Who cares? He chomped his gum silently and appeared not to notice.
With that out of the way, he tried to concentrate on the words of the reverend’s message to the audience, and that’s when he fell asleep. He startled from a very pleasant dream to find several in the crowd reminding him they still didn’t approve. An older bony fist leaned over his shoulder to hand him a tissue because he had drooled on himself.
Can I help it? Sermons put me to sleep.
Then he noticed the dark-haired plus sized girl staring right at him with daggers. Okay, so he messed that one up. But he wasn’t there to take home a date anyhow, so he shrugged, stopped looking at the girls, and started staring back at the people in the audience who had caught the snoring or grunting or drooling—maybe all three.
I need some spiked punch.
He knew that someone was going to do it. Mrs. Hanks had forbidden alcohol, but she was about to learn a lesson. It was no SEAL wedding if there wasn’t a heavy dose of alcohol.
Come on. Come on. Let’s get the party going.
The rings were exchanged. The kiss was pornographic, as a good SEAL should behave, and included a gentle squeeze of the bride’s ass, which made her giggle when they both got tangled up in her veil. Tucker noticed the big girl didn’t like that, either.
Mercifully, the wedding was over. Brawley and his young nymph floated down the aisle, followed by the bevy of lovelies, Tucker was suddenly jealous that T.J. had accompanied the brunette. The shit-eating grin he gave Tucker in exchange meant he knew full well what he was doing as his elbow leaned a little deeper into the lady’s chest, which extended her left boob and created about eight inches of mouth-watering cleavage.
I got assholes for friends.
But since T.J. was happily married to the lovely Shannon, Tucker didn’t have to worry about anything.
Except to keep from drooling, get drunk with dignity, and pretend this was a good idea.
Because it wasn’t. He knew he’d made one of the biggest mistakes of his life.
Chapter 2
Brandy was glad the party was beginning. Her plan was to get considerably sauced, dousing and putting out the fires of a disastrous year. She’d been let go earlier in the year for speaking a little too plainly to a customer of the advertising firm. A competing agency hired her the next week—until she found out they were moving their operation to Silicon Valley from San Diego. Her father still owned and operated the local organic grocery store, and so Brandy came back to work for him until something else came on the horizon.
When Dorie asked her to be part of the wedding party, her decision to stay in Southern California was set in stone.
Thinking it would be helpful to meet her diet goals for the wedding she took up a part-time job as a weight loss counselor. The free meal plans and extra income were at first a double bonus. She had some early success, but then her diet stalled and crashed. The food started tasting like cardboard, and she was secretly supplementing with things from her dad’s store. Her lack of progress and her MIA at weigh-ins caused another termination.
But that was last year. This was New Years Eve, and she was going to have a great year. She’d land that dream job after all, get down to a size eight or ten—one she’d never achieved before—and who knows what else could happen? Perhaps Prince Charming would notice her new svelte physique. She’d start lifting weights and perhaps learn to run so she could enter a 5k with Dorie.
She watched the bride and groom glide over the dance floor. The weather was spectacular and clear, surprisingly warm. By candlelight, they swayed and swooned, and there wasn’t a woman in the crowd who didn’t want to trade places with Dorie and her handsome new husband. The hush that fell over the group made her begin to cry. The glittery twinkle lights and silky drapes at the sides of the tent blew in the gentle breeze coming right off the bay.
She approached the group of her fellow bridesmaids and noticed their chatter stopped the instant she was upon them. Several brittle smiles greeted her.
“Having a good time, Brandy?” asked one of them.
“Isn’t it the most gorgeous wedding you’ve ever seen?” she answered, aware she was gushing like a schoolgirl.
“I’m looking at all the eye candy,” one of the other girls remarked, nodding to the group of nearly twenty young men, all fit and handsome, dressed in black tuxes and suits.
“Your Randy is deployed, Sheila. You can look, but better not touch.”
“I hear that the guys on SEAL Team 5 don’t have much to do with these boys. They’re all Team 3.”
Brandy was disgusted with her attitude, but the rest of the crowd tittered, and closed ranks. Soon she was left alone as they wafted off to grab some punch. On the way, two girls were asked to join the dance floor, as other couples from the partygoers began to pour into the revelry. In a matter of minutes, the bride and groom were hidden by other dancers. When the tune turned lively, the dance floor got even more crowded.
Earlier, she’d watched one of the SEALs on Brawley’s team add some rum to the punch, along with something else, so she was fairly sure it would be strong. But just in case, she had a flask of brandy, her namesake and always a good companion in case the evening turned lonely.
She checked her watch as she headed to the punch and saw it was forty-five to midnight, the beginning of the New Year. Soon all those bad dreams of this year would be wiped away forever.
As she reached for a glass, another hand crossed hers. In the collision, several drinks fell to the floor, and several more fell over on themselves on the pretty lace tablecloth, making a light pink stain. The hand she’d collided with could easily palm a basketball or clean off a windshield with one swipe. Enormous beefy fingers, dripping in the sweet mixture, shook, sending droplets of punch all over her face and upper chest. The surprising spritzer caught her off guard.
A deep voice made an apology to the plain woman behind the punchbowl who looked like she’d faint from fear. Then the voice came her way.
“So sorry. I didn’t mean to make a mess.”
It was the beast from the sanctuary, the one who reminded her of Shrek. And now he even sounded like Shrek. She stared up at massive shoulders and a puffed out chest so large he could have trouble getting through a doorway without going sideways. He wasn’t young, like the other men, with a healthy dose of salt and pepper in his hair and a solid white full beard. It was a lot to take in, but she finally found his eyes, and that settled her nerves just a bit.
“Are you okay?” he whispered. His warm eyes twinkled and were kind.
“Y-Y-Yes.” Then she felt the coolness of the punch covering her. “Napkin.”
It was quickly delivered to her flailing hand.
“Another one. I need another one,” she said since the small napkin began to fall apart as she dabbed her face.
He handed her a fistful nearly an inch thick.
“Oh! That’s too many,” she mumbled, but took the wad anyway.
“You got a lot on your-your-your chest there. I hope it doesn’t stain.” He pulled her aside to make way for one of the caterers to mop up the floor.
The slip made her angry. He gave her a fistful of napkins because of the size of her chest. She turned her back to him and continued to dab off the droplets dripping down between her breasts. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the other bridesmaids whisper to her neighbor.
She abruptly turned again so she could address the monster, but the area was vacant. She caught sight of his back and head as he ducked under the tent cover and walked out into the night.
The young catering staff member brought her a filled cup of punch. “Here you go. Don’t be concerned about this. That guy looks like an accident waiting to happen. Not your fault.”
“Thanks.” It was all she could think of to say.
The punch was indeed strong, and Brandy discovered upon finishing it that, although she was relaxed, her breathing was still just as difficult. She tried not to think about the help she�
�d needed getting the big undergarment on before the bustier could go on. It took two of the bridesmaids to work alternating to get the large zipper to close. At one point, she thought her breasts would reach her chin, but she was able to position herself until she was somewhat comfortable. The bustier was easier, since it closed with a row of large hooks and eyes.
She wobbled her way to the women’s restroom and reapplied lipstick, really laying it on heavy. She loved the bright red shade of her new purchase. Adding a little blush, removing two dried droplets of punch, and rinsing her dress with a little water, she felt put together and ready to take on the world. It was only twenty minutes to midnight. All this would go into the folder of old news in just a little while.
Brawley was standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching his friends taking turns dancing with his bride.
“She’s lovely, Brawley. I’m surprised you share her,” she said and smiled.
The handsome SEAL had always been nice to her. Her crush on him was hard to hide. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Well then, let’s make her jealous. You game?”
When he leaned back to check her expression, she gave him the biggest smile she could muster.
“Game on, mister.”
They danced a modified swing to a lively Motown classic. She knew Brawley had benefitted from the instructions he had taken with Dorie. Brandy had taken lessons with her father after her mother passed. The two of them moved around the floor like a choreographed routine, causing a clapping circle to be formed around them. Brawley’s bow tie was undone, as were the top two buttons on his shirt. Brandy wished she could remove or disconnect something, too, but in the end, she stopped just long enough to take off her shoes and throw them into the corner. Brawley swung her around with his powerful arms. She felt lighter than air.
This is a good way to usher in the new year.
Finally the music ended and the crowd cheered them. Brawley gave her a big bear hug that nearly toppled them both. She regained her balance, and, breathing heavy, she accepted his polite kiss to her cheek—a cheek she would hate to wash off.
Dorie was smiling as she re-attached herself to her beau, using his handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his forehead. All Brandy could do was watch them.
The room seemed to rumble behind her, but it was only the sound of the beast’s voice.
“Tell you what. I’ll go kidnap Dorie, and then you can have him.”
Even the hair at the back of her neck stood straight out. Her shoulders felt the tiny beads of moist breath against her flesh. It set up a vibration that traveled briefly down her spine. It was a curious reaction, especially for someone so beast-like.
Upon turning, she faced his warm brown eyes again. They were still twinkling little laugh lines evident at the sides. Somewhere the bevy of bridesmaids and their friends were laughing, and she didn’t care.
“That would never work. Brawley would be too heartbroken. He’d probably throw himself off the Coronado Bridge.” Her tongue nearly stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I need something to drink.”
“I think we should try this punch thing again, don’t you?” His voice was gentle, almost melodic, but very, very deep. She felt the words vibrate in her chest.
“Yes, let’s try to do it better this time. I think they’re out of napkins,” she answered.
Was that a growl she heard? She wasn’t sure. But it was a wicked growl that could fend off anything.
They walked together side by side.
“I’m Tucker,” he said flatly.
“And I’m Brandy.”
At the table, he chose the larger clear plastic cups, handing her one and taking the other for himself.
“To a new year. No accidents,” he said.
She met his cup with a dull click. “No accidents. To a perfect year.”
The cool drink was refreshing, and she finished the whole glass faster than he did. His face was full of surprise.
“All that dancing,” she said between deep breaths, “I needed that. Probably should have had water—”
All of a sudden, she felt light-headed. The air constriction had finally caught up with the alcohol floating around her stomach and brain. As she began to see black spots in front of her eyes, she felt his arm underneath her back, holding her, keeping her from falling. Just before she blacked out, she heard the words,
“I’ve got you. No worries.”
Chapter 3
Tucker carried her to a row of chairs setting just outside the tent. He hurried to get her out before they attracted much attention. Instinctively, he knew she’d be embarrassed if she caused another incident.
She was beginning to moan as he did a light jog towards the chairs. He laid her down, then removed his coat and placed it over her, pulling it up all the way to under her chin.
“Brandy, stay right here and stay warm. I’m going to get some water and a clean washcloth for your forehead. But stay here, okay?”
He saw her nod. Her face was pale, and she’d attempted to open her eyes, but closed them again with another moan. He suspected she’d be sick next.
He ran to the curtains where the catering equipment and staff were housed and got a clean dishcloth and a bottle of sparkling water. When he returned to Brandy, she had already rolled over on her side and was starting to vomit.
“It’s okay. You eat anything today?”
She shook her head and then retched nothing but a pink liquid. All she had on her stomach was alcohol.
“You need to eat something. That will soak up some of the alcohol.”
She ignored him and retched again. He held her hair back from her face before wiping her forehead, cheeks, and then finally cleaned her lips. He helped her roll back.
“Not too far back. Stay on your side. It might help.”
She sighed and snuggled under his jacket. “I hope I didn’t get your tux.”
“Nope. All’s safe. You were actually quite dainty about it. You should see it when I get sick. Not a pretty sight.”
“I can only imagine,” she mumbled. Then her hand searched and grabbed his as she opened her eyes. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did.” He held her hand, and then his thumb began to rub over her knuckles. He stopped himself. “You didn’t eat anything before you drank. It happens to the best of us. I’m going to get you something.”
“No. I’m on a diet.”
“Hogwash,” he said as he got up and headed for the food tables. Glancing back, he saw that her gaze followed him. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar. Brawley was on him with concern written all over his face.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s gonna be fine. Liquor on an empty stomach. She just needed some fresh air, and I’m getting her something to eat.” He searched the small finger sandwiches and bypassed the frittata and vegetables.
“You let me know, promise?” Brawley answered. “We’re cutting the cake at midnight. Just a couple of minutes now.”
“I’m on medic duty, but I can only imagine what that kiss is gonna look like. You gonna mess up her face with it?”
“Nah. I wanna get laid tonight, Tucker. It’s my wedding night.”
“Smart move. Don’t worry about Brandy.”
“She’s in good hands.” Brawley winked and left to join the crowd gathered around the cake.
Tucker piled the dish with the sandwiches and returned to Brandy. She was attempting to sit up. He knelt in front of her. “I’ve got some bread here, which should be good for your stomach. Some kind of mystery meat in the middle, so go easy.”
She had pulled his jacket around her shoulders. She smiled. Her beautiful chest and cleavage was hard not to stare at, so he focused on the plate offered to her. She popped the little sandwich into her mouth and closed her eyes.
“Hits the spot.”
“Good.” He took one. “They’re not bad. You should have another.”
Brandy did as she was instructed.
“Feeling any better?”
She nodded. Her hair was hanging down over her shoulders as she put her elbows and forearms on her thighs. The gap in her bustier was enormous.
“I wish I could take this damned thing off and go topless.”
“A dangerous thought,” he said, slightly embarrassed she’d caught him looking.
She smiled. “So tell me something, Tucker. Did someone put you up to this? Be nice to the fat girl?”
The thought had never occurred to him. He was surprised.
“No. No one put me up to anything. Why, you think there’s something unattractive about you? Are you an axe murderer or serial killer or something I should be afraid of?”
She shrugged and gave a small laugh. “You know the expression. Age old tale. ‘Always a bridesmaid, never a bride.’ That sort of thing.”
“Whoa!” Tucker handed her the plate and stood up. “Who said anything about being a bride. If you’re thinking—”
“Happy New Year,” came the shout from the tent.
He looked down at her. She’d set the sandwiches to the side, took a deep breath, and said, “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”
With the room erupting in horn and popper noises, Tucker came back to his knees, reached for her face, and melted his lips into hers. It wasn’t the wedding cake kiss Brawley would have, and tasted like a ham sandwich, but it definitely got the sparks going deep inside him. Almost painfully, his libido lumbered into full action mode. He felt like a battleship heading out to sea on its final mission. His heart pounded, almost hurting from inattention and need. The subtle scent from her perfume and the way her hair felt on his cheek nearly made him dizzy.
He pulled back and looked into her eyes.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’d be better if you kissed me again. I needed that.”
Her fingers sifted through his hair. Their deep kiss left them both breathless. As his cheek set against hers, he whispered, “What was that?”
“You okay?” she asked, twisting the conversation and letting her eyes flirt. Her forefinger traced over his lips as she focused on them. He squeezed her shoulders but kept his hands in place. He desperately wanted to explore what was being so cruelly smashed underneath all that fabric.
New Years SEAL Dream: A Bone Frog Brotherhood Novella Page 2
