by Adams, S. C.
“Ready, ladies? We’re just about to start.”
I’m not sorry that she interrupted, and neither is Trudy, judging by her beaming face and teary eyes. I’m so glad they invented waterproof makeup. Not that Trudy ever looks messy or sloppy because she’s the epitome of style. Hell, raccoon eyes would probably just make her more stylish, as if it were the latest trend.
“We’re ready!” the other girls chorus.
I distribute the bouquets to all the girls, and we get in line. I’m last, just before Trudy, which is a special position given to the maid of honor, I guess.
“Girls,” Trudy says quietly. “Thank you for being here with me. It means a lot.”
My heart swells. Trudy may be high maintenance, but at least she knows how to show appreciation.
I turn and offer her a smile.
“We love you, girl. There’s nowhere else we’d rather be.”
Actually, I can think of at least twelve places I’d rather be, and not one of them involve this itchy, heavy dress, but Trudy doesn’t need to know that.
“Okay!” says the planner. I have no idea what her name is. Honestly, I don’t think Trudy does, either. She only ever refers to the woman as “the wedding planner,” which seems rude, but it is what it is.
“In a minute, I’m going to cue the organist,” the wedding planner says. “After a few bars, the doors will open. We’ve got people to do that, so don’t worry about opening them yourselves. After the doors open, Jenny, wait five seconds. No more, no less. And then walk in.”
Jenny, who has been friends with Trudy nearly as long as I have, nods in understanding. The wedding planner continues to jabber.
“Trudy, you stay off to the side so no one can see you as the bridesmaids enter. We don’t want to spoil the big reveal!”
Trudy obeys immediately, hiding off to the left where she’s mostly concealed.
“Perfect!” the wedding planner beams, clapping her hands together. How the woman can be so cheery, I have no idea, but at least she’s getting paid to have a good attitude.
“Monica, you’ll start walking when Jenny gets to the third pew. Understood?”
Monica nods. We went over all of this at the rehearsal last night, so it really isn’t necessary. There’s no point in saying anything though because Trudy would bite my head off.
“Same goes for you, Leonore. When Monica gets to the third pew, it’s your turn to walk out. When Leonore gets to the third pew, June will go. When June gets to the third pew, you walk out, Kendall.”
“What about me?” Trudy pipes up, as if she doesn’t already know. The wedding planner just smiles.
“The music will change when Kendall gets to the front. Trudy, you’ll count to five and then walk in. Everyone will be standing and waiting to see how beautiful you look. Does everyone understand? Need me to go over it again?”
“We’ve got it,” I say, desperate to get this over with.
Trudy nods happily.
“Thank you so much. I think we’re ready to begin!”
The wedding planner claps again. I really should ask for her name, but I feel like it’s too late at this point. I manage a wan smile and try to look happy. The wedding planner is practically shaking with excitement now.
“I’ll go alert the organist to start playing then. See you all in there!”
She slips back into the church, and I turn to face Trudy. My friend looks ecstatic, which makes me happy. All that I care about is that she has the wedding she deserves, and I hope she forgets all the drama as soon as the music starts, for her sake as well as mine.
Except as soon as the organ music floats through the closed doors, Trudy’s face falls.
“What the hell is that?”
I look around. “What are you talking about?”
“That MUSIC? It’s terrible! Are you hearing this?”
“It’s not bad, Trudy. It sounds like wedding music.”
Her face is beginning to turn red and mottled.
“It sounds like average wedding music,” she hisses. “I hired the best organ player in Georgia. I had to pay an arm and a leg to get him out to Boone, and I get this? What the hell?”
I glance at the two ushers poised to open the doors at any second.
“Don’t open those until I tell you to,” I warn. They look confused, but nod.
“Trudy, the music is fine. No one even pays attention to the music. You’re just under a lot of stress.”
A tear rolls down her cheek.
“This is not stress! It’s my wedding. I don’t want crappy music playing as I walk down the aisle!”
I listen again, and honestly, I kind of agree. The organ doesn’t sound as beautiful as it usually does in TV weddings. In fact, it sounds a little out of tune, but what can we do at this late stage? I smile again.
“It’s okay, Trudy. Let’s just live with it okay? Your future husband is waiting for you.”
But my friend is inconsolable.
“No! It’s not okay!”
Her face starts gets even more red, which means Trudy is quickly heading towards full meltdown. Uh oh.
“Do you want me to go ask them to play music from the stereo system? I could give them my phone and have them play the wedding march that way.”
A tear begins to drop down Trudy’s cheek. Her makeup is waterproof, but I don’t want to test just how strong it is because it might not survive a full sob fest. Frankly, I might not survive that either.
“I can’t walk down the aisle to music played from a phone, Kendall! How can you even suggest that? That’s so cheesy and cheap.”
I take a deep breath.
“I’m just trying to help solve the problem, Trudy.”
At this point, another bridesmaid butts in.
“It’s fine, I’ll handle it,” interrupts Jenny. “Just give me a minute.”
She slips into the church, leaving us dumbfounded.
“What is she doing?” Trudy asks, sniffling. I hand her a tissue. According to every “How To Be A Maid of Honor” article I read, tissues should be available at all times. I have some tucked in my bodice, just in case.
“I don’t know,” I start, but then it dawns on me. “Oh, right. Jenny majored in music, remember? I’m sure she has something up her sleeve, even if she has to play the organ herself.”
Just then, the music stops. Confused whispers reach us through the thick wooden doors. Some are wondering what’s going on, and some people are even speculating that the wedding is off.
But before Trudy can comment on her guests’ concerns, the music starts again. This time, it flows differently. Smoother. More melodic.
Trudy smiles.
“Jenny saves the day!”
“All good, now?”
She nods.
“All good. Thank you, Kendall.”
I turn back to the door, taking my place in line.
“That means you’re first, Monica. Five seconds, no more, no less.”
She laughs.
“Don’t worry, I got this.”
“Okay, boys. Open the doors.”
The two men look relieved. I doubt they’ve ever had this much drama at a wedding before, and they’ve probably seen a lot of them.
The doors sweep open and we paste happy smiles on our faces. Like clockwork, Monica counts to five before stepping into the church. Then Leonore follows behind her, right on cue. Trudy’s cousin, June, goes next.
I take a deep, calming breath. June makes it to the first pew, then the second. I stand up straight and hold my bouquet in two hands. As soon as June gets to the third pew, I take my first step.
The wedding has officially begun, and hopefully it doesn’t go down the pipes before my friend says her vows. As I walk down the aisle, I smile at the guests and try to look serene, but actually, I’m wondering where my own Prince Charming is. Could he be here? They always say that weddings are the best place to meet someone, but it’s going to be hard to meet someone good given that I’m wearing th
is incredibly ugly outfit. Damn.
Just then, I catch sight of the Trudy’s groom, Herbie. Poor Herb. He’s perspiring like a pig on a hot day, and my heart goes out to him. That’s not going to look good in the wedding video.
Then, my eyes glance to the groom’s right and my jaw almost drops. These are Herbie’s groomsmen? Because I’ve just set eyes on three of the hottest men I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re tall, dark, and outrageously gorgeous with dark hair and tanned skin. All three of them are breathtakingly handsome in their suits and my heart begins to pound heavily. Oh my gosh, what if this wedding fulfills its promise, and I get to meet not one Prince Charming, but three?
To be continued …
Does Kendall find love with not one, but three handsome groomsmen? Read and find out! 3 Daddies To Go is now LIVE, and available here!
Sneak Peek: Mister Daddy
Carter
It was one night. I made love to a huge, growly man with perfect lips. It was just a temporary fling because we met on a cruise – but now he’s given me his baby!
Now that Abby and her friends are getting along again, it’s easy to be alone with her. Yesterday, I was on edge, worried that she’d blame me for the fallout. It was kind of my fault. I stole Abby from her friends, so I’m glad they’re back to how they were before.
“How was breakfast?” I ask when Abby walks into my room. She left early this morning to join Caitlyn and Jessica for the first meal of the day.
“Amazing. Almost as good as eating in here with you.”
She gives me a brilliant, seductive smile. We’ve made love at least once a day since we met, most days two or three times. It’s the best sex I’ve had in my life.
Every cruise I go on, I find a girl to keep me company a few times until we get back to port. It’s like hockey players with their puck bunnies in every city. A guy needs to find his release.
But with Abby… I can’t picture myself with another girl now that I’ve been with her.
I’m just not sure how to tell her that.
“What are your plans for today?” she asks, joining me on the bed. I haven’t bothered to get up since she left.
“I was thinking we could just hang out. Stay in here for a bit and then wander around the decks. It’s our last day.”
Her face falls, and so does mine. We haven’t talked about what the end of the cruise means, but we both know that tomorrow, we’ll go our separate ways. I just hope she wants to keep in touch after that happens.
“I really like that idea,” she says. “I wouldn’t mind staying in this room with you all day. But I do want to get a postcard from the gift shop. I collect them everywhere I go.”
“Then we will get you a postcard,” I pronounce. I pull back the covers so that she can join me, but she stays where she is. “We’ve been in that bed a lot, and you’ve got this whole big room…”
My eyes widen. “What did you have in mind?”
Her gaze falls on the balcony. “Your balcony is so much bigger than ours, and it’s nice and private.”
I like the way this woman thinks. I take the blanket and follow her out onto my balcony, leaving the door open to air out the room. The blanket goes down first, and then we lie on top of it.
For a while, we stay in each other’s arms, kissing to the sway of the ship on the water. It’s peaceful. I could stay here with Abby forever.
Eventually, our kissing becomes more intense but never frantic, and we end up making love slowly and passionately. She’s curvy and so ripe, and I come extra hard when she cries out my name during climax. Suddenly, Abby’s eyes fly open and she screams right when my seed shoots into her sweet slit.
“Pull out, Mr. Jones! Pull out, pull out!”
I stare at her for a moment, uncomprehending, and then I jerk myself out. But it’s too late. It’s obvious that I’ve already dumped an enormous load inside her, and even now, I continue to spurt onto her wet, pulsing folds.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I pant. She merely smiles and sighs even as ecstasy rushes us in waves. After we’re done, the curvy girl turns toward me.
“So much for pulling out,” she says with a half-smile.
“Sweetheart, I’m sure we’re fine,” I growl. “It’s going to be alright, don’t you worry.”
She sighs languorously and snakes her arms around my neck. For a moment, I think she’s going to say more, but nothing comes. Good. After all, our time together may end tomorrow, but right now, I’m not thinking about pulling out and the like. All I’m thinking about is this gorgeous girl before me and enjoying our remaining time together.
We lie nude on the down blanket, the cool breeze drying our sweaty bodies.
“Wow,” Abby says, affording the word “wow” with new meaning every time she says it. “It gets better every time.”
“It sure does,” I chuckle. “We’re dynamite together, you and me.”
After an hour of resting together on the balcony, we start to shift, ready to be back inside.
“Hey, how about I give you a private tour of the ship?” I offer. “And then we can stop and get you a post card?”
She smiles. “I would love that.”
“Do you want to invite Caitlyn and Jessica?”
“It’s sweet of you to offer, but we’ve come to an agreement. You and I get the rest of the cruise, and I spend one night a week having dinner with my friends once we return home.”
“That’s an excellent agreement.”
“I thought so.”
We dress in my room, though it’s a slow process with how often we stop to kiss. I have to distance myself from her or we really will end up in my room until we dock tomorrow.
We start our tour at the bottom of the ship and work our way up. I show her things that the public can’t see, thanks to my private access. The first eight floors are pretty boring, but once we get to floor nine, things get more exciting.
“This is the theater, obviously,” I tell her when we get to the main part of the ninth floor. We saw a show together two nights ago, so she knows what the theater is. “But I want to take you backstage so that you can see what it’s like back there.”
“That would be awesome!”
I lead her through an employees’ only door and down the hall to the backstage area. All of the props for the three shows on board are stored here. She oohs and ahs as she weaves in between the different sets and props. One of our shows is a Mardi Gras extravaganza, so there are lots of boas and green, gold, and purple decorations.
“This is so cool, Carter,” she exclaims. “Thank you so much for this.”
We continue the tour, and with every stop, Abby is genuinely interested in the things I show her.
“You’re really passionate about this ship,” she says when we get to the main deck. I’d just finished explaining how we revolutionized the deck layout for the best guest experience possible.
“Sorry. Am I boring you to death?”
“No,” she says with a hand on my arm. “I like hearing about your passion, really. You spent hours out in the water with me, listening to my love for scuba.”
“I loved hearing about that.”
“And I love hearing about the ship.”
I bite my tongue before I can tell her that it’s not just her passions I adore. It’s her.
To be continued …
Will Carter’s forgetfulness when pulling out have repercussions? Read and find out! Mister Daddy is now LIVE, and available here.
About the Author
S.C. Adams is a romance author who likes her stories hot and unprotected. She grew up a Jersey girl but considers herself a global citizen now. She gives thanks to the gods of Paypal, Amazon, and Microsoft for allowing her to work anywhere in the world, including on the beaches of Bali and the mountains of Peru. Oh, and she also hates chocolate, but loves dogs. Currently toting her mutt Minnie to a new location every three months.
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