Spiced

by Jamie Farrell

  Her hand hovered over his dark hair.

  Touching him wasn’t wrong. He’d touched her at dinner—held her hand while inspecting a paper cut, tucked her hair back behind her ear so it wouldn’t dip in her macaroni, lined up behind her to reach around for a towel when she was rinsing dishes between dinner and dessert.

  They’d been naked together just a few days ago.

  The cat meowed and slunk up the bed to climb onto his chest. He stirred, and she held her breath. His shoulders rolled, his head turned against his pillow, and he tucked a hand over the cat, but he didn’t open his eyes.

  His breathing evened out, but the cat continued to stare at Pepper in the semidarkness.

  He was coming with her to her sister’s wedding. Out of pity, but he’d be touching her then too. Dancing with her. Playing the part of her boyfriend.

  She shivered. Where had he been ten years ago? What if he’d never met his ex-wife? What if she’d come to Bliss sooner?

  What if she’d been pregnant right now?

  What if one day he wanted children?

  She scrambled off the bed. His breathing stayed steady, so she fumbled in the dark, slipped out of the bedroom, found her shoes and coat, and headed home.

  This wasn’t real.

  It wasn’t real, and she had a family wedding to prepare for.

  * * *

  Tony couldn’t decide if the roiling in his gut was happiness or unadulterated terror.

  He was going to a freaking wedding. Voluntarily. With a woman who had snuck out of his bed in the middle of the night.

  Not that anything had happened in said bed—she’d been in the middle of telling him a story about a chicken chasing Cinna when she’d let her head droop to the island and trailed off mid-sentence, and it had seemed cruel to leave her there.

  And when she’d curled into him when he picked her up to carry her to his bedroom, mumbling something incoherent that could’ve been you’re such a good guy, he hadn’t been strong enough to walk away after tucking her into his bed.

  Never mind he could’ve carried her next door. Probably should’ve.

  He’d reasoned she might’ve needed something—a drink, reassurance about where she was if she woke up, a bucket—but holding her was addictive.

  And he still hadn’t figured out how she’d gotten out of his house without him waking up.

  His phone dinged. He fished it out of his pocket and smiled at the message. Bridesmaid duties tonight. Wedding tomorrow at three, St. Valentine’s. Reception at Twin Oaks. Remember, this was your idea.

  “You know you’re supposed to smile like that all the time when you’re dating someone you like,” Bella said from the office doorway.

  He started at the intrusion, more so because it was his niece than because he was startled by someone being there. “If you’re a helpless sap. And who says I’m not?”

  “Louie says you’re not. He says you’re sick. Mom says you’re troubled. And rumor says you’re bringing a woman to my wedding, even though you haven’t sent in your RSVP card yet. Is this a serious woman, or are you playing us again?”

  His jaw worked up and down, but only for a minute.

  “So you are playing us,” she said triumphantly.

  “The only playing going on here is you pretending to be Obi-Wan Bella.”

  “I heard you’re going to a wedding with her this weekend. So you can go to a girlfriend’s wedding, but you can’t RSVP for mine?”

  He pointed between them. “You, child. Me, grown-up. Knock it off.”

  She pointed between them. “Me, intelligent grown young woman. You, dumbass. I love you, Uncle Tony, but you haven’t been you the last year. And that’s okay. It takes time to get over these things.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “You had lunch yet? Pizza’s on me.” If he got food in her mouth, she couldn’t talk.

  Hell, what was he saying? She was part of his family. She’d talk with her mouth full.

  “And you need to know we all still love you, and I don’t care if you have to leave my wedding early because it’s hard, and it would mean the world to me if you’d come even though I know it’ll probably be super unpleasant and you’re afraid I’m not old enough and you don’t want anyone you love to ever hurt again,” she finished softly.

  When the fuck did his niece grow up and learn to say shit like this to him? “Thank you,” he said gruffly.

  She ruffled his hair. “And if you’re serious about Pepper Blue, I approve. She’s really nice.”

  He eyeballed her, because he wouldn’t put it past his niece to have gone over to Bliss Bridal and gotten acquainted.

  And dropped some of his secrets.

  “What? I met her last year when my friend Sophie got married. We got our bridesmaid dresses there.”

  “You’re all too young to get married.”

  “I’m old enough to know not to pass up the best man I’ve ever met. I hope you’re not too old to realize the same.”

  And with that last bit of Bella wisdom, his too-smart-for-her-own-good niece kissed his cheek and pranced back out of his office.

  Family.

  He didn’t always get them, but apparently they got him more than he thought.

  11

  It had been almost two years since Pepper had sat in the cry room at St. Valentine’s, waiting on Nat to arrive with an emergency repair kit to fix a tear in Saffron’s veil. Funny—she’d hardly noticed Nat that day, nor had she ever dreamed she’d be living here as Nat’s business partner not six months later.

  Now, here she was with all of her sisters again—and Nat too, who had snuck in with the baby—getting ready for another wedding.

  Tarra’s gown was floor-length white silk with a flowery lace overlay. The lace extended down her arms, and instead of a tiara, she’d chosen a single lily to be tucked into the side of her updo. She was the tallest of the siblings, slender like Saffron, and today, she was glowing as she chatted with Mom and Gran about the cake and flowers.

  Pepper blinked back a tear. Weddings rarely made her emotional—not after over a decade of working in the bridal industry—but she was still a hormonal wreck. She’d started her period Tuesday—of course that still worked—and she was still riding the roller coaster of grief.

  She could’ve told her sisters. They were all here. They’d listen. They’d hug her, they’d comfort her, they’d promise to love her anyway.

  But today was Tarra’s day. A day for laughter and happiness, not a day for heartbreak. A fresh start. A beautiful beginning.

  Her fertility issues weren’t worth anyone ruining their makeup on Tarra’s wedding day.

  Maybe next week she’d tell Margie. Start with the analytical sister. Get the nonemotional response. Then Rosemary—the one most likely to cry. Sob, really. She’d help Pepper work it all out of her system at once. And then Rika—the most likely to tell the rest of the family, so Pepper didn’t have to.

  “Pepper, Tony’s running late, but he says he’s on his way.” Poppy held up Pepper’s phone from the pile amidst the flowers and purses on the side table.

  Rika angled over and shoulder-bumped her. “Way to go, scoring the stripper.”

  “Worst stripper I’ve ever seen,” Gran declared. “I’ve barely gotten a glimpse at the man’s belly button.”

  “Does he know about what happened with Evan and Daisy?” Cori stage-whispered.

  “He knows,” Pepper confirmed. “The whole story.” And no small part of her wished she hadn’t told him. He wouldn’t have insisted on coming if she hadn’t told him.

  But a larger part of her was glad he would be there. He did a good job at filling that role of her person. She hoped she was doing a respectable job of pretending to be his person too, but she honestly didn’t know.

  If he left with one of her sisters or cousins, though, she’d kill him.

  An usher knocked and asked for Mom and Gran. Almost wedding time. And even though Pepper wasn’t the one getting married, butterflies still s
wooped through her belly.

  Tarra had almost given up on love too, which was heartbreaking for someone so upbeat and optimistic.

  But then there had been Jack, and though his family was on the snooty side and he never quite got into the family fun, Tarra seemed happy. Was he her prince charming? Pepper didn’t know. But he was still the best guy she’d ever dated, and at their age, that was enough.

  “Okay, all of you, quick,” Tarra said when the door shut behind Mom and Gran, who had taken Nat and the baby with them. She slid over to the table and gestured them all closer. “Sister secret. Huddle up.”

  They all crowded together, one big mass of Blue sisters jumbled together in matching burgundy satin. Pepper was comfortably squished between Margie and Cori, her bare arms grateful for the concentrated body heat.

  “Ohmigod, are you pregnant?” Saffron hissed.

  Tarra ducked, but not before her grin widened. Pepper’s belly dropped, knocking on her own empty womb.

  “She is!”

  “Ohhh, this is the best secret ever.”

  “Ten bucks says it’s a girl!”

  “When are you due?”

  “Does Jack know? Tell me Jack knows. We love you, but you cannot tell us before you tell Jack.”

  She had to smile. She had to force this. No tears. No wobbles. Only sheer joy for her sister.

  Tarra popped back up, cheeks flushed, her smile outshining the sun. “Yes, yes, Jack knows,” she said. “He was…surprised, but it’s a good thing. Really.” Something squeaked, and the four sisters in front shrieked in laughter.

  “I knew it!” Rika crowed.

  “Told you that goat was effective,” Ginger said.

  “I don’t ever want that thing,” Cinna declared. “The cooties it’ll have on it before it gets to me—gross. Just gross. And I clean the bathrooms at Suckers, so I know gross.”

  “Hush,” Tarra said. “We only have a minute. And I know this is super unorthodox, but, well—Pepper, I want you to have the goat.” She thrust the white, blow-up goat over Cinna and Rika, waving it at Pepper. “Rosemary and Ginger can’t use it anymore, Saffron needs some time before starting on number two, and I just have this really good feeling about you and Tony. Maybe if you have the goat, it can work in other ways too.”

  “If he leaves with another woman today, I’m kicking his ass,” Cori said.

  “Honey, you’re gonna have to get in line,” Rosemary answered.

  “Right behind Gran,” Rika added, and the whole room exploded in laughter.

  Except for Pepper.

  And the goat.

  The goat, staring at her with its vacant black eyes. The goat that had seen things and been places Pepper didn’t want to know about.

  The goat that didn’t have magic powers.

  The goat that couldn’t get her pregnant.

  “No, no, don’t cry.” Tarra shoved through the throng of sisters to wrap Pepper in a hug. “He won’t want to leave the wedding with anyone else. Don’t listen to these bozos. Forget about everything in the past. You have today, and today is going to be a wonderful, beautiful day. The goat brings good things, and that’s all I want for you. Just good things. They’re out there, Pepper. You just have to believe.”

  She swallowed hard. “It’s your wedding day, you goof,” she managed. “Quit ducking the spotlight. I already have great things.”

  “All of you quit with the tears.” Ginger whipped a handkerchief out of her cleavage. “You’re going to make me start crying.”

  “Take the goat,” Tarra whispered. “Just trust me.”

  No. Trusting meant hoping. Hoping had done a lot of good over the years, but when it came to husbands and babies, hope led only to disappointment. “Thank you,” she forced out.

  Another knock came at the door. “Tarra?” Mom poked her head in, a worried crease adding to the subtle wrinkles on her forehead. “Tarra, honey, we need you out here.”

  Tarra gave her one last squeeze. “I’ll have Saffron deflate the goat and get it in your purse.” She pulled back and gave Rika a look Rosemary had mastered about ten years ago. “Now, remember, ladies, top secret. Just until we announce it at the reception, okay?”

  “Tarra, honey, this is really important,” Mom said. “Now.”

  “Whoa, that can’t be good,” Poppy whispered.

  Pepper dabbed at her mascara and gave a quick sniff before glancing out the door, where Basil, Jack, and Jack’s mother were all in heated conversation with a man Pepper didn’t recognize and who wasn’t dressed for a wedding.

  Tarra hesitated at the threshold, one hand slipping to her lower belly. “Mom?”

  Mom looked in at all of them, grabbed Tarra, pulled her out of the room, and slammed the door shut.

  Leaving Pepper and her sisters suddenly exchanging uneasy glances.

  “This isn’t how Saffron’s wedding went,” Cori whispered.

  It wasn’t how any wedding Pepper had ever been to went.

  Which meant something was wrong.

  And it was probably something bigger than the goat.

  * * *

  This was the last time Tony played hero for anyone. Weddings were bad enough, but weddings with a date were hell.

  And he wasn’t even there yet.

  He’d cut himself shaving, one leg of his suit pants was longer than the other—a hem problem?—and he forgot to order flowers.

  “Uncle Tony, you don’t give your date flowers before a wedding.” Bella bustled into his front door ten minutes before he was due to arrive at the church, a polka-dot zipper bag in hand, because he’d actually broken down and called his niece for help this morning after all her unwelcome wisdom yesterday. “She’s a bridesmaid. She’ll have her own flowers.”

  “Guys don’t remember all this shit.”

  “Shush and hold still. Your hem came out.” She squatted on the floor in his bachelor-pad living room while Lucky spied on them from the kitchen, flat as she could get against the doorway, as though the painted trim would hide her from predators.

  He stared at the weird patterns in the popcorn ceiling while Bella fiddled with his pant leg. He’d done this to himself. Pepper had given him every opportunity to bow out—the best excuse in the history of excuses, actually—and he’d ignored her. So here he was, wishing for a roll of antacids.

  And wondering what color her dress would be.

  How much skin it would show.

  How long the dancing would go.

  If she’d come back here with him after the wedding.

  “Does she know how much you hate weddings?” Bella asked.

  Once again, he was wondering when Bella got smart enough to know everything. He should’ve called one of his female servers. “Are you done yet?”

  “Not just…yep. Done. Stand straight, feet together.” She rose and looked down at his feet. “It’ll do. If anyone notices, tell ’em to go to hell.”

  If his pant legs were still uneven, he couldn’t tell.

  Could’ve been a side effect of his blood pressure being too high for him to see straight.

  Bella crossed her arms. She wasn’t looking at his shoes anymore. Now she was giving him the mother of all you are a stupid man looks. “Uncle Tony.”

  He turned in a circle, patting his pockets. “Lost my keys.”

  “Give me ten minutes. I’ll put a towel in the oven, and we can fake a kitchen fire.”

  “Not funny.”

  “Wedding dates are the worst dates ever, and you already hate weddings, and you’re doing it for a woman you’ve known less than two weeks. You know better than this.”

  He damn well did. “Last time she took a date to a wedding, he left with her cousin.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  The kitchen. He’d come in through the kitchen and tossed his keys on the counter last night. “You’re right. Weddings suck. Except yours, which will be perfect.” He gave her a quick hug. “Thanks for the help.”

  “Be careful,” she called after him.
r />   He was trying.

  But fifteen minutes later, when he finally stumbled into the back of St. Valentine’s church, hoping to sneak in unnoticed, it became clear careful wasn’t exactly what he needed to worry about most.

  Not for himself, anyway.

  The vestibule was in chaos.

  “I knew there was something wrong with that woman!” an older lady in an ice-blue dress and corsage was shrieking while she pointed at the bride, a tall, slender, semi-familiar woman who was surrounded by a sea of women in bridesmaid dresses.

  “This is not her fault,” another older lady replied, this one a little more stout with familiar green eyes. “And how dare you hire a private investigator to look into my daughter? If it were Cinna or Rika, fine, but Tarra? You have no idea what you’ve just done. None. You will never find another woman who could tolerate having you as a mother-in-law.”

  “Enough,” a man in a tux was saying, but no one was listening.

  Tony finally caught sight of Pepper marching in from the sanctuary. Her dark hair was swept up, a delicate strand of pearls around her graceful neck, her curves wrapped in dark cherry satin and her arms and shoulders bare. She wore the same fierce scowl she’d had the day he met her, the day Lucky and Sadie had their run-in.

  “Everybody shut up,” Pepper said.

  Remarkably, it worked. For a moment.

  “Seriously,” Cinna said. “I mean, who hasn’t gotten accidentally hitched in Vegas at least once? It’s not her fault the annulment paperwork didn’t get finished. Stupid fake lawyers.”

  Huh.

  And he thought his family was dysfunctional. Somebody pass the popcorn.

  “Did your private detective track down her supposed husband?” the mother of the bride demanded. “So we can at least get this mess cleared up now?”

  “I’ll have silence in this church or I’ll call the police, and I frankly don’t care that I’m related to half of you,” a new voice behind Pepper intoned, and this time, the silence stayed. Father Basil, Tony was almost certain. Apparently being a priest—and the brother of the bride—came with some privileges. “Tarra—”

  “I know,” the bride whispered.