Wedding Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories

by Lisa Scott

  ***

  We’d left the hotel in two limos, the girls in one, the guys in the other, and a videographer with each group. Melanie had passed out sashes and tiaras we were supposed to wear. Mine said Miss Congeniality. Her crown was huge and she had a scepter. “Let’s get wedding tattoos!” she squealed. “Little peacocks on our ankles.”

  Some girls were game. “I will jump out of this limo right now if you make me get a tattoo,” I said.

  Melanie pouted. “Party pooper.” Then she smiled. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s find the boys.”

  “How are we going to do that?” Micki asked, readjusting her crown.

  Melanie hiccupped and pressed a finger to her lips in a shhh gesture. “I’ve got a GPS tracker on Bryce’s cell phone so I can be sure he’s not cheating on me.”

  The videographer leaned forward, zooming in on Melanie. She seemed to forget she was documenting this whole traveling circus.

  Turns out, the guys were at a strip club. Shocking, I know. Melanie wasn’t bothered. She probably had a better body than most of the women there. And she’d surely be showing it off to the crowds before the night was over.

  We followed her in, and a few men turned from the girls on stage and applauded our arrival. I did my best not to look at the orbs of flesh jiggling on stage and scanned the crowd. I was thrilled to see Liam in the corner, joking with one of the groomsmen, paying no attention to the strippers. Since I’d had a few too many glasses of champagne, I ran over to him and slid onto his lap.

  “Whoa, I didn’t order a lap dance.”

  I kissed him. “You’re not watching the strippers. I love you.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed; then he smiled and kissed me. “If you don’t want my sister unleashing Tory on me again, we better get out of here.”

  I looked over to see if Melanie had noticed us, but she was standing on a table. Minus her top. Men were waving singles at her. The dancers on stage stood with fists on hips, not amused. It would all make for an interesting wedding video.

  On that thought, I said, “Yeah, it’s a good time to leave. You know, before she insists all the bridesmaids start team stripping or something.”

  We headed for the door and Micki and her guy followed us. Liam flagged a cab, and the alcohol coursing through my veins made me a little weepy. I really, really liked this guy. Hadn’t I just used the word love? I hiccupped.

  Liam held the door for me, and I scooted into the cab. He put his arm around me and I nestled against him. Micki and Ben piled in, too. “Where to?” asked the driver.

  Liam looked at me. “Feeling crazy?”

  I just smiled and nodded, and Liam shouted out an address to the driver and we were off.

  When the cab stopped in front of a wedding chapel I looked at Liam, stunned. “You are feeling crazy.”

  “My gut instinct, remember?” He held out his hand, and I followed.

  ***

  The next thing I remember, it was morning, and I was waking up next to Liam, curled up on his side. I smiled as I nuzzled against him, recalling the previous night. Then I screamed.

  And a woman screamed. It was Micki.

  I pulled the sheet over me and realized I was wearing the same clothes as the night before. “What the hell? I thought you were Liam!”

  “I know. You tried to kiss my neck.” She grimaced.

  “Sorry.” I smacked my hand against my head. “Where is Liam? Last thing I remember we were at—” I gulped. “A wedding chapel.”

  “I know. I followed you in and stopped you before you signed up for the shotgun special.”

  “So, I’m not…we’re not…”

  “Married? No.” She shook her head.

  “Oh.” My first reaction was disappointment. But I should be relieved, right? “What happened?” Had Liam backed out?

  “The two of you were drunk, and as a wedding planner, I wasn’t about to let anyone start their life together like that.” She held up a hand. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t get married, you just shouldn’t get married like that.”

  I nodded. Then I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

  ***

  Liam was with the guys and I wondered how much he remembered. Was he regretful or grateful we hadn’t tied the knot?

  He was propped up at the table in the hotel restaurant, and gave me half a grin. “Let me guess. Not feeling so crazy this morning, right?”

  I put my hand over my stomach. “Not really.” Everyone else got up to go to the buffet, and I sat next to him. “But that was pretty crazy last night, huh?”

  “I would have done it. If Micki hadn’t stepped in.”

  I blinked at him.

  “Gut instinct. And it’s telling me you’re the one. What are your instincts telling you?”

  I gulped. “My gut instinct has never spoken up.”

  “Not even now?”

  My heart quickened. What did I feel? Could I possibly know I wanted to be with someone for the rest of my life after just a few weeks? I pressed my eyes closed. “It’s too soon, Liam.”

  ***

  I was still trying to pin down the feeling in my heart two days after we got home, when the phone rang. It was Liam.

  “It’s about time we schedule another Bocce ball lesson,” I said.

  “That won’t be necessary. The wedding’s off. Or it will be soon.”

  I dropped onto the couch. “What happened?”

  “Melanie’s been having an affair with her yoga teacher.”

  “How did Bryce find out?”

  “Somehow, their phones got swapped in Vegas and he realized she’d installed a GPS tracker that she was monitoring on her phone. And he was very curious why she was at a hotel on a Tuesday morning. So, he went there, waited a while in the parking lot, and saw the two of them coming out of a room together.”

  “Did he confront her?”

  “Nope. He’s waiting to make it memorable.”

  I grinned to myself. “I’ve got an idea.” When I told him, he thought it was brilliant.

  “But I can’t be part of it. She is my stepsister, lunacy and all.”

  “That’s okay. Bryce and I should be able to handle it just fine. He’s almost like a brother to me. I owe him.”

  ***

  Bryce returned her phone—with it’s own GPS tracker installed, and learned from the clerk at the hotel that she and her boyfriend met every Tuesday and Friday morning after her yoga class. Bryce thought my idea was fantastic, and we were going to deliver news of their cancelled wedding plans that Friday—in person.

  We pulled into the hotel parking lot a little after ten. “Ready to do this?” I asked him.

  He nodded, but he looked more sad than vengeful.

  I touched his arm. “I’m so sorry she did this to you, but I’m not sorry you won’t be marrying her. She’s nuts. And she doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

  He mussed my hair. “Thanks, Kelly.”

  “The more I see about marriages and weddings, the more I think it’s not for me.”

  “Don’t say that. You deserve someone great. It’ll be different for you. You’ve already gone insane over one wedding that didn’t happen. You saved yourself a divorce. The next one, you’ll get right.”

  I took a deep breath. I hoped he was right, because even though it seemed too soon, I could picture myself with Liam. However, I could not picture myself ever planning another wedding. I’d have to work on that if I wanted to be with him.

  Bryce rolled the cart we’d borrowed to the hotel room, and I knocked on the door. “Room service,” I said, trying to disguise my voice. I got my video camera out and started rolling. Then, I got ready to release the latch on the carrier I’d set at my feet.

  Melanie came to the door, clutching a sheet over her chest. Her smile fell when she saw Bryce. “Honey, wh-what are you doing here?” She plastered on a great big smile. Then she looked at me. “And what’s she doing here?”

  Bryce crossed his arms. “I thought we’d celebrate
our wedding a little early. No make that, the end of our wedding. I know what and who you’ve been doing. Thank god I found out now.”

  With that, I released the three frantic peacocks into the room. They started screeching and pecking and Melanie yelped. Then Bryce stepped from in front of the wedding cake on the cart. And he grabbed a handful of cake and smooshed it in her face. Her sheet dropped while the cameras rolled.

  My eyes popped out. “Those are fake right?”

  Bryce nodded. “Her birthday present from me last year. Think I can get them back?”

  Melanie clutched her hands over her breasts like he might really be able to get them, while the peacocks howled, and the guy in her bed scrambled to the bathroom and locked himself in.

  “Best wishes for a nice life, Melanie,” Bryce said, then he slammed the door in her face—but not before I got a lovely close-up of the frosting and horror all over her face.

  I high-fived Bryce on the way back to his car. “She’s going to get her viral video.”

  ***

  Bryce was invited to appear on all the morning shows to talk about his ultimate breakup. He’d gotten over a million hits on YouTube in three days. Melanie was too busy trying not to get written out of her father’s will to worry about her public humiliation.

  Liam called and asked if he could come over. “I need to talk to you.”

  My stomach dropped. Was he going to dump me now that the wedding was over? “Sure,” I said, realizing how much he meant to me. I loved him, I knew it. But for all I knew, he was coming over to break up with me for playing a part in his stepsister’s viral humiliation.

  Liam showed up half an hour later looking more serious than usual. “What’s up?” I asked.

  “My stepdad is so pissed at Melanie. Not just because of the tens of thousands of dollars he’s losing on the wedding, but he’s humiliated.”

  I looked at the floor. “I’m sorry. But she deserved it. She was out of control and thinking only of herself. She really hurt Bryce.”

  “I know. You probably did her a favor, bringing her back down to earth.”

  “So you’re not mad?”

  He smiled. “No. I’m impressed. My stepfather even joked that I could take over her wedding plans if I had someone special in mind.”

  My heart jumped in my throat. I forced a laugh. “That would be something, huh?”

  He stepped closer and wrapped his hands around my waist. “That would be perfect for someone who never wants to plan a wedding again. For someone I know I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He grinned. “Feeling crazy?”

  Crazy? That was insanity, right? Marrying a guy after a few weeks? Taking over his sister’s wedding? Then again, my heart was singing yes, yes, yes! Guess that’s what a gut instinct felt like.

  Liam watched me as I sat on the couch, mulling this over. His smile slipped a bit as he waited for my answer.

  And if I ever were going to get married, this was the way to do it—without the planning. Either that or elope. I looked at Liam and smiled. “You know what? I am feeling crazy. Let’s do it.”

  He scooped me up and spun me around.

  “But just one thing. Wait a minute.”

  He set me down.

  I glared at him. “No bocce balls. And no peacocks.”

  He scratched his head. “About that.”

  I narrowed one eye. “Yeah?”

  “We’re kind of peacock parents now. When we inherited the wedding, we inherited everything from the wedding.”

  I groaned, then I perked up. “Even the bridesmaid goodie bags?”

  “Yep.” Then he kissed me, and my gut instinct finally kicked in with a resounding yes.

  Do Over

  by Lisa Scott

  Moira had exhausted her favorite poses for the bridesmaids while they waited for the final groomsman to show up. She preferred when couples scheduled their photos before the wedding while everyone was still fresh and tidy. Many a weepy bride hadn’t been able to recover their hair and makeup after an especially emotional ceremony, and ended up unhappy with the photos later. There were no do-overs in life, and Photoshop could only do so much.

  But apparently no one had told the groom’s cousin to show up at the Forest Park rose garden at ten a.m. Or he’d forgotten. Or overslept, who knew. It was ten thirty and they had to be leaving soon for the church. Luckily, the bride and groom Kristen and Tony weren’t fazed, chatting and laughing while they waited. However, the mother of the bride was fanning herself. “Just get her to the church before she backs out. Just get her to the church.”

  Kristen touched her mother’s shoulder. “I’m not backing out this time.”

  Her mother gave her a grim smile and patted her hand. “With three broken engagements, I won’t be happy until that wedding ring is on your finger. With super glue.”

  Moira was ready to shoo the mother away before the bride started stressing—so much of good photography didn’t even involve the camera—when a guy in a tux ran up to them. “He’s here!” Kristen shouted.

  Cheers erupted from the group. Moira focused the camera on him for a quick, candid picture. After snapping off a few shots, she froze, realizing who it was. The camera slipped from her grip. Good thing it was on a strap around her neck.

  With trembling fingers, Moira positioned the camera again to be sure she was right. His face filled the lens: those dark blue eyes and dimples, the jet-black hair, and that small scar next to his eye. Yep, it was Craig Fitzpatrick, all right. Fitz, to his friends. Craig Fitzpatrick to her. It was a face she’d never forget. But hopefully, he’d forgotten hers.

  She sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She’d photographed rock stars and politicians. Surely, she could handle her high school crush. He hadn’t noticed her back then; he certainly wouldn’t now. Plus, she did look different. The long, auburn hair that once hung past her hips, curled around her shoulders these days. At age twenty-eight, she finally wore makeup, and she’d traded in her glasses for contacts. Much easier to take pictures that way. Hopefully her name wouldn’t spark any memories, because the only thing Craig Fitzpatrick would remember about her was humiliating.

  Craig buttoned his tux and joined the other guys. “Sorry for the hold up. Crisis at one of the job sites. Lumber company delivered the wrong order. The guys had no shingles to start the job.”

  He took a bit of razzing, then said, “Hey, better me than Tony. I could’ve called him to deal with it.”

  Tony clapped him on the back. “Thanks, cuz.”

  While the two of them chatted, Moira realized how nicely Craig had filled out. His shoulders were even broader than they had been when he was a football player in high school. She’d forgotten how tall he was; at least six foot three. And his smile. Oh, that dazzling smile that had enchanted most of the girls at their school. No, he wouldn’t remember her. She was one of his many, many nameless admirers.

  Moira realized she was just standing there, with camera in hand. She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “Let’s have all the guys in front of the roses over here.” As the guys lined up, she took some of the unposed shots she was so famous for. Clients always said she captured the real feel of the event with her candids. After taking a few shots of the groomsmen, she realized most of them centered on Craig.

  She forced herself to focus on the groom and the other four attendants. It was going to be a long night, the way her heart was still pounding. Was it fear that he’d remember her? Or that he wouldn’t?

  Stupid is what it is, because he never gave you the time of day. When she finished her shots of the entire wedding party, she checked her watch. “We’d better get to the church.”

  She climbed into the limo with the bride, and photographed the girls chatting as they rode along.

  “Tony’s cousin is hot,” said one of the bridesmaids.

  “Fitz is single,” the bride’s sister said, teasingly.

  Moira held back a smile at that news.

  “Single? I ca
n’t imagine why,” said another woman.

  “Is he a player?” asked another.

  “No,” said Kristen, smoothing her satin dress. “He’s a great guy. He’s just not ready to settle down; and of course, every girl he dates goes head over heels and wants to get married.” She shrugged. “It’s like women can’t help falling in love with him.”

  Moira was going to have to keep herself busy—and far away from Craig. He was too distracting. Her assistant, Jackie, was meeting her at the church. Jackie usually positioned herself in the balcony. Today, Moira wanted to put some distance between her and the wedding party. It was a good time for Jackie to get her first shot at handling things on the floor.

  ***

  But even that wasn’t enough space between them. At times during the ceremony, Moira found herself focusing the camera on Craig, not even taking any pictures; just looking at him. His smile had always seemed so genuine, that’s why it was so hard to believe what had happened that day so long ago. She’d been thoroughly embarrassed and had taken the next three days off school. Her parents hadn’t known; they’d both been out of town on business. Her housekeeper, Brigitte, didn’t say anything. She rarely did, she was so busy with all the work her parents left for her. Moira wasn’t even sure Brigitte knew how to speak English, so limited were their conversations. Moira hadn’t ever talked to a soul about what had happened.

  She snapped out of her trip back in time and urged herself to focus. Tony and Kristen were counting on her to do the job right—not to revisit her teenage angst. She moved the camera away from Craig and captured the church’s stained glass windows, and the way the sun slanted in on the guests.