Unexpected Bride
Abigail Graham
Copyright © 2018 by Abigail Graham
Cover by Cosmic Letterz
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Thank you for reading!
Also by Abigail Graham
About the Author
Chapter One
Julia
There are moments that just completely pull a person apart. I knew this was coming, but I wasn't prepared for it. I haven't seen Ryan, my best friend's brother, in about ten years. When he steps off the elevator, trumpets should blare to announce his arrival. Flights of angels should appear holding up a big banner that says, “RYAN!”
My heart skips a beat. Excitement seizes my throat, a rush so intense it borders on nausea. The gaudy lobby of the casino-hotel blurs into the background. He swallows up everything around him, like he has his own gravity.
He shot up at an early age, so he was tall the last time I saw him, but he seems even larger now, compact muscle bunching and flexing gracefully under khaki pants and a polo shirt. The elastic of the sleeves strains around his biceps and the front is too tight over his powerful chest and too loose over a stomach as hard as a stone wall. Just setting eyes on him again after all this time is like diving into freezing water. My legs actually quiver beneath me when he starts toward us.
It would not be wrong to say that Ryan shaped my entire concept of the opposite sex. He’s not a man, he’s the man, the model against which all others are compared.
Karen, my best friend, is his younger sister. She hasn't seen him in a long time, either. He walks over, takes her arms in his hands, and lightly plants a kiss on her cheek. It's a simple gesture of brotherly affection, rife with unspoken tension between the two, but I'd peel the skin off my feet for him to do that to me. I try desperately not to stare at him, but his presence draws my eyes back again and again, so I shift awkwardly and play with my little clutch purse, a gift from Karen so I wouldn't lug my messenger bag everywhere on this trip.
"Karen," he says, his voice casual in a tightly controlled, tense way.
"Ryan," she says. "It's been a while."
"Yeah," he agrees, awkwardly. "It has."
Yes, he’s awkward, but it’s cute awkward, romantic comedy movie awkward, endearing awkward. It makes me want to pet him.
"Honestly, I'm a little surprised that you came."
"I knew you would be," he says, pulling away from her. "Can we skip this? I don't want to fight. I'm not here to make this about me."
Karen cocks her head, and the tension between them is like a physical force. Karen has told me in great detail how she feels about her brother, and not much of it is good. They used to be close.
I wanted to be close, but I wasn't, not with him. I was just the help. That's how I know her—I was the housekeeper's daughter.
Ryan looks at her and says, “Truce?”
She considers him for a moment and then says, “Truce. For now.”
“That’s good enough. I’m tired of fighting.”
Karen studies him skeptically for a moment, then glances at me. Ryan’s eyes follow her gaze.
Still, when he looks at me, I hope for some moment of recognition. Something to flutter behind his eyes the way it does in his dreams, for him to sweep forward the way he does in my fantasies and purr my name from that deep chest of his and just melt me with a look. I'd do anything for him. Or to him. I should have worn something that shows more leg, or boob, or something. Karen told me we were going casual for the bachelor-bachelorette party and to me that meant a hoodie, so here I am, standing here in a shapeless frumpy bag while the man of my dreams stands two feet away not looking at me.
I sidle up next to Karen, tension between them be damned.
"Hi, Ryan," I say.
He looks at me with that confused look of someone who's trying to figure out if they're supposed to remember a name.
My heart turns to paper and crumples in on itself. I throw my gaze to the floor so he won't see me tear up, if it comes to that. My eyes are already burning.
"Hello, Julia," he says.
I feel like I just stuck my fingers in a pair of electrical sockets. My head shoots up and I grin like an idiot, only to suppress it a moment later by faking a cough into my fist.
"Not surprised to see you here," he says. "You still follow my sister around?"
I swallow. "I guess."
"We're sharing a place, actually," Karen says, smoothly.
Ryan smirks at her. "I'm surprised you can stand her."
"We're attached at the hip," Karen says. "I won't lie, Julia is the brains of the outfit. I'm just the money."
I start to protest, trying to fumble together a few sentences to explain that I'm really just a graphic designer and Karen does all the real work for our little company, but Ryan stops me.
"I believe it," he says, smoothly.
Karen crinkles her nose, annoyed. I edge closer, moving nearer to her that I may be nearer to him. He makes my chest tingle, heat flowing from the center like my heart has caught fire. As he trades barbs with Karen, he shoots glances at me. With great care, I stealthily check out his hands. No wedding band. Karen would tell me if he got married, but I want to think he's single. This is probably the most we'll talk to each other before everyone flies home, but I can't stop feeding my little fantasies by pretending he's here to see me. It'll hurt later, but that doesn't make me care now.
Karen's fiancé, Bruce, strides over to us and takes up position, facing me. He slips an arm around her waist and kisses her lightly on the lips.
"Hey now," Ryan says in mock anger. "Who's this, and what are you doing to my sister?"
Bruce smiles and thrusts out a hand. "You must be Ryan. I'm marrying her, that's what I'm doing to her."
"Isn't it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony?" Ryan says, taking his hand to shake.
"I don't think that applies until the wedding day. That's Saturday morning. Hi, Julia."
"Bruce," I say, smiling.
I have to force it. I won't lie: Bruce gives me the creeps. He always has. I've always told myself it's just jealousy and stress. Deep down, I know I'm nothing without Karen and would probably be cleaning hotel toilets if she hadn't taken me under her wing. It scares me to think I might lose her. She's moving out of my place, which means I have to move, too. It's the end of an era.
For her, anyway. I feel like I haven't moved at all. If anything, I'm going backwards. Spending all my time thinking about Ryan, my head in the clouds, full of dreams.
"Why don't I borrow you for a minute," Ryan says, throwing an arm over Bruce's shoulders. "We should talk."
Bruce looks nervous, his smile tight. "Sure. We'll be getting to know each other well tonight."
As they walk away, Karen lets out a slow breath, then takes my arm and guides me away from them to stand next to a bank of slot machines at the edge of the casino floor.
"You call that casual?" she says, looking over my outfit.
"Well, yeah," I say.
"Don't you have anything else to wear?"
"I brought a couple dresses," I say, brushing an errant strand of hair out of my eyes. It catches in the hinge of my glasses and I wince.
"Go change into on
e," she says, checking her watch. "You have fifteen minutes."
"Okay," I sigh. "I'll be right back."
"Wait a second," she says, sighing. "I have to ask you something."
My chest tightens.
"Are you still crushing on my brother?"
"I wasn't, I mean I didn't, I mean I don't..." I sputter.
"It's okay," she says, resting her hands on my biceps. "It's okay, J. I'm not mad about it. I'm worried."
"Worried?"
"Yeah, about you. You're...don't take this the wrong way, but you're an easy target. A man like my brother would not be good for you. Come on, I showed you the Instagram pictures."
I blush a little, thinking about them. Yeah, I saw Ryan's topless yacht adventures on that model's Instagram post. He wasn't the one going topless. I mean, he was, but he wasn't the one that model's followers were there to see, if you catch my meaning.
"He goes through girls like guys go through beer cans. You don't want that."
"I guess," I say.
She sighs. "I'm going to introduce you around at the wedding. Dance with some of the guys. There's going to be a small army of single guys there. I'm putting you on a mission, J. When I throw that bouquet at you, you better catch it."
"As long as I don't have to do the garter thing."
She smirks.
"No promises. I'm not the one who throws it. Listen, there's something else."
"Okay," I say, nervously.
She huffs. "This is a weird request. When we split up later, I want you to go with the guys."
I blink a few times. "Wait, what? You want me to go to the bachelor party?"
She looks at me for a second, glances around, and leads me further into the casino. We wedge awkwardly behind some slot machines and she hunches to hide her statuesque height.
“I know you want to go to my bachelorette party—“
“Duh!” I almost shout.
"Listen," she says, "this is important. I'd ask Ryan to do it, but he'll blow me off. It’s not like you’re missing anything. We hang out every day.”
"Is he going?" I say, too eagerly.
She gives me a side eye.
"Oh, now you're excited?"
I shrug.
"Okay, look. I'm worried about Bruce."
"Worried how?"
"Worried worried," she says. “It's just dumb bridal nervousness, but I'll feel better if you go with them."
"Wait," I say in a harsh whisper. "You want me to chaperone your fiancé at his bachelor party? Karen, if you have suspicions, you need to call this whole thing off. Or postpone it, or something."
"Postpone it?" she says, shaking her head. "Julia, we're in Las Vegas. My parents paid for flights and hotels for sixty people and we have more joining us for the wedding in Hawaii tomorrow. Do you have any idea how much this costs?"
"I don't care about that. I care about you."
I pat her shoulder lamely.
"Then I need you to do this for me. You'll be fine."
"Fine? Karen, you want me to go clubbing with a bunch of horny drunk guys, alone?"
She blinks.
"You're the maid of honor, J. No one will try anything. Maybe you should try something."
I fight a scowl, unsuccessfully. Turning away, I grind my toes into the floor.
“Is this a ploy to get me laid?”
She brushes that aside. "If he pulls anything, I want you to tell me. Then I will call it off."
"How late do you think they'll be out?"
"You should be back here by midnight," she says. "We all have to get on a plane tomorrow at one, remember?"
I nod. "Okay, okay." I sigh.
"They're probably just going to get cheeseburgers and beers at a bar or something. Relax."
I nod. "Okay. I'll do it."
"Good. Go change, you've only got ten minutes."
I rush to the elevator and hurry back to my room, next to Karen and Bruce's suite. Hurriedly, I yank my hoodie off, shuffle out of my shorts, and pull on one of the dresses I brought. Karen picked it out, and it looks too good for my wiry, slim frame. When I look at myself in the mirror all I see is a lack of chest to really fill it out and huff at myself. At least it comes down to mid-thigh instead of hugging my ass, like the one Karen wanted me to wear.
I change my shoes, too, eschewing sneakers for a pair of flats. Hopefully we won't be walking too far. I pull my hair into a loose ponytail, touch up my lipstick, and rush down to the lobby, just in time.
The assembled guests and wedding party look like a small army bivouacking in the hotel. I have to push and shoulder my way through to take my spot next to Karen. I'm the maid of honor but nobody seems to honor my right of way. Finally, I pop out next to her and she gives me an appraising once over, followed by an approving nod and a slight frown at my hair.
Then, the whole group moves outside. There is a line of shuttle busses, hunched like great big beetles under the hotel portico. Karen takes my arm and guides me with Bruce over to the lead van and climbs inside. It's tall enough to stand up in, more like a bus than a car. Plopping into a plush seat next to Karen, I press my knees together so hard they'll need a chisel to force them apart so I can stand up.
As everyone in the wedding party fills into the shuttle, Ryan walks up the steps, and I suddenly feel unpleasantly naked, like I'd been skinny dipping and he walked up on me while I was yanking a leech off my ass crack. I look stupid in this outfit, and I am keenly, brutally aware of it.
He smiles, and I can feel his gaze gliding up my calves and over my knees before he looks at Karen and sits down opposite her, sitting awkwardly as if the seat were smaller than it is. He shifts around like he can't sit comfortably, and I start to wonder if there's a broken spring in his seat or something.
My resolve crumples up like a shriveled leaf and I fold my arms over my chest and hunch my shoulders down, until Karen elbows me and I at least manage to sit up straight.
"Everybody aboard?" Bruce says.
Karen's mother and father are seated further up at the front. He's a tall, severe man who looks like a thinner, older Ryan with fading hair and a nose that once got broken in a way that makes his face cry out for a monocle. Her mom could be her older sister, the resemblance is so close.
Up front, the driver yanks a big lever to pull the doors shut, and we start out. Karen told me that we're going to some Italian place off the strip, but I didn't pay much more attention than that.
Las Vegas looks hot even in November. It is hot even in November, but it'll be cold later on, and I'll be walking around in this dress, which might as well be made out of tissues and string. I'm going to freeze my giblets off.
I guess we won't really be outside.
Ryan looks through the windows, bored. Slowly, he turns our way. His gaze sweeps past Karen to me.
"I can't believe you guys still hang out," he says.
"They live together," Bruce says. "Julia makes me behave around her BFF."
He smirks.
I turn beet red. I mean, they close the door, but I'm not deaf, and Karen gets, uh, loud. Ryan is staring at me now, and it feels like my skin is boiling and flame is about to spark from the tips of my ears. I wriggle in my seat and cross my legs. Ryan's eyes go straight to them, and Karen scowls at him.
A pulse of quivering surprise squirms up from between my legs, riding the spinal express all the way to my brain, where it pops like a weak firecracker. He is looking at me.
Karen's warnings replay through my head. Ryan doesn't date girls, he bangs them. He's never had a girlfriend for more than a week, and Karen says that if you plow a different supermodel fortnightly, they become interchangeable and he just drops them the moment they want to do more than fuck. Her words.
A little voice at the back of my head whispers.
So what if all he wants to do is fuck? He probably fucks like a fighter jet.
I'm not sure I could even handle that, which makes me want it even more. I realize I'm wringing my hands and gn
awing on my bottom lip and force myself still, staring out the window. Outside, a guy who is wearing an Elvis jumpsuit over a Deadpool costume is haranguing people for money after they snapped a picture with him. I raise one eyebrow and glance at Ryan.
He seems more comfortable now. He yawns and looks away from me.
Hell, maybe he got bored without even laying a hand on me. I bet I could get his interest if I wanted.
Like you even know how, that little voice says.
Wait, weren't you the little voice telling me to ride the fighter jet? Shut up.
The caravan of shuttles rolls into the parking lot of a sprawling, cheesy imitation of an Italian villa with neon signs proclaiming it Vincente's, and everyone stands up. I awkwardly tug my dress down to cover my legs as I stand and wonder how Karen moves so gracefully in hers. I feel like I have an elastic band around my thighs. A few strands of hair have escaped from my scrunchie, so I take off my glasses and use the earpieces as crudely improvised barrettes.
Bruce's Best Man, his cousin Todd, sidles up next to me.
"I think I'm supposed to escort you," he says.
He's Bruce's younger brother, and they're totally opposites. Short and paunchy, he wears a scraggly goatee that he's partially dyed a light purple color and wears his hair with frosted tips. He also smells faintly of various deep-fried snack foods that allegedly taste like cheese. He offers me his arm, and with a suppressed internal groan, I take it.
I guess Karen's parents reserved the whole damned restaurant, because there's no one here but us. The servers guide everyone to their tables. Of course, there's place cards. I've got a spot at the big table, being maid of honor and all.
Ryan casually walks over and switches his place card with someone else, then takes the seat he wants.
It happens to be directly across from me, as Todd takes a seat next to me. Karen sits at the end of the table, flanked by her parents. Bruce is at the other end.
"I wish we hadn't skipped the rehearsal," Karen's mom grumbles.
Unexpected Bride Page 1