Always the Designer, Never the Bride

by Sandra D. Bricker

  "I'm just going to make a quick call," he said, and Devon nodded, still mouthing the words to the Keith Urban song whispering in the background.

  "Honeymoon suite, please."

  When the operator at The Tanglewood connected the call, Kat picked up on the second ring.

  "Hey, Kat. It's J. R. Hunt. Is Audrey there?"

  "She can't really come to the phone right now," she told him. "Can I have her call you?"

  "Oh, man. Is she all right? Russell told me about the meeting."

  "Yeah. It was brutal. But she's healing the wounds by diving into the whole maid of honor deal. She's painting Carly's toenails at the moment."

  J. R. grimaced, trying to picture it. "Well, I guess that's a good thing."

  "With Audrey, it's hard to tell."

  He chuckled. "I hear that. Listen, can you give me her cell number so I can put it into my phone?"

  "You mean . . . to call her?"

  "Well, not right now. But later, maybe."

  Kat giggled. "That's very optimistic of you. Yes, I'll give it to you. But don't take it personally if she doesn't answer. She's still working on embracing the advancements of today's world."

  J. R. repeated the number three times before saying a quick good-bye, still repeating the number. He quickly tapped it into the address book on his phone as Devon cranked up the stereo again.

  "Ah, Blake Shelton," he commented. "Love this dude."

  Devon sang along, something about a deer head over somebody's bed. Had he heard that right? At the stoplight, Devon turned to J. R. and shouted the colorful chorus in full rock star animation.

  "Settle down, bro," he said with a chuckle.

  "Nah!" he blurted. "It's my weddin' day! And I'm marrying the most—" He poked his head out the window like a hound and shouted. "—beautiful girl in Atlanta!"

  J. R. wondered if he'd ever find his match the way Devon had. He didn't figure any woman would put up with his lifestyle for long. Oh, he had a permanent place in Santa Fe to call home, but he sure didn't spend much time there. Four rooms with a couch, a bed, a stereo and some tools sat perched atop his real home, a large garage. He spent twice as much time on the road as he did in Santa Fe, and it had been such a long time since he'd even considered making room for the possibility of a regular someone; the saddest part was that he hadn't even noticed anything missing from his life until it reflected back at him in the mirror of his brother's life.

  And until he'd spotted a platinum blonde pin-up girl who instantly tossed off a few sparks and ignited something J. R. wasn't even sure he'd ever felt before. Or if he had, he sure didn't remember it like this.

  Devon's thoughts about Carly were more about a long-range future, a bunch of kids, a dog in the back of the truck, and a country song soundtrack than J. R.'s would ever be. Audrey Regan sure didn't have that in her! Not that he cared, of course. But still . . . he'd thought of little else in the last eighteen hours beyond the softness of her lips and the way she'd grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into another kiss.

  J. R. rolled the window all the way down and leaned into the cool breeze, reminding himself of a wedding on the horizon. And after that wedding, she would go back to New York City, and he'd set out for Austin to meet up with another corporate raider type in a thousand-dollar suit with a brokendown Harley in his garage and a lingering dream in his head: a leather vest, torn-up old jeans, and the roar of their bikes as he jammed through the desert with his buddies who bore no real resemblance to Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda anywhere except in his imagination.

  "You're thinking about Audrey, aren't you?"

  J. R.'s eyes popped open and he jerked toward Devon so quickly that his neck cracked. "What?"

  "You can admit it, man. I can see that she got to you."

  "What are you talking about?" he objected. "I'm thinking about my trip to Austin, you dolt."

  "Sure you are."

  The pompous, knowing smile on his brother's face made J. R. toy with the idea of slugging him.

  "Hey, check it out. I haven't been to this bakery in years. Let's stop in for a couple brownies."

  "Dev, are you joking, man? You just had eight Krystal burgers, fries, two Cokes and a lemon pie. Now you want a brownie?"

  "C'mon," he said as he reeled around the corner into the parking lot. "These brownies will blow your mind."

  Devon was right about the brownies at the Backstreet Bakery. They were great. But it was a little unappetizing to watch him shove three of them down in the space of about ten minutes. To make matters worse, he belched all the way back to the house, stinking up the cab until J. R. rolled down the window again in an effort to save himself.

  "Man, you reek. You better gargle with Windex or something before you try to kiss your bride later."

  "Yeah," Devon replied halfheartedly. "I guess I overdid it. I'll try some Pepto when we get home."

  "I hope you have the industrial stuff because you're getting married in just a couple of hours."

  Devon groaned. The minute he threw the truck out of gear, he pushed the door open and lost his lunch. Literally. All over the driveway.

  "I can't believe this," he strained, bent in half, partway out of the truck and partway still in. "I can eat anything without it getting to me."

  "All evidence to the contrary," J. R. replied, tossing his head back against the seat.

  The next round began with more of a scream than a heave, and J. R. threw himself out of the truck in search of fresh air that didn't stink of fast food grease and curdled chocolate.

  "Ah, man, Carly's gonna kill meeeeeee." And it started again.

  "Not if I do it first."

  Kat laced up the back of Audrey's champagne satin gown, and Audrey used her fingernail to turn a few wayward purple crystals that had strayed from the pattern on the front of the sweetheart strapless. She placed the lavender silk scarf around her neck and passed the ends back to Kat to fasten into place as she slipped the lavender satin gloves over her forearms and nudged them smooth. Pushing a wave of hair back, she secured it with a rhinestone hydrangea clip and paused to check her frosted lips.

  Kat leaned over the slope of Audrey's shoulder and grinned at her in the mirror. "You look like Grace Kelly or something. You're so beautiful."

  "Aud?" Carly called out from the other side of the bedroom door. "You have company."

  Kat shrugged, and Audrey stepped into champagne Paris pumps with lavender and pink jeweled embellishments.

  "Those are really cute!" Kat remarked. "Where did you find them?"

  "I had them."

  "Of course you did." She giggled before adding, "Well, they match the fabric of that dress perfectly."

  Audrey opened the bedroom door to find the bride standing next to the wrong groom. But J. R. looked delicious in his black tuxedo and champagne brocade vest.

  Two-button notch, she took note. Single breasted. Satin lapels.

  She fought off a swoon as Carly pinned a single lavender rose to J. R.'s lapel. When he looked up and his eyes met Audrey's, he jumped slightly.

  "Hold still," Carly reprimanded. "There. That looks just right."

  He blew out a breath noisily and shook his head before grinning at Audrey. "You look like a Grace Kelly movie."

  "I know, right?" Kat chimed in from the doorway. "I just told her that."

  "Aud, you really do look stunning."

  It struck her as almost funny, coming from the most beautiful bride she'd seen in her life. Carly embodied every Happily Ever After fantasy they'd ever conjured up; and there had certainly been no shortage of those over the years.

  "Uh, listen," J. R. said, railroading her eyes back to him. "Could I, uh, talk to you in private for a minute?"

  "I have to put on my jewelry anyway," Carly said. "Kat, maybe you could help me?"

  "Of course."

  The two of them disappeared in a flash, latching the etched glass door shut between them.

  "Actually, I need you to go for a little walk with me, Audre
y."

  "I can't leave—"

  "Really. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important."

  "Is everything all right?"

  "Not exactly," he replied, and the way he narrowed his blue eyes at her sent her heart to pounding.

  "I'll be right back," she called out to Carly without breaking away from J. R.'s eyes.

  "What? Where are you going?" Carly asked as she pulled open the door.

  "J. R. says Sherilyn needs to see me about the flowers. I'll be right back."

  The moment they made it to the hallway and closed the door behind them, Audrey turned to J. R. with a glare. "Do not tell me that brother of yours—"

  "Are you joking?" he interrupted. "Devon would marry her in a bus station every other week if that's what she wanted. That's not it."

  "Then what is it?"

  "Come with me," he said, and he pulled her by the wrist toward the elevator.

  "J. R."

  "Just come."

  In the elevator, Audrey summoned up the courage to say what had been ricocheting around in her head. "Listen, J.R. . . . About last night . . ."

  "Yeah?"

  "I kind of lost my head with you."

  "You wore it well."

  The sly smile didn't help her resolve. She trudged through the temptation to kiss him again, and she took a deep bracing breath.

  "The thing is . . . I'm not interested in starting anything with you. I hope that doesn't put a dent in your ego or anything, but I've got a lot going on, and—"

  The elevator doors slid open and J. R. walked out without so much as a glance back at her.

  "Okay," she said to the empty car. "Glad we could have that little talk."

  They came upon Emma in the lobby just as Audrey caught up to J. R.

  Emma gasped. "Audrey! You look amazing."

  "Thanks," she managed. "See you in a bit."

  J. R. muttered something that sounded like, "Yeah, later then. Okay," and never broke stride.

  "Slow down, would you? These are five-inch heels."

  "Sorry," he mumbled, but he stalked on at the same speed until coming to an abrupt halt in front of a closed door. "In there."

  Curious, she reached out for the door handle, then hesitated.

  "Go on. You'll see."

  With a deep breath to brace her, Audrey pushed open the door and peered inside. Before she saw Devon, she heard him, roaring unceremoniously as he vomited into the trash can he clutched with both arms.

  "Devon? What's—"

  The noisy heaving broke her sentiment right in two, and she hurried inside and shut the door behind her.

  "Hey," J. R. said, letting himself in and closing the door again.

  "Devon, are you all right?"

  "Uh-uh," he managed before whimpering. "No."

  Audrey's eyes darted toward J. R. "What's going on? Do you know?"

  "He sort of porked out today. We had lunch at Krystal, then made a stop at this bakery—"

  "Ohhhh," Devon reacted to the reminder.

  "When you say 'porked out,'" she began.

  "Half a dozen of those little cheeseburgers . . ."

  "Six of them?"

  "Well, maybe more like eight."

  "Eight!"

  "Fries."

  "Fries?"

  "Lemon pie."

  "Oh, come on," she answered with a moan.

  "Coke and brownies."

  "Is that it?"

  "I think so."

  "How could you let him do that?"

  "Have you met my brother? I don't have any control over what he eats, or anything else, Audrey."

  "I've eaten twelve of them before," Devon offered, peering up over the rim of the trash can. "I don't know what happ—" He paused to stifle a belch. "Happened."

  "Oh, crud," she moaned. "What should we do?"

  J. R. looked up to find her eyes on him, and he reacted. "What? Me? I have no idea! That's why I came to get you."

  "Well, we're going to have to call off the ceremony."

  "No!" Devon objected. "We can't call it off. She'll never forgive me." He pushed himself upright for a moment, then folded in half again. "You know better than anyone else how long she's been planning this day, Audrey. I just need somewhere to get cleaned up, and maybe something to settle my stomach."

  At just that moment, the door opened, and Audrey reeled around on her heels to find Jackson Drake and Sherilyn Drummond standing in the open doorway.

  "Wow, Audrey. You look gorgeous," Sherilyn remarked. "What are you guys doing?"

  "Is everything all right in here?" Jackson asked them.

  "Well, not really," Audrey replied. "The groom isn't feeling very well. Is there somewhere he can go, maybe to lie down for half an hour to pull himself together?"

  "And maybe you've got something for an upset stomach?" J. R. asked Sherilyn hopefully.

  "Andy should be here in a few minutes," she told him. Looking to Audrey, she added, "He's a doctor."

  "Isn't he an orthodontist?" Audrey mentioned.

  "Orthopedist," Sherilyn corrected. "But he has emergency medical training. He'll know what to do. Jackson, can you take our boy upstairs to an empty room?"

  "Absolutely."

  "And J. R., you come with me to my office. I have a stash of things for the nervous groom there. I'll send you down with it while I check on Andy's ETA . . ."

  Audrey wanted to laugh out loud as Sherilyn kicked into full red alert wedding planner mode. Taking Devon by the arm, she helped him to his feet. "Go with Jackson, Devon." When he started toward the door with the trash can wrapped in one arm, she tried to take it from him. "Maybe you should leave th—"

  "No!" Devon exclaimed. "I might need it."

  "Okay. Maybe you're right. Go on now. Jackson will take good care of you."

  Devon paused in front of Audrey, raising his eyes and looking a little pathetic.

  "What?" she asked him.

  "You do look pretty amazing," he managed, then effectively ruined the compliment by gagging.

  "Yeah. Thanks, Devon. Now get out of here."

  The moment they left, Sherilyn turned to Audrey. "Does the bride know?"

  "No clue."

  "Excellent. Let's keep it that way for the time being. You go help her finish getting ready. Don't tell her a thing, and we'll meet you two in the ballroom at I Do time."

  Sherilyn linked her arm into J. R.'s and smiled. "You clean up like a movie star, J.R," she said with a grin, and she tugged him away with her. Just as they reached the center of the lobby, she called back to Audrey. "Bring Emma into the loop," she said, pointing out Emma, crossing toward them.

  "Talk to Audrey," Sherilyn declared, and she and J. R. were gone from sight in another moment.

  "She really is a wedding planner, isn't she?" Audrey said as Emma reached her.

  "In every area of life," she replied dryly. "What's going on?"

  "Can you walk with me? I need to head back up to the bridal suite."

  "Okay, bro. Marines are in place, guests are seated. You need to go stand up there and wait while I walk Audrey up the aisle toward you. Can you do it? Can you hold it together?"

  "Where's that doctor they said was coming?" Devon asked, his pale face misted with perspiration.

  "Sherilyn's husband. He's on his way."

  "Oh. Good."

  J. R. doubted his brother's ability to stand at the altar on his own, but he had no choice. He nudged his shoulder. "Just go stand there. You know where to stand?"

  "In the front."

  "Right. Go on now."

  "Ooo-kay."

  J. R. watched Devon as he swiped his face with both hands and gave his head a swift shake.

  "Dev?"

  "I'm all right," he answered, waving his hand. "I can do this."

  J. R. prayed that was true.

  Once Devon took his place at the front of the room, J. R. looked around for Audrey. He glanced down at his watch for no real reason, then scanned the hallway in both directions, releasin
g the breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding when she appeared around the corner, followed by Carly and her father.

  Audrey hurried to reach him before the others, fiddling with two bouquets of flowers as she whispered, "Where is he?"

  "Up front and ready to get married," he replied softly.

  "Good work."

  He repeated her words in his mind. Good work. Deadly serious, as if he'd just reported back after an important overseas mission.

  Audrey turned to Carly and handed her the larger of the two bouquets, and she gave her friend a tender kiss on the cheek.

  "I love you," she said sweetly.

  "You too."

  With a quick squeeze to Carly's father's arm, she hurried up beside J. R. and looped her arm through his. Hot tingling electricity moved through him as the music started and she nudged him.

  She's not looking to start anything, he reminded himself. Well, maybe I'm not either. Ever think of that? No, of course not.

  As they walked up the aisle, arm in arm, J. R. put the kibosh on his active inner dialogue centering around the irritating, stunning blondes of the world who kissed one minute and recanted in the next, and he focused on Devon.

  He appeared to be fine, smiling and alert as he stood there in his dress blues. J. R. noticed Russell and Kat seated on the aisle, and he gave them a nod. But when he looked back at Devon, he realized that, the closer he got, the more peaked his brother appeared.

  J. R. parted from Audrey without so much as a glance, and he stepped up next to his brother.

  "You okay?" he whispered.

  "Nope," he replied through clenched teeth and a broad, toothy smile. But one look at his bride as she and her father came into view, and he rescinded. "I'm good now."

  Carly radiated as she glided down the aisle on the arm of her father. J. R. recalled that Devon had to really work to gain the trust of the man, but the two of them had bonded over a shared respect for the American flag and the Atlanta Braves. The man appeared at ease about turning over his only daughter into the hands of her chosen husband. For the second time.

  It choked him up a bit to watch his brother accept Carly's hand, kissing it tenderly before he led her to the altar.

  "What's wrong?" Carly asked softly, and J. R.'s pulse began to thump. "You don't look right." She darted her eyes toward J. R. "What's wrong with him, J. R.?"