This Wedding is Doomed!

by Stephanie Draven

  “Really?” he asked, not meaning to sound quite so surprised. As angry as he’d been at her, he’d always hoped she’d make it onto some big record label. But he guessed this new career fit, because Penny had always had a thing about righting the wrongs of the universe.

  “Music’s still my inner bliss,” she said, fingers idly adjusting her microphone. “What about you?”

  “I took a job in the big city recruiting for tech firms.”

  “Congrats. I tried to keep in touch, but . . .”

  But Blake hadn’t returned her phone calls. He’d frozen her out. So why was it suddenly so important to him that she knew he’d become a success? That he had a good job, a steady paycheck, and that he wasn’t still that oversensitive kid strumming a guitar beneath her bedroom window, pouring his heart out.

  That kid? That kid was an embarrassment Blake was eager to forget. “Yeah. I don’t really keep in touch with folks from high school. I’m too busy with work to get up around these parts much anymore.”

  Penny snapped open her guitar case and pulled out her old spruce-topped guitar with its tortoise pick-guard. “You still play?” she asked with an enticing sweep of her lashes. “I’m just about to do a sound check if you want to join me.”

  Did he imagine that she said the last two words a bit flirtatiously? In spite of himself, he leaned closer. She could still draw him in and seduce him with those sun-kissed bare shoulders and quirky little smile. Which was some bullshit. Because Blake wasn’t the kind of guy who got seduced anymore. He did all the seducing, now, his vulnerabilities safely hidden behind the cool and distant squint-eyed smirk he’d perfected over the years. He gave her one of those smirks now, and forced himself to lean back, standing tall. “Aw, no thanks. I can’t remember the last time I picked up a guitar.”

  She was apparently immune to his squints, because she gave him the saddest puppy-dog eyes he ever did see. “But you were so good!”

  He missed playing—he did—but he never let himself think about it. Not since the night they broke up. And that made him defensive, so he said, “Hey, we all need to grow up sometime.”

  “Says who?” she asked, strumming a few chords.

  Caught in the magical pull of her orbit, he drawled, “Hey, I remember that song . . .”

  “You should,” Penny said. “You wrote it.”

  “Damn, you’re right,” he said, the pleasurable recognition sending a little thrill through him. “That was forever ago . . .”

  “Yeah. Back then, you couldn’t even say ‘damn.’ I remember that you could barely muster up a ‘gosh dang it’ unless you were really mad.”

  Blake chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t remind me what a loser I was.”

  That’s when she looked right at him with a hint of more than just nostalgia in those doe eyes. “You were never a loser, Blake Quinlan. You were sweet. You were a nice guy.”

  And nice guys finish last, he thought.

  Somewhere in the dim recesses of his mind, he remembered that this was supposed to be a wedding. Now that he was convinced the groom’s freak-out was only a matter of mistaken identity, he didn’t have to try to usher Penny out the door. Good thing, too, because then they wouldn’t have any music for the bride’s trip down the aisle. But if Blake was aborting his mission to get rid of Penny, then he should be helping the groom get ready for photos. Or something like that. He had plenty of good excuses to charm Penny just enough to make her regret that she’d ever let him go, before giving her the polite brush-off.

  And that’s what he aimed to do.

  But before he could, the microphone sparked and popped, startling them both and zapping Penny so hard that she leapt away.

  “Ow!” she cried, nearly stumbling into his arms.

  “Whoa,” Blake said, catching and swinging her away from the sparking electronics. “Something’s not grounded.”

  And the electric sensations hit him, one by one. The softness of her skin. The wonderful warmth of her. The familiar brush of her upswept coppery hair against his chin. That delicious sandalwood scent drifting up from the elegantly exposed nape of her neck. He never thought he’d ever see her again, much less touch her, and now she was in his arms. But it pissed him off to know that he was only holding her because he’d had to save her from near electrocution.

  Worse, it wasn’t the first time. Penny’s hippie-dippy-trippy nature fueled her creativity, but she was obviously just as easily distracted as she used to be. “You forgot to test the equipment, didn’t you?” he snapped.

  “No.” Shaking her shocked hand as if to get the numbness out of it, she insisted, “I tested the outlets. I swear.”

  Blake’s eyes followed the cords to the outdoor generator. It’d rained the night before and it was sitting on the wet grass. Blake and Penny spoke at the same time. “They didn’t ground the generator.”

  They both said this only moments before the amp sparked, exploded, and died in a billowy cloud of smoke.

  Penny cringed. “I didn’t think to check that.”

  “Not your fault,” Blake admitted, chasing down the power supply across the lawn so he could hurriedly unplug the generator. “Whoever set up the generator didn’t know what they were doing.”

  Leaning her guitar against the garlanded gazebo, Penny hovered over the dead amplifier, shaking her head mournfully. “Oh, no. I killed it!”

  “More like put it out of its misery,” Blake sputtered, choking on the smoke. “It was ancient.”

  She brooded, fanning the exploded remains. “It belongs to the manor. It might’ve been a collector’s item. Rare and precious. Do you think we can fix it?”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  “This is bad.” Penny worried at her lower lip, warily eyeing the empty chairs on either side of the aisle, no doubt calculating whether or not anybody would be able to hear the wedding music over the rustling leaves on the trees, and the low hum of nature all around them. “Is this the universe’s way of telling me to get back to basics or to be adaptable or . . .”

  “It’s the universe’s way of saying that you need to make sure you’re grounded.”

  She wrinkled her nose, adorably, ignoring his sarcasm. “I have my practice amp in the back of my car. Do you think that would work?”

  “Might.” Practice amps could be big and heavy, but it ought to do for a venue this size. “Need help with it?”

  “My hero!” she said with a smile, and he found himself basking in her praise even as he wondered why the hell he’d made the offer. He was still mad at her—five years’ worth of furious—so why was he smiling again just to be walking together with her across the damp lawn, no doubt muddying his dress shoes?

  As they neared her car, Penny asked, “This is like old times, isn’t it?”

  It kind of was. Blake remembered fetching her amp from the trunk only about a hundred times. With Blake’s country lyrics and Penny’s raw folk-pop voice, their band had been something of a sensation in the area, until she decided to take it solo. There’d even been some talk of a recording contract and they’d booked gigs for every weekend of the summer after graduation. He’d been hopelessly, helplessly in love and every minute with her had seemed natural and right.

  Against all odds, it still did.

  Blake grinned at the sight of her old lime-green Volkswagen Beetle, complete with the daisy vase in front, filled with dandelions. “I can’t believe you’re still driving this thing.”

  “Can’t give it up,” Penny said, popping the trunk. “We’ve been through too much together!”

  Just as Blake reached for the amp, a flurry of activity erupted on the sprawling green lawn behind them. The photographer was setting up near the well-tended hedges and some of the bridal party was assembling for the pre-wedding pictures.

  “Aha!” the photographer announced. “Here’s the groom, eve
rybody.”

  Blake glanced over his shoulder at the doorway to see the tuxedo-clad groom with his slicked-back hair. Unfortunately, so did Penny. And in an instant, Blake knew there hadn’t been any misunderstanding at all . . .

  Penny blinked so hard at the sight of Graham that her eyelashes seemed to tangle. Then slow horror played over her features until her face went bright red. Penny may not have come here to ruin Graham’s wedding, but Blake was now convinced that she knew him, and whatever she knew wasn’t good.

  Abandoning the amp, he slammed the hatch back down and reached for her arm. “Hey, Penny, are you okay?” Her eyes narrowed to dangerously angry little slits while the groom stood there like a dumb ass, mouthing a silent plea for help in Blake’s direction. Like Blake had any help to offer . . .

  “That’s the groom?” Penny asked with such a sharp look that Blake felt accused, pinned like a squirming bug. “That’s your best friend?”

  Blake wanted to deny it. Certainly, this wasn’t one of the finer days in the history of his friendship with Graham. But Blake had always been loyal, if nothing else. “Since college, yep.”

  As various aunts and uncles flowed out onto the lawn in colorful linen suits and summer hats, Penny demanded, “Is the groom’s name Graham?”

  Because Blake still, desperately wanted this to be a misunderstanding, he asked, “You know him?”

  “I thought I did!” Penny cried, bunching up her skirts in both fisted hands in preparation to march across the lawn.

  Penny had practically been born on stage; Blake knew she wasn’t shy about making a scene. So he caught her by the back of her lacy skirt. “Whoa, there, Rocky. What are you fixing to do?”

  Before she could answer, the groom finally wised up and ducked back into the house. Unfortunately, this infuriated Penny. “Just where does he think he’s going? That cowardly little weasel!”

  Penny yanked forward, nearly breaking free of Blake’s hold. He couldn’t let her go. Sure, Blake had agreed to stop Penny from ruining the wedding, but it wasn’t duty or friendship or even logic that prompted his next actions. It was pure and raw emotion.

  He’d let Penny walk away from him once before and regretted it ever since. Now she was here, and real, and in his grasp—and he just couldn’t let go of her. He wanted her all to himself.

  Without conscious thought, he made sure she wasn’t going anywhere by sweeping her right off her feet. Startled, Penny kicked her ballet-slippered feet where they dangled. “Blake!” she cried, whacking him on the shoulder.

  Their struggle drew stares from the onlookers.

  “Blake, put me down!”

  Blake let out a hearty laugh and waved with his free arm to give the impression that the wrangling was horseplay, prompting the photographer to snap a picture. But this wasn’t play and Blake wasn’t going to put her down. Instead, he hauled Penny over his shoulder—caveman style—and carried her off.

  ***

  “Blake!” Penny shrieked as he hauled her through the weird and uniquely medieval-style side doors leading into the Garden Room of Briarwood Manor, like, well, some medieval brute. “What are you doing?”

  “Just calm down,” he said, his deep baritone rumbling through his chest.

  That swamped Penny with memories of how it used to feel to have his arms around her, and how, impossibly, it felt even better now. She stopped struggling. After all, she didn’t really want him to let go. The arms that had once belonged to a long and lanky teenager had become the strong, steely arms of a grown man. They were the kind of arms that could wrap around a girl and help her keep it together; or at least keep her from falling apart. Which is exactly what Penny needed. Because either it was international Awkward Reunions with Ex-Boyfriends Day, or the universe was totally messing with her.

  Graham was the last guy she’d dated. The guy who called it quits because he’d taken a job in another city. Obviously, that’d been a lie.

  Nobody had to give her the sheet music for this song. Penny already knew all the notes. And she felt like a complete fool. No one, not even the legendary wedding planner Julie Winter could book a wedding at the Briarwood Manor less than a year ahead. Which meant that this wasn’t a quickie wedding. Which meant that when Penny dated Graham, he’d been engaged.

  Graham had lied to Penny, used her, and cheated on her.

  No, worse than that. He’d cheated on the bride.

  Which meant he’d turned Penny into the other woman!

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Blake said, carrying her through the Garden Room and into the library, finally setting Penny down onto her feet next to a velvet chaise and a few shelves full of old leather-bound books. When he let go, she wrapped her arms around herself where Blake’s had been, holding onto the lingering imprints of his touch before they faded away.

  Blake bolted the door behind them and her breath caught a little at the realization they were alone. Then she remembered that he’d asked her a question. About another guy. Her first instinct was to tell him everything, like she used to. But the minute she opened her mouth to explain, she realized how it might sound. She’d been a bit of a wild child in high school, always with an eye for the bad boys. She didn’t want him to see her like that anymore. She wanted him to know that she’d changed.

  Even if he couldn’t ever forgive her for how she’d ended things, at least he could think better of her now. But if she admitted the affair with Graham, would he think she was some home-wrecking tart? She could tell him the truth—that she didn’t know Graham was engaged—but would he believe her? She hoped so. After all, he used to claim that Penny’s nose twitched when she lied.

  And her nose was definitely not twitching.

  “Well?” Blake folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wooden door as if he had nowhere else to be.

  Did he really have to be that cool-tempered and tall? Especially when, at the moment, she felt so angry and small?

  She’d just tell him it was nothing. Brush it off, as if she hadn’t just been ready to fly across the lawn of Briarwood Manor and give Graham an earful. She could be vague and aloof, like the big music star everybody once thought she was going to be when she set out on her solo career after high school. That was the plan, but when she opened her mouth, what came out was, “Do you know that your best friend is a cheating jerk?”

  For a second—just a brief second—Blake actually looked abashed. But then his eyebrows shot up in dramatic surprise. Which was more what she’d expected.

  Because, of course he was surprised.

  Blake had always been sweet, and earnest, and trusting. Too trusting, maybe. The cheating jerk had obviously fooled him just like he’d fooled her. But how would she ever convince Blake of that when he already looked so disappointed in her?

  Then again, why should she care? She’d probably never see him again after today . . .

  “So. You and Graham,” he said.

  Did she imagine the implied scolding as he waited for her to fill in the blank? It made her shrink down a little into herself in shame, which only made Blake seem taller. Swallowing down the humiliation of having to admit it, Penny said, “We dated a few months ago.”

  Blake narrowed his eyes. “Is that a euphemism?”

  Wow, what did he think? That it had been some kind of cheap one-night stand? Penny wasn’t good at relationships, for sure. She’d certainly let her hormones get the better of her in high school. But did he think she was some slutty songstress?

  Defiantly, Penny fished her iPhone out of her pocket to show Blake a picture of her and Graham together at an ice cream shop. Big mistake. Blake physically flinched at the sight, which prompted Penny to quickly add, “But I didn’t know about . . .”

  “Tessa,” Blake finished for her.

  Tessa. The name hit Penny with the sting of a snapped guitar string. That must be the b
ride. Tessa was probably somewhere here, in this manor house, about to unwittingly pledge herself to the man who betrayed her.

  The very idea of it made Penny queasy.

  But what could she do?

  What Penny really needed to do was escape Briarwood Manor. She needed to somehow slip out a side door and slink away. Sure, it’d be totally unprofessional, and Julie Winter would probably never hire her for another gig again, but there was no way Penny could sing her cover of John Lennon’s “Grow Old with Me” for the slimy bastard waiting at the altar and the poor bride walking down the aisle to her doom.

  Talk about assuring bad karma . . .

  Yes, she had to get out of here. Preferably without seeing anyone else she knew. Unfortunately, Blake was blocking the door, and even if she slipped past him, she might run into the groom if she went in that direction.

  In a moment of blind panic, Penny’s gaze darted to the window seat overlooking the back lawn, and she bolted for the draperies, yanking them wide. Then she leaned over to pull on the sash.

  Blake’s eyes bulged. “Penny, what on God’s green earth are you trying to do?”

  “I’m making my escape!”

  ***

  Blake sighed. Did she have to be so dramatic? “Woman, I’m not letting you jump out of a window.”

  “It’ll be fine,” Penny insisted. “There’s a rosebush under here, but I’m wearing a long skirt. That should protect me from the thorns, right? Just like the time we snuck out of our motel room to escape that obnoxious gaggle of groupies.”

  He’d almost forgotten that. The night she’d pitched all their stuff out the window, tossing a blanket over the bushes to cushion their fall. It wasn’t the only wacky thing they’d done together; some of their hijinks had been the stuff of legend, and it made Blake a little sad to realize that he’d buried so many good memories.

  On the other hand, it’d probably been better than torturing himself with memories of the girl who had dropped him like a bad habit.