Here Comes the Bride (Chapel of Love Book 3)

by Hope Ramsay

  Laurie sat stiff as a board. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Come with us. It’ll be cathartic.”

  “I told you, it’s illegal.” She looked up at Courtney.

  “Is that the only reason you’re chickening out?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t hate Brandon. I’m not like you. I mean, I want to see the best in people, not the worst.”

  Whoa, that was kind of harsh. “Is that what you think of me?” Courtney asked, the annoyance coursing through her. “You think I see the worst in people?”

  “In men. Yeah, I do. I’m sorry if that upsets you. But your whole man classification system doesn’t include a single category for Mr. Right.”

  “That’s because Mr. Right is a myth. And facing that undeniable truth protects me from guys like Brandon. I’m nobody’s victim.”

  “And I am?”

  Courtney didn’t say a word.

  After a moment, Laurie nodded her head. “Do whatever you want, but please don’t permanently damage his car, okay?”

  “I wasn’t planning to.”

  “No?”

  Courtney shook her head. “No. I just want him to learn a lesson is all.” Courtney let go of a long sigh. “Look, the car’s in the big barn. You know the way, I assume.” She reached into her Food Lion bag. “Here’s a flashlight in case you change your mind.”

  Courtney walked away from the car, trying to tamp down her anger. Laurie had a hell of a nerve suggesting that she was a negative person. She was nothing of the kind. Being realistic about the way the world worked was a better way to live. You didn’t get dragged down all the time if you knew not to expect much.

  She led the girls down a long gravel drive and around the house. The old shed was behind the house, which was completely dark—a good sign that the Kopps were staying in town this weekend.

  She’d been prepared to jimmy the lock on the shed, but the door was unlocked, proving that Brandon had crap for brains. Who leaves a vintage Camaro in an unlocked garage?

  Courtney ushered the girls inside. “We can’t use the lights,” she said, “because of the windows. So we’ll have to be quiet and rely on the flashlights. Try not to wave them around. It might draw attention.”

  She stepped over to the car and tried the door. Bless the Lord, it wasn’t locked either. “We’re in luck,” she said and then turned to face her troops.

  “In your bags, you’ll find some milk to pour on the carpet and some bacon to tape under the driver’s seat. You guys take care of that while I put the ball bearings in the door panels. I’ve also got a lockable gas cap, and we should definitely loosen the screws on his license plates. Let’s get to work.”

  They hopped to their individual jobs with gusto and dedication. So much so that no one heard the footsteps outside the garage until it was too late. The side door burst open, and the overhead lights flashed on.

  “Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”

  Courtney looked up from the door panel she’d just taken off to find Matthew Lyndon standing there with what looked like a Winchester Model 70 hunting rifle aimed at her head. She froze, and her pulse accelerated like a Camaro on a straightaway.

  Chapter Twelve

  Andrew saw the arc of flashlights through the shed’s windows the moment he pulled up the drive to August Kopp’s house. From the backseat, Brandon made an ominous choking noise while Matt jumped from the passenger’s seat before Andrew brought his Audi to a complete stop.

  “There’s a rifle in the house,” Brandon said as he and Matt took off toward the main building.

  Andrew set the parking brake and followed behind them. “Guys, wait. Let’s not do something stupid. Maybe we should call the cops.”

  But the guys either didn’t hear him or weren’t listening. Andrew swallowed back a shout that might have alerted whoever was in the shed. He followed them as far as the log home’s wide veranda, where he stopped and called 9-1-1. He had just connected with the dispatcher when Brandon and Matt came tearing out of the house.

  Matt was in the lead, rifle in hand. Brandon followed behind carrying a handgun.

  Shit. If the idiots inside the shed were as hotheaded as Matt and Brandon, someone was going to get hurt.

  Andrew didn’t try to stop the guys; that could be just as dangerous. Instead he stayed behind long enough to give the 9-1-1 dispatcher the address—maybe thirty seconds—during which time no shots were fired, thank God. He moved up behind Brandon in the barn’s doorway, expecting to see some unsavory character with grand theft auto on his mind.

  Instead, Courtney, Jessica, Emma, and Madison—each of them dressed as if they’d come from a fancy party in dresses and high heels—stood around the Camaro with their hands above their heads. He scanned the women twice just to make sure, but Laurie was conspicuously absent.

  Matt was standing inside the building with his gun trained on Courtney Wallace. There was a stillness about Matt that worried Andrew. The last thing he wanted was for hotheaded Matt to become a lady killer in the literal sense.

  Brandon stood behind him, clearly upset and waving the handgun around in a way that was more than merely dangerous. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Brandon demanded.

  Brandon’s actions were clearly more than Emma could stand. She burst into tears and sank to the ground, bawling something about how Brandon may have ruined Laurie’s day but he damn well wasn’t going to ruin hers.

  Emma’s distress galvanized Jessica and Madison, who rushed to their friend’s aid, while Courtney continued to calmly stare down the barrel of the gun Matt had trained on her. Courtney clearly had ice water in her veins.

  “C’mon, guys, let’s put the guns away, okay?” Andrew said in his calmest voice.

  But before either Brandon or Matt could comply, a cop car came rolling up the driveway with its emergency lights ablaze. The strobes sent flashes of red, white, and blue circling the shed’s interior.

  “Oh my God, you called the cops?” Courtney said, her voice finally showing some emotion.

  Matt lowered the rifle. “Not me, babe,” he said with a wicked grin. Holy crap, was Matt trying to hit on Courtney? No way.

  Andrew stepped into the room and took the handgun away from Brandon. “I called the cops. That was before I realized this was a case of revenge and not grand theft.”

  In the next moment, Officer Ryan Pierce, one of Shenandoah’s finest, came through the door with his hand on his holster. “Everybody freeze,” he said, and by the look on his face, he meant it.

  But neither Jessica nor Madison followed orders. They were too busy calming the agitated Emma, who continued to wail about how her wedding day was ruined. Courtney also failed to follow orders. Instead she put her hands on her hips, looked the cop in the eye, and said, “Honestly, Ryan, do we look like hardened criminals?”

  The cop’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, especially the pristine, candy-apple red Camaro with the wicked black racing stripe on its hood.

  “They were trashing my car,” Brandon said.

  Officer Pierce aimed a pair of high-beam blue eyes at Courtney and said, “This is getting old, you know. What did you do this time? Bacon under the seats? Milk on the carpet? Ball bearings in the door panels?”

  “What?” Brandon wailed. “Did you spill milk on the carpets?” Brandon’s tone was both outraged and wounded.

  “It’s just a car,” Andrew said.

  “He deserved it,” Courtney said. “He loves his car more than he loved Laurie.”

  “Laurie Wilson? Is this the guy who left her at the altar?” the cop asked.

  Courtney nodded.

  The cop turned and glared at Brandon. “You know, for once I think Court has a point. You’re an asshole for walking out on that woman. Do you know that her mother was so worried about her that the department put her on a suicide watch?”

  “Suicide?” Brandon paled.

  “Suicide? Really?” The echo came from the door, where Laurie stood, wearing the
clingy black dress she’d worn the other night. She looked hot and angry and annoyed. Every synapse in Andrew’s body fired at the same time giving him a jolt of pure sexual awareness. Man, he was in some deep trouble here.

  The cop looked in Laurie’s direction, and a definite blush ran up his face. “Oh, hi, Laurie. You look nice tonight.”

  Andrew had the overwhelming desire to take a swing at the guy, which would be dumb because Ryan Pierce looked like a guy who knew how to fight. All aikido had ever taught Andrew was how to defend himself. Still, he hated the way Officer Pierce was smiling at Laurie.

  “Thanks, Ryan,” Laurie said in a sweet tone, and then her gaze shifted toward Brandon. “Hi, Brandon.”

  Brandon looked down, his shoulders suddenly rounded.

  “Ryan is wrong about the suicide stuff,” she said. “That was just Mom being dramatic. You know how she can be. She always falls apart whenever she breaks up with someone. But I’m fine. Really. In fact, I’m great. I’ve been on a couple of dates, which I’ve enjoyed. And tomorrow I’m going to Emma’s wedding with Tobin Grant. Do you know Tobin? He’s a pretty gifted litigator.”

  Brandon looked up, his jaw muscles pulsing. “You can stop now. I’m sorry about the wedding. But all these obviously fake dates you’ve been going on have done nothing but piss me off. And really, did you think breaking and entering would—”

  “We didn’t break in,” Courtney interrupted. “The garage was unlocked.”

  “Oh? You know, that makes everything different,” Ryan said, giving Laurie a big smile before he turned toward Brandon. “The way I see it, any man who dumps a woman at the altar and then puts his vintage Camaro in an unlocked garage is either asking for it or is a damn fool. Now, since the car seems intact and I gather that one of these ladies is getting married tomorrow, why don’t we just call it a day, okay?”

  “You mean you aren’t going to arrest them?” Brandon asked.

  “No. But I might meet them for drinks at the Jay Bird Café in an hour when my shift is done. All in all, I think having a few drinks at the café might be a better way to spend the evening before someone’s wedding. And I’m happy to serve as the designated driver for y’all. I have a pretty big van.”

  With that, Officer Ryan Pierce tipped his police cap at the would-be criminals, gave Laurie the tiniest of winks, and retreated to let them solve things on their own.

  An hour later, Ryan Pierce made good on his promise by showing up at the Jay Bird Café and Music Hall right after the live music had ended for the night. He wore civvies and looked freshly showered, his hair damp. Laurie had to admit that he was a nice-looking man, but he didn’t thrill her the way Andrew did.

  “He’s here,” Jessica said in a singsong voice as Ryan crossed the room heading their way.

  Laurie looked down, studying the margarita she’d been nursing for the last forty-five minutes.

  “May I join you?” His voice was deep and manly, and unleashed Laurie’s inner nerd girl. Why did guys like him make her nervous? Any other woman would drool over the attention of an American hero. She should be excited that he was interested in her, but instead she just wanted him to go away and keep his distance.

  But she was too polite to brush him off. So instead she said, “You didn’t really think I was about to commit suicide that day, did you?”

  That earned her a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth but no other response. He pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable.

  “Did you?” she demanded.

  “I didn’t know what to think, to tell you the truth. Your mother thought you were in trouble, and it was my job to make sure you weren’t.” He paused and gave the women at the table a winning smile. “Y’all should know I bent a few rules tonight.” His gaze zeroed in on Courtney.

  Emma raised her drink. “Well, I for one thank you, and I’m sure my fiancé does too. I don’t think Nabil’s very traditional Turkish mother would have understood if I’d been dragged off to jail the night before my wedding.”

  “I’m sure not,” Nabil said, standing beside the table. No one had noticed his arrival because everyone had been paying attention to Ryan.

  “Oh my God, you’re not supposed to gate crash the bachelorette party.” Emma put her hands over her face.

  Nabil smiled his enigmatic and inscrutable smile, the perfect smile for a man who worked at the State Department. “It’s okay,” he said, pulling a chair up between Jessica and Emma. “I don’t think it’s bad luck, and I needed to get away from Mom. She’s obsessing.” He looked down at Emma’s hand. “Very pretty henna.” He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

  It was insanely romantic, and the look in Emma’s eyes said it all. She and Nabil were hopelessly in love, and when he kissed her hand, everyone at the table said, “Aaaawwww.”

  Except Courtney, who looked the other way and said, “Uh-oh,” just as Brandon strolled into the bar followed by Andrew and Matthew Lyndon.

  Just like that, the air in the room became hot and unbreathable while the skin along Laurie’s arms puckered up in gooseflesh. Everything flashed hot and then cold, as if her body’s internal thermostat had malfunctioned.

  Andrew scanned the room with his impossibly dark and sexy gaze, and Laurie found herself simultaneously hoping and dreading that he’d see her. It might be fun to have him at the table, but not with Brandon. Brandon’s presence sucked all the fun out of everything.

  If Ryan had made her feel like an awkward geek, Brandon made her feel like the worst kind of loser. And Andrew…he made her burn in a totally forbidden way.

  She looked down at her drink and thought about paying her bill and walking home. But how could she bolt on Emma’s bachelorette party?

  “It’s okay if you need to leave,” Emma said. “I understand.”

  Laurie looked up into her friend’s eyes just as something dark and angry spilled through her. Why should she call it a night? Why did she have to behave? “No,” Laurie said, raising her head, “I think we should invite them to join us.”

  Her friends looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “I know,” she said, leaning in toward them and lowering her voice. “But I’m tired of running away. I mean, Andrew is a friend, and I’ve known Brandon for a decade. And Matt is a jerk, as we all know, but he’s harmless. Besides, I need to move on, not run away.”

  “Good point,” Madison said, nodding her head as if she’d had one too many drinks. Madison couldn’t hold her liquor and proved it when she stood up and waved at Andrew, Matt, and Brandon. “Come on, you guys, we’ve declared a truce. Laurie says she needs to move on, not run away.”

  The guys stood stock still with deer-in-the-headlight expressions, and then Andrew took charge, the way he always did. Subtly and without a lot of male bravado or fanfare. He strolled over to the table. “Are you guys sure?” he asked, in that deep, calm, sexy voice of his.

  “Absolutely,” Jessica said with a goofy smile. “Laurie just said that your presence will help her get over her heartbreak. I have no idea how that works, but she seems to believe it.”

  Heat crawled up Laurie’s face. There was nothing more annoying than a friend who couldn’t hold her booze. But maybe Jessica had done her a favor.

  “Look,” she said, “you might as well sit with us. I mean, if you sat somewhere else, we’d just scowl at you and say nasty stuff about you. This way we can try to be civil. I’m sure Andrew can mediate if it gets too nasty.”

  She flicked her gaze toward Andrew, and the kindness in his eyes undid her. She caught fire and melted in the same instant.

  Reading body language was essential in Andrew’s line of work, and he’d practiced the skill every day since he’d joined the mediation team at Wilson Kavanaugh. Even so, reading the tension between Brandon and Officer Pierce didn’t take much expertise.

  They both leaned in. They both sat shoulders squared, chest out, head high. Although Ryan’s posture was a bit more military. As the evening wore
on, the tension between them climbed, especially since Ryan glued himself to Laurie’s side as if he’d appointed himself as her personal protector.

  Brandon started drinking, and as he moved from buzzed to inebriated, he began to bait Ryan, as if he were ready to have a fight over Laurie. He started making cutting remarks, and then the idiot challenged Ryan to an arm-wrestling match, which Ryan won easily.

  Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Brandon from behaving like a jerk. He changed tactics, as if he’d decided that if he couldn’t best Ryan, he would try to teach Laurie a lesson or something. He turned his big blue eyes on Courtney and tried flirting with her.

  His tactics were so awkward and ham-handed that Matt, who had been chatting up Jessica and Madison, stopped what he was doing, squirmed in his chair, and leaned toward Andrew. “We need to rescue him, dude. He’s tangling with a woman who eats guys like him for breakfast.”

  Andrew didn’t feel like rescuing Brandon, although he was entertaining a few fantasies about carrying Laurie off to the safety of…where? Her place? He flashed on the kiss they’d shared at The Park last Saturday. Oh yeah, he would definitely like to rescue her from this scene for a make-out session on her couch. She deserved better than Brandon. And he truly didn’t want her to go home with Ryan Pierce, who, near as Andrew could tell, was the only other adult at this table.

  He gave his cousin a quick glance and said, “Brandon’s made his bed. He’s the guy who has to sleep in it. Alone.”

  Matt didn’t respond. Instead, he got up and took his beer to the other side of the table, where he pulled up a chair between Brandon and Courtney. This left Jessica and Madison high, dry, and slightly ticked off. They immediately turned toward the adjacent table, where a couple of guys with military haircuts were sitting.

  Matt didn’t seem to care. He’d completely focused his attention on Courtney, and she seemed to be succumbing to his many charms. In the meantime, Brandon had been cut off from every woman sitting at the table. A muscle twitched in his jaw as resentment marched across his face. It certainly looked as if the whole “make Brandon jealous” gambit was working.