Daring Brides

by Ava Miles

  Rye nudged Dustin forward, fighting a grin. “Get on over there to Mama, Dustin. She doesn’t bite.”

  Even his buddies had taken to calling her Mama. Well, all of them except for Mac. Somehow his mama was charmed by how elegantly Mac Maven called her Mrs. Butler in that dignified way of his.

  Dustin padded forward like he was facing the guillotine. Sure enough, Mama pinched his cheeks and then gave him a healthy slap on the back.

  “You’re going to grow up to be a fine man, Dustin,” she told him. “I can always tell. The ship is still out on that one over there.”

  “Me?” Rye asked, pointing to himself as he swaggered over. “Come on, Mama, you know you like me the best.”

  Her laughter guffawed out as Rye swung her around like she didn’t weigh almost two hundred pounds. She pinched his cheek too after he set her down, and he winked at Dustin as if to say, “She does that to everybody.” Well, again, except for Mac. Nobody would ever pinch his cheeks.

  “I’m so hungry I could eat a buttered monkey,” Rye said, slapping Clayton on the back. “Let’s go find some food.”

  “A buttered monkey?” Abbie asked, her eyes wide.

  “It’s just a saying, sugar,” he told her, chortling. “I decided not to put that on the menu for today.”

  “Thank God.” She took the white wine Mac handed her. “I need to wet my whistle to keep up with y’all.”

  He could feel a shit-eating grin spread across his face. She was working on her colloquialisms, and it was too sweet for words. “I need to find me a mint julep.”

  “Charleston, honey,” his mama called out to his cousin, who stood talking with John Parker. “Could you go find me and Rhett two of those delicious mint juleps?”

  “You got it, Aunt Eugenia,” Charleston said, excusing herself.

  “Rhett, I’ll just go and make sure Rye doesn’t swallow up all the food.” John Parker glanced over his shoulder at their friend, who had made a beeline for the buffet immediately after setting Eugenia down, and then looked back at him. “You know how crazy that man can get at a buffet.”

  “One time Rye ate three whole ducks at this tiny Chinese restaurant we came across in Atlanta,” Rhett told the group. “The poor owner asked him to leave. It was hilarious.”

  His mama guffawed, and Rhett caught sight of the Hale clan, looking over to see what the ruckus was about. He waved to Jill and Brian, Meredith and Tanner, and Arthur Hale, who was just about Rhett’s favorite old man.

  If he had thought there was a chance in hell that Arthur Hale would go for his mama—who was that man’s junior by twenty years at least—he would have played matchmaker. But he just couldn’t see the two of them coming together. It was a darn shame.

  Charleston returned with his mint julep, and he loved seeing the fancy pewter cup piled high with crushed ice and topped with a swig of fresh mint and a black straw, the proper Kentucky-Derby way.

  “I’d say y’all know how to throw a party,” Charleston said, throwing her blond hair back over her shoulder. “Yours reminds me of a cross between The Hart of Dixie meets Downton Abbey.”

  Rhett had heard of that British show, but he’d never watched it. Now, The Hart of Dixie, well, he might have watched re-reruns when he was on the road playing poker. He didn’t do much carousing any more, but a man needed something to divert him.

  “Why, thank you,” Abbie said graciously.

  He’d bet his front teeth she’d never watched The Hart of Dixie.

  “I really like this little town, Rhett,” his cousin said. “I can see why you’ve made it your home beyond the obvious.”

  He had made it home, which couldn’t have surprised him more. If you’d asked him years ago, he would have bet good money he would one day settle down in the South with a good Southern girl. But meeting Abbie had pretty much blown all those might-have-beens to bits. Thank God.

  “You’ll have to come visit us,” Abbie said.

  “Yes. Absolutely. You can stay anytime.” Dustin blushed.

  It was hard for a man not to blush if he wasn’t related to Charleston. He’d even seen Rye react to her that way before. Her skin was all peaches and cream, her hair like cornsilk, and she had the most unusual shade of eyes—violet—which made her one of the most sought-after debutantes in Natchez. But she had a mind of her own and a mouth on her, so if you so much as tried to tell her what to do, God help you. Which was why she was nearing Southern spinsterhood at the age of thirty-three. Thank God she was a self-made business woman. She’d learned to sew from his mama since her own mother had taken ill and died way too young, and now she owned one of the finest fashion boutiques in Natchez. She designed clothes and sometimes still sewed them herself even though she employed a string of women to help, including his mama.

  “That’s awfully sweet of you, sugar,” Charleston told Dustin with a smile. “Y’all will have to come to Natchez too. Rhett, you must bring them during Spring Pilgrimage sometime. Abbie, by the look of the wedding gown you chose—which is too lovely for words—you would go mad-hare crazy over the gowns.”

  Rhett cleared his throat. “Charleston, sugar, we might need to ease them in a little bit gentler than that.” Pilgrimage was like walking back into another time with its antebellum reenactments, and if Abbie and Dustin thought his mama was something…well, she was in her element there.

  “You’re probably right,” his cousin said. “I think I’ll go find me some of those wonderful ribs. Rhett, I heard you talked the chef from our favorite place in Memphis into giving the recipe to Mac’s chef. You old dog, you.”

  He gave her a saucy wink as she headed off.

  “I’ll…ah…go help her,” Dustin all but stuttered. “In case she gets lost.”

  “Charleston lost?” His mama barked out a laugh. “That will be the day. Even when that girl is off the beaten track, she’s sure she’s in the right place.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” he said, and Mama nudged him in the ribs with an elbow.

  “You need to grab your bride a plate, Rhett,” she said. “She looks a bit peaked.”

  He turned to survey her. She did look a little drained. Likely from all the conversation with his family.

  “How about we find us some food and sit over at the head table?” he asked. “We can talk to the rest of our guests after we eat.” So far, they’d barely made their way inside the reception area.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder.

  “Where should we start first?” he asked her, surveying the buffet. He waved to Jane and Elizabeth, who waggled their fingers back at him. Damn, he loved those girls, but it was still weird to see them in normal clothes. Of course, Elizabeth’s red dress had flair while Jane’s tan one suited her more conservative nature when she wasn’t in costume as a poker babe.

  “I rather feel like some sea bass, asparagus, and garlic mashed potatoes,” she told him.

  Yeah, he couldn’t see her sucking the head of a crayfish, and today wasn’t the day to initiate her into that Southern staple. “That sounds like a great plan. Why don’t you go rest your feet while I make you a plate?”

  Her radiant smile was answer enough. “Well, my feet do hurt a little. Why can’t they make wedding shoes that don’t pinch your toes?”

  He leaned closer so only she could hear him. “I can’t wait to lift your skirts up and give you a few pinches in other places.”

  “Rhett!” she cried out like she was embarrassed, but he knew it was only foreplay.

  He said outrageous things. She protested for show. And they both enjoyed everything he’d promised to do to her once they were behind closed doors.

  After bending down to kiss her cheek, he nudged her in the direction of the head table. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  Of course, that turned out to be more difficult than he’d anticipated. Other guests wanted to offer their congratulations. He finally had to be as rude as a redneck drinking outside of church on a
Sunday so he could get Abbie her plate of food. He prayed it wasn’t cold.

  “Sorry, sugar,” he said when he finally reached her. “I got swarmed.”

  She fingered the edge of the plate after he set it in front of her. “It looks wonderful.”

  “Can I grab you anything else?” he asked.

  “You don’t have to wait on me, Rhett.”

  “It is my deepest honor, Mrs. Butler.” He bowed at the waist.

  “I like the sound of that,” she said, spearing an asparagus. “Now, run and get your plate.”

  He was rounding the table when Rye, who was seated four chairs down, right next to Eugenia, stood. “Go sit with your bride. I can get you some food. What do you want?”

  His relief was as powerful as drinking Alka-Seltzer for a hangover. “You know what I like.”

  “I think that’s what your bride is supposed to say,” Rye said with a dopey grin. “Take a load off, bubba. I’ll be right back.”

  Someone brought him another mint julep after he took his seat. He’d lost his on his trek back to the table. When Rye brought him a plate, it was piled high with all his favorites. He dug into the ribs first. Took a bite of the maple cornbread and collard greens. Then he mowed down a dozen crayfish. And since Abbie hadn’t agreed to his marvelous idea of providing wedding bibs for their guests, he stuffed his napkin in his collar so he wouldn’t get BBQ sauce or crayfish drippings on his suit. When his mama started laughing like she’d uncovered a dirty little secret from Rye, who was seated on her right, he looked over and noticed the BBQ stain on the fabric above her bosom.

  Since he wanted to keep peace in his marriage—even if it had only been legal for a couple hours—he did not point out that he’d been right about the bibs.

  When he was as full as a prized hog, he leaned back in his chair and laid his arm across the top of Abbie’s chair. Someone clinked a glass, and the crowd noise dissipated. Rye stood up.

  “Thank y’all for giving me a moment of your attention. As one of Rhett’s oldest friends, I drew the short straw today to give a toast to the bride and groom. Just kidding. I’ve known Rhett for a long time now, and I have to say, I don’t think it will ever be long enough. He’s one of the best guys you could ever meet. Generous. Loyal. A true friend. A man like that would be hard-pressed to find a woman who deserved him, but I can attest to y’all that Abbie is that and more. She is like the first sweet rose in spring. And she makes my friend happier than I have ever seen him, and for that she has my undying gratitude.”

  Crap. Rye was going to make him bawl like a baby if he kept at it. He dabbed his eyes with his napkin bib.

  “Today they begin their life together, and I know it’s going to last as long as their time on this earth. To Rhett and Abbie.”

  Everyone raised their glasses and echoed Rye’s last words. After he drank, Rhett caressed the soft curls on Abbie’s neck under her French twist. Her eyes were tearing just like his were.

  Mac cleared his throat as he stood. “Rye couldn’t have put it more elegantly, being a singer and songwriter and all, but I’d like to offer my own toast to the bride and groom. Abbie is everything Rye said and more. She’s gracious and kind. And she has one of the most loving hearts you’ll ever have the pleasure of encountering. I’m so fortunate to be her brother and to have shared so much of my adult life with her. And Rhett…well, Rhett came into my life when I needed a friend.”

  Mac Maven was going for a home run, Rhett thought as he knuckled more tears away.

  “In the beginning, Rhett was as different from me as an apple is from an orange, but there was just something about him. He’s one of the most fun people you’ll ever meet and loyal beyond words, just like Rye said. It’s been my privilege to be his friend, and now I have him as my brother. Welcome to the family, Rhett. May today mark your passage into one of the best parts of your life. And to Abbie. No other man could love you more or better, and nothing could make me happier than to see the two of you together. To Rhett and Abbie.”

  Abbie sniffed by his side and took a drink of her champagne. “I’m going to have to redo my makeup again after all this.”

  Then, from the corner of his eye, Rhett saw Dustin stand up to speak. Abbie was next to him, so she swiveled in her chair to stare up at him.

  “No one but the wedding planner and Uncle Mac knew I was going to make a toast,” the young man said, sweating under the light of the chandeliers.

  Rhett’s heart turned as soft as grits, and he reached for Abbie’s hand under the table.

  “I’ve been lucky enough to know Rhett most of my life since he’s one of Uncle Mac’s oldest friends. All my life…I’ve wished he was my dad…and today he became that. Not only because he married my mom, but because he’s started…the process to adopt me.”

  A soft sigh crested across the room as nearly every man and woman wiped away tears.

  “Usually they say the bride and the groom are the luckiest people in the world on their wedding day, but…well, I’m the luckiest one because I have both of them for the rest of my life.” He turned his head away from the crowd to look at them. “To my mom and dad.”

  Now Abbie started crying in earnest, and Rhett leaned across her to pull the boy down so all three of them could embrace.

  “You’re the best son a man could ever have, Dustin,” he whispered through his own tears.

  They took their moment, and Rhett heard soft music come on in the background as people resumed their conversations. When they finally broke apart, they simply looked at each other, love shining in their eyes.

  “Okay,” Dustin said finally. “That was intense.”

  “The intensest,” Abbie said, trying to make a joke.

  It made them all laugh. “We’re the lucky ones, Dustin,” Rhett said.

  His son nodded. “Aren’t you supposed to cut the cake or something?”

  Yeah, they probably needed to do something constructive now, or they’d all be crying like babies in the corner for the rest of the night.

  “How about it, Abbie?” Rhett asked her. “You ready for some cake?”

  She rose from her chair. “Let me check my makeup.”

  “You look beautiful,” he said, gazing at her loveliness.

  “Thank you, but I don’t think you could possibly see a hair out of place right now.” She excused herself.

  She was right. That’s why they call them rose-colored glasses, after all.

  When she returned, they made the journey to the cake table. Abbie’s apricot-filled Lady Baltimore with buttercream frosting was exactly the color of her favorite rose. He didn’t like white cake with fruit in it, so he suffered through one bite to her two or three.

  “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “We can go cut your cake now.”

  Usually the bride and groom didn’t cut the groom’s cake, but he’d told her they would just have to start their own tradition. He was going to darn well make sure he had a piece of his own cake. Sometimes the groom never ended up getting a piece of cake in the melee of the reception, and the prospect horrified him. When he cut it, he knew he’d been right to insist. The chocolate was pure sin—just like he liked—and he grew light-headed after just two bites.

  “This is delicious,” he told her. “I might die on the spot.”

  She leaned in and pressed a frosting-coated finger to his lips. “Please don’t. I have plans for you on our honeymoon.”

  He didn’t suck her finger into his mouth like he wanted to, but by the slumberous look in her eyes, he knew she was thinking about how much he was resisting the urge.

  “Later,” he whispered. “Make sure the wedding planner packs us up a few pieces of cake to take to New Orleans.”

  “I already told her to snag some,” she said with a wink.

  “I like it when you’re all organized and detail oriented,” he whispered, pulling her flush against his body, not caring about the crowd.

  The chiming of metal against glass rang out and gained in volume, signaling
that the crowd wanted a kiss. He was more than happy to oblige.

  “Perfect timing,” he said as he pressed her mouth to his.

  She tasted of apricot and chocolate and was so intoxicating he nearly carried her off then and there. But his mama would slap the back of his head for his foolishness, and it would be embarrassing.

  He finally was able to angle them over to Jane and Elizabeth. “Hey, girls,” he said, kissing their cheeks one at a time.

  “Abbie, you are the most beautiful bride ever,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you again for letting us come today.”

  “Rhett considers you sisters,” she replied. “You just had to come.”

  “And we’re pretty normal looking, right?” Jane asked, gesturing to her outfit.

  Rhett snorted. “I purposely didn’t tell Mama, Charleston, Rye, or the other guys about your new roles yet. I wanted to make sure no one would recognize you.” He would drop the bomb another time. Part of him was enjoying the secret, truth be told. And heaven knew his mama couldn’t keep a secret, a quality the mint juleps would only intensify.

  “You look lovely,” Abbie said. “It’s…nice…seeing you look like everyone else.”

  Rhett cleared his throat. “Ah, sugar. Isn’t it time for our first dance soon?”

  Elizabeth and Jane both met his gaze, trying to hold back smiles. They both knew Abbie was still warming to them, but no one needed a reminder of the over-the-top outfits they used to wear as his poker babes.

  “I think it might be,” she said. “Thanks for coming again.”

  Jane and Elizabeth hugged him and then headed off to their seats. Rhett signaled to the band to let them know they were ready. When they began to play the first strings of the song Abbie had chosen, he led her onto the dance floor. They swayed to “Night and Day” by Cole Porter, and she felt so good in his arms that he twirled her around like his mama had taught him to do when he was a sprout. As soon as he dipped her, she laughed with abandon, an unusual sound for her in public. But today wasn’t just any day. She was happy. Happier than he’d ever seen her. When the song ended, he kissed her because he could.