Wedding Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories

by Lisa Scott

  He nodded. “I get it. But my self-preservation is skipping the one night stands.” He stood up. “So, I guess that’s that. Let me know if you change your mind.”

  “You, too. You haven’t seen me in my lovely midnight blue bridesmaid dress yet. Seriously, what’s the harm in one night?” I wasn’t giving up yet.

  “Plenty. Trust me.”

  I waited for more, but he just reached for my hand and kissed it. “I’ll see you at the church, Micki.”

  And I sat with my jaw hanging open for a few minutes before I went home and tried to figure out how I’d screwed up a sure thing.

  ***

  While we sipped mimosas and rated the groomsmen on a scale of “Sorry, not even after a zombie apocalypse zero” to “Take me now ten,” I wondered what I had to do to change Ben’s mind. Alcohol? No, he’d been drinking the night before, and that hadn’t made a difference. Did I have to be funnier? Sexier?

  “Do you have any fake eyelashes?” I asked the makeup artist.

  She pulled out a pair, but I didn’t think that would be enough. I had her put them on just in case, though. I needed to spend more time with Ben. Maybe after a few spins on the dance floor, I’d be close enough to make him change his mind. My breasts could be very persuasive. And this was a quest now. I had to get Ben in my bed. Or his. I wasn’t going to be choosy.

  When our limo pulled into the church parking lot, the guys’ limo was already there. I scanned the grounds for Ben and finally spotted him on the steps of the church. For a brief moment, I imagined what it would be like to have him waiting for me on our wedding day. My heart swelled, which was strange. Most guys left me tingling places further south. But it was different with Ben. I’d never felt this way before.

  I shook that business out of my head. Temporary insanity, that’s what it was. Or, it was probably more due to the fact that the man was smokin’ hot in his tux. I sucked in a breath and walked up the steps. “You look well rested. Good thing you turned in early.”

  He laughed. “Right. Another reason it was smart to say no to the vixen bridesmaid trying to lure me into her den of sin.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have a den. Just a family room.”

  Guests were starting to arrive, so he said, “I better start seating people. See you at the altar.”

  I smiled and there was that traitorous feeling again, cooing, yes, yes, I’d love to see you at the altar. Apparently, there was a new rebel gene set loose inside me trying to overpower the one that knew long-term commitments were a bust in my family.

  I joined the bridesmaids, and we got busy getting our flowers together and the baskets of bells and bubbles to distribute once the happy couple left the church. No doves this time, so that was a plus. When we finally lined up at the back of the church with the attendants, my heart was thumping as I approached Ben. He slid his arm around mine, and there was that “melt into you” feeling again that I had to fight. Was it just because I couldn’t have him? There were other hot attendants I could target instead. Ben hadn’t even scored the highest hot points during our poll that morning. The groom’s brother was mighty fine according to all the bridesmaids. But he didn’t interest me one bit. Not while I was standing next to Ben.

  We walked down the aisle, and I tried to stop thinking about the two of us in the shower. Or the limo. Or the grassy knoll behind the church. I sucked in a breath when he let go of me at the end of the aisle. He smiled and my stomach curled into a tight ball. I was glad my mother hadn’t been able to make the wedding. I’d probably be crimson if I had to look at her right then, wondering if she knew what was on my mind. In a church nonetheless. We’re just a bunch of wanton sluts in my family, I guess. Wouldn’t be surprised if the church caught fire with me standing in it.

  An hour passed without me realizing it. I think the ceremony had been nice. I wouldn’t be writing much about it. I’d been too busy looking at the way Ben’s auburn hair curled at the tips. At his long fingers, wondering what tricks they knew. At the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled at something funny said during the ceremony.

  Before I knew it, everyone in the church was clapping, so I started clapping, too; then Ben’s arm was linked with mine again as we left the church. I had to think of an offer he couldn’t refuse. I’d be miserable until he was mine.

  We parted ways again so we girls could hand out trinkets as guests spilled out of the church. Ben was shaking hands with people he knew, and his magnetic charm was pulling several attractive single women toward him. The floozies. Who hooks up at a wedding?

  Right. Me. At least I try to, anyway. Luckily, once the couple dashed out under a canopy of bubbles and the sound the tinkling bells, we headed off for pictures. When the limos dropped us off, I found Ben right away. I caught his gaze and kept it. If I do start a proper fling blog, this will be one of my top tips: a seductive stare can say far more than any pretty words strung together. And Ben was on the receiving end of a sizzling gaze. He was the one who finally looked away, shaking his head, one corner of his mouth turned up in half a grin. Heh, heh. I was getting to him.

  When it was time for pictures, the guys lined up behind the girls, and he planted his hand a smidge lower on my hip than it should’ve been. And I don’t know if he realized it, but when he propped his other hand on my shoulder, his thumb made lazy circles on my skin. He probably felt my goose bumps pop up.

  And so it was, the next few hours, like an invisible silk cord was keeping us within a foot of each other as we posed for pictures, and even rode to the reception site in the same limo, his fingers on the seat grazing my thigh as we sat next to each other. I was sure not to talk about spending the night together. Those words didn’t need to be spoken. He knew what I wanted. The question was, did he want the same thing? Had I managed to change his mind?

  Then it was time for dinner, him seated with the guys, me with the girls. I was desperate to be next to him again, to get this damn thing over with. After predictable chicken and limp grilled vegetables, it was finally time for the bridal party to dance. This is where I’d move in for the kill. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me much closer than the other attendants were dancing. His arms moved up my back and his fingers toyed with the straps of my dress.

  “Those slide off real easy,” I told him.

  He slipped a finger under one of them as if to test it out. Anyone watching closely might wonder what was going on. I could feel the tide turning. A few more dances like this, and we’d be leaving this shindig right after the garter toss. So I was ready for more songs and more of his wandering hands, when one of the girls who’d been buzzing around him at the church asked to cut in.

  Come on! It had only been one song. I blinked at her and was about to say no, when Ben pulled his hands off me. “See you later, Micki.” Then he turned to her and started dancing.

  I stood there, frozen, missing the heat of him against me. What was he doing? He didn’t need to play hard to get.

  I was about to get a drink to wash down my disappointment, when my Grandpa Leo found me on the dance floor. He took my hands in his and started waltzing me around the dance floor, the two of us bobbling and weaving between more graceful couples like we were two castoffs from Dancing with the Stars tryouts.

  “Shouldn’t you be dancing with someone your own age?” I asked. Grandpa Leo had just divorced wife number three; wife number four was sure to be on her way soon.

  He made a face, shifting his dentures around while he frowned. “I’ve tried women my age. No fun. I need women closer to your age. Any of the other bridesmaids single?”

  I swatted him, maybe a bit too hard. “Why don’t you try their mothers, first?”

  “Older sisters, maybe.”

  I thought about introducing Grandpa to Ben, so Ben could understand where my anti-marriage views were coming from.

  When the song ended, I was hoping to cut in and get Ben back, when another girl made her move. Rolling my eyes, I snagged a drink and saw my Great Aunt
Mildred waving at me. I wandered over, ready for the “So when are you going to get married” speech. I’m the only one in the family aware of our defective commitment gene—and actively looking to stay ahead of it.

  Aunt Mildred had been married twice. She divorced her husband one year after they got married. Her second husband died after six months. Then she got four border collies instead of another husband. Smart gal. “Lots of lookers here tonight,” she said.

  “Yep.” I couldn’t keep my eyes off Ben.

  “Somehow, I don’t think I can see you ever getting married, cookie,” she said.

  I set my drink down. “What do you mean?” Just because I didn’t want to get married didn’t mean I wanted everyone else to think I couldn’t get married.

  She waved a finger at me. “Cause you don’t take no guff from no one. And you gotta take a lot of guff to be married.” She rolled her eyes. “I was only with my Morty a short time and I learned that. And some people think Hank died on purpose, just to get away from all my guff.”

  It seemed entirely possible. “It would save everyone a lot of time and heartache if I skipped the marriage and the inevitable divorce and just stayed single.”

  “Might be a good idea. It would save me fifty bucks on a wedding gift, too. I always give a crockpot, whether it’s on the registry or not. A real nice one. Every gal needs a crockpot for when she’s tired of slaving over fancy dinners.” She nodded and reached for my drink, downing the rest of it. Then her eyes widened and she whispered, “But here comes a fella whose guff I’d take in a hot minute.”

  I turned around and saw Ben walking toward us. I couldn’t help but smile. He’d probably been desperate to shake off those girls and get back to me. When he held out his hand to lead me back to the dance floor, I stood up.

  But he reached for Aunt Mildred, instead. “Care to dance?”

  Her hand fluttered over her throat. “You’re lucky you got over here before that fella in the toupee at the bar scooped me up. He’s been giving me the eye.”

  As he whisked her away, she looked over her shoulder and said, “I don’t know. Maybe I could get married again.”

  I crossed my arms in a huff. What was he doing? Guys don’t play games to get you into a long-term relationship; they play games to get you in bed. But he didn’t have to play games. He knew he could have me! I scanned the room for another hook-up candidate, but no one sparked any interest.

  When the song ended, I decided to take control of the situation. Aunt Mildred was right about the guff thing, and I was done with this guff, no question. I marched onto the dance floor, when a white haired woman wearing a purple dress and a red hat pushed past me and cut in. Then a line of senior ladies formed alongside the dance floor waiting for their turn with Ben. A handsome young man looking to dance with the older set was about as rare at a wedding as all-night-open-bar with top shelf liquor.

  I crossed my arms and glared at Ben. He was a good dancer, twirling the women and dipping them as the songs ended, always getting a round of applause. When he’d finally tired out the golden girls, he scooped up the giggling flower girl. Three songs into it, and she wouldn’t let him go. Smart kid. Well, at least he wasn’t dancing with the bridesmaids. Most of them were surrounding the groom’s hot brother.

  I looked at the clock over the bar and wondered when this torture would end. Ben was sending his message loud and clear: I’m not interested in what you’re offering. I was about to tie my white g-string on a stick to announce I was giving up. But I still had a few attendant duties to take care of.

  The music finally stopped and the DJ announced it was time for the bouquet and garter toss. I tried to hide in the ladies room, but Kayla was a very efficient maid of honor and corralled me into the group of women desperate to catch a bunch of flowers sealing their doom. All of the senior women were out there, too, pretending like they weren’t elbowing the younger girls to get a better spot. Aunt Mildred, though, was hanging back near me.

  Jenny took her time flaunting the bouquet, taking aim, and finally throwing the damn thing. I was busy scanning the room for Ben, when I saw the bouquet sailing my way. Panicking, I smacked it with my forearms like it was a volleyball and it went soaring towards Aunt Mildred. She made a cross with two fingers, ducked, and the lady in purple ended up with it, holding it over her head like a football from a winning touchdown. I noticed Aunt Mildred wiping her brow in relief. Close one, she mouthed, looking at me, wide-eyed.

  I felt the same way. Nodding, I bumped into Ben as I exited the dance floor. “Looks like fate doesn’t agree with you being single,” he said. “That bouquet headed for you like a heat seeking missile.”

  I balled up my fists and planted them on my hips. “Well, good thing I want to be single. I hardly stand a chance with all your admirers.”

  He rolled his eyes and lined up with the other guys. He actually went out of his way to catch the garter, and laughter filled the room as the white-haired woman with the bouquet hiked up her purple dress to her thighs so he could slide on the garter. He was quite polite and positioned it right over her knee, even though she tried forcing his hand higher.

  I’d seen enough. He was handsome and charming, nice to old ladies and little kids, and he wanted to get married. But he didn’t want one night with me. I grabbed my purse off the table, kissed Jenny goodbye, and slipped out of the ballroom.

  Ben jogged up behind me. “Hey, where are you going?”

  I kept walking. “It’s been a long day and you’ve made it perfectly clear you’re not interested in what I’m offering.” I pushed open the door and went outside, the cool night air catching my breath.

  He followed me and I turned onto the sidewalk, stomping my way to my car. I looked over my shoulder at him. “What?” I stopped and turned around to glare at him.

  He took his time looking me over. “You still only offering one night?”

  My chest heaving, I tipped up my chin. “Yep. That’s it.”

  He stepped forward and slid his hand across my ass, pulling me to him. “Then I guess I’ll have to I’ll take it.”

  ***

  He slept over, though neither of us got any sleep. When he kissed me one last time and slid out of bed, I wanted to tug him back in. I wanted to spend the day with him, share a bagel, get the paper and do the crossword together. Stupid things I don’t even do. Anything that would keep him there. But that was the old Micki trying to take over. My mouth moved, hoping the right words would come out, but I didn’t know what those words would be. I didn’t know what I really wanted.

  After he got dressed, he turned to me and said, “That was great, Micki, but don’t try to get in touch with me. I’m not getting involved with someone who knows she doesn’t want a future with me.”

  I just nodded and looked down at the rumpled sheets.

  A smart girl would have chased him out the door and begged for a chance. But I wasn’t a smart girl. I was a scared girl.

  ***

  I knew there was no chance of bumping into Ben at wedding number four of the season that following week. I was the only one standing up for Sam and Justin. I’d been in ceremonies with bigger wedding parties than the number of guests they’d invited, but I hadn’t been in a wedding that throbbed pure, deep love like theirs. And they’d only known each other for like, two months. I had trouble committing to a new hair color in that time. What was wrong with me?

  Sam had handed the wedding planning reins to me so I’d have something to add to my resume. That’s how I knew she was crazy about this guy. She didn’t care about wedding favors or programs or coordinating linens. She just wanted to marry Justin and do it while his mother was still alive. The poor woman’s cancer had come back.

  Justin’s mother offered her backyard for the reception site. Justin and Sam had prepared the food the day before and served it from the catering truck they’d just purchased. I was going to give them a fantastic write up on my blog to hopefully kick-start their business. But I didn’t have to ex
aggerate what a lovely day it had been. The Cornish game hens were divine, the string quartet was lovely, and the smiles on their faces were unforgettable. I couldn’t shake the memory of that look later that night lying in bed by myself, wondering if I was cheating myself by not giving love another chance.

  Cheating. Yeah, I’d had my share of that. I was protecting myself, is what I was doing.

  ***

  Late Sunday morning, I woke up to a cold nose pressed against mine and panicked. I could’ve sworn I’d come home alone. I cautiously opened my eyes to a smiling blonde next to my bed. “Shit.” I’d forgotten about the animals I was pet sitting while Sam and Justin honeymooned on the Cape. Justin had two cats and a dog. Daisy, the yellow lab, sat down and I swear she smiled at me. A dog might be a bigger commitment than a man, I thought, as I got dressed so I could take her to Forest Park.

  Half an hour later—without even pausing for coffee—I tossed a Frisbee for Daisy and it got stuck in a bush. Of course. She was jumping and whining at it, so I jogged over to dislodge it.

  A little girl around eight or so raced over to pet Daisy and tried to reach the Frisbee. “It’s too high,” she said.

  I couldn’t get it either.

  “Let me go get my dad. He’s really tall.”

  Wow. Dogs really are guy magnets, I thought. Why hadn’t I tried this before? “Thanks. I don’t think Daisy will leave the park without her favorite toy.” I wondered if Ben liked dogs. I wondered if he’d be interested in meeting us at the park. Maybe the dog trick would work on him. Then I remembered his sharp words when he left. My heart sank. I squatted next to Daisy and nuzzled my nose against her fur. I wasn’t really interested in meeting the little girl’s dad anymore. I wanted Ben.

  I heard her running back. “Daddy, can you reach that Frisbee?”