Not Another Wedding

by Jennifer Mckenzie

  “How was the party?” he asked. “Get any dirt on the bride?”

  Poppy sighed. “Not really. I don’t think she worked before she met Jamie, which makes me nervous. What normal twenty-something doesn’t have a job?”

  “One who doesn’t have to,” he suggested.

  “Exactly. So how did she pay for things? A string of wealthy gentleman friends? I don’t like it.”

  Beck didn’t want to talk about Emmy. Probably should have thought of that before he introduced the topic. “So what’s next?”

  “I have no idea.” She frowned, her lower lip pouted. Beck wondered what she’d do if he sucked on it. Probably like it and pretend she didn’t. “I’m gonna go say hello to him.”

  Beck didn’t like the idea of her leaving his side. “He’s not in any state to listen.” He nodded to the end of the bar where Jamie and Wynn still sat together, a pair of empty glasses in front of them, a half-filled bottle to their right.

  “Is that a tequila bottle?” She craned her body, rubbing across his chest to check. He liked that—a lot. “You’re letting him get drunk?”

  “I’m not letting him do anything.” He enjoyed the movement of her body as she shifted. So soft and warm. “I already told the bartender to cut him off.”

  “Seems you don’t have as much influence as you think.”

  Beck followed her pointed stare and saw the bartender refilling the glasses in front of Jamie and Wynn. And not with water. “Let him have some fun. He’s not hurting anyone.” Jamie would feel that tomorrow, but Beck didn’t feel like playing bachelor party police.

  “Except himself. He can barely sit up straight.” Poppy glared at Beck as if it was his fault Jamie was getting loaded. “Exactly how many of those did you let him drink?”

  Beck looked over at Jamie. His cousin was beginning to list as he reached for the shot glass. He probably wouldn’t be upright if he didn’t have the bar to lean on. Damn.

  “Well?” she said to him. When he didn’t move immediately, she did, peeling herself off him and spinning on her heel. “I’m going over there.” She yanked on his hand when he didn’t automatically move with her. “Well, come on. You’re not getting out of this so easily.”

  She dragged him past a group of Emmy’s friends who had pulled the bride onto the extremely tiny dance floor to shake their bodies to the music.

  “And don’t let Emmy see him,” Poppy said.

  “Wouldn’t she have already seen him?”

  “No, thankfully,” Poppy said over her shoulder, hurrying them to their destination. “She’d be mad or at the very least embarrassed if she saw him like this.”

  “It’s a bachelor party,” Beck reminded her. What was so wrong with getting a little happy? He glanced over again. Now Wynn was supporting Jamie, the only thing keeping him from crashing to the floor. Okay, maybe Jamie had sailed past happy a couple drinks ago, but it wasn’t as if he was getting a lap dance or dancing on the bar.

  Poppy sighed. “Trust me, okay. No woman would be happy to find her future husband getting drunk in public.”

  Beck wasn’t sure why it was a big deal, but he didn’t want to have a long discussion about it either. He had other plans, like how to talk Poppy into coming home with him tonight. And he had more than kissing on the agenda. “Why don’t we leave them—”

  She shot him a look that was on the verge of pitying. No, scratch that. It had dived off the edge of pitying and landed in a sea of contempt. “And let her get her gold digger hooks even deeper into him? No way.”

  “What?” Now Beck was confused. “How would this get her hooks in deeper?”

  “If she’s interested in his money, do you actually think a little drunken behavior will scare her off?” Poppy shook her head. “You have a lot to learn. It might have the opposite effect. He’d be so grateful she didn’t hold it against him it would end up solidifying their bond. So let’s get him out of here before she sees him.”

  They finally reached the long bar that ran the length of the room where the bartender had lined up another row of shots. Poppy swooped in and slid the glass away from Jamie, then spun on Wynn with a scowl. “What are you doing?”

  “Tequila shots,” Wynn answered. “It’s my weakness, remember?”

  Beck watched Jamie close one eye and try to navigate his hand the short distance to the glass. He sighed. Poppy was right. Jamie was way past his limit and now Beck would have to clean him up. He reached over Jamie’s shoulder and deftly plucked the glass out of range. “I think you’re done, pal.”

  “Beck.” Jamie smiled sweetly, looking like a little boy. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Beck put his arm around Jamie’s chest and helped him off the stool. “Time for us to go.”

  “Go?” Jamie’s brow wrinkled. “But all my friends are here.”

  “They will understand,” Beck said, casting a glance around. Poppy whispered heatedly into Wynn’s ear. Beck wished she’d do that to him. He helped Jamie off the stool.

  “Poppy,” Jamie said when she crossed his line of vision, and he tried to give her a slobbery hug. Would have succeeded had Beck not been holding him.

  “Hey, Jamie!” She finished whatever she had to say to Wynn and turned to Beck. “Let’s go before Emmy spots him.” She cast a concerned glance over her shoulder.

  “Emmy?” Jamie lifted his head like a kid who’d just been promised a cookie for behaving. “You’re not Emmy.”

  “No, I’m Poppy.” She came around Jamie’s other side, wrapped her arm around his waist and glanced at Beck. “Ready?”

  He nodded and they made their way out of the pub. It was slow going with Jamie dragging his feet and people wanting to stop them every two feet to give him their best wishes, but they managed to get outside without seeing Emmy.

  “Is she out here?” Jamie asked when the cool night air hit them.

  “Who?” Poppy asked.

  Beck tried to get his keys out of his pocket while keeping Jamie upright. The gravel crunched beneath their shoes as they walked toward his car. It had seemed a lot closer when he’d parked. But he hadn’t been carrying a full-grown man who’d had one too many drinks then.

  “Emmy.” Jamie’s blond head swiveled around. “I thought we were going to see her.”

  “Tomorrow,” Poppy assured him. “Tonight she’s out with her girlfriends.”

  “Yeah.” Jamie slumped against Beck, smiling. “She’s so great.”

  Poppy glanced over his head to Beck. “I can’t believe what you did to him.”

  “I didn’t plug his nose and pour it down his throat.” Beck pulled the keys out and clicked the locks. The lights flashed in response.

  “Emmy’s great.” Their conversation appeared to hold no interest for Jamie, who was in his own little Emmy world. “Don’t you think she’s great?” Jamie asked, tilting his head to stare at Beck.

  “The greatest.” Together, he and Poppy maneuvered Jamie into the backseat. Beck buckled him in, trying not to get a face full of tequila breath. “You doing okay?”

  “The greatest,” Jamie said then laughed before slumping against the backseat, that silly grin still on his face.

  Beck closed the door. “Front or back?” he asked Poppy.

  “Pardon?” The moon turned her hair a silvery red. He wanted to run his fingers through it.

  “Front seat with me or backseat with the drunk guy?” He refrained from touching, but only just. “You weren’t planning to leave me alone with him, were you?”

  “Well, I...” She turned back to the bar, the light blazing through the front windows. Everyone inside appeared to be having a good time, their departure barely noted.

  “I need your help,” he fibbed. Beck had managed plenty of drunk friends before, he could easily get Jamie from the car to the house and into bed, but he want
ed Poppy to come home with him. It seemed the perfect way to convince her.

  She sighed. “I’ll sit in the back,” she told him.

  “Good. Need help getting buckled in?”

  She climbed inside and closed the door in his face.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “I’M GOING TO BE SICK,” Jamie mumbled.

  Poppy’s heart raced as rapidly as the car they rode in. Oh, no. She was not spending the next hour cleaning up regurgitated tequila because Wynn had a weakness and Jamie couldn’t hold his liquor. She tilted Jamie’s head away from her pretty outfit and tossed her bag into the front passenger seat. “No puking allowed.”

  “No puking,” Jamie repeated and hiccupped. She peered at him. It was hard to tell with only the moon for light, but she didn’t think he was green. Not yet.

  “Can you go faster?” she urged Beck.

  “Already speeding,” he said.

  Poppy cursed herself for coming along. She’d only wanted to get Jamie out of the Sundowner Bar & Grille safely. She hadn’t meant to be the one putting him to bed. Wasn’t taking care of the drunk groom the best man’s job?

  She peeked at Beck and found him watching her in the rearview mirror. “Eyes on the road,” she said.

  Nothing about the situation was remotely appealing, she told herself as her entire body tingled. She still hadn’t managed to have a conversation with Jamie, and that was obviously out of the question tonight. She’d gotten nothing out of her little chat with Emmy and she was trapped in the back with a drunk about to blow.

  But then she’d catch a glance of Beck watching her in the rearview mirror or recall the impression of his body smushed against hers and she’d experience a tickle of pleasure. Clearly, she needed to get out more.

  “Do you need some air?” she asked Jamie, hoping to keep her mind on more important things.

  Jamie smiled back. “Hi, Pop-Tart.”

  “Hi, Jamie.” Poppy reached across him and pressed the switch to roll down the window so she’d have somewhere to aim Jamie’s head in the event of an emergency. The cool air on her tingling skin didn’t hurt either.

  What was with her anyway? She wasn’t seriously considering Wynn’s advice to jump into bed with Beck, was she? No, of course not. Beck was a bad bet no matter how she looked at it. Lived in a different city. A different country. And no matter how attractive she found him, she did not do temporary relationships.

  She glanced in the rearview again, found Beck still watching her and wondered if she should open the other window and stick her head out to cool off.

  Jamie mumbled something and put his head on the window frame. Poppy rubbed his back and told him they were almost home. She glared at Beck. Did he see what his negligence had caused?

  “How’s he doing?” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Drunk. Why didn’t you watch him?”

  “I did. And then you showed up.”

  Poppy snorted. The alcohol level in Jamie’s blood had not been achieved in the limited amount of time she’d been at the bar. “Good one, but he was drinking before I arrived.”

  “He was, but he wasn’t too bad. I stopped the bartender after the first three shots.” She watched his eyes move toward her in the mirror. “You distracted me. Walking around in those tight pants and flirting with me.”

  Poppy raised her chin and rubbed Jamie’s back harder. “I did not flirt.”

  “Yeah, Red, you did.”

  She had not. She’d simply answered his questions and done her best not to make a scene. Jamie groaned and Poppy realized she’d rucked his shirt out of his waistband. She shoved it back in and lightened her touch. Maybe she had flirted, but Beck had started it.

  “And those pants.”

  “What about my pants?” Poppy loved her pants. They were cheerful and fun. She always got compliments when she wore them.

  “They invite a man to flirt.”

  “There is nothing flirty about my pants.” So what if they looked as if they’d been painted on? That was the style.

  “Oh, yeah, there is.” She watched his slow smirk in the mirror. She shouldn’t be flirting back. This was not a good idea. “Nothing to say to that?”

  “Yes, hurry up before you have to clean your car.”

  He laughed and the car went a little faster, sleek as the cat it was named for. Poppy leaned back against the leather seat, wishing the smell didn’t remind her of Beck, and rubbed Jamie’s back in a calm, circular motion.

  She glanced out the window as they drove past the turnoff to Jamie’s place. “You missed your turn.” Probably because he watched her more than the road. She shouldn’t like that as much as she did.

  “I didn’t miss it.” The car hugged the road as they flew past the tall trees that abounded in the region.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You said Emmy would be pissed.” He drove down the twisting road that led to his neighborhood. “Figured it was safer to bring him here.”

  Poppy realized he was right. Emmy finding a drunk Jamie and caring for him all night like a kind and soothing fiancée would also strengthen their bond, leaving Jamie in no state to listen to any of her concerns. “You have to call her though,” she told Beck. “And don’t tell her he was drunk. Make something up.”

  “Like what?” Beck steered into the curving driveway. “That we picked up a hot woman, so he can’t come home?”

  The car bumped slightly as Beck cut the wheel to park and Jamie groaned. Poppy put her hand on the back of his head to keep his mouth facing out the window and away from the car’s interior and her. “Obviously not. Tell her you’re bonding, having some guy time.”

  “You think she’ll buy that?”

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Poppy left Jamie, head hanging out the window, and climbed out her side of the car. Beck did the same. They walked around to Jamie’s side. He slumped over, head out the window, eyes closed. “How are we going to do this?”

  “We’re not.” Beck leaned down to talk to Jamie. “Hey, Jamie. Sit up. I’m going to open the door and I don’t want you to fall out.”

  “Okay.” Jamie opened his eyes and grinned. He wobbled a little as Beck helped him out, and Beck ended up taking most of his weight.

  Poppy tried to help from the other side, but Beck waved her off. “I’ve got him.”

  The three of them walked up the steps to the front door. She felt like the fifth wheel. “What can I do?” she asked.

  “Come over here and get my keys out of my pocket.”

  “Nice try.” She hoped her jolt at the image of dipping her hand down the front of Beck’s pants hadn’t been obvious.

  “What?” Beck was the picture of innocence, or as innocent as he could appear. “You asked if you could help.”

  “I didn’t mean giving you a quick feel.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to shiver at the idea.

  “Not up for it?”

  “No.” She didn’t ask if he was. “I’ll hold Jamie and you get the keys.”

  “You can’t.” Beck shifted, the movement causing him to almost drop Jamie’s sagging body. “He’s too heavy.”

  What? Did he think she couldn’t hold her own? “I can, too.” She lifted her chin and reached out again. “Hand him over.”

  Beck’s low chuckle wafted through the air. “Red, he’ll fall on you and when he pukes you won’t be able to run away.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. “Well, I do like this outfit.”

  “Grab the keys.” He tilted his hips toward her. Poppy told herself he was not coming on to her no matter how much it seemed like it. “Just reach in my front pocket. I promise not to enjoy it.”

  She didn’t think she had another choice. She reached in his pocket, searching for the keys, which had fallen to
the lowest point, of course. Her skin tightened, everything becoming highly sensitized. She took a breath and dipped farther, trying to keep her fingers as far from his body as possible as she probed.

  Something moved beneath her palm and she shot him a dirty look. “Really?”

  “It has a mind of its own.”

  “I’m sure it does.” Her fingers finally closed over the sharp metal ridges of the keys and pulled them free. “Why did you put them in your pocket anyway?” She held up each key one at a time until he nodded that she had the one for the front door. “Didn’t you realize we would need them to get inside?”

  “I had a plan,” he said.

  She flipped the lock open and glanced over her shoulder at him. “Oh? And what plan was that?”

  “To get a quick feel.”

  “I should have known.”

  “You did, Red. And you went for it anyway.”

  Poppy declined to respond to that loaded statement and followed Beck up the stairs and down the hall to one of the bedrooms. She flicked on the light while Beck, now practically carrying Jamie, got him onto the bed.

  The groom’s eyes were half-closed, but they popped open when he landed on the bed. “Emmy?”

  “Emmy’s not here,” Poppy said. “She’s out with her girlfriends tonight, remember?”

  “Right.” A beatific smile appeared on Jamie’s face. “She’s so sweet. She has nice friends. I like them. They like me.” He mumbled something else then grabbed the pillow and hugged it.

  Poppy turned to Beck. He shrugged. “Beats me.” He made Jamie sit up and take off his coat and shoes.

  They both watched silently as Jamie yanked at the covers, twisting them into a ball. Poppy grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jamie drunk before.”

  “Never?” Beck glanced at her. “He never got you drunk in the woods and tried to take advantage of you when you were teenagers?” He helped Jamie untangle the covers.

  “No.” Poppy pulled the sheets back while Beck maneuvered Jamie under them. “That was you.”

  “And I’ve ruined you for every man since.” His eyes darkened as he faced her, and Poppy felt the dangerous pull in her blood.