by Cindi Madsen
The seductive grin curved his lips, making heat pool low in my stomach. “Yeah.”
One simple word, yet it wrapped around me and filled my heart with so much love I thought it’d burst. I wrapped my arms around him tighter, pressing my body flush against his. “Well, now that that’s all out there, I should also mention that this afternoon I discovered how much physical exertion helps me stay sane.”
His fingers dug into my skin. “I’m warning you, it would not be nice to tease me right now. My control is…” He recaptured my mouth, inhaling my startled breath and pressing me against the wall. I took a moment to soak in his weight pinning me down, the low groan that came from his lips.
“I’m done waiting,” I whispered between labored breaths.
A squeal escaped my lips as he threw me over his shoulder, caveman-taking-his-woman style. In addition to being totally turned on, it gave me a pretty good view of his nice butt. He tossed me down on his bed and kissed me hard on the mouth. Then we made quick work of each other’s clothes.
When we were both down to our underwear, my eyes devouring Brendan’s athletic body and the trail of hair disappearing into his boxer briefs, he slowed down the tempo. He bit at my shoulder as he dragged his fingertips across my bare stomach, along the edge of my bra. Then he brushed the purple lace over the swell of my breast. Anticipation tingled across my skin, the heat building inside my core causing the most delicious, torturous mix. He hooked the strap with one finger, followed its line to the back, and undid the snap.
My heartbeats scattered in a hundred directions, throbbing and zipping as his calloused fingertips brushed me in the softest places. I tugged him closer so that his warm skin was against mine and kissed him, rolling my tongue with his. Last night when I was drunk, I’d apparently been bold enough to promise to make his wildest dreams come true. I wasn’t sure if I could quite live up to that, but I planned on spending the whole night trying.
Part Five
Low-Key Lime – Low
(All is going according to plan. Hitches are easily fixed and handled fairly easily. Tears shed are usually happy tears. It’s easy to get comfortable here, but nearly impossible to maintain for long periods of time.)
“Once in a while, right in the middle of an ordinary life, love gives us a fairy tale.”
—Anonymous
Chapter Twenty-Seven
GET READY TO WED by Dakota Halifax
Wardrobe Malfunctions
While Miss Jackson’s um, slip, was seen by millions, yours would be seen by people you run into on a regular basis, making it even more awkward. So here’s a little help to avoid wardrobe malfunctions on your special day. First off, choose a wedding dress that fits you well. Never assume you can diet yourself into a smaller size. (Your significant other likes you for you—he better, anyway.) If you do actually pull off the diet of the decade, the dress can always be taken in. Making it bigger is practically impossible. If you choose a strapless gown, make sure it fits you well and have fashion tape. Brides in strapless gowns often feel the need to hook their thumbs in the gowns and pull up. You don’t want every picture to have your thumbs in your dress. Oh, and bridesmaids? When you help out your bride by fluffing out her train, remember it’s not necessary to fluff too high. The back row might enjoy the show of the bride’s something blue, but I doubt that’s the memory she wants her guests to have.
Broken zippers equal big problems. Never yank on difficult zippers. Keep wax on hand. It’s usually fairly easy to find a candle at a wedding if necessary, and lead from a pencil also works in a pinch.
Next on my list is keeping your dress in pristine condition. Don’t drink any colored beverage until after the ceremony, and watch where you sit. Remember those M&M’s you dropped in your car? You don’t want to find them melted onto your white gown. Choose flowers that don’t stain. Have the florist remove the stamen, especially in lilies. They make yellow messes everywhere and are an allergy sufferer’s nightmare.
As for the guys, check your zippers, shine your shoes, and take a little extra time grooming yourself—this means the beard goes if the bride so demands. Why? Because she’s the bride. And while everyone will mostly be looking at her, you might get a glance or two as well, so go ahead and put your best face forward. It’s one day. I promise you can make it.
…
It’d been a long time since I’d been nervous for a wedding, but my stomach was churning and my pulse was pounding like I’d just done three rounds at the boxing gym. Valentina Maddox and Marcus Beecham were practically Vegas royalty, and their wedding was definitely fit for a queen and king.
The fairy-tale theme was starting to take shape. If it didn’t shimmer or sparkle, it was covered in flowers. Some things managed both. There was a fountain centerpiece that was covered in flowers, each tier a different combination with long floral vines and lights draping down to look like sprays of water.
The centerpieces on the reception tables were just as complicated. Valentina had wanted red roses frozen in glass, à la Beauty and the Beast, but then she’d worried people would think she looked at Marcus as a beast, and then she also loved all the fairy tales. So, in a bout of genius or possibly insanity, I’d suggested incorporating them all. So there were silver and crystal Cinderella coaches with glass slippers, seashells with candles for The Little Mermaid, and gold and bejeweled Sleeping Beauty books modeled after the one in the beginning of the movie. Then there were all the bouquets on the tables as well. The aisle was covered in “orchid” and “cherry” petals, or pink and red to any dudes in the area. I’d lost count of how many flowers we’d ordered, but let’s just say it’d rival the Tournament of Roses Parade.
“Where’s this one go?” a girl asked me, lugging a bouquet so huge she nearly tipped with the weight.
“There’s a matching one in the truck, right?”
She nodded and wobbled.
I gripped the other side. “Up front. One will be on each side of where the bride and groom stand.” Walking backward, I made my way to the front of the aisle, where the couple would be saying their I dos.
I looked up at the guy hanging the sheer peach blush fabric over the top of the aisle. “That bouquet in the middle is slightly off-center. Move it like six inches to the right, please.”
I’d never been in charge of such a large group of people, but a wedding of this size required hiring extra staff. So far they were doing remarkably well, and most importantly, following my directions to a T. Admittedly, it was pretty fun consulting my list and pointing and ordering. In a way, it reminded me of the way my dad coached. Just call me the wedding coach. Go team!
Of course if my team slipped, most of the city would see it. Not to mention, Valentina and I had become friends through the planning, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. And if that wasn’t enough pressure, it’d be fully covered in the Beacon. Front-page stuff. I had no doubt my frenemy Phoebe would also be keeping a close eye on Brendan and me, eager to report the state of our relationship as she saw it.
Over the past three months, Brendan and I had fallen into an amazing groove of being best friends who were also dating and living together. We’d survived the busiest part of the wedding season, as well as Brendan’s spending a week at the Aces Casino here and there when high-demand clients requested it. Through it all, there’d been a slew of mentions and speculations about our relationship in the social column.
Of course I’d kept tight-lipped on the subject, even though I wanted to shout our love from the rooftops—especially during that amazing lust phase in the beginning where we were in bed as often as possible, a giddy haze of sex and laughing and discovering every little thing about each other. Even when the deeper love took over, there was still a whole lot of lust going on. But the only statement I ever gave was that I didn’t comment on my personal relationships anymore.
Any time Phoebe’s columns got to me or life felt out of control and I could feel Code Tangerine or Fuchsia sneaking in, I hit the boxing gym. I�
��d also joined a soccer league. My business was providing me with a steady income and then some, and there was talk of my column being syndicated. The thought of it reaching the whole country was awesome, and only a tiny bit terrifying.
All in all, life was pretty much perfect. Sure, there were non-perfect days, but they didn’t seem so bad when I came home to Cupid and Brendan.
I just have to get through tonight, and then I get to spend a few quiet days with my boys.
The final touches for the ceremony were in place just in time for Valentina to show up. I led her back to the room where she’d be getting ready.
“Can you believe I’m getting married today?” Valentina asked with a squeal.
“It’s going to be the event of the year.” No pressure. “I think the whole city’s coming to see how amazing you look and to celebrate your and Marcus’s union.”
Again, no pressure. Oh, and I need to double-check on the fireworks and my firemen before I forget. Instead of waiting to call the fire department, I’d asked if they’d send over a few just in case. I didn’t even know how Mr. Maddox had gotten the fireworks show approved, and I’m not sure I wanted to.
Naomi, one of the bridesmaids, pushed into the room, so hard the door crashed against the wall. “Sarah’s appendix burst this morning! I just found out from her mom. Apparently she’s not coming.”
Apparently, I thought, but kept it in. My brain was already whirring, trying to come up with all the ways to console the bride if she freaked, which she probably was going to in three, two…
“What are we going to do?” Valentina ran a hand through her dark hair, her eyes wide. “It’s gonna throw off the whole wedding! And how will we line up? We got it all down at practice and… How…? I…”
“Everyone remain calm,” I said in my best we-can-survive-this voice. “We’ll figure it out.” I put my hand on Valentina’s shoulder. “Would you rather have one less bridesmaid, or do you want to find an emergency fill-in?”
She blinked at me a few times. “I don’t want it to look uneven. We need someone to fill in, I guess.”
“Can you think of anyone?”
Valentina tapped a chin to her finger. She muttered something about if she asked that girl then another one would be angry. Then there was someone who didn’t get along with the other girls. She mentioned one name and Naomi pointed out that she’d just broken up with one of the groomsmen and decided she couldn’t face him, so refused to come.
Then Valentina’s gaze moved to me, and a prickly sense of foreboding crept up my spine. “You could do it.”
“Oh no. I’ve got to run the wedding.”
“You’ve got a whole staff to help with that. And what better way to watch for problems than to be in the wedding?” Valentina stepped closer, eyes shiny with hope. “I think the world of you and I’ve enjoyed working with you this past year—I never thought planning my wedding would be so fun. Had I known you before I’d already picked all of my bridesmaids, I would’ve totally asked you to be one.”
My heart went a little mushy on me—all those weddings I’d attended, but never once as a bridesmaid. The happy vibes were quickly quashed with the truth, though. “Sarah’s a toothpick. There’s no way I’d fit in her dress.”
Valentina crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re giving up?”
She knew me too well, and she was using it to her advantage. Everything in me screamed this was a bad idea—that there had to be another way out of it.
But what the bride wants, the bride gets.
…
I couldn’t breathe, much less move, and between the low-cut top and tightness of the dress, my girls were on display way more than I was comfortable with. I was pretty sure one would pop out if I moved too quickly, which was really inconvenient considering I needed to run around and make sure everything was good to go.
Brendan showed up about the time I was bossing the groomsmen around. His gaze moved to my chest and his eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open.
“I know. Don’t ask.”
He glanced from me to the girl sporting the identical cerulean dress, and his eyebrows knit together. “You’re in the wedding? How did I miss that?”
“It just happened.”
Mr. Maddox walked over and grinned. “Thanks for saving the day, Dakota. Sarah’s appendix sure chose an inconvenient time to burst, didn’t it?”
Under normal circumstances, I’d say it wasn’t fair to blame someone for something out of their control, but since I was the one encased in a dress two sizes too small, I figured that gave me the freedom to blame anyone I wanted. Thank goodness for the boxing and soccer, or there would’ve been no chance in hell the zipper would be hanging on. It was circling the drain as it was. “Happy to help. Now, I’ve got to go check on the catering. If you guys will excuse me…”
Brendan caught my arm and pulled me back for a kiss, not seeming to care about the fact that there were several people nearby, including his boss. As I sank into his embrace, my frayed nerves relaxed a fraction—that night I’d confessed everything to him, I’d told myself that I would’ve been strong enough to get over him if he didn’t want me. It was probably a bluff then, but now I wouldn’t even pretend I could ever get over him. He calmed me when I needed calming, made me laugh when I started to get too serious, and I was completely at ease being myself with him. I was still a fixer—when he had a rough day, I cooked him dinner, rented an action flick, and made sure he knew he and I could take on anything together. We were a great team.
“Good luck,” he whispered and I let out a sigh—well, half of one, what with the dress-not-letting-me-breathe thing. “Not only are you going to knock it out of the park, you look really hot. No one’s even going to notice anything else.”
I grinned, thinking he was a charmer who’d be rewarded later, even if I sincerely hoped people noticed pretty much everything but me. Then I got back to work doing last-minute checks, my head clear and the end goal in sight. Any time I gestured with my arms—which I was realizing I did a lot—I was sure my dress was going to bust open.
By the time the ceremony started, I was alternatively hot and cold and my heart had relocated to my throat. Holding a bouquet was suddenly giving me traumatic flashbacks even though it wasn’t my wedding, and omigosh there were a lot of people. If I didn’t calm myself down, my appendix might just burst.
I could see my team taking care of things on the fringes, though, and while it was odd not to be the one doing it, it was nice to see they had it handled. My gaze drifted to Brendan sitting in the crowd, and he shot me a smile, along with a covert thumbs-up.
“If anyone here objects to this union,” the preacher said, “speak now or forever hold your peace.”
My head jerked toward the preacher, all my muscles coiling. These days most people left out that part, but this guy was old-school—pretty sure he’d been marrying people since they had to run from saber-toothed tigers. I glanced out at the crowd, silently threatening anyone who dared object.
The I dos were exchanged, Valentina and Marcus were officially pronounced husband and wife, and the preacher told Marcus, “You may now kiss the bride.”
As they kissed, the tingly love hope I’d missed for a while filled me, leaving me grinning from ear to ear. Man, I love my job.
Valentina’s train snagged on a chair as she went to go down the aisle, and I automatically reached forward to fix it. I heard a rip from behind me, one of those noises you’re afraid to move after. Maybe it was just a tiny tear. Nothing to worry about.
But then I felt a breeze against my back, the kind uninhibited by fabric. So when the rest of the wedding party followed after the couple, I walked backward, away from everyone else. I tried to glance over my shoulder to assess the damage, but I couldn’t see anything. The fabric was obviously split, though. I wrenched my arm behind me and felt down the fabric. The zipper was still zipped, but the material next to it was gaping.
“Oh, holy crap.”
If it’d happened to anyone else, I’d be there to fix it. Only now I was the girl in the dress, and my sewing kit was buried somewhere in the bridal room, and I needed to make sure the reception was good to go.
I knew being in a wedding was a bad idea. Obviously I needed to stay behind the scenes from now on. No more walking down the aisle or standing up front. If only I’d known that before I’d squeezed myself into the dress.
I sent a few frantic texts to Jillian and the rest of my team. Jillian assured me everything was running smoothly in the tents, and that I had a few minutes until everyone started missing me. I was just about to head to the bridal room when Brendan called my name.
“Hey,” he said as he moved closer. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m having a dress emergency, and I need to get back out there.” I spun to show him my current I’m-up-to-my-eyeballs situation. I waited for him to gasp or freak out, but then I realized he was a guy. What I didn’t expect was for him to reach his hand into the gap and run his fingers across my bare skin. My pulse quickened and my mouth went dry.
“I don’t see the problem,” Brendan said, and his fingers dipped lower.
I glanced over my shoulder at him, my skin humming from his touch. The half smile on his face made it even harder to focus on the task at hand. “It might be convenient for you, but I’d rather not show the rest of the wedding party quite so much skin.”
“What do you need?”
I thought of what I’d do if another bridesmaid were sporting the ripped-open dress. I had a ton of safety pins, but I didn’t think Valentina was going for the Goth look. But stitching it all would take too long—longer than I had. I’d just change back into the dress I brought for the wedding, but I worried Valentina would want more pictures, and I’d survived this long being a temporary bridesmaid. Which left one quick fix that might work. “I’m going to have to superglue myself into the dress—actually, you need to superglue me in. You think you can do that?”
