man’s eyes, and I wanted to throw my drink in his face, even though he hadn’t said anything. “Who’s getting married?
“We’re actually both getting married,” I said. The women at the table stiffened, no one as much as Jenna. She was like a mannequin under my arm. “To the same man,” I continued, no hint of sarcasm in my voice. “We wanted to be sister wives.”
He smiled, trying to pretend he was in on the joke, but I could tell I was bothering him. He wore his suit like a badge of honor, a symbol that should have won over my respect immediately. It hadn’t, and now I was mocking him. Slowly, he let his gaze fall away from me, scanning over Lizzie and Jess. Both of the women immediately lifted their left hands, showing off their rings, and I stifled a laugh.
The man, not to be discouraged, swiveled his gaze to the other side of the booth, perusing Bridget and Kate. Bridget, following the lead of Lizzie and Jess, raised her wedding ring in the air like a signal flare, but Kate wasn’t married. She didn’t have a wedding or engagement ring to show off. So, she just looked at the man, frowned, and then shook her head no.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
The man straightened up, buttoned his jacket, and began walking away as he said over his shoulder, “Have a nice evening, ladies.”
As soon as he had reclaimed his seat at the opposite end of the bar, we all fell forward in a fit of giggles. Jenna was leaning against my side, trying to catch her breath. “Sister wives!” she gasped.
“Where do you come up with this stuff?” Lizzie asked, a mixture of amusement and horror on her face.
“Do you think a man has ever been so spectacularly refused by an entire table of women at once?” I asked once we’d all relatively composed ourselves.
Jess held up a hand to silence us all. “In college, I went to a Halloween party where one guy dressed up as a giant penis and then asked out every girl there. As far as I know, he went home alone that night.”
Lizzie grimaced. “Gross. Sounds like he deserved it.”
“He totally did, but it was still hard to watch,” Jess said, sipping on her cocktail and raising her eyebrows.
From there, the evening began gaining momentum. The alcohol loosened us all up, and within the hour, even Lizzie seemed to be having a great time.
“Jenna, are you and Evan gonna have kids?” Lizzie asked, pointing a floppy finger at the bride-to-be.
Jenna nodded. “Yes, definitely. I’ve always wanted kids.”
“Well, when you give birth, don’t let them snip you,” Bridget said, miming a pair of scissors with the hand not holding onto her drink.
“Snip me?” Jenna asked, pulling back her top lip in mild disgust and looking around the table.
When her gaze landed on me, I shrugged my shoulders and pulled my hands back. “Don’t look at me. I don’t have kids.”
“Me either,” Kate and Jess said in unison, shaking their heads.
Bridget dropped her hand onto the top of the table and leaned forward on her elbow. “I have three of them, and I’m telling you, don’t let them snip you.”
“She means an episiotomy,” Lizzie whispered, one hand over her mouth as though it would somehow keep our table neighbors from hearing her. “It’s where they cut—”
Jenna threw her hands over her ears and shook her head. “No, no, no, no. No. Don’t tell me. I don’t care.”
“You’ll care after you’ve had three kids,” Bridget said. “Believe me.”
I was sitting in the booth, stunned, disgusted, and wishing I’d brought a notebook to write everything down. This was comic gold.
“It’s really not so bad,” Lizzie said. “They hardly ever do episiotomies anymore, if they can help it. My doula gave me a perineum massage just as Mara was crowning.”
“Perineum?” I repeated, only half-aware I’d said it out loud.
Lizzie nodded. “It’s the space between your—”
I held up both my hands in front of me and waved them as if trying to block whatever she was about to say from crossing the air between us and making it to my ears. “Never mind. I didn’t mean to ask.”
“The female body isn’t shameful, Rachel. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed,” I said quickly.
“She’s probably just disgusted, like I am,” Jenna said with a cackle. “I’m trying to enjoy my last night of freedom and you guys are making me think about childbirth.”
Bridget shrugged and tossed back the rest of her drink. “Childbirth is just the beginning. You want to talk about the horrors of the human body? Wait until you have toddlers during flu season.”
She sounded like a soldier telling a war story. Her eyes were glazed over with some unhygienic memory and then she shivered. That led Kate to talking about the time she’d gotten sick at a work potluck and ruined her boss’s suede shoes, which led to Jess giving a graphic example of why you should always stick to bottled water in Mexico. As everyone’s faces got a little more flushed and the waitress started bringing over drinks without anyone specifically asking for them, I realized that for the first time in as long as I could remember, I was having a genuinely good time.
The cocktail bar was fun for a while, but Jenna liked to dance when she was drunk, so we called another cab and booked it to a honky-tonk club across the city. The floor was stickier and none of the patrons wore suits, but everything cost a lot less. Plus, the music was loud and easy to dance to. We grabbed drinks at the bar, snapped a group picture that Jenna immediately posted online, and then gathered in the center of the dance floor, swaying and shimmying in a tight circle to avoid having a repeat of what happened with the man back at the cocktail bar. After a few songs, the DJ threw on a classic country line-dance song from when Jenna and I were in high school. I wouldn’t have known it at all, except we’d both enrolled in a dance class our senior year, and the teacher had had an unhealthy obsession with country music.
“Is this?” Jenna asked, turning to me, eyes wide, a smile stretching across her face.
I nodded, grabbing Jenna’s drink and then handing both hers and mine off to Kate. “Oh, it sure is.”
The other women looked confused for a moment, until the twangy country voice burst through the speakers. Jenna and I linked arms and kicked out our right feet, spun to the side, and circled our arms over our heads like we were holding lassos. It had been almost ten years, but we still remembered every single step.
By the time the song finished, the rest of the bridal party and half the patrons in the bar were standing around us, clapping. We each gave a big bow to a raucous applause and then made out way over to the bar.
“I need some water,” I said, realizing for the first time how lightheaded I felt. I’d had way more than my standard mixed drink and a beer.
“Me, too,” Jenna said. “I haven’t exercised or drank this much in way too long.”
“You gave up your bachelorette ways years ago,” I teased.
Jenna asked the young bartender for two waters, which he brought over immediately, his eyes flicking back and forth between us, thinking the same thing everyone thought when they saw us together.
“Settling down isn’t as bad as everyone makes it out to be,” Jenna said with a shrug. “Evan makes it fun. Even when we just sit and watch TV all night.”
“That’s nice. I think that means you’re really in love,” I said, hating that I couldn’t be happy for her without thinking about how bad I wanted something like that for myself, too.
Jenna took a big gulp of water, wiped her mout
h with the back of her arm, and then looked up at me. For as long as I could remember, Jenna had always been able to see right through me. My mom and dad were good at guessing when I was lying or when something was bothering me, but Jenna was like a psychic. She could look at me and read my mind. As her eyes bored into mine, I tried to plaster on the most genuine smile I could, but I saw the lines appear in her forehead.
“You’ll have it one day, too, Rach,” she said softly.
God, I hated the way she could do that. Seven words and I was almost in tears. It was probably just the alcohol, though. I always got a little weepy when I was drunk.
I smiled and waved her away. “Girl, I’m living it up in Chicago. I love being a free bird.”
Jenna clearly didn’t buy it, but she pretended to. “Good. I’m glad. You deserve nothing but the best, sister wife.”
I laughed, remembering the stupid look on the man’s face at the bar. “This has been so fun.”
Jenna took another long gulp of water and slammed the water glass back on the bar the same way someone would right after they’d finished a shot. “It’s been the best. I’m not ready for the night to end.”
I nodded in agreement and then had an idea. “It doesn’t have to.”
Jenna raised an eyebrow.
“This is your last night out as an unwed woman,” I said, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against my side.
Jenna laughed. “I’m not getting married for two months yet. You know that, right?”
I held a finger to her lips and shushed her. “Not important. This is the last crazy night you are going to have before you’re married, and I want to make it the best night ever.”
“What are you proposing?”
“I’m proposing we get a hotel suite and keep this party going.”
Jenna, cost-conscious despite her immense wealth, bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know, Rach…”
“If we can’t splurge on a hotel for your bachelorette party, when can we?”
She twisted her lips to the side and looked off towards the dance floor, where the four other women were dancing and laughing. I knew she would cave, but I still wanted to wait until she gave me official confirmation.
After a few seconds, she sighed. “Make it happen, cuz. I’ll go tell the girls.”
I squealed, gave her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek, and rushed down the side hallway towards the bathroom for some quiet to make a few phone calls. This night had seriously turned around.
Chapter 5
Rachel
If the dance floor of the club was sticky, the bathroom was ten times worse. It smelled like air freshener and bleach, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that it hadn’t been cleaned properly anytime recently. I stood in the center of the room, not touching any surfaces other than the floor, and called my parents.
My mom and dad were the only people I knew in existence who still kept a home phone in their living room. They each had cell phones, but they used them exclusively for work or when they were away from the house. If they were home, they turned them off and spent most of the evening fielding calls from telemarketers around the world. My dad picked up on the second ring with his cliché dad greeting.
“Yellow?”
“Hey, old man.”
He gasped. “This can’t be my daughter. My Rachel, who swore she would never call me on this monstrous thing called a home phone.”
“It’s me,” I said with a sigh, though I was smiling.
“It can’t be,” he breathed. “Not my only daughter who said she’d written more jokes than she could count about her parents who still kept a landline. This must be a prank.”
I laughed. “So funny, Dad. Hilarious.”
He chuckled at his own joke. “What’s going on, Rach? Everything okay?”
“It’s good,” I said. “Great, in fact. I’m actually calling just to tell you not to wait up for me tonight.”
“Oh?”
I explained that we had taken a taxi to Cincinnati and were going to grab a hotel for the night rather than cab it home late. Even though I was twenty-six and hadn’t lived at home in eight years, I still expected my dad to hound me about drinking and demand I come home immediately. He didn’t, of course. He just mumbled something to my mom, repeating the gist of our conversation, and told me to have a good time.
“Be careful. Don’t drink too much. Keep an eye on Jenna.”
“That’s a turnaround,” I said with a laugh. “You used to whisper to Jenna to keep an eye on me on our way out the door.”
“You heard that?” he asked.
“Of course. Plus, she told me.”
He chuckled. “I trust you, kid. Always have, always will. Have a fun night.”
I wished him goodnight and then called a few hotels. There was a huge softball tournament being held that weekend, so most of the rooms were booked, but I managed to get a suite at a decently nice hotel down the street. It would be more expensive, but I figured all the women would agree we should spend a little more money to not be surrounded by a bunch of youth softball players and their parents.
The music in the bar seemed louder after being in the quiet bathroom, and I resisted the urge to cover my ears. Almost as soon as I walked out of the hallway, a man at the bar spun around and moved to stand in front of me. I took a step back, stumbling a bit because of the alcohol and my too-tall heels.
“Sorry,” he said, leaning back against the bar, his hands fidgeting nervously with the fabric of his black T-shirt.
I was seconds away from making a rude comment about the appropriate way to approach women in a bar when I looked up into his face and lost the ability to speak. He was gorgeous.
I’d never thought that about a man before, but it was true. The world’s best artists would have given their right hands for the chance to study his jawline—which was a big deal because, for most of them, that would be their painting hand. Plus, his eyes. Whoa. I had never had the feeling of wanting to step into someone’s irises before, but I would have gladly frolicked in the fields of his green eyes.
“That’s okay,” I said, realizing I had spent an inordinate amount of time staring at him and not saying anything.
As subtly as possible, I arched my back to push my chest out a bit further. Jenna had joked about the deep cut of my neckline earlier, and I was hoping to make full use of it now. I pouted my lips, glad I’d swiped on a new layer of lip gloss in the bathroom while the third hotel I’d called had me on hold. Then, just for good measure, I batted my eyelashes.
He smiled, though it seemed tense and uneasy. I wondered whether he was nervous because of me. I couldn’t fathom how someone who looked like him could ever be nervous in any kind of social interaction, but stranger things had happened. I chose to take it as a compliment.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. God, even his voice was sexy—clear and low.
“I know.” I most certainly did not know this, but I would have believed anything he’d said.
We stood there for a few seconds, looking at one another, neither of us saying anything. I wanted him to ask me to dance or offer me a drink, and if he didn’t, I was thinking about being bold and asking him. Then, he ruined everything.
“Are you…” He squinted his eyes as if he was recognizing me from another lifetime. “Are you Jenna Kendrick?”
My heart—which had moments ago been beating like a hummingbird’s in my chest—turned to stone and dropped into my stomach. How? How had a beautiful stranger in a bar confused me for my cousin? We were an hour away from Pineville. How did everyone know her?
I gave him a wide-eyed stare, trying to decide what I was going to do, but I couldn’t think of anything to say because every thought I’d ever had about myself being inferior was beginning to rise up. If this man knew Jenna, he’d be disappointed with Rachel. He wouldn’t care about me once he knew I wasn’t her. I would be nobody, nothing.
On some level, I knew I was being irrational, allowing the wo
rst version of myself to make decisions, but on another level, I thought it was all true. And then, I felt tears spring up in my eyes.
The only thing worse than correcting the beautiful man and discovering that he didn’t care about me at all if I wasn’t my cousin would be crying in front of him. So, I did the only thing I could do. I brushed past him without saying a word and hurried towards the dance floor.
I felt like I was driving away from the scene of a crash, because the conversation had been that bad. An absolute wreck. I took a deep breath and looked up, watching the lights from the DJ booth dance wildly across the ceiling and feeling the urge to cry begin to wane. Then, I saw the four other bridesmaids dancing in the center of the dance floor. Jenna wasn’t around, and I guessed that she must be off calling Evan. I’d been pulling her away from her phone all night, so she’d probably used me being in the bathroom as her opportunity to sneak away and call him.
I straightened my shoulders and walked towards the other women. I would be okay. Tonight had been a good night. Jenna and I had reconnected, and the girls in her bridal party were nice, despite my first assessments of them. Kate and Jess were my age, and though they were both in committed relationships, they weren’t married, which was a pro for each of them in my book. Bridget was about as settled as she could be, but with her all amazing stories about the “battlefield” of motherhood, she was a riot. And Lizzie, to her credit, had loosened up as the night had gone on. She’d laughed at a few of my jokes and really made me question why I felt the need to judge people so harshly. She was much more than a gossipy, vapid housewife.
The Wedding Steal - A SEAL Romance Page 4
