Best Man for Hire

by Tawna Fenske

  “Ohmygod, I’ve wanted one of these!” The bride held up a dildo shaped like a handgun, not a trace of embarrassment on her face.

  “You’re welcome, dear,” Stella said beside her. “Kelli helped me choose it.”

  “Of course she did,” Anna murmured, struggling to wrestle her pen free as she juggled the giant armload of sex toys.

  Somewhere in the distance, a male voice echoed in a hallway.

  “Anna? Anna, are you here?”

  She tried to scramble to her feet, but she couldn’t do it without sending a mountain of sex paraphernalia tumbling to the floor. An instant later, Grant was standing in the doorway looking flushed and disheveled in a tuxedo. He was gripping a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand and something that looked like a cupcake in the other.

  “Anna,” he said again, relief washing over his features before turning to mild confusion as he surveyed her armload of booty. He shook his head and drew his eyes back to hers, a look of determination on his face. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Does that vibrate?” Kelli asked, squinting at the cupcake.

  “It’s orange ginger with lavender-lemon icing,” Grant said, not really answering the question, but thrusting it toward Anna anyway. “I had it custom-made.”

  Anna shook her head, wishing the ground would swallow her up. “Grant! What are you doing? You can’t be here, you’ll ruin the bride’s party.”

  Sheri raised her hand and leaned across Kelli so she was practically in Anna’s lap.

  Not that there was any room left.

  “As the bride, I’d like to disagree.” Sheri smiled at Grant. “The floor is yours, baby brother. This better be good.”

  Anna watched Grant survey the surrounding army of women in pastel dresses. Every one of them had stopped talking to stare at them. Most looked curious or mildly amused. Some wore expressions of hunger, though most weren’t looking at the cupcake.

  She saw Grant draw his eyes back to her and take a steadying breath. He stepped forward, still gripping the flowers and the cupcake. She was eye level with his crotch now, which must have felt as awkward for him as it did for her, because he hesitated, then dropped to his knees in front of her.

  “Grant, no. Get up, please—”

  “No,” he said, his eyes still locked on hers. “It may not be today or tomorrow or even the next day, but someday—hopefully very soon—I plan to get down on one knee and ask the woman I love to marry me. And I do love you, Anna. I’m not making any promises right now, except that I love you.”

  A symphony of gasps echoed in the room, and Anna realized at least one of them came from her. She tried to raise a hand to her mouth, but discovered she was still gripping a bottle of flavored massage oil.

  Grant didn’t seem to notice. “I love you,” he repeated. “And I want to thank you for opening my eyes to the fact that I want it all—the wife, the home, the happy marriage—the whole goddamn mess.”

  Anna blinked back tears, not sure how the man managed to make a goddamn mess sound romantic, but he was doing a damn fine job of it.

  And of filling out the tux. She blinked again, trying to stay focused on his words.

  “Look, Anna. When I told you I wasn’t perfect, I meant it. I told you I’m stubborn as hell, but that means I’m willing to fight for what I want. I’m clueless about things like fashion and home decor, but when I pull my head out of my ass I’ve usually got a pretty clear view of other things. Like the fact that I’ve got an amazing woman right here in front of me.” He swallowed, his voice still a little shaky. “I know I told you I care too much what people think of me, and it’s true. But I care most of all what you think of me, and I want to be worthy of your love and respect. I’m willing to learn from you, Anna—your bluntness and your honesty and your ability to grow as a person. I want you to teach me, whether it’s how to tell a Pinot Noir from a Cherry Coke, or how to be emotionally available. Please, Anna, say you’ll give me a chance.”

  She couldn’t seem to find any words, but she managed to nod as tears welled in her eyes. Grant smiled and pressed on.

  “You deserve sunflowers and orange-ginger cupcakes with lavender-lemon icing. You deserve the damn tea-length dress and whatever the hell a mantilla veil is. But most of all, you deserve happiness, Anna. Let me be the one to give it to you.”

  She still couldn’t find her voice, but she’d given up blinking back the tears. They were rolling down her face in earnest now, making big, soggy droplets on her notepad.

  Stella seemed to notice, and leaned across her daughter to reach for the paper. “I’ll take that,” she said, tugging the pen and notepad from her fingers as Anna sat numbly. She glanced at Stella’s face to see her smiling proudly at her son.

  “And I’ll take those,” Kelli said, scooping the armload of sex paraphernalia from Anna’s lap.

  Sheri leaned forward and plucked the cupcake and flowers from her brother’s hands. “And I’ll take these.”

  “And I’ll take you,” Anna said, sliding to her knees on the floor in front of Grant as she found her words at last. “All of you. The flaws and the perfection and everything in between. I love all of you, Grant. And I don’t need you to promise to marry me. Just the possibility it could happen is enough.”

  “It could,” he said, his hands sliding around her back to pull her tight against him. “It definitely could.”

  “Stranger things have happened,” Anna murmured as his lips found hers.

  Behind her, Stella began to laugh. “In this family? You’re barely getting started.”

  …

  Grant slid a finger into the collar of his tuxedo shirt and gave a little tug to adjust it.

  “Bow tie too tight?” Mac murmured beside him.

  Grant shook his head and grinned, feeling himself breathe easy. “Nope. It’s just right.”

  The pianist was playing loudly enough to cover their whispers, but Sam glanced over anyway and made a pistol with his thumb and forefinger. Both Mac and Grant saluted him, and Sam grinned, then turned his attention back to the doors of the church. The procession had begun.

  Grant watched his new brother-in-law visibly swell with pride as Sam’s stepmom and Stella Patton moved down the aisle shoulder to shoulder, each carrying one of Sheri’s twin boys. Spotting Sam at the front of the church, Jackson hooted and waved a chubby fist in the air, while Jeffrey shouted something Grant could’ve sworn sounded like, “Semper Fi.”

  Grant glanced at Mac, who looked pleased with himself.

  “You taught them that before they mastered bye-bye?” Grant murmured.

  “Shh!” Sam hissed.

  The moms took their seats, making way for a parade of flower girls and bridesmaids in brightly colored dresses. Then it was time for the maid of honor.

  The instant Kelli came through the church doors, Grant felt Mac stand taller beside him, his eyes locked on his wife’s beaming face. She spotted her husband and blew him a kiss, looking radiant in a bright coral gown with flowers in her hair.

  But Grant’s eyes had already drifted to the edge of the door where he could see Anna hovering outside. She was issuing cues, directing traffic, the whole time smiling like a kid at a carnival. She was in her element, and he felt so damn proud to be part of it.

  “You don’t have to keep telling me you want to get married someday,” she’d murmured against his chest, snuggling into his bed after the rehearsal dinner last night. “I believe you. I don’t expect forever after less than two weeks.”

  He’d planted a kiss along her hairline and stroked his hand down her bare back. “I know. It just feels good to say it. No matter what happens.”

  But he knew what was going to happen. He was going to marry Anna someday, dammit.

  A rustle in the crowd drew his focus back to the church doors. Everyone in the audience stood, and Grant straightened a little as his sister began a slow march down the aisle. She looked beautiful in a shimmery gown Anna had called “eggshell,” whatever the hell that meant.
The same curls Grant used to tug as a little kid were pinned up under a fluffy-looking veil. Her cheeks were flushed and her shoulders were bare, and she was smiling at Sam like he was the best thing she’d ever seen in her life.

  “Good God,” Sam murmured beside him, and Grant smiled to see his new brother-in-law staring at her in wonder.

  Sheri smiled and walked toward him, her eyes shimmering with emotion. She reached her groom’s side and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

  “You’re skipping ahead a little,” Grant whispered.

  “It’s my wedding,” she whispered. “I can do whatever the hell I want.”

  “Indeed,” Mac agreed, nodding over Grant’s shoulder.

  “You look beautiful,” Sam murmured, and Grant took a step back to give them a moment of privacy. He looked away, his eyes scanning the crowd for Anna. He spotted her near the doorway, her eyes fixed on the happy couple. She was beaming with joy, her red hair glistening in the sunlight that filtered through the windows. She wore a blue dress, and though she’d tastefully pinned her hair behind her ears, Grant could still see the blue streak peeking through the coppery strands.

  Grant caught her eye and smiled. You look beautiful, he mouthed. I love you.

  She smiled back. I love you, too.

  He forced himself to look away. This was his sister’s big day, and he didn’t want to detract from that by ogling the wedding planner. There’d be plenty of time for that later.

  He let his gaze drift across the crowd. There were a lot of people here, some cousins and aunts and uncles he recognized, and a few of Sam’s sisters and a lot of assorted friends. He spotted Janelle on the far side of the church and watched her hand a cable to the videographer. The man nodded and Janelle scurried discreetly out the side door, as unobtrusive as possible.

  “Dearly beloved,” the minister began, and Grant started to pull his eyes back to the happy couple.

  He froze.

  His eyes caught a flash of movement beyond the side door. A figure stood outside, cloaked in shadows, watching through the small sliver of light.

  “We are gathered here this day to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony.”

  Grant forced himself to pay attention, ignoring the prickle of unease in his gut. His sister was beaming at Sam now, reciting vows the two had written together.

  “Through diapers and deployments, though burned dinners and good wine, I promise to love you—”

  Grant swallowed back a lump in his throat as his sister and Sam took turns pledging their eternal devotion to one another. He couldn’t ask for a better man to be marrying his sister, and he knew Sam was getting a helluva woman with Sheri. The service continued, and Grant stole another glance at the door. It wasn’t ajar anymore, so maybe he’d been imagining things.

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister said at last. “You may kiss the bride.”

  The audience erupted into applause, and Grant joined the cacophony. He clapped Sam on the back, and Mac followed suit.

  “Congratulations, man. Take good care of her.”

  “Way to go, bro.”

  The happy couple didn’t stop kissing, and Grant saw Anna beaming at the back of the church. He smiled at her, and she waved back. Her eyes looked glittery, and he wondered if she felt moved by the ceremony or by something else.

  He kinda hoped it was a little of both.

  As the pianist played the final bars of the song Grant only knew as “There Goes the Bride,” his sister and Sam marched hand in hand down the aisle, laughing as each of them stopped to scoop up one of the twins. They headed toward the door, Sheri’s veil trailing behind them on the breeze.

  The crowd began to disperse, picking up purses and murmuring to each other about the vows and the flowers.

  “So pretty.”

  “A wonderful couple.”

  “Such a lovely ceremony.”

  Grant made his way through the crowd, wondering when the day would come for his family and Anna’s to gather together and murmur the same things about the two of them.

  “You did a wonderful job,” one of Sam’s sisters was saying as she clasped Anna’s hand. “Such a beautiful wedding. Do you have a card? My best friend is getting married next year, and she’s been looking to hire someone.”

  “Of course,” Anna said, beaming. “I left my purse in the other room, but I’ll come find you at the reception.”

  “Fabulous,” the woman said, and walked away.

  “You’re a popular woman,” Grant said, sliding an arm around Anna as he stepped into the space the woman had vacated. “I don’t suppose I could hire you?”

  “I’m pretty sure there are laws against hiring people for what you have in mind,” she said, stretching up on tiptoe to kiss him. “I’m happy to volunteer, though.”

  “Your duties will be pretty extensive,” he murmured, kissing her back. “Speaking of duties, I had a message from my command this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “There’s a special intelligence project I’ll be working on for PACOM. It’s based out of Fort Lewis.”

  Anna’s eyes went wide. Grant wasn’t sure how to read her at first, but her smile was quick to alleviate his worry. “In Washington? That’s only a couple hours from Portland.”

  “I know.” Grant grinned and pulled her closer, pleased she seemed delighted instead of freaked out by how quickly things were moving. “We’ll be able to see each other all the time.”

  “All the time,” she repeated settling into his arms in a way that left him feeling certain she was made to fit there. “I can live with that.”

  Grant breathed in the flowery scent of her hair, feeling damn glad to be there, even if he did have to wear a monkey suit. Anna was soft and warm in his arms, and her cheek fit perfectly into the hollow of his chest.

  He glanced back at the side door, surprised to see it ajar again.

  A man stood in the shadows wearing a dark gray suit. He had a thick beard and dark sunglasses that weren’t necessary in the dim light of the hall. Grant blinked. The man was watching him.

  The figure moved a fraction of an inch, his body hidden almost completely by the door. A sliver of light fell across his face, and Grant froze.

  Schwartz?

  Even through the sunglasses, he could tell the man’s eyes had locked with his. They stood frozen like that for a moment, neither of them moving or speaking or even seeming to breathe. Grant didn’t blink. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the space, couldn’t stop his mind from racing to the possibility that his long-lost brother had decided to come after all.

  Anna stirred in his arms. “We should probably get going to the reception,” she murmured against his chest. “I want to get there before the caterer does.”

  Grant blinked. Through the sliver of light in the doorway, he saw the man turn away.

  As the figure made his way down the hall, Grant saw the faintest trace of a limp.

  Then the man was gone, vanished into the sunlight far away from the bustling crowd.

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  Acknowledgments

  Tremendous thanks, as always, to Michelle Wolfson of Wolfson Literary. I’m forever grateful to have you in my corner, especially since our corner has all the good candy and beer.

  Thank you to Heather Howland for being a kick-ass editor and all around awesome idea generator. I’m also grateful to the entire Entangled team for the fabulous support, promotion, distribution, and everything else you do to turn my words into books instead of crossword puzzles.

  Big huge thank yous and sloppy hugs to “Major Sexypants” Jason Faler for all your help nailing down the military details. I couldn’t have done this without your wisdom and insight, and any
errors here are entirely my fault. Or my cats’ fault. It’s easier to blame them.

  Thanks a million to my fabulous critique partners and beta readers, Linda Grimes, Cynthia Reese, Linda Brundage, Bridget McGinn, Minta Powelson, and Larie Borden. You ladies are my rock stars, only without the big hair and coke habit.

  Oodles of gratitude to Aaron and Carlie Fenske for getting hitched on Kauai so I had an excuse to set a wedding-themed book there. Thanks also to my parents, David and Dixie Fenske, for choosing to live half the year on the island so I’ll never run out of reasons to visit and use the locale as the setting for stories.

  Thank you to Cedar and Violet for being the best step kids in several galaxies, and for continuing to be impressed by the sight of my books on store shelves.

  And thanks especially to my husband (HUSBAND!), Craig Zagurski, for your endless support and love, and for the secret behind that scene.

  About the Author

  Tawna Fenske traveled a career path that took her from newspaper reporter to English teacher in Venezuela to marketing geek to PR manager for her city’s tourism bureau. An avid globetrotter and social media fiend, Tawna is the author of the popular blog, Don’t Pet Me, I’m Writing, and a member of Romance Writers of America. She lives with her gentleman friend in Bend, Oregon, where she’ll invent any excuse to hike, bike, snowshoe, float the river, or sip beer along the Bend Ale Trail. She’s published several romantic comedies with Sourcebooks, including Making Waves and Believe it or Not, as well as the interactive fiction caper, Getting Dumped, with Coliloquy.

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