Two Times as Hot

by Cat Johnson

  He nodded. “We did. And I can go find your pa for you. No problem.”

  “Find him? Is he missing?” Becca’s eyes opened wide.

  This was a clear case of bridal nerves. They probably all should have had a drink on the way over. It would have calmed Becca down, or it could have had the opposite effect and they’d all be bawling their eyes out. Oh, well. Too late for that, anyway.

  Motion in the doorway caught Emma’s attention and she smiled. “Dad. Come on in.”

  Becca pivoted toward their father. “Dad.”

  “You all look perfect.” His eyes looked a bit misty, too. “So are we set to go?”

  It seemed weddings could choke up the best of them, even a tough old former New York City police sergeant. Emma smiled. “Yes, sir. We were just waiting for you.”

  “I’ll run up and tell them you’re ready to start.” Tyler took off out the door.

  That was it. The only thing left to do was wait for the organ music to play the first strains of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D.” And try not to cry. Emma shoved another tissue into the front of her dress, just in case.

  Emma’s hair brushed her shoulders, a cascade of golden silk that framed her face.

  She’d left it down like he’d suggested instead of having it put up. It was a ridiculous thought, but that’s what popped into Logan’s head when Emma appeared around the corner and stopped in the doorway as the processional music began. One measured step at a time, she made her way up the aisle toward him.

  Once he got past noticing her hair, he couldn’t deny the rest of her looked pretty great, too. The dress did some amazing things to her already curvy figure, as if it had been made for her. He felt like a letch standing in church and imagining how those curves would feel beneath his hands.

  Sinful or not, he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from watching Emma until she turned and followed the path Tara had taken off to the opposite side of the altar.

  “You doing okay, bro?” Tyler whispered to Tuck over the processional music.

  “Never been better.” Judging by the calm confidence in Tuck’s voice, Logan believed he spoke the truth.

  Once Emma was out of his field of vision, Logan wrestled his focus back to where it should be as a groomsman, on Tuck and anything he might need. He glanced sideways and saw Tuck’s attention riveted to the aisle. One glance told Logan that Becca had come into view. The music changed to “The Bridal March” and Logan turned to see that the bride, on the arm of her father, had indeed made her appearance.

  Logan spared a glance at Tuck and saw a smile bow his friend’s lips, his attention glued to the aisle and Becca. That was the look of a man in love. No denying it. The military could be tough on a marriage. Logan had seen that time and time again with the soldiers he served with, but this marriage—this one might just have a chance. He felt like a cynical bastard even thinking that, or maybe he was just a realist. Either way, he’d do what he always did. Hope for the best and plan for the worst, and be there for Tuck no matter what happened.

  “I’ve got a flask in my pocket if anybody needs it,” Jace hissed next to him.

  Logan resisted the urge to clock him one. “Jace, I swear to God, if you dare drink that here . . .” He kept his voice low but there was no mistaking he was serious.

  “Fine. I’ll save it for later.” Jace rolled his eyes, until something in the direction of the pews caught his eye. He paled. “Crap. There’s Jacqueline.”

  Jace’s ex-girlfriend. Logan smiled. Good thing Jace had that flask. By the stricken look on his face, he was going to need a drink.

  Tuck, good-natured as always, grinned wider at Jace’s whispered comment, and then all of his attention was needed for far more important things. He stepped forward as Becca stopped at the end of the aisle in front of them. Her father kissed her on the cheek and then moved aside so Tuck could take her hand. She looked up at Tuck with love in her eyes so evident, Logan had to swallow a lump in his throat.

  What Emma had said this morning in the garage was right. It was the littlest things that made it feel real. That could get a person all choked up. Even a man like Logan, who’d thought, until now, that he was perfectly content being single.

  Logan cleared his throat and turned his attention to the preacher, happy to have something else to focus on.

  Chapter Six

  Before leaving the bridal room, Emma had to worry about straightening Becca’s train, keeping her own cleavage appropriate for church, and fixing their tear-stained makeup. But once she was assured Becca was all set behind her, Emma stepped out into the aisle behind Tara.

  The start of the ceremony was a jumbled blur of music and motion during the processional. That was preferable, actually, to the long stretch following it, which consisted of nothing more than the steady drone of the preacher’s voice and long moments of standing and inactivity. Emma tried to concentrate on the words spoken and not focus on how her feet hurt in the uncomfortable satin pumps she’d had dyed to match her dress.

  Then the ceremony was over. One moment Emma was holding both her flowers and Becca’s while biting the inside of her lip desperately trying to squelch her tears as Becca and Tuck recited the traditional vows and exchanged rings. The next thing she knew, the recessional music had begun and they were all on the move once again.

  Emma had to pull herself together and scurry to help Becca. Things seemed to speed up in fast motion. She handed the bridal bouquet back, then juggled her own in one hand as she bent to sweep the train of her sister’s gown out of the way. She had to scramble to straighten the folds in the tail of the gown so the bride and groom could turn and exit to begin their walk out of the church.

  As maid of honor, Emma found herself walking down the aisle behind the bride and groom escorted by Tyler. Behind her, Jace, Logan, and Tara followed. Once outside the church, the bride and groom paused to greet all the exiting guests.

  Emma’s heels sank into the grass. Losing her balance, she slipped her hand onto Jace’s tuxedoed arm and held onto it to steady herself. Make that Jace’s incredibly stiff arm. Now that Emma had stopped crying long enough to pay attention to her date standing next to her, she realized his entire body seemed tense. She glanced sideways at him. His jaw was clenched tight and a small frown creased the forehead beneath the cowboy hat he wore. This was not the Jace she knew.

  “You okay?”

  Jace jumped at her question. He barely glanced her way when he said, “Yeah. Fine.”

  That wasn’t very forthcoming or reassuring. He was definitely not fine, but there wasn’t much Emma could do about it now anyway. Not with a church full of people filing out into the churchyard. Then there would be photos before they headed from the church to Tuck’s parents’ house for the reception that was being catered in the backyard under a tent.

  The sound of a shutter brought Emma’s attention to the photographer, snapping photos. Emma realized she had more important things to worry about than what was up with Jace. Such as her makeup. Her lipstick was probably in need of repair before they got to the formal posed shots that would immortalize this moment for Becca and Tuck—and haunt Emma if she didn’t look good in them.

  They were heading into a long night of speeches, dancing, and socializing with the hundred plus guests, most of whom she didn’t know. Emma definitely did not have time to deal with Jace or his unexplained frowning now.

  She slipped the lipstick she’d hidden in her bra out and swept on a quick application before stashing it back. “This part will be over soon. Just smile for the pictures.”

  “No worries.” Jace’s words didn’t match the continued tension radiating off him.

  Emma squeezed his arm and made sure to take her own advice and smile.

  Jace remained just as strange during the photos as the photographer arranged the wedding party on the church steps. Meanwhile, Emma didn’t miss how Tara was trying to get close to Logan; it was as if she were trying to get inside his tuxedo with him. In fact, Tara’s hand was
inside it at one point as she slipped her fingers beneath the lapels of the tux.

  Emma tried to determine how Logan felt about that as she watched him—smiling for the camera the entire time—take Tara’s hand off his chest and hold it in his. She sighed and glanced at her own tuxedo-clad date. He stood far enough away from her that the photographer had to ask him to move in closer a few times.

  Were all weddings this complicated? With this being her first gig as part of a wedding party, Emma couldn’t be sure. But if this were par for the course, she’d definitely consider eloping when her time came. Whenever that would be.

  A tropical island would be nice. The ceremony on the beach. A simple white sundress and some flowers in her windswept hair. Becca and Tuck would fly down with them for the wedding, she was sure.

  The only thing missing from her mental picture was the groom. She glanced sideways at Jace and saw his smile was as stiff and forced as his posture. A look toward Logan on the other side of the bride and groom told her Tara had now resorted to pressing up against him until the halter top of her dress began to gape. These photos were in real danger of showing exposed nipple if someone didn’t adjust Tara’s dress.

  Emma tried to subtly get Tara’s attention to warn her, but the girl had eyes only for Logan. After a moment, Emma gave up and glanced at the photographer, who wasn’t any more responsive from behind the lens as she tried to coordinate the group.

  A sigh of frustration escaped Emma. She felt like a failure in her maid of honor and sister of the bride duties, and the ache in her feet and lower back was beginning to be unbearable. Emma could appreciate the enticing view Tuck’s groomsmen made, lined up in their matching black cowboy hats, boots and tuxedos, but all the standing around in heels and not moving was getting to her. The photographer needed to finish up already.

  Emma leaned toward Jace. “Someone should supply us with some alcohol for this part.”

  One sandy-colored brow rose beneath the brim of his hat as he patted his pocket. “I’ve got a flask. Want some bourbon?”

  She’d been thinking more of a glass of champagne, but she was in so much pain, Jace’s offer was tempting. Emma dismissed the notion. There was no way she could take a swig out of a flask here and now. Not in front of her parents, Tucker’s parents, Becca and the preacher. Besides, bourbon wasn’t her drink of choice, but if this thing went much longer, it might become so.

  Emma shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ll wait.”

  Jace nodded just as the photographer put the camera down and said, “I think that’s it for here.”

  Thank God. Emma released the frozen smile and realized how sore her jaw was. At least with the photo session done, the families and the wedding party were starting toward the vehicles. They’d make their way to the Jenkins house and Emma could sit down.

  She turned to Jace. “Shall we go?”

  “Uh, would you mind very much riding to the reception with your parents?” he asked.

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Um, uh, I just realized the front seat of my truck is filthy. You’ll ruin your dress. It’s not a big deal, is it? I’ll meet you there.”

  “All right. Sure.” Hell of a date this was turning out to be. Sober, with a sore back, and now, hitching a ride with her parents like she was twelve and going to the middle school dance. Oh, well. She’d just have to drown her misery in wedding cake.

  Emma wasn’t sure how it had happened that she ended up in her parents’ rental car for the trip, rather than in her date’s truck, but that was fine with her. Jace was acting so strange as it was, he was starting to piss her off. There was enough pressure on her today. She didn’t need to babysit him, too.

  When they arrived, she slid out of the backseat and stepped into the driveway. She could see guests were already milling around on the lawn, enjoying cocktails and appetizers served up by the black and white clad caterers.

  In a little while there’d be the official introduction of the new bride and groom, followed by the first dance and then dinner. Until then, Emma had a second to breathe and take in the transformation that had taken place, turning the Jenkinses’ peaceful, private property into a reception venue bustling with over a hundred guests.

  Emma swept her gaze toward the long buffet table. It was laden with chafing dishes filled with so much barbecue, it looked in danger of collapse. The smell of the smoked meats permeated the tent set up in the yard. She had to admit the aroma alone was making her mouth water. Of course, that could also be from the sight of all these cowboys in their tuxedos, even if her date was missing.

  A waitress plodded past Emma carrying a bowl so heavy with coleslaw she nearly didn’t make it all the way to the table. It was an interesting reception menu choice her sister had made.

  Becca stepped up to her. “Phew. I’m glad the official part is done. Now we can have fun and eat. I’m starving.”

  Emma cocked a brow and glanced at Becca. “Yeah, about the food . . . I always thought you’d serve something like, I don’t know, salmon in dill sauce with haricot vert at your wedding. Or maybe a nice surf and turf selection of lobster tail and filet mignon.”

  “You’re right. That probably would have been the menu if I’d married Jerry.” Becca glanced toward the buffet the waiters were still setting up.

  “Jerry. Ugh. Thank God you didn’t marry him.” Emma screwed up her mouth in distaste at even the thought of Becca marrying that ball-less asshole of an ex-boyfriend of hers.

  Becca let out a short laugh. “Amen to that, and good riddance. But anyway, the menu for today was kind of a sentimental decision.”

  “Oh, really? Sentimental barbecue? Interesting.” Emma looked toward the buffet again, raising a brow as two waiters carried out what appeared to be an entire pig—feet, snout, tail and all.

  “Mmm, hmm. And don’t tell Tuck but I’m having them serve him a special surprise during dinner.” Becca kept her voice low. “A fried bologna sandwich.”

  “Um, a what? Don’t, like, kindergarten kids eat those after school?” And Emma’s sometimes snooty, New York born and bred sister was serving it to her groom on their wedding day?

  “Fried bologna is a Joseph’s Fine Foods specialty. The restaurant and that sandwich are kind of special to Tucker and me, too.” Becca’s expression turned to the one she always wore when she was being naughty. Since Emma couldn’t think of anything naughty about a fried bologna sandwich, she was confused.

  She turned to her sister. “Oh, come on now, Becs. You have to explain that one to me.”

  “Let’s just say that Tuck and I ate at Joseph’s on what I guess you could call our first date. We’ll leave it at that.” Becca wore a secretive smile that made Emma even more suspicious. “But we were lucky they agreed to come all the way here to cater. Drumright is quite a distance.”

  “Where is my real sister and what have you done with her?” Emma shook her head. “Becca, even before you had a boyfriend, you used to size up the ballroom in the Plaza for your future wedding reception. Every time we went into Manhattan for dinner and a Broadway show I’d have to hear about it. Did they brainwash you somehow? What’s growing out here in Oklahoma? Are you smoking peyote or something?”

  “People change.” Becca shrugged. “Besides, I think everything turned out absolutely beautiful.”

  “It does look beautiful. You did a great job, Becs.” Bologna and all. Emma drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She’d get used to this new and strange Becca eventually. The one who chose a buffet barbecue in the backyard rather than French service at the Plaza.

  She had to admit Becca had made the Jenkins backyard magical. The ceiling of the big white tent was strung with tiny white lights to create the perfect atmosphere. The rental tables and chairs, all uniformly clothed and covered, completed the sea of bridal white punctuated only by the centerpieces made from blue hydrangea tied with matching ribbon and set in clear mason jars filled with water and river rocks.

  It made for a surprising setting—
simple and elegant like Becca, with a touch of rustic cowboy, like Tucker. Speaking of Tucker . . . as he came across the dance floor toward them, Emma watched Becca’s face light up just at the sight of him. True love if ever she saw it. Emma could only hope that lightning had a tendency to strike twice here in Oklahoma, and that she’d find her true love, too.

  “Here’s my wife.” Tuck wrapped one arm around Becca and bent to plant a pretty heated kiss on her.

  The word wife sounded strange used in reference to her little sister. It made Emma’s heart flutter. She could only imagine what it did to Becca to have the man of her dreams, her new husband, say it to her.

  All right, maybe love was worth it, even if it meant there was a vat of barbecue sauce on the buffet and fried bologna sandwiches were being served at the wedding reception.

  “They’re just about ready to officially introduce us,” Tuck announced when he managed to disconnect from the lip-lock with Becca.

  Emma resisted the urge to be snarky and tell them to get a room. Instead she asked, “Where’s my date? They’re going to want to introduce the wedding party, too.”

  Tucker glanced around the tent, specifically toward the bar set up in the far corner. “I don’t see him with Tyler at the bar. I’m not sure where Jace is.”

  That figured. Jace seemed to be making a habit of skipping out on Emma. She screwed up her mouth. “I’ll just walk in with Tyler. As maid of honor and best man, I guess we should have the first dance together anyway, after you two.”

  “That’s fine, Em.” Becca touched her arm. “I knew there’d be some juggling for the first dance since Tuck has three attendants, and I only have two. It’s not a problem.”

  Not a problem except that Jace had asked Emma to be his date and now had disappeared. It looked as if he’d stood her up both as her date and as a groomsman. Emma pasted on a neutral expression for Becca’s sake.