A Timeless Romance Anthology: Summer Wedding Collection

by Melanie Jacobson

  Bree shrugged. “Dallen says yes.”

  “And we trust this guy? He wasn’t smart enough to recognize you from ten yards away.”

  “Maybe his vision isn’t great, but he seems pretty on top of everything else. For once, if something goes wrong, it’ll be more his headache than mine. He doesn’t believe me that Addison is going to love it whether or not it goes perfectly.”

  “True,” Shayla said. “She’ll just think it’s romantic. And then she and Slade will be nauseatingly cute about it.”

  Jen grinned. “They’re pretty vomitous, aren’t they?”

  “And perfect,” Shayla admitted. “I love those two together.”

  Bree snuggled into the sofa. “Yeah. They fit.” So what if she’d spent a few weeks imagining that she and Dallen would connect the same way? No one ever needed to know that she’d had them married off and picking out baby names before they ever met. It’s not like she thought it would happen for real. It was a good reminder not to let her daydreams overrule reality.

  When the movie ended, she slipped into bed and prayed for Dallen-free sleep. What she got was a dream right before waking full of hungry kisses and rolling around in the sand with Dallen like they were in a Hollywood movie. She got up and dragged herself down to the beach to tackle a long run and clear her head, but every time the waves nearly got her, she remembered the dream kisses, and heat suffused her, spreading out from her middle to flush her cheeks and advertise her continuing inability to separate swoony fantasy from reality.

  She ran harder, until all she could focus on was keeping her breathing even and powering through the punishing sand. By the time she returned to the hotel, her calves were screaming, but her mind had calmed. She was ready to tackle the day.

  She kept it together through breakfast after Whitney and Michelle arrived, through the girls’ spa day, when her mind wandered to Dallen in the garden, or Dallen and her in the sand, or even the reality of Dallen’s hug. Each time, she yanked her attention back to how she’d maneuver Addison into position for Slade’s big surprise. It worked, all the way through getting ready for dinner, when she slipped on the green strapless cocktail dress she’d imagined wearing for Dallen.

  She wore it for herself now. She loved the way it brightened her eyes, and focused on that, pushing all thoughts of the impression she’d hoped it would make on Dallen out of her mind. She had a delicate mission to execute anyway.

  “Is that what you’re wearing?” she asked when Addison pulled a brightly printed maxi dress from the closet.

  Bree’s phone chimed with a text, and she stole a peek at it. Dallen.

  “Hike” nearly killed us. Just got back, but we’re on schedule. You ready?

  Addison held her dress up. “You like it? It’s nice enough for dinner downstairs, right?”

  “Um, maybe,” Bree said, squinting at it and pretending to think. “I mean, it’s cute. But did you bring the puce one? Seems like a good night for nostalgia.”

  “Yeah.” Addison fished it out of the closet. “You really think I should wear it?” She held up the dress she’d been wearing the night she met Slade. “I love it, but it seems too reserved for here. I can’t see myself doing the hula in this.”

  As far as Addison knew, they were heading down for drinks at the bar before the hotel’s weekly luau on the beach, complete with the hula dancing they’d learned that afternoon. In reality, there would be a big dance performance, but for Addison, not with her, courtesy of Slade’s intricately planned flash mob. The hike he’d told Addison about had really been a recruiting trip up and down the beach, rounding up hotel guests willing to learn a dance and spring it on his fiancée a few hours later.

  “This whole weekend is about celebrating you and Slade,” Bree told Addison. “Wearing the first dress he ever saw you in on the last night before you marry him is pretty cool. Who cares if it’s a little dressier than you need?” Bree wasn’t sure her argument made sense, but Addison took the bait.

  “You’re right.” She plopped down on the bed and hugged the dress to herself. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t go to that cocktail party. The young professionals networking thing sounded stupid, but it was fate.”

  Bree smiled at her friend’s starry-eyed expression. “Definitely. And definitely wear that dress.”

  Addison bounced back up and shimmied into it, her voice muffled as she pulled it over her head. “Let’s go. Where are the other girls?”

  “They said they were going down to hold a table.” In reality, they’d slipped out before Addison could see them in cocktail dresses more suited for the city than the beach.

  Addison tugged the dress down. “I’ll hurry.”

  When she closed the bathroom door behind her, Bree fired off a quick reply.

  Bree: Ready. Slade hanging in there?

  Slade: So stoked he can’t stand it. Don’t laugh at my dancing.

  Bree: Don’t know if you’re crazy or a prince among men, but you’re def a good friend. See you on the dance floor.

  Addison popped back out of the bathroom, her lip gloss in place on her happy smile. “Time to see my girls.”

  They found the rest of the bridesmaids with fruity drinks already in hand. Bree eyed their margaritas. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but maybe she should start with a couple of shots of tequila-flavored courage to settle her nerves. Dancing in public wasn’t her thing. Add in her nerves over seeing Dallen again, and she was a jumble of knots. She’d spent the whole day lecturing herself every time one of his texts came in updating her on their progress, setting off flutters in her stomach.

  She tried remembering the way his eyes had slid over her without seeing her the night before, but images of him in the rose garden looking sexy in his running shorts crowded that out. She tried imagining him with a parade of gorgeous women to remind herself that she wasn’t his type, but instead she remembered him putting his arms around her. Somehow that image included the smell of soap and a whiff of rum.

  She tapped her fingers on the table in a staccato rhythm, trying to channel her nerves, but Addison’s forehead wrinkled, and a hint of suspicion crept into her expression as she took a closer look at her bachelorette party. “What’s with the dresses?”

  Uh oh. Bree bent her head over her phone and tapped out a warning to Dallen. Show time.

  “What do you mean?” Michelle said, her tone bland. “You don’t like them? I think everyone looks really cute.”

  “You do,” Addison said, undeterred from her cross-examination. “But you don’t look tropical. You look you’re about to meet with your senior partners at a cocktail party.”

  A couple of the girls shot Bree veiled looks of panic. She tried to muster her nonexistent acting chops.

  “Your margarita must have been strong because that’s crazy talk. We’d better get some food in you.” She took Addison’s wrist and pulled her toward the restaurant.

  “But we’re eating at the luau.”

  Bree shook her head. “I think you need something now. Bread, maybe. Come on, girls.”

  A few muffled giggles escaped behind her as they rounded up their drinks and handbags. She couldn’t stop her own smile from breaking out when they reached the dining room. The second they appeared in the doorway, diners at the four tables nearest them rose and moved all but one of the tables to the side, creating a large space.

  “What’s going on?” Addison demanded. No one answered.

  How many people had Dallen and Slade convinced to do this? Bree drew Addison to the remaining empty table. A waiter stopped to offer champagne in fluted glasses, and Bree nodded at Addison to take one.

  “But I didn’t order this,” she said.

  “I did,” Slade said, from behind them dressed in a business suit. Bree squelched the urge to search for Dallen. Addison turned to smile up at him, and he nodded at the hostess, who reached down and pushed a button. The soft Hawaiian background music stopped, and the opening strains of “I Believe I Can Fly” poured from the spe
akers, much louder than the dinner music had.

  It took Addison a couple of moments, but then a huge smile lit her face.

  Slade leaned down to smile back. “Is it possible that this is the worst song ever?”

  Bree had heard the story a thousand times after they met; this was the opening line he’d used on her at that cocktail party.

  He straightened and held up his fingers in the “okay” sign, and suddenly five other guys rose from different tables, all overdressed in business suits. Bree immediately found Dallen and couldn’t look away. He wore charcoal pinstripes and a sky-blue shirt that matched his eyes perfectly. Bree swallowed. Wow.

  As R. Kelly started singing about life being an awful song, the groomsmen formed a semicircle behind Slade and did some awkward soft-shoe moves while Slade lip synced. Addison’s smile threatened to split her cheeks.

  Bree tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help watching Dallen. He was a pretty bad dancer, but he was committed, and she had to respect the effort as he clomped through the side steps. When the guys all executed a synchronized spin, the girls’ table broke into cheers, Bree included.

  Oh, screw it. She was going to have as much fun with this as anyone, and if Dallen took that to mean she was letting her guard down, that was his problem, not hers. She swayed to the beat with the rest of the girls doing some interpretive chair dancing. A handful of other diners rose and joined the suits, their tropical shirts and colorful dresses adding splash to the proceedings.

  When Addison realized they knew the moves too, and that she was dealing with a true flash mob, she whooped. Slade grinned but kept up his lip sync. Cell phones appeared all over the place as people filmed the action, and Bree finally spotted the bride and groom’s parents at a table off to the side, looking delighted by the whole production.

  More and more diners filtered in to join the group until nearly two dozen people hopped and spun and did jazz hands to the schmaltzy words coming through the speakers. Dallen looked like he was trying not to crack up. His sister had choreographed the routine, and Dallen had IM-ed Bree for an hour one night about his epic battle waged against jazz hands. Clearly, he’d lost. She laughed. He caught her eye and winked. The chorus swelled, which was the bridesmaids’ cue to break into their chair dance part of the routine, arms waving like fans, swaying heads, and all.

  When the song ended, the entire restaurant broke into applause. Addison launched herself out of her chair and straight into Slade’s arms, and the clapping grew louder. Slade let go of Addison long enough to gesture for the applause to die down, and he drew her to his side, his arm tight around her waist.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I thought I was the luckiest man alive when I saw the most amazing woman in the world across a crowded room last year. She talked to me even though I came up to her with the lamest icebreaker in history. But I was wrong. I’m the luckiest man in the world because Addison Morgan has promised to be mine forever when she marries me tomorrow.” And with the sound of the whole restaurant’s congratulations ringing in their ears, he dipped Addison back for a long, romantic kiss.

  Once again, Dallen caught her eye. Oof. She had to fight the tractor beam pulling her gaze his way. Looking away would only make it obvious she wanted to avoid him, so she gave him a thumbs up. He did a subtle fist pump and mouthed Nailed it.

  “I have got to find a man like that,” Whitney grumbled, watching Slade smile at Addison. “Are any of the groomsmen single?” She stood to find out.

  Bree didn’t care to see what happened when the curvy redhead verified Dallen’s single status, so she leaned over to Michelle. “I’m going to go see if our seats for the luau are ready.”

  Michelle nodded. “We’ll be down in a bit.”

  With that, Bree slipped out through the open patio and stepped onto the sand with her high-heeled sandals threaded through her fingers. A few minutes later a hotel worker verified that luau seating would begin in half an hour. Plenty of time to walk the beach and get her game face on.

  She made her way to the water and smiled out at it. Maybe the Dallen thing hadn’t worked, and that was disappointing. But chemistry was a funny thing. She could have been a knockout like Addison, and the spark might have still flowed only one way. That’s what made couples like Slade and Addison so magical. In the huge sea of choices, they found their perfect fit. It would happen for her. She had just hoped it would happen here. With Dallen.

  She sat and wrapped her arms around her knees, staring out at the last rosy glow of the sunset clinging to the horizon. This was where she’d pictured herself sitting with Dallen, the wedding madness behind them and four more sun-soaked days in heaven ahead. It was hard to imagine it with anyone else—‌not the guy from the pool who tried to chat her up the first day or the waiter at lunch who had asked if she was free tonight. Only Dallen made sense here. Dallen, who had made her laugh and think and laugh some more.

  Maybe Addison was right about symbols. Bree should try one of her own to purge her expectations and put herself in a head space to fully enjoy reality. She picked up a handful of sand and let it run back out, forming a small pyramid beside her. How many grains were slipping through her fingers? It almost didn’t matter. No doubt she had thought of Dallen at least that many times. She dusted her palm to brush off any stray grains.

  Adios, Dallen. You were standing between me and Hawaii, but we’re done now. I belong to Hawaii for the next four days, and there’s no room for you.

  She rested her head on her knees and studied the pile, wondering if she felt better.

  A bare foot poking out from a gray, pinstriped pant leg stepped on her pile, and suddenly there stood Dallen.

  “Don’t run,” he said when she looked up. “I’m fast on the sand, and I’ll eventually catch you, but it won’t be fun in this suit.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Bree stared up at him, then back down at the symbol he’d flattened. “Have a seat,” she said, patting the ground next to her. “I won’t run.”

  He sat, stretching his legs out in front of him. “It’s over,” he said, on a sigh of relief. “If we survive the ceremony tomorrow, we are rock stars.”

  She leaned back on her arms. “I pick Kelly Clarkson. You can be Justin Bieber.”

  “I’ve always seen myself as an Adam Levine.”

  “Fine. You can be him.” That fit him way too well. For a split second, she mentally Photoshopped Adam Levine’s face onto Dallen’s body, only to realize Dallen looked hotter. She dropped the picture and glanced away from the distracting reality to look out at the waves.

  “No disrespect to Kelly Clarkson, by the way, but that’s not the right fit for you either. I see Katy Perry. Except classy. And smarter.”

  Her cheeks warmed at the comparison. “Thanks. You’re sweet to say so.”

  “If so, it’s accidental sweetness. I’m just being honest.”

  Somehow it sounded true instead of like a line. “So the flash mob is done. You ready for your best-man duties?”

  “Check this out.” He stood and braced his feet, his hands clasped in front of him. In his suit, he almost looked like a Secret Service guy guarding his subject. He painted a serious, thoughtful expression on his face, nodded his head a few times, did a couple of courtesy chuckles that won answering laughs from her, and then mimed patting his coat pockets and looking panicked, which made her laugh harder. A moment later relief crossed his face and he dug into his pants pocket to pull out an imaginary ring box and fumble the hand off to an invisible Slade.

  He sat down and smiled. “Maybe I should practice.”

  “Good idea.”

  He leaned back again and followed her gaze out to the ocean. “Is it as cool to you as it is to me, since you get to see it all the time?”

  “The ocean? It never gets old,” she said.

  They listened to the waves in silence. She was too aware of him to relax completely, but she didn’t feel the need to break the quiet. She stifled a small sigh. This is what it could ha
ve been. Plus kissing. And moonlight.

  He cleared his throat. “I need to say something that’s probably going to make me sound like an ass.”

  She turned to look at him. A soft wash of color reddened his cheeks that couldn’t be blamed on the setting sun. He looked the way she had felt after giving him the big grin he’d looked right past. What did he have to be embarrassed about?

  “Go ahead,” she said.

  He moved about three feet away and turned to face her directly. “I’d move even farther in case you throw sand or something, but I feel stupid enough without having to shout.”

  She turned and scooped up a handful of sand. “You definitely have my attention now.”

  “I don’t blame you for being mad that I didn’t recognize you last night.”

  It was her turn to blush. He knew she’d seen him? Worse, he knew she was mad about him not seeing her? The heat deepened and crept down her neck. It sounded like a juvenile complaint, not how a mature twenty-six-year-old would react. But it was how she felt. Disappointed hopes sucked. She didn’t necessarily want to be dwelling on it anymore, but she wasn’t going to pretend it hadn’t been a high-grade bummer to watch parts of her fantasy crumble.

  “Here’s the thing,” he said, and he scrambled backward a few more feet. “I definitely noticed you. I thought, ‘That chick is hot, but that’s not who I flew in early for.’”

  He thought she was hot? She threw the sand at him anyway, not trying very hard to hit him. “I object to the term chick.”

  “I meant to say amazing woman.”

  “Nice save.”

  “Thank you. Happens to be very true. I’d only seen one picture of you, of this cute girl hiding behind sunglasses. I didn’t know what your eyes looked like. You had different hair. I was looking for that girl. I was so excited to surprise her. To be honest, I should have realized it was the same smile, but...” He trailed off and grimaced before taking a deep breath. “When you smiled at me, I was like, ‘I don’t have time for hot chicks—‌women—‌because I’m looking for Bree.”