Forever a Bridesmaid
First in the
Always a Bridesmaid
Series
By
Courtney Hunt
Forever A Bridesmaid
Copyright © Courtney Hunt 2015
All Rights Reserved
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, events, business establishments or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Digital Edition: July 2015
www.Courtney-Hunt.com
For Heather
Thank you for
being a friend.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Chapter One
“I know it’s not until Saturday, mama,” Matthew Westbrook said into his phone as he stepped up to the gleaming chrome bar in Chicago’s O’Hare airport. His fool brother set his wedding date for this Saturday, causing Matthew to have to do some fancy schedule-shuffling to head home on short notice. Thankfully, mid-December was a slow time of year for architects. “I can’t believe you let it get this far. You always said you made a mistake with daddy.”
“Do not take that tone with me,” his mother snapped, her tone frostier than the tarmac outside.
“Yes, ma’am,” Matthew said, grinding his teeth. “I’m not going to let him make the same mistake I did. Mama? Hello? She hung up on me…” He pulled the silent phone away from his ear and muttered. “The battery. Damn.”
“Need to borrow this?” Next to him, a slim, perfectly-manicured hand held out a lipstick-sized portable phone charger in Barbie pink.
“Thanks. But I don’t think it’ll fit my phone.” Matthew slapped his dead phone onto the bar and raked his hands through his hair.
Arguing with mama was always an exercise in frustration. Might as well beat his fool head against the wall. He glanced at the darkening sky. Ominous clouds churned, gray-black and heavy, dimming the concourse interior. Maybe I can still make it out tonight…
Delays, cancellations, and infrequent boarding announcements boomed over the tannoy. Defeated, tired travelers, accompanied by their carry-on luggage, bloomed like wild mushrooms across the lounge, as they staked out their territory for what could be a long wait.
“Try this one.” The woman next to him hopped off the barstool and bent over her bright red and black polka-dotted suitcase, opening the top flap. Inside, in clear plastic travel cases, the woman appeared to have the entire contents of several emergency kits—chargers, spare cords, batteries, Band-Aids, lotions, granola bars. She handed him a different portable charger, still in eye-searing pink, and climbed back onto the barstool. He raised his gaze to her face.
Bright blue eyes, the color of a clear September sky over Georgia, dominated her heart shaped face. Plush pink lips curved into a lovely smile. And her peaches-and-cream complexion complimented her honey-blonde hair, styled into a long ponytail, with tendrils curling around her face.
Wow. Simply gorgeous.
She smiled at him before ordering a coffee. Extra cream, no sugar.
“Why do you have a charger for my type of phone?” Matthew asked as he plugged his dead phone into the bright pink charger and set it on the gleaming bar.
“I’m a bridesmaid.”
“You seem to be taking your duties very seriously.”
“A professional bridesmaid.”
“I get it,” he laughed. “Seems like all my friends got married at once…”
“No.” She shook her head, making her ponytail sway, the sun streaks in her hair glinting in the low light. “That’s my business. Being a bridesmaid.”
“Bridesmaids R Us?”
“Nah, I went with MaidMart.” She grinned, her impish smile lighting up her whole face and crinkling her adorable nose. He laughed again. She really was lovely. “No, it’s called Always a Bridesmaid.”
“I see. So how did you become a professional bridesmaid, Ms…?”
“Erin Delaney.” She stuck out her hand and he shook it, locking on her blue eyes, surprised at how aware of the simple contact he was, the press of her soft, warm palm in his hand sending tingles up his arm.
“Matthew Westbrook.”
“Well, Mr. Westbrook, it’s a bit of a long story.”
“Matthew, please. And it looks like we’ll be stuck here a while.” He waved to the steadily darkening cloud cover, beginning to drop fat, fluffy snowflakes across the greater Chicago area. The weather report indicated an oncoming storm but he’d hoped to fly out before it started. She glanced out the windows and shivered, looking away, biting her lip. “So, about being a professional bridesmaid?”
“When I graduated college, I couldn’t find a job right away.”
“So you invented your own?”
“Everyone I knew was getting married. Every weekend there was some bridal or wedding event. Sometimes more than one. One of my sorority sisters asked me to be her bridesmaid but, at the time, I was living on mac and cheese and PB and J. My big night out was a hamburger. So I told her I couldn’t afford to do it.”
“Go to the wedding?”
“Be a bridesmaid. It’s so expensive! With the dress and the shoes dyed to match and makeup and hair and nails and gifts. And sometimes travel too. Not to mention all the events leading up to the big day—showers, bachelorette parties, rehearsals… It’s insane.”
“But your friend wouldn’t take no for an answer?”
“When I declined, my friend said she’d pay me to come do it. So I did. While I was there, I defused a big family argument. And then her sister got married and I did the same thing…and it sort of snowballed from there. I mean, here I was with no job, a closet full of dresses, and lots of experience as a bridesmaid. What else could I do?”
“What does a professional bridesmaid do?” He liked listening to her. Her voice carried the hint of the South in it, reminding him of sunny, warm days at home on his mama’s porch, sipping peach-and-bourbon-laced iced tea.
“Whatever necessary to make the day as perfect as possible for the bride. Sometimes, I only consult and help with planning. Sometimes, I attend just the wedding and rehearsal. Sometimes, it’s all the events, like the wedding I’m going to now.”
“So you’re a wedding planner and a bridesmaid?”
Erin nodded. “Mostly, I act as a buffer for the bride’s well-meaning family and friends.”
“Don’t most women want their family and friends there? Isn’t that the point of the whole show? Why would anyone want a stranger to be their bridesmaid?”
�
��So says the person who’s never been a bridesmaid,” Erin smiled at him.
“The skirts make my hips look big,” Matthew winked.
She laughed then, crinkling up her nose. He wanted her do it again. He wanted to be the one to make her do it again.
“I’m the neutral party, smoothing things over, the mediator,” Erin continued, “I run interference a lot. The bride will tell me, ‘Oh I had to ask my sister or my cousin to be maid-of-honor or my mother can’t get along with my aunt or the other mom,’ or whatever.”
“So you coach them through the family strife.”
“Exactly. I’ll do anything to ensure the bride and groom get their special day, exactly as planned,” Erin nodded, sipping her drink. Her stomach grumbled and she pressed a hand to her belly. She rummaged in her suitcase again, coming up with a few crinkly wrapped granola bars. She held one out to him but he shook his head.
“You wanna share an order of something?” He offered.
“I have my protein bar, but thanks.” She shook her head and he ordered the nachos anyway.
“Can I buy you a drink?”
Erin shook her head. “I have a rule against drinking during the day. Though I really wanted one on my turbulent flight.”
“Do you do this bridesmaid gig alone?”
“No, I got so busy I hired my best friend too. She and I split the duties usually. Though she’s handling it all at home at the moment.”
“Where’s home?”
“Boston.”
“I went to school there. Great town. But you’re not from there originally.” When her forehead furrowed, he continued, “Your accent.”
“I grew up in Atlanta. Where I am flying to today. Or not.” She glanced out the window at the thick blanket of fluffy snow covering the runways. In unison, they both checked the departures display board above the bar.
“Flight 734 is still delayed.” She took a bite of the dry-looking granola bar.
“I’m heading to Atlanta too.” Matthew noted she didn’t wear a ring on her left hand. “What does your husband do while you’re off being a bridesmaid?”
She raised her eyebrows at the obvious ploy but said, “I’m not married. You?”
“Divorced,” Matthew said. “No boyfriend?”
“Don’t date much, to be honest.”
“You’re far too beautiful for me to believe that.”
“You are smooth, aren’t you, Mr. Westbrook?” She tucked a tendril behind her ear and took another sip of her drink, a light blush ghosting over her cheekbones.
He grinned at her. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“I’m working when most people my age are out on dates or clubbing. Most eligible men don’t want to meet for coffee when I’m not busy, like at noon on Tuesday.”
“But everyone says you meet people at weddings.”
“Yeah, if you’re not working at it. I’m too busy putting out fires. And I make it a rule never to hook up with anyone there. Far too messy.”
“You have a lot of rules, Erin Delaney.”
“You have no idea.” She smiled. He wondered what it would take to make her break those rules. “What do you do, Matthew?”
“I’m an architect. I specialize in modernizing historic buildings. It’s all I ever wanted to do.” He shrugged, picking at the too hot nachos when they arrived, tilting the plate toward her. “Want one? Looks better than that dry protein bar you’ve got there.”
She took one, toying with the chip. “Do you live here in Chicago?”
“At the moment. I’m doing a redesign of the warehouses along the waterfront.”
“They did that in Boston. Those spaces are amazing. Such beautiful views.”
“That was my graduate project at MIT.” Matthew couldn’t help the pleased jolt that went through him that the lovely Erin knew his work.
“Wow. I went to a wedding there a few months ago. So lovely and open. I loved seeing all the restored wood.” She checked the departures board. “Our flight is delayed again.”
He met her eyes, shocked at deeply he’d connected with her already. “Well then, since we’ve got nothing else to do, wanna play cards?”
Chapter Two
“Go fish,” Erin said, an hour later, laughing and pressing her cards to her chest when Matthew, a terrible cheat, tried to peek at them. She peered up at him through her lashes. Tall, dark, and handsome was one thing—Erin met a lot of good-looking guys at weddings—but combining Matthew’s good looks with smart, witty, and confident made him the whole package.
“Come on, you expect me to believe you don’t have a seven?” He drawled, his southern accent clear in his honey and whiskey voice. She missed hearing southern accents in Boston.
She shook her head, dramatically, “Missing my lucky number today.”
In unison, they looked out the windows at the snowy tarmac. Mid-afternoon, Erin and Matthew moved from the bar to a small side table, near the windows. They sat on low-slung blue poofs, around a gleaming round chrome table, their knees pressed together, Erin’s ladybug suitcase propped next to them. The howling wind and heavily falling snow created near whiteout conditions. Outside, nothing but the wind moved as fat, fluffy snowflakes pelted down. Under the darkened sky, the airport lights glittered on the freshly fallen winter wonderland, creating colorful sparkles in the snow.
And if Erin had been home, in her PJs, she’d be sipping cocoa and declaring how gorgeous and peaceful it was. Now, she cursed her terrible luck. But then again, if she’d been at home, she’d have spent the afternoon working away, managing a million details, not playing a children’s card game with the most fascinating man she’d met in a long while.
“There must be six inches out there already,” Matthew commented. A single snow remover wheeled by, ineffectually scraping a tiny path off the tarmac.
“And no end in sight.” Erin shivered again. “Shouldn’t have left my winter coat in the car. I dropped a bagel with cream cheese on it, face-side down of course. Didn’t think I’d need it in Georgia. What a morning.”
“Bad day?”
“I missed my direct flight. My fault. I let Lauren drive me to the airport, and she’s not aggressive enough in Boston rush-hour traffic.”
“Lauren is the one stuck with all the bridesmaids duties back home?” he asked in his raspy, low voice that did things to Erin. Things she hadn’t noticed in a very long time.
“My best friend,” Erin nodded. She smiled at him, trying not to get lost in his beautiful eyes. They changed color, like a kaleidoscope, moss to chocolate to gold and back again. “Do you have a five?”
He handed her the card across the table and her fingers brushed his as she took it, sending awareness cartwheeling through her. She ignored the tingles of awareness and attraction, not wanting to entertain the complication. She swallowed hard and then slapped her pair down; throwing her hands over her head “I’m out! I win again!”
“Looks like Go Fish isn’t really my game. Wanna play poker?” His hazel eyes locked on hers again and she shook her head.
“I don’t play dangerous games.”
“Sure about that?” He grinned at her again. She’d bet that grin got Matthew Westbrook all manner of things. “I think you just like to win.”
“That too,” she admitted and he laughed, shuffling the cards. “Let me check the departure board. Your turn to deal.”
Erin popped up and headed over to the bar to look at the board. With a start, she realized it was already past four o’clock. She’d been having so much fun she hadn’t realized how late in the day it already was. She checked the snowfall and the departures board, not surprised to see her and Matthew’s flight now read cancelled. She trooped back over to the table and gave him the news.
“I really need to get home.” Matthew raked a hand through his silky dark hair, reaching for his re-charged phone and tapping away.
“Doesn’t look like any of us are getting to Atlanta tonight.” Erin texted Lauren, informing her of he
r flight status. No answer. She hoped that was a sign Lauren had it all under control and tried not to worry.
“There’s a hotel on the property. I’ve booked two rooms,” Matthew said. Erin looked up from her own hotel search, surprised. Usually she had to take care of details herself. It was nice to have someone looking out for her for once. “There’s a connecting tunnel beneath the terminal. Let’s go.”
After consulting with the airlines and discovering the next flight would be mid-day tomorrow at the earliest, Matthew insisted on tugging her suitcase and carrying his own bag over his shoulder. They walked briskly along, lost in the throng of dispirited travelers, sprawled out in any space they could find, facing the miserable prospect of staying in the airport overnight.
Should she ask him about dinner plans? She was surprised to find herself wanting to spend even more time with him. They’d already spent the afternoon together and she hadn’t been bored once. Matthew was a good conversationalist, funny, smart, and witty. What a bummer he didn’t live in Boston. He’d be the exact type of guy she’d date, if she ever found time to date anyone.
As they walked through the underground tunnel to access the hotel, they passed a series of enlarged black and white photographs of historic Chicago buildings. Matthew paused to examine one, leaning close. She watched his reflection in the glass as he concentrated on the tiny details of the building, a furrow appearing over his nose as he examined the picture. “This is near the building downtown I’m working on now.”
“I like the window pattern,” Erin commented on the brick arches above the building’s top row of windows.
“Yeah, see how it’s curved? I like that too. The repeating detail draws the eye. It’s going to make great loft space. I love those old buildings, where you can feel the history as you’re standing there, you know? Get a sense of all the lives lived there before you and make it usable for the future.”
Forever a Bridesmaid (Always a Bridesmaid Book 1) Page 1