“Let me make a couple calls. Lettie, why don’t you get our bride and groom some coffee? I have some wonderful cranberry-orange muffins in the kitchen from Sweet Dreams.”
“Absolutely. Right on it, Boss.”
Boss? Again? She and Lettie were going to have a conversation about that. Later.
“Do you mind if I peek at your dresses?” DeVonne asked. “I’ve got a monstrosity of a gown back home that my mom insisted was perfect. I can’t lie. The thing is gorgeous and, yes, perfect. For somebody. But it’s not me.”
“You didn’t tell her?” Molly stopped in her office doorway.
“I tried.”
“Yeah, like we tried to keep the guest list down to a couple hundred. Family and real friends,” Tyrone added. “Last time I checked, the list was bumping six hundred! Then our moms and the wedding planner got together again this week.”
“The list grew by another sixty-four people,” DeVonne said. “Everything from the dress to the flowers to the menu and cake, the limousine…it’s crazy.”
“Now DeVonne’s mom is making noises about a Cinderella coach. We’re done.” He spread his hands in front of him. “Today’s gonna be about the two of us. Period.” Lifting his fiancée’s hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it.
And Molly hoisted the white flag. She knew right then and there, one way or another she’d make this happen.
“Take your time, DeVonne. Let’s see if we can find you here.” She studied the bride. “Lettie’s needle is absolute magic, so fitting you won’t be a problem.”
Molly pulled her phone from a pocket and stepped into the office. Behind a closed door, she called the other three on a conference call. They checked schedules, shifted tasks, then shifted some more. In under ten minutes, they had a plan.
With a smile on her face, Molly walked back into the display area. “Looks like we can make this work.”
The bride squealed and threw herself into her fiancé’s arms just as the door opened.
“Hey, Molly, Jax and I wondered if we might take the most beautiful gal in Misty Bottoms to lunch a little later.” Brant stopped midstride. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you had customers.”
Still cradled in her future husband’s arms, DeVonne announced, “We’re getting married!”
“Congratulations.”
Molly’s heart stuttered at his quick grin, those incredible dimples.
Jax let out a happy gurgle, and the bride wiggled out of Tyrone’s arms. “A baby?”
Brant turned so the baby, in his backpack carrier, faced her. “Jax, meet—Sorry, ma’am. We haven’t been introduced.” He swung his gaze to Molly.
“Brant Wylder, this is DeVonne Maxwell and Tyrone Sterling.”
Brant kissed the bride’s cheek, then extended a hand to the groom. “Thought I recognized you.”
Tyrone swallowed Brant’s hand in his huge one. “One of the Wylder brothers.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Dude, you guys do some out-of-this-world work.”
“And you’re football,” Brant said. “Defensive end.”
Tyrone nodded.
“And this good-looking guy is Jax.” Molly made a face at him, and he gave her a sloppy grin.
“Yours?” Even as the bride dropped a kiss on Jax’s cheek, her eyes met Molly’s.
“No. Jax is Brant’s nephew.”
DeVonne narrowed her eyes.
“Uh-oh.” Tyrone groaned. “I know that look. What’s going on in that pretty head?”
“We have a ring bearer!”
“Jax?”
She nodded.
Brant pointed out the obvious. “Uh, he can’t walk.”
“But you can.”
“And I happen to know you have a tux,” Molly said.
“You do?” DeVonne’s eyes widened.
Brant thought of the shoes that went with that tux. The pain. The promise he’d made to never again wear them. His smile slipped into oblivion.
“You don’t need to get right back to the shop, do you?”
Mentally rescheduling his day, he said, “Nah. Gaven and Tuck flew home on a red-eye last night. We ripped out a ton of Sheetrock yesterday, so I figured I’d let the dust die down and give my muscles a rest.” He arched his back and stretched. “Starting tomorrow, Jax goes to day care, so I thought we’d play today. I could have dropped him off this morning, but we had a late night. I’d hate for things not to go well. First day and all, you know?”
Molly grinned. “Nervous, Uncle Brant? Separation anxiety?”
“No, but first impressions are important.”
“So you’re free. Will you help? Take part in our wedding?” The bride-to-be held her hands together as if in prayer.
Imagining those shoes, his feet already hurt. “Why not?”
DeVonne kissed him smack on the lips. Brant met the eyes of the giant across the room and relaxed when Tyrone laughed.
“It’s good, man. It’s all good.”
DeVonne snatched the baby from his carrier. “Think of the pictures. Oh my gosh, baby, you are so adorable.”
Jax, on his very best behavior, babbled to her.
An expression of horror crossed DeVonne’s face. “We don’t have a photographer.” She turned to her fiancé. “Tyrone.”
The big man stared at her like a deer in the headlights.
“Mr. Beaumont, Jenni Beth’s father, is an excellent amateur photographer,” Molly said. “He’ll be happy to pitch in if you’d like.”
“We’d like,” Tyrone said decisively.
While the two women fussed over ring pillows, Tyrone pulled Brant aside. “Is there a jewelry store in town? We’ve got our rings, but I’d like to buy DeVonne a little something. You know, a memento of our wedding day.”
Brant remembered seeing a small jewelry shop, Cappy’s, and told him where to find it.
“Great. Later, maybe you and I can talk about a vehicle I’d like to have Wylderized.”
“Nothing I’d love more.” Even as he said it, his gaze wandered to Molly.
“She’s some looker, isn’t she?” Tyrone asked.
“DeVonne? You bet.”
“Yeah, she is, too, but I was talking about your lady.”
Brant’s mouth went dry. His lady. Was she? Despite her protests, had they somehow reached that point?
“She is,” he murmured. “She really is.”
“I can’t make up my mind, Tyrone.” DeVonne held up three lace and satin pillows.
“Let me throw something else in the mix.” Molly picked up a small, vintage jewel box. “It’s different, and it would be a keepsake you could use.”
“I love it!”
Tyrone grinned. “Molly, you’re making my girl very happy today.”
DeVonne gave him a smoldering kiss.
When Brant sent Molly a look every bit as hot, she locked her hands behind her back to keep from fanning herself.
“Tyrone, go away somewhere while I find a dress,” DeVonne said. “Shoo, now.”
With his hand on the doorknob, Tyrone shot her a look, then nodded at Brant. “I’ll be back soon. I’m ready to get this done.”
*
After the groom left, Brant tossed a blanket on the floor for Jax—not that he’d stay on it—then made himself at home on the little blue love seat. Lettie, Molly, and DeVonne each chose a gown for the bride, then disappeared into the dressing room.
“Why don’t I get to pick one?” Brant complained.
“Because you don’t,” Molly answered.
While she helped DeVonne into her own selection, Molly’s mind wandered. Brant continued to surprise her. The man was so easy, so comfortable in any situation. She thought of all the balls he juggled with his sister, his mom, Jax, and the renovation project. Not everyone, man or woman, could handle all that. Yet he made it look almost simple.
And now here he sat, pure male, in a very feminine boutique, helping a bride he’d just met select her gown.
After a f
ew minutes, he asked, “You gonna let me see? I’m good, darned good, at critiquing ladies’ clothing.”
“She’s not shopping for lingerie, Brant,” Molly called out.
DeVonne and Lettie laughed.
“Ha, ha. Come on. Jax and I are waiting with bated breath.”
Jax, hearing his name, started chattering and scooted off toward the dressing area. Brant scooped him up, held him high, and flew him airplane-style back to the love seat.
Molly, peeking around the corner, shook her head. “You’re sprawled there like you’re waiting for the Super Bowl to start.”
He held out his hands. “So where’re the chicken wings and beer?”
She nailed him with a raised-brow expression, and he laughed.
“Bring it on. We haven’t got all day, you know. We have a wedding to go to.”
He heard DeVonne’s delighted sigh and a rustling of silk.
When she stepped around the corner, he nodded. “Now there’s a bride to take your breath away.”
The cocktail-length dress had a fitted bodice with a full tulle skirt. Its champagne color burnished her smooth caffe-latte skin.
“I like it.” DeVonne twirled in front of the three-way mirror.
“But do you love it?” Molly asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Then let’s give another one a spin.”
When she stepped out again, she wore a short ivory dress.
“I don’t like that one quite as much,” Brant said.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” His brow furrowed. “I could see that at some little tea party or something, but it doesn’t shout ‘Bride.’”
DeVonne squinted at the mirror. “I think he’s right.”
“Okay, consider it gone.” Molly started to follow her, then turned back. “Why so comfy with this, Brant?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “I have a sister. And a mother.”
“And no doubt a string of girlfriends.”
He met her eyes. “Only one girl in my life right now.”
She couldn’t speak.
He threw her a smug grin. “This is my first go at bridal-dress shopping, and I have to admit, I’m glad it’s Tyrone tying the knot today and not me.”
“There’s a surprise.” Molly disappeared, and Lettie handed him a fresh coffee before greeting a woman who’d come in to find a negligee for her tenth-anniversary cruise.
“Lucky husband,” Brant commented.
When the woman held up two for his opinion, he said, “The red one. It’ll drive your husband wild.”
Bouncing up and down on Brant’s lap, Jax agreed with flapping arms and a mile-wide grin.
She bought it.
Three more choices, one a trumpet gown Brant vetoed, a mermaid gown he was lukewarm about, and a sheath that knocked his socks off, and DeVonne had her wedding dress.
“Beyond gorgeous.” Brant gave DeVonne a cheek smooch. “Tyrone won’t know what hit him. He’s one lucky son of a gun.”
“He is, isn’t he?” She ran her hands over the off-white, sleeveless dress, then glanced over her shoulder to catch the reflection of the low back in the mirror. “This is the one I’ve dreamed about.”
Molly, all business, said, “Let’s get it off before Tyrone comes back. We don’t want him seeing it before the ceremony.”
“No problem. I’ve got you covered,” Brant said. “I told Tyrone I’d give him a buzz when it was safe to return.” He popped a Tootsie Roll into his mouth, a small piece of banana into Jax’s, and slid out his phone to make the call. “Mol, before she takes that off, why don’t you have her try that second pair of shoes there with it?”
Molly considered them. “I think you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
When she bent to pick up the shoes, Brant’s grin deepened. Darned if Molly didn’t have a tattoo playing peekaboo.
Five minutes later, the door opened and two men walked in—Tyrone and Molly’s father. Even though she willed herself to stay loose, her spine stiffened.
“Dad. You’ve come at a bad time.”
“That’s okay. I was close by and thought I’d stop in.” He startled when he saw Brant.
“I’m busy, Dad. If you want to check this month’s books, you’ll have to come back later. Tomorrow would actually be better.”
His face deflated, his expression sad.
Molly frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Me.” He glanced at Brant, then back to his daughter. “It seems I have been for too long.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry. I’m in no hurry. Take care of your customers.”
Molly blinked. “Okay.”
Tyrone spotted Brant on the love seat and dropped down beside him.
Her dad took a good look at the guy he’d come in with. “Tyrone Sterling?”
“That’s me.”
“Honey, do you know who this is?”
“He told me, yes.”
“But…” He stuck out a hand. “Preston Stiles. My daughter, Molly.”
“Molly and I have met.” He shook her dad’s hand.
“What are you doing here, Tyrone?”
“Dad—”
“No.” Tyrone held up his huge hand. “It’s okay. Actually, it would be nice to have a few guests. Got time for a wedding, Preston?”
Molly’s head was spinning. Try as she might to maintain it, control was slowly slipping from her grasp. Brant, a tuckered-out baby asleep on his chest, football superstar Tyrone Sterling, and her generally absentee father talked cars, although there was something going on between Brant and her dad she couldn’t quite figure out. DeVonne and Lettie chatted about how best to fix collard greens.
And at least a dozen details still needed to be dealt with.
“Okay, everybody,” she said. “This is nice, but we have a wedding to finish up.”
DeVonne clapped and gave another of her little squeals.
“Tyrone, you have your tux, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am. I brought it with me. Didn’t figure I’d be likely to find an off-the-rack suit to fit me.”
“Good thinking.” Molly took a deep breath. “Here’s the drill. DeVonne, Helen at Frenchie’s beauty shop will do your hair and makeup. Brant, you need to run home and pick up your tux and shoes.”
His face fell. “Do I have to?”
“Afraid so. Jax is the ring bearer, and since you’re his transportation, you need to look good, too.”
“Oh, for…”
“I’ll get tickets on the fifty-yard line for a couple of games next season for you and your brothers,” Tyrone offered.
Brant sprang up from the love seat. “Let me go get that tux.”
“You’re that easy?” Molly teased.
“I can be.” He threw her a heated look. “With the right incentive.”
“Oowee!” DeVonne waved her hand back and forth in front of her face. “Seems to me you ought to jump on that, Molly.” Then she remembered Mr. Stiles was in the room. Aghast, she turned to him. “I didn’t mean—”
Preston shook his head. “My daughter’s old enough to do what she wants.”
Molly valiantly fought the five-alarm fire Brant had started in her belly and pushed on. “Since the dress needs no alterations, Lettie will run down to Sue Ellen’s and find an outfit for our ring bearer. By the time y’all are back, the rest of the details will be taken care of.”
“Brant,” Tyrone said, “how ’bout you be my best man? Mr. Wylder Rides. The guys’ll be so jealous.”
“If you get him, I get her.” DeVonne pointed at Molly.
Brant and Molly looked at each other and threw in the towel. “Sure,” they both replied.
Keys in hand and thankful he’d had his tux dry-cleaned after Jax peed on it, Brant asked, “Is there time for me to take Tyrone and your dad to see the shop—or what there is of it?”
“Say yes, Molly.” Tyrone rubbed his hands together. “Please.�
�
“Okay, but you boys remember we’re on a schedule. Look and leave. No playing.”
“Got it.” Brant hugged the still-sleeping Jax to his chest.
“Brant promised me he and his brothers will trick out my Denali, DeVonne.”
“Give us a little time to get the new place up and running, then we’re on it. That Denali’s right up Wylder Rides’ alley.”
They agreed to take two cars. Brant and Jax headed for the Camaro. When Molly’s dad made to get into Tyrone’s vehicle, Brant stopped him. “Why don’t you ride with me?”
Molly, watching from the doorway, swore she read unease on her father’s face. Despite that, he nodded. What was Brant up to?
Well, no time to worry about that now. The guys were gone, DeVonne was on her way to Frenchie’s, and Lettie had headed off to outfit Jax. Molly shut the door and leaned against it. What a morning! And this was the eye of the storm. The calm wouldn’t last for long.
She grabbed her phone and hit Cricket’s number.
“Are the flowers ready?”
“They are, and if I do say so myself, they’re outstanding. DeVonne wanted a cascade bouquet in Atlanta Falcons red and black, so I used red roses and black feathers. Very dramatic. It’ll be gorgeous in the photos. I have a red rose boutonniere for Tyrone and Brant and a single red rose tied with a black ribbon for you.”
“Thanks, Cricket. Talk to you later.” Molly hung up and tossed her phone on the counter. She and Brant would walk down the aisle together again. This had to stop.
Would it be three strikes and you’re out—or a home run? Her stomach fluttered. Not now. Set it aside, Molly.
She made her second call. “Is the cake finished?”
“It is. I used a couple layers I already had baked. And before you jump all over the ‘couple’ part, I know they said small. It’s a small two-tiered cake.”
“Tansy, Tansy.”
“It’s their wedding! Both layers are frosted in black buttercream. I did rose scrolls on the bottom layer and a smooth finish on the top, then added a wide band of red ribbon at the base of the second layer, along with a gorgeous red rose and some baby’s breath Cricket sent over. The topper’s a tower of fresh roses.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“It is perfect, and it’ll taste great, too.”
“You need to work on that poor self-image, friend.”
She laughed. “Yeah, that’s what they all tell me. You want me to run it over?”
Must Love Babies Page 19
