This Wedding is Doomed!

by Stephanie Draven

  “You used my assistant to get me in here?” She couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy. First he ruined the wedding and now what . . . trapping her so she couldn’t fix it. She turned and tried the door. “Is this even Aunt Bea’s car?”

  He jingled the keys dangling in his hand. “The pill bottle was Stacey’s plan and this is my car.”

  “I would have figured you for a sports car. Maybe something red and flashy and dangerous.” Frustrated she searched for the unlock button, but couldn’t locate it. She tried the door again before glaring at him. She didn’t have time for this. “Let me out.”

  He covered his heart in mock pain. “Just because I’m a little crazy, doesn’t mean I want a car that could kill me.”

  “A little crazy?” Julie threw her hands up. “You’ve locked me in a car with you. I think that qualifies as full on crazy. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this kidnapping?”

  “As an attorney, I’d say, it depends.” He looked toward the lodge. “I know you don’t believe me about the champagne, but would you at least trust me for a minute?”

  She crossed her arms. “You tricked me into this car and you want me to trust you? Are you going to tell me why we’re in here?”

  “To prove I’m sorry. Turn around,” Seth said.

  This had trick written all over it. Something diabolical probably waited in the backseat. Maybe the maid of honor, hog-tied. “Why?”

  “Just turn around.”

  Julie turned to look in the backseat of the car to see two cases of Cristal champagne. Her mouth dropped open. There had to be close to five thousand dollars’ worth of champagne in the backseat.

  “How did you— Did you rob a liquor store?” She didn’t really care how he’d gottten the champagne.

  Seth laughed. “I have a client out here who owed me a favor.”

  “What did you do for him?” The way he said favor had Julie’s mind spinning with mob-like activities and who knew what else Seth might do for someone to owe him thousands of dollars’ worth of champagne.

  He placed his hand over hers. “I helped him get joint custody of his daughter. Something he would have gladly given me ten boxes of expensive champagne for. Lucky for us, he lives nearby and always has some on hand. I swung by and picked it up.”

  “Oh.” Julie looked back at the lodge. He didn’t have to do all that. What did this mean for his plan to make something go wrong, if he was making it right?

  “But I would have bought it if he asked. You know my intention was never to ruin the wedding. In my line of work, I see a lot of couples who start off with the perfect wedding and end up with a messy divorce. They want that perfection every day of the year and it’s just not realistic. The perfect car, the perfect house, the perfect anniversary. It’s bullshit. Love is messy and insane and makes us do the strangest things, but it’s never perfect. Once they realized that this one day didn’t have to be perfect but it was still special, maybe they’d figure out that life doesn’t have to have perfection in it to make their marriage work.”

  As he spoke, Julie could feel the weight lift off her chest and a smile start to form on her lips. “You just saved this wedding . . . isn’t that going to ruin your bad reputation?”

  “But it’ll save yours. Or at least make you happy. I did it for you. I guess the bridal party will have to figure out their life lessons without our help.”

  Warmth seeped into her as her heart swelled. “Thank you.”

  “Forgive me?” He gave her a boyish grin that she was sure had gotten him out of trouble many times.

  It definitely was working on her, but she still had to know. “Will you tell me where the turkey vulture is?”

  “I might have a crow I’d be willing to trade for. If you’ll forgive me?”

  “Only if you can keep that champagne chilled. It’s getting hot in here.”

  He grinned at the double entendre, but started the car and turned on the air. “You promised me a dance earlier. Will you still dance with me tonight?”

  “I can do that.”

  He leaned in and she met him halfway.

  But just as their lips met, a rattling noise came from the car.

  “What’s tha—?” Julie cut off when he kissed her fully.

  A burst of glitter filled the air, falling all around them as they continued to kiss.

  When Seth finally pulled away, he looked around his glitter bombed car. “My nephews are double-crossing little bastards.”

  She laughed, not caring that the champagne she hadn’t been able to get out of her skirt was probably acting as a binding agent for the glitter. She kissed him again.

  When he pulled back, he said, “I may need your help getting back at my two nephews for this when it’s their turn to get married.”

  “Do you think we’ll be on speaking terms when they get married?”

  “I think we’ll be doing more than that,” he said.

  She kissed him quickly. “We need to get back, but I have . . .” She glanced at her watch. “Two and a half minutes of spare time.”

  “In that case . . .” Seth pulled her back in close for another kiss, but before their lips met, he stopped. “Just to be clear, I mean for you to save me one of those slow sexy dances, not the chicken dance . . .”

  This was one of those moments that Julie wished would go on forever. “I’ll save every dance for you.”

  The Maid of Honor: Lovers in Lockdown

  Shawntelle Madison

  I dedicate my story to the man who gave me my happily ever after, my wonderful husband. No lockdown was necessary. Just an awkward first date request via e-mail.

  Chapter One

  4½ hours until ceremony

  This wedding was doomed. Unless, of course, Renata Underwood found a way to close the two-inch gap in her maid-of-honor dress. “This side zipper isn’t going up any further,” her mom whispered. Even with another hard upward yank, the zipper on the light-blue strapless gown refused to budge. A trucker could probably haul a windmill through the gaping hole in that sucker.

  Renata shot a forced smile across the room at the bride, her sister Tessa, to pretend there wasn’t a problem. The kind of problem where Renata was about to flash her Victoria’s Secret lingerie to all their family and friends. Bad enough there were witnesses in the dressing room: her mom, the makeup artist, and worst of all, the bride.

  Renata turned, angling her mom to block Tessa’s view.

  But the bride narrowed her hazel eyes suspiciously. She patted her dark brown hair. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing!” Renata and her mom said at the same time.

  “Just adjusting her dress,” Mom chirped. “Everything today will go perfectly.”

  Was she saying that for Tessa’s benefit or Renata’s?

  In a few hours, Renata would be expected to fulfill her role as the maid of honor—walking down the aisle for her sister—wearing a dress. And it had to be this dress, because Renata didn’t have a backup in the garment bag. But wasn’t that just her luck? The whole week had been disastrous, complete with missing car keys, corrupted work files, and a bad hair stylist who left her long brown hair crunchy instead of curly. The only bit of good news was a job offer from a banking company in Salt Lake City. The perfect news to share with family—but not on her sister’s wedding day. No, Renata planned to show up with her chin in the air and a radiating, healthy air of optimism. After a phone call last night during which her sister had confessed her doubts about marrying Graham, Renata refused to mention her upcoming move or let her sister down, especially with the bride so stressed about the wedding.

  Today was gonna be freakin’ perfect.

  “Suck in!” Renata’s mom hissed. “Aren’t you a size six?”

  Without answering the question, she tried to shrink her waistline and failed as her mom jerked upwards again. “My ri
b cage isn’t going in any further. What about some Spanx?”

  Mom peeked behind her to make sure Tessa remained unaware of their covert actions. “What did you eat since the last fitting?”

  A bunch of lunch meetings for her job as a comptroller at a local corporation came to mind. A few desserts might’ve been ordered. Or a lot of desserts. But there was nothing to be done about that now. “Just tell me how bad it looks?” Renata asked quietly, ignoring her mom’s question. Again.

  “It looks like you had a few too many donuts at the office,” Mom said.

  “I’ll have you know, I have a membership at the gym,” Renata grumbled.

  “Then the equipment you used was broken, honey,” Mom said, adding a safety pin under the zipper head to keep it from falling farther down.

  Way to be supportive, Mom. “So what do we do—”

  “What’s wrong with you, Renata?” After the makeup lady finished her eyeliner, Tessa giggled and glanced at her sister. “I haven’t seen that expression since you were in fifth grade and gorged yourself on half a box of Fruit Loops.”

  “That was a damn good bowl. Totally worth the emergency room trip.” Their mom draped a police-tape-yellow pashmina over Renata’s shoulders to hide the gap. Yeah, the clashing shawl really screamed high fashion. But it was better than nothing.

  “Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” Mom chirped. “Renata’s heading out for coffee. Do you want some?”

  “A hot cup sounds so good about now!” It was only an hour or so until lunchtime, but Tessa drank coffee as often as Renata did.

  “Find the wedding planner and see if she has a seamstress on speed dial,” Mom whispered, half shoving Renata out the door. And Renata intended to do just that. After all, seeing her sister so hopeful and beautiful fed her determination.

  By the time she made her way down the hall, the dress strained against the trapped zipper. If she weren’t careful she’d give half the Colorado mountainside an eyeful. Her phone buzzed inside her purse—quite the surprise since the reception here sucked. She grabbed her bustline with one hand and answered the phone with the other.

  “Hey, Renata,” said her best friend, and she smiled at his smooth voice. Boy, did she have a tale to tell.

  “Max! Are you here at Briarwood yet? Have you seen the wedding planner?”

  “Not recently.”

  Renata’s best-friend radar started pinging. For some reason, Max didn’t sound like his cheerful self. They chatted all the time about random stuff—from the loco career-bent intern at her job to fantasy baseball trash talk. If her best friend had something digging under his skin she usually could tell. And for a moment, she forgot all about her dress disaster. “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

  She heard some sounds, like a parking lot in the background. She could imagine him standing in middle of the lot running his hands through his dark blond hair. “I’ve got the kind of problem a wedding officiant shouldn’t have.”

  Renata’s imagination went a little wild. Caught with strippers? Handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser? Nah. Max was too straightlaced for any of that. A part of her still snickered at the idea of her best friend serving as the officiant at her sister’s wedding, but Max was the most heartfelt person she and Tessa knew, so it made sense. Max wasn’t a minister, but he’d do a good job. He was probably taking that job a bit too seriously. “What kind of problem?”

  “It’s big.”

  “How big?” Was it similar to her growing problem? The strain on her dress had spread into a tiny hole where the fabric attached to the zipper.

  He let out a tortured sigh. “I lost Tessa and Graham’s wedding vows.”

  ***

  Why couldn’t he find the perfect words to say to the woman he loved? Max Houston thought. His best friend.

  “Renata, I’ve fallen in love with you and I don’t know how to say it,” he whispered. He opened his black jacket and glanced at the wedding vows in his pocket. There had to be a better way than cornering her at her sister’s wedding. Max Houston never lost anything—except maybe girls he wanted to date, when they got bored with him being Mr. Responsible. He constantly told his engineering students about integrity both in their work and the spoken word.

  Max wasn’t doing too well on the spoken word part.

  While he waited for Renata to show up, he walked through the parking lot again.

  Dread filled him. Last night he’d picked up the phone several times, but eventually gave up. All that changed when he got a text message last night that she had good news about a new job. Nothing specific, but he had a feeling she’d gotten the job she interviewed for a few weeks ago. An out-of-state opportunity. Before he went to bed he swore he’d confront Renata at the wedding and tell her how he felt.

  The plan was so simple. Get her alone and talk.

  He regretted lying to her, but if he didn’t say something today he might never get another chance with her leaving the state.

  When Renata walked through the lobby toward him, he tried not to stare at her too long. Wow, she looked great . . . except for a crazy yellow shawl that made her look jaundiced. She offered him a reassuring smile, but that didn’t stop the quiver of anticipation up his back. Over the years they’d always been good friends. He laughed at her bad jokes and she even laughed at his. Fostering their friendship was just easy. Yet, somehow, during the last Rockies watching party they attended together, one moment alone between them had left him questioning their friendship and wondering if he had feelings for her.

  How many gatherings had they attended together? Too many to count. How could one moment change everything? All it took was one look at her while she jumped to cheer for a double home run and came down in his arms. The team kind of sucked so they didn’t celebrate often, but the moment she glanced at him with that mischievous grin of hers he sucked in his breath. “Why can’t we feel like this all the time?” she’d asked.

  She was referring to the game, but to him there was so much more.

  Feelings aside, he wondered if the upcoming wedding had gone to her head. Her shoulder-length curly brown hair, which she usually threw into a severe ponytail or upswept do, framed her face in layers as if she’d left her bed not too long ago. He found the casual look surprisingly sexy.

  Renata never left her house without the “Full Effect.” That was the term their friends used for it: straightened hair, finished makeup, and all. Now that she was a comptroller for a major company in Denver, the look fit. She traveled often, which left little time for her to meet up with him, but they still talked on the phone all the time.

  Damn, she looked good this morning. Gorgeous legs peeked out from under a knee-length blue bridesmaid dress. The thin fabric covered familiar curves—her hips not covered by that atrocious scarf. She walked right up to him, a little too close for his comfort, bringing the sweet scent of her lavender perfume. “So where have you checked?”

  “I’ve circled Briarwood Manor twice.” The look of concern on her pretty face made him pause. He hated lying to her. He looked away and focused on the tree line and mountains.

  “You have a history of not looking too hard in the obvious places.” She tugged his arms to pull him after her. “Let’s check again outside.”

  They walked from the entrance toward the garden and gazebo where the wedding would take place. The morning breeze made the walk pleasant. Two groundskeepers mowed the expansive lawn in the distance.

  “I’m assuming we’re looking for an envelope or something,” Renata said with a grin.

  “Pretty much.” Max approached the small gazebo covered in flowers and glanced around. Renata trailed behind him. All the while he kept thinking, say something. Say something.

  “So many of our close friends and family have gotten married,” he said. “How many have we attended over the past five years?” Didn’t all great confessions start with ca
sual conversation?

  “At least six. Four out of the six you’ve been my designated date-slash-victim to keep me out of trouble.”

  He chuckled. It was never a hardship to be her date, even before he’d realized how badly he wanted her. They both loved to dance until the band played their last note. “How did I miss the other two times?”

  “You had a conference in Bucharest for one and got food poisoning the other time.”

  He shuddered from the memory. After Renata got back from the wedding in Colorado Springs, she’d brought him a care package of expensive pajamas, warm broth, and the first season of the show Man v. Food. At the time he didn’t find the DVD all that funny. What kind of queasy person would want to watch a bunch of shows about a dude going from restaurant to restaurant to stuff his face full of food?

  Only a best friend like Renata would. “This is the best medicine, Max. We’ll be eating lunch like the pros in no time once you get better,” she’d said.

  “This is so beautiful.” He turned to see her reach out and touch the gazebo, which had been decorated with vibrant blue flowers.

  He should’ve stopped himself, but he plucked a blossom off and tucked it in her soft hair. The thick curls held the flower in check. Her smile widened. “What’s this for?”

  “Looks good on you.” Just seeing her like this made it even harder for him. He quickly added, “And we can officially say I didn’t forget to give you something for your birthday next month. C’mon, we need to keep looking.”

  As he walked away toward the parking lot he wanted to kick himself. He had absolutely no game whatsoever. If Renata knew what was going on she would’ve given him the “look” and had something smart-ass to say: “If I looked up procrastinator in the dictionary I’d see a picture of you waving at me, Max. Just say something to her! She’s growing gray hair waiting on you, pal.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, expecting something eloquent. “That was fruitless,” he remarked. That football pass missed the mark. He glanced around the parking lot, fishing for the right words. Not far from them, a blonde tried to haul a Pepto-Bismol–pink suitcase out of her trunk. A brief distraction while he came up with something. Max immediately strode over to offer a hand. Whoa, that sucker was heavy. Was she hiding a dead body in there?