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

by Lori Wilde

  “Seriously, no need to walk me up.” Her palms had grown sweaty, and she clasped them together.

  “Indulge me. I aim to deliver you to your door safe and sound.”

  “Is that what you’re doing?” She hadn’t intended to giggle, but it slipped out.

  “Is it so far-fetched that I might have manners?”

  “No, of course not.” Another giggle. Damn, maybe she had had too much champagne. She was a lightweight when it came to alcohol, which is why she rarely drank.

  “Portal to portal.” He gestured for her to proceed him up the first flight of stairs. “The gentleman’s code.”

  They walked up the three flights of stairs to her landing.

  “I had a good time. Thanks,” she said in front of her door, attributing her slight breathiness to the third-floor climb in stilettos. “If you’ll wait just a minute, I’ll go get you the Bulls tickets. You held up your end of the bargain; it’s time for me to uphold mine. I had a fabulous time tonight, thanks to you.”

  “I’m not taking your tickets,” Tom said when Jude returned to the foyer where she’d left him while she dashed into the kitchen. “I didn’t do anything to earn them.”

  “You gave me a nice night on the town, and I met a handsome man—”

  “Aw, shucks,” he said, ducking his head and feigning toeing the floor with his patent leather shoe like an embarrassed little boy.

  “Oh,” she said, laughing. “I meant Dirk, but you’re handsome too. He gave me his phone number.” She patted the clutch purse she still held in her hand.

  Of course he did. Tom grunted. He was about to say, I don’t think Dirk is the guy for you, but he didn’t want to sound petty. He was not jealous of Dirk. Yes, in college, Dirk had stolen Tom’s girlfriend and then unceremoniously dumped her, but they’d been living in the same frat house and eventually he’d forgiven his buddy. Dirk had claimed he’d hooked up with Amanda to show Tom that he couldn’t trust her, and he’d been right.

  But the thought of Dirk being with Jude had Tom gritting his teeth.

  “You’ve already missed one of the games,” Jude was saying, extending the tickets toward him. “Please take them.”

  He’d feel like a jerk if he took her valuable season tickets for doing nothing more than escorting her to a wedding.

  “At least let me pay for them.”

  “No, we had a deal. I had a great time, but in retrospect it was a silly idea—asking you to help me loosen up and shed my niceness. You can’t do that kind of inner work for me.”

  “Hey, you went to the head of the class tonight,” he murmured.

  “Nah, I am who I am. I’m nice. I might as well accept that I’m never going to be a glamour-puss like the gorgeous bridesmaid you were dancing with.”

  “Brenna?” Tom shook his head. “She’s attractive, don’t get me wrong, but there’s just no zing there, if you know what I mean.”

  “Really?” She appeared surprised. “I thought she oozed zing.”

  Her eyes widened and she looked so hopeful that Tom almost turned tail and ran. Remember the bet! If he stayed here, he was going to kiss her and that was a no-no.

  Her cheeks were a glowing pink, either from the cold outside or the overheated air between them. Lightly, she moistened her lips and he couldn’t pry his gaze from her little tongue.

  In that moment, he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to breathe. Despite her hard-luck history with men, Jude was dangerous. Especially to him. At least for the next month. He had a bet to win.

  After that? All bets were off, pun intended.

  Dirk had certainly known what he was doing by hitting on Jude in front of Tom. He was feeling far more possessive of Jude than he had any right to feel. His emotions unnerved him.

  She was too adorable and sexy in that dress and heels. A sweet kittenish look that could drive any guy bonkers.

  “I better get going,” he said.

  “The tickets.” She flapped them at him.

  He held up a palm. “I can’t.”

  “Please?”

  He really did love the Bulls. He stared at the tickets she was thrusting in his direction, still reluctant to take them. “I—”

  “Here,” she said, slipping the envelope into his coat pocket in one smooth movement that put her far too close to him.

  “I haven’t done enough to earn them,” he protested.

  “Yet,” she said and opened the door.

  He raised an eyebrow, far more intrigued than he should be. “Yet?”

  “Good night, Tom.” She shooed him over the threshold.

  He stepped outside, turned back to say good night….

  That’s when she went up on her tiptoes, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek. Certainly not a sexy kiss, but it blew his socks right off. Good thing she was strictly off-limits. He dipped his head, his gaze fixed on her lips.

  “Good night, Tom,” she repeated in a firmer voice.

  “Night,” he said, feeling crazily relieved and madly disappointed at the same time. “And thanks a lot for the tickets.”

  “Jaxon will eat his heart out.”

  He didn’t immediately remember who Jaxon was and by the time he recalled her ex-fiancé’s name, he’d raced down three flights of steps and ran to his car in a downpour, wishing he could turn around, go back, and spend the night.

  And that was why he zoomed out of her neighborhood as fast as the speed limit allowed.

  Tom woke up slowly and reluctantly the next morning, squinting against the bright winter sun streaming through half-closed blinds. His mouth was dry, and he felt headachy. He should have drank more water last night after the champagne and beer at the wedding.

  The cell phone penetrated his skull on its fourth shrill ring, but he wasn’t going to answer. He was supposed to be at his parents’ house for brunch with Tara and Ben before they left for their honeymoon in Fiji, and he really didn’t want to go.

  “Ridiculous,” he muttered sullenly.

  Tara and Ben would be so wrapped up in each other they wouldn’t even notice who else was in the room. He didn’t see the point of going, but his sainted mother had slaved over the brunch, so he knew he had to drag his lazy carcass over there.

  Grr.

  The phone rang again.

  Wincing, he pushed away the covers, shivering as he went into the kitchen, picking up the phone along the way.

  Instead of answering, he let it go to voicemail while he brewed coffee and then ran through his text messages—there was a sultry “I loved dancing with you last night” from Brenna, an invitation to some friend’s upcoming bachelor party—why was everyone suddenly getting married—and a gloaty question from Dirk, asking if Tom was still in the competition after his night with Jude.

  “You better believe it,” Tom muttered and immediately the image of Jude’s face, after she’d kissed his cheek, popped into his head.

  He wasn’t one to kid himself. She was a looker, funny and sweet, too. He certainly wouldn’t mind taking her to bed—after he won the bet, of course—but she deserved better than that. She was the kind of girl you brought home to meet mother, and that’s just not where Tom’s head was at.

  Brunch was nice. Nicer than he expected. The food was delicious and the conversation lively. It was fun watching his twin with her new husband. They did look so rapturously in love that he couldn’t help feeling a little envious, even though he was a long way from wanting the “I do” for himself.

  When he hugged Tara goodbye before she and Ben left for the airport, his heart filled with happiness for his sister and he told her so.

  “You’ll get there, bro. You can’t hurry love.”

  “Who says I want love?” he asked her.

  “Everyone wants love,” Ben said and leaned over to kiss Tara’s cheek. “You’re just slow to admit it.”

  She sank against him and sighed.

  His sister and Ben did make marriage seem enticing, and for some strange reason, he liked that radical thoug
ht. Jude was in his head again, and he saw her going up on those sexy high heels, her lush hair tumbling over her shoulders, her full pink lips puckered, kissing him…

  One kiss, Brunswick. It was one kiss and a cheek kiss at that. Slow your damn roll.

  Yes, yes. Great advice. Still, he had to admit, Jude rattled him. Who knew niceness was such a turn-on? And what in the hell was wrong with her ex-fiancé?

  After brunch, he hit the gym, putting himself through a punishing high-intensity routine designed to push aside thoughts of Jude and the goofy bar bet that prevented him from just picking up the phone, calling her, and asking her out. That’s what strenuous exercise was good for. Wearing a man out so he wouldn’t think about a certain blue-eyed lady with gorgeous legs and a killer smile.

  Once he was back at his apartment, he checked his text messages again.

  One was from Brenna.

  Hi, Tom. Remember me? UR probably surprised 2 hear from me again so soon, but my schedule got changed. I’m flying out of O’Hare for Costa Rica tomorrow. And guess what? I’m available 2night—all night. Love 2 see you.

  Hmm. Should he ignore her text? Normally, he’d jump up and clean the house in anticipation for an evening romp with her, but he really wanted to win that bet. Plus, there was Jude. For some illogical reason, he couldn’t shake her from his head.

  His cell phone buzzed in his hand. Not a text this time. Brenna was calling.

  Not really sure why, he answered. “Hello?”

  “So, Tommy, did you get my text?” Brenna purred with all the subtlety of his Mustang’s eight-cylinder engine.

  Tom grimaced. He hated being called Tommy. He’d left that nickname behind in the fifth grade. “Just saw it.”

  “You don’t keep your phone with you at all times?” Brenna sounded astonished that his phone wasn’t fused to his body.

  “I was at the gym.”

  “Ahh,” she said, and an even sexier tone curled into her voice. “I wish I’d known. I would have come by to work out with you. It’s been such a long time since I’ve worked up a vigorous sweat, and all those hours in the cockpit take a toil.”

  The woman was attractive and an airline pilot, very impressive. Plus, she was ready and eager for a hookup. If it hadn’t been for that no-sex bet…

  Tell the truth. Not being interested in Brenna has as much to do with your attraction to Jude as it does that dumb contest.

  “Yeah, you see, that’s just it…” Tom trailed off.

  “What’s just it?” Brenna sounded as bright as a new coin.

  “This is bad timing.”

  “How so?”

  “Um…I’m in the middle of a forty-day ice bucket challenge.”

  “Ice bucket challenge?” Brenna sounded confused and he didn’t blame her. He was babbling. “I’m not following you.”

  Briefly, he explained about the celibacy challenge.

  “You’re actually serious?” She sounded incredulous and a little ticked off. “You’d pass up a night with me just because of a silly frat boy pact?”

  All of sudden it occurred to him that Dirk might have put Brenna up to the phone call. It was so like his former roommate to keep throwing temptation at Tom.

  “Nice try,” he said.

  “Huh?”

  “Sexy as you are, Brenna, I’m not falling for it.”

  “Excuse me?” Her voice went up an octave on “me.”

  Okay, if Dirk was using her to foil Tom and get him to throw in the towel in order to be with Brenna, that meant she wasn’t in on the fix, but that didn’t mean Dirk hadn’t manipulated her into calling. His friend was wily.

  “By the way, where did you get my number? Was it Dirk Poomph?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Did Dirk put you up to calling me.”

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “I did dance with Dirk last night, but he was completely complimentary about you.” She was really starting to sound irritated now. “He said you were a great guy, if that’s what you’re getting at. But Tommy, I’m beginning to think otherwise. No, Dirk didn’t give me your number. It was Tara.”

  “Oh.” He paused. “Sorry to sound so suspicious, but Dirk is the one who instigated the bar bet, and I had to make sure you weren’t in on trying to bring me down.”

  She was silent for a bit, then said in a tight voice, “I see.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You thought he was using me as a bait to lead you astray?”

  “Sadly, I’m afraid so.”

  “He’s not.”

  “I believe you.”

  “And yet, you’d still rather win this silly bet than spend the day with me?”

  “I didn’t say that. I can be with you in thirty-five days, after I win the bet. I’ll be flush with cash and we can hit the swankiest restaurant in town.”

  Tom heard the sound of the connection being severed.

  Brenna had hung up on him.

  Well, darn. He was sorry she’d gotten caught up in Dirk’s ploy, and he supposed he owed her an apology.

  He texted her a remorseful emoji.

  She texted back. Call me when you grow up.

  Okay. He deserved that. He’d allowed Dirk to get inside his head. Bring it on, Poomph. I can resist any woman you throw at me.

  But even as he thought it, Tom couldn’t help feeling that Brenna made a good point. Why was he letting a decade long college rivalry control his love life?

  Then she texted. FYI, Dirk did talk about your date last nite. A lot!!! I think he has a crush on Jude.

  6

  While Tom was brunching, hitting the gym, and disappointing Brenna, Jude slept in on Sunday morning after a night of dancing. The slow steady rain drumming on the roof made staying in bed easy.

  Lazing, she drifted in and out of dreams about Tom Brunswick. Sexy dreams she had no business dreaming. She barely knew the guy, but wow, the dreams were fun.

  Shortly before noon, her cell phone rang, yanking her from juicy visions of Tom showering beneath a Hawaiian waterfall. She grabbed for her phone, welcoming any call to jolt her back to reality.

  The caller ID said “Unknown caller,” but she answered it anyway.

  “Jude Bailey?” asked a vaguely familiar male voice.

  “Yes,” she admitted guardedly, thinking of the quickest but kindest way to get rid of telemarketers.

  “This is Dirk.”

  “Dirk?” She drew a blank.

  “Dirk Poomph, rhymes with oomph. We danced at the wedding.”

  “Oh, sure. Hi, Dirk.”

  “How ya doing?”

  Um, what was this about? “Great, just great.”

  “I thought maybe I’d put a little oomph in your life,” he chuckled. “Say Saturday night? Ballroom dancing at my country club?”

  “Are you asking me out?”

  “That sounded kind of arrogant, didn’t it?”

  “A tad.”

  “Apologies. I just enjoyed dancing with you so much that I’m eager to do it again. What do you say?”

  “Hmm…” She drew in a deep breath, still feeling a little hazy from those steamy dreams about Tom. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’m not really dating right now.”

  “No?”

  “I got stood up at the altar six months ago, and I’m giving myself a year to hit the pause button on serious relationships. I’m not interested in a rebound man.”

  “What about Brunswick?”

  “What about him?”

  “You two aren’t…” he trailed off.

  “No, no, we’re not.”

  “Oh,” he said, sounding somewhat pensive. “Okay, I had to ask. If you change your mind about dancing, text me. Afterward, we could hit this great new restaurant I know about that stays open late.”

  And then just like that he hung up and Jude couldn’t help feeling the guy had been on a fishing expedition, although she had no idea why she felt that way. Before she had time to ponder Dirk’s moti
ves, her mother phoned to fret about a family friend who was divorcing after thirty-seven years of marriage.

  “I just can’t understand it,” Mom said for the twentieth time. “Why now after so many years together are Paul and Celeste calling it quits?”

  “Mom, what I know about true love could get lost in a flea’s pocket.”

  Her mother chuckled. “Dear, I don’t think fleas have pockets, but I do love the way you’ve bounced back since Jaxon. Better for him to leave you at the altar than after decades of marriage like Celeste.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about Paul and Celeste. I can tell their breakup has upset you, but don’t worry about Daddy. He’d not going to leave you.”

  “Of course he’s not.” Mom’s voice took on a dreamy quality. “Your father and I are not just soul mates, we’re best friends.”

  They were too. Whenever she saw her folks together, Jude couldn’t help feeling she was missing out big-time. She’d been so desperate to find her soul mate she’d latched on to Jaxon and convinced herself that he was The One.

  She was wiser now and wouldn’t so easily jump into romantic relationships in the future. She’d made herself too available with Jaxon, always ready to drop whatever she was doing to make time for him. Well, no more of that nonsense. She wasn’t twisting herself into a pretzel for some guy, not ever again.

  Being on twenty-four-hour call whenever Jaxon wanted to see her had probably been a major blunder, much as it hurt to admit it now. Whenever she did finally marry, she wanted a union just like her parents, not Paul and Celeste.

  Jude steered the conversation away from the divorcing couple, chatting with her mother about less stressful things than the end of a long-term marriage, while she padded into the kitchen to make coffee and avocado toast.

  Finishing her call with her mother, she ate her very late breakfast, then cleaned up her dishes. After that, she Face-timed her cousin Leigh and told her all about the evening.

  “So,” Leigh said. “This Tom guy, he’s a good dancer.”

  “Yes.”

  “And he’s hot.”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Could there be romance in the air?”

  “I’m not ready for that.”