The Makeshift Groom: A Romantic Comedy (Wrong Way Weddings Book 5)

by Lori Wilde

  “No way! We have a deal. I just wanted to check in and see if there was anything you needed me to pick up for you before I head your way tomorrow.”

  Aww, that was sweet.

  She shouldn’t get sappy over the guy. He wasn’t for her.

  Why not? asked a voice at the back of her mind. Why not have a little fun?

  Oops, that was a dangerous thought.

  “Tom, I don’t think we should do this—” Suddenly, she felt in over her head.

  “It’ll be all right,” he soothed in that throaty voice of his. “I’m off to the rehearsal dinner and then the bachelor party after that. I’ll see you at tomorrow at two thirty.”

  And then he ended the call.

  Right on the dot, Tom climbed the stairs to Jude’s apartment, wondering if the barbaric rite of the bachelor party was worth his aching head and cottony mouth. The dress shoes squeaked and pinched his toes. He’d swear they weren’t the ones he’d tried on a couple of weeks ago at the tux shop.

  The light at the end of the tunnel was Jude.

  He couldn’t wait to see her again.

  And that was bad.

  One of his three buddies was already out of the challenge. Seth texted Tom that morning to say he’d hooked up the exotic dancer from the bachelor party and well, c’est la vie.

  Tom was determined to win the bet against Dirk and put an end to a decade of teasing. Maybe he could make an excuse to Jude. She’s already told him it was okay to have second thoughts.

  But no, she would be dressed up and waiting. No way would he stand her up on such short notice. Not after what she’d been through.

  Think about basketball, he told himself. Nothing like a ball soaring through the air for a clean three-pointer. How hard could it be to keep things light and casual between them? Just two new acquaintances going to a wedding together.

  Oh, crap, that sounded like romcom.

  Bail out, Brunswick, while you still can!

  Somewhere in the great urban sprawl of Chicago there had to be another pair of Bulls tickets, and for the first time since starting his business, he could afford to pay top dollar if need be. He didn’t have to go through with this deal he’d made. He wasn’t responsible for Jude’s love life.

  The door inched open, and he was unprepared for what he saw.

  Jude was a total knockout. Skimpy little black dress that showed off her shapely thighs and fit snugly in all the right places, accentuating her lush curves. She had on four-inch stilettos and modest gold jewelry. Understated but elegant. A feast for the eyes.

  His mouth watered, and his body tightened, and oh, he was in so much trouble. “Holy smokes! You’re a knockout!”

  Her cheeks pinked. “Thank you. It’s nice of you to say.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be nice. That dress is great.” And so was the body poured into it. Suddenly his head wasn’t the only thing throbbing. “Can I have a glass of water and a couple of aspirins? Too much bachelor party last night.”

  “Is ibuprofen okay?”

  “Fine, thanks.”

  She put on her coat while he stood by the sink in her little kitchen and swallowed a couple of pills. Her navy wool coat had a belt on the back and a plaid scarf was tucked under the collar—exactly what he’d expect her to wear: sensible.

  But the dress was something else. Had she bought it for the occasion?

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “I’m a little nervous,” she admitted, and he found her vulnerability touching. “I’m second-guessing this whole being bold thing.”

  Me too. She needed a bodyguard in that dress.

  “I thought we had a deal,” he said. “I give you tips on what you’re doing that’s causing guys to pass you by and I get Bulls tickets.”

  “Yes, here, take the tickets.” She handed him a plain white envelope, but he gave it back.

  “I’ll buy them, or I’ll earn them. You can’t just give them to me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Leave them here and come to the wedding. We’ll see how things work out, but I’m having a hard time believing you need advice from me.”

  “Okay.” She turned to put the tickets in the desk drawer.

  Whatever he’d been drinking last night had given him X-ray vision, because when she returned, he could still see her in that little black dress, even with the coat buttoned all the way up to her chin.

  At the church a short while later, Tom took his position as an usher and left Jude on her own to kill time until the ceremony started.

  She signed the guest book under the welcoming eye of its busty blond keeper, made an unnecessary trip to the restroom to futz with her makeup, and loitered in the rectory hall, looking at Sunday school rooms through the windows of locked doors and reading notices on the bulletin board about potluck suppers, prayer vigils, and charity drives.

  Feeling more self-conscious with each passing minute, she started looking for the back exit, but Tom waylaid her and insisted on ushering her to one of the choice aisle seats just behind those reserved for the relatives of the bride.

  “Don’t you want to take your coat off?” he asked. “I’ll hang it up for you.”

  “It’s chilly in here.”

  “Worried that you look too hot in that dress?” he teased.

  “No,” she denied. Yes. Jude sat red-faced, thinking of all the clever quips she should have made.

  Guests began arriving in droves, and the perfumed air around her warmed as the rows filled. She unbuttoned her coat, then slipped her arms out to free her movement, but kept it wrapped around her shoulders.

  She couldn’t bring herself to sit there baring a shoulder. She wasn’t cut out to be a bold, devil-may-care woman. She was only staying because leaving would be too conspicuous—that and Tom was blocking the exit. He seemed determined to earn those Bulls tickets—even if she’d changed her mind about wanting his advice.

  The processional started. A little flower girl in a pale-peach dress conscientiously dropped white rose petals, followed by a bevy of bridesmaids in high-waisted, narrow-skirted sage-green gowns.

  Jude had to give the bride high marks on her choice of bridesmaid dresses, but she dreaded the reception even more now. She’d never seen so many slender, gorgeous bridesmaids in one wedding. Her black dress was going to stand out in the crowd when she desperately wanted to blend in. She didn’t want to take any attention away from the bride.

  Everyone stood up when the bride started down the aisle, and all eyes turned to watch her. It suddenly hit Jude like a fist to the solar plexus. Tom’s twin sister was wearing her wedding dress.

  The dress was perfect. Not gaudy or overdone. A dream of a dress with a delicately beaded satin bodice hugging the bride’s breasts and waist and a skirt that floated along on the white carpet runner like a shimmering cloud.

  She closed her eyes, suddenly hating the idea of a stranger in her gown.

  Coward.

  Fine, okay, she’d watch.

  She’d gone to a dozen shops to find the perfect bridal gown, and she should have been wearing it and coming down the aisle on her father’s arm. The thought of her disastrous wedding day had Jude taking a deep, calming breath.

  Jude’s eyes misted, and she forced herself to look at the bride’s face, a feminine version of Tom’s good looks. Tara was striking, not surprising since her twin brother was the handsomest man Jude had ever met. She must have been crazy—and a little desperate—to ask him to help her cut loose and have fun at the wedding.

  Quickly, she cast a glance at Tom who was standing at the front of the church beside the groom and his best man and her heart skipped a beat.

  Whatever had made her think he’d want to play Henry Higgins to her Eliza Doolittle? When this was over—and it would be as soon as she could get an Uber and make her escape—she’d mail him the tickets with an apology for intruding on his sister’s wedding and thank him for being so gracious.

  The groom was good-looking too—no surprise—but he
was either hungover from the bachelor party too or scared out of his wits because his face was pale and wan under waves of coal-black hair, but when he stepped forward and smiled at his bride, his entire face lit up.

  Aww!

  Now that she thought about it, Jaxon had never looked at her that way. To her surprise and relief, she didn’t much care anymore. Jaxon had loved Jaxon and she hadn’t seen it. The therapist she’d seen after the failed wedding said she hadn’t been able to spot Jaxon’s narcissistic tendencies because she’d been projecting her goodness and kind intentions onto him and that led her to make excuses whenever a small red flag popped up.

  Truly, she’d had a narrow escape, and she was grateful he’d dumped her. She’d cast Jaxon in the role of her true love because she’d desperately wanted one special person in her life, but he’d blown it.

  Him, not her. Yes, she’d made a mistake in falling for his initial charm, but she knew better now, and that education was priceless.

  Attending this wedding was shock therapy. Watching another woman get married in her dress was crushing, but it stirred up constructive anger. She was a good person, and she hadn’t deserved to be jilted on her wedding day.

  She let the coat slide off her shoulders. No more sitting home feeling sorry for herself! She was turning the page, starting a new chapter.

  Bold and brave, here I come.

  After the ceremony, the newlyweds rushed down the aisle, beaming at each other, while the ushers remained behind to dismiss the guests row by row. Tom was standing at her side, smiling and having conversations with people as they left the church.

  Some men looked stiff and uncomfortable in tuxes, but Tom seemed totally at ease in the black formal wear, stiff white shirt, bow tie, and red rosebud boutonniere. His tousled dark-brown hair curled over the collar of the jacket in back and spilled over his forehead, softening the thrust of high cheekbones and a strong chin.

  He was something straight out of a wedding magazine fantasy.

  She was close enough now so she couldn’t see his face without looking up, but the part of him at eye level gave her shivers. His stomach was flat and his fine-tuned muscular body shoved her imagination into overdrive.

  “You look great,” he whispered, his mouth so close to her ear she could feel a warm tickle of air. “I’m glad you took your coat off.”

  Feeling self-conscious by his frank admiration, she pulled her coat back on as she joined the crowd flowing down the aisle to the receiving line near the outer door. Shy about introducing herself to the bride wearing her dress with so many other people around, Jude found a deserted spot beside the guest book stand to wait for a lull in the action so she could meet Tara.

  “You’re with Tom?” The well-endowed blonde who’d manned the book studied her with a surprised stare.

  “Yes, I am,” she said, surprised herself by the swell of pride in her chest. Any urge she had to explain the real nature of their relationship vanished in the competitive glare coming from behind excessively long eyelash extensions.

  So much for making new friends.

  When Tom found her, he linked his arm through hers and escorted her over to meet Tara and her new husband, Ben, who was a pastry chef. The moment wasn’t as awkward as Jude feared.

  Tara gushed over the dress and told Jude how honored she was that she’d come to the wedding. Tom’s sister was smart and lively, and Jude found herself wishing she could get to know Tara better. They chitchatted for a few minutes, but then the photographer showed up to whisk the wedding party to the front lawn.

  Jude watched from afar, enjoying seeing Tom interact with his family.

  When the picture-taking was over, she rode alone with Tom to the reception. She couldn’t help feeling like she was intruding and wondered why she’d really come. After digging around in her psyche for an answer, this was all she could come up with.

  Tom was hot and she was lonely.

  Thankfully, the trip to the reception hall was short, and they kept up a casual conversation about the ceremony, but that was as deep as it went.

  Inside the large squat building rented out for the reception, Tom led her to the coat check desk and scanned the crowd through the double doors of the main room where a three-piece band was tuning up.

  She unbuttoned her coat.

  Tom was behind her, helping her out of it before she could do it herself. When his fingers brushed against her bare shoulder, Jude tingled all the way to her tailbone.

  “Tom, honey, save a dance for me.” A tall, honey-haired bridesmaid wiggled her fingers at him as she passed.

  Jude recognized her as the bridesmaid that Tom had escorted down the aisle as part of the bridal party processional.

  “Terrific job, Brenna.” Tom gave the woman a thumbs-up.

  That was kind of him to say. Even though all a bridesmaid had to do was glide down the aisle and stand there without calling attention to herself, it wasn’t as easy as it looked, especially, if like Jude, you had a touch of social anxiety. She’d done the bridesmaid two-step more times than she cared to count.

  Thirteen to be exact.

  She’d been a bridesmaid thirteen times. Not quite as bad as the heroine in 27 Dresses but she was getting there.

  The guest-book blonde cornered Tom as soon as they walked into the reception room for the cocktail hour. “You look great in that tux, Tom.”

  “So did the fifty guys who wore it before me, Carla.”

  “I’ll bet you can’t wait to get out of it,” she trilled.

  “If I need any help, I’ll let you know.”

  “I wish I could speak my mind like that,” Jude mumbled after Carla moved on. “I’m just too shy.”

  “Carla’s a bundle of energy. She put the ‘f’ in fun.”

  “I want to be a lot of fun.”

  “Then just relax,” he soothed in his sexy-as-sin voice. “And have a good time.”

  “I’m working on it.” She gulped.

  “Practice makes perfect.” He grinned and gently put his hand to her upper back to guide her through the crowd. “Can I get you a drink?”

  She liked his hand on her. Was that smart? Honestly, all she knew about him was what she’d found on a quick internet search. Tom Brunswick had an active life, a social media presence, and a website for his furniture business that had garnered over a thousand five-star reviews. She was impressed.

  “A ginger ale would be nice, thank you,” she said, both disappointed and relieved that he’d have to retract his hand in order to fetch the drinks.

  “How about white wine spritzer just to loosen up a little? You did say you wanted to get rid of that Goody Two-Shoes image.”

  “Do I have to drink?”

  “Nope, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. That’s the point. I’ll get the ginger ale.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Be right back.” He waved and took off.

  Leaving Jude feeling like an island solitary in a sea of happy people.

  4

  Jude watched as Tom joined a small crowd milling around the wet bar, then scanned the room, wishing she knew someone with whom to strike up a conversation.

  A handsome man strolled up, curious interest in his dark eyes. “Did I just see you with Tom?”

  “Yes, but we’re just friends.”

  “Then Tom’s dumber than I thought.” The man raked an appreciative gaze over her body.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Hi, I’m Dirk.” He stuck out a hand. “Tom’s college roommate.”

  “Nice to meet you, Dirk.” She shook his hand. “Do you have a last name?”

  “I’m glad you asked that. Actually, I’m quite proud of my family name, even though it’s a little unusual. Poomph. Dirk Poomph. Rhymes with oomph.”

  The man was certainly forward. Not the type she normally went in for, but maybe that was a good thing. She was here to kick up her heels after all.

  “Goodbye, Poomph,” Tom said, coming to stand beside her wi
th drinks in his hands.

  “Just getting acquainted with your new friend, Thomas.”

  “Don’t be a creeper, Dirk.”

  The two men stared at each other like front-runners in a footrace, their gazes locked in some kind of long-term testosterone clash.

  Hmm, what was that about?

  “Nice meeting you, Jude.”

  “You too.”

  “Save a dance for me.” Smiling, Dirk shrugged good-naturedly and sauntered away, hands in his pockets to hike up his jacket and stretch the navy slacks tight across his butt.

  “Was he pestering you?” Tom asked.

  She shook her head and accepted the ginger ale in a champagne flute. “You don’t need to play bodyguard. I’m here to have fun.”

  “I thought I was going to be the one you had fun with.”

  “Aww, are you jealous?” She canted her head and shot him a teasing grin.

  “Of Dirk?” He snorted.

  “You are jealous.” She took a sip of her ginger ale, peering at him over the rim of the champagne flute.

  “No way.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not chasing after your college roommate. He just seemed like a good person to practice flirting with so that I can attract the man of my dreams.”

  “Wait, what? I thought you wanted to be wild and free and use a successful wedding to get over a failed one.”

  “That too. First. Then I want to find a keeper.”

  “Those are opposing goals. Pick one. Do you want to be wild and free or do you want to get married?”

  “Why does it have to be either/or?”

  “You can have both, just not at the same time.” His smile sent a hot flare of heat up her spine. He should be penalized for hitting below the belt. The smile was unnerving. “Pick one.”

  “I do want to get married eventually. I’m old-fashioned that way.”

  He seemed disappointed in her and that dismayed Jude in a way she hadn’t expected. She wanted Tom’s approval.

  “But for now,” she amended quickly. I want to be bold. Brave. Brazen. Wild and free. That’s what I want…for now.”