Daring Brides (11 page)

But Mac’s chef had promised her he could accommodate Rhett’s BBQ extravaganza with her more conventional Americana menu by arranging a massive buffet guaranteed to stuff their guests to the gills. Rhett would have his dry-rub baby back ribs and crayfish boil with roasted corn and new potatoes while she would have her selections of roast chicken, prime rib, and sea bass.

The alcohol had required some compromise as well. Rhett had insisted on beer kegs—something Abbie had never imagined at a wedding—while she had arranged for her champagne fountain. And of course, he’d insisted on a selection of fine bourbons for their guests’ enjoyment, and mint juleps for the more daring. Fortunately, Rhett’s favorite spirit could easily be stocked at the bar along with her selections of pinot grigio and cabernet sauvignon.

He’d left the cake completely up to her. She would have her delicious three layer apricot-filled Lady Baltimore cake with buttercream frosting the color of the Sweet Juliet rose, her favorite flower. All Rhett had asked was that his groom’s cake be chocolate and have something to do with poker. His face had looked oh-so eager as he showed her a picture of a two-tiered cake decorated with the card suits of hearts, diamonds, spades, and clubs, so she’d sighed and compromised.

She had a feeling marriage to Rhett would involve a lot of compromises, but since she loved him so darn much, she truly didn’t mind. Except when his ideas were outright crazy.

Abbie stood in front of the mirror in her hotel suite and took one last look at her dress. She wasn’t a young bride. Heavens, she had a teenage son. A big, flouncy wedding gown simply wouldn’t do. But the simple, one-shoulder, cream-colored satin gown with a draped bodice reminiscent of old Hollywood was perfect. She loved the way it clung to her skin. Rhett would swallow his tongue when he saw her. Then she laughed at herself. She was already picking up some of his unusual Southernisms that she found so charming.

Someone knocked on the door, and she looked in the mirror one last time to make sure her French twist was secure. Not a curl was out of place. A smile spread across her face as she opened the door. The two men who had helped her become who she was today stood in the opening: her brother and her son.

“Wow, Mom,” Dustin gushed, looking way too grown up in the pale blue suit Rhett had chosen for his groomsmen. “You look hot. Rhett’s mouth is going to dry up like an old well when he sees you.”

Obviously she wasn’t the only one who’d resorted to thinking in Rhett-isms. “Why thank you, Dustin. Although I don’t know if it’s appropriate to tell your mother she looks hot.”

He flushed red. “Okay, you’re right. It’s weird.”

Mac leaned in and bussed her cheek so as to not mess up her makeup. “Abbie, you look timeless. I don’t think you’ve ever been more beautiful.”

She pressed her lips together when she felt tears wet her lashes. “Oh, don’t say such things. I’m going to cry.”

“I thought all brides cried on their wedding day,” he mused. “Even tough ones who carry firearms for work.”

Peggy must have been hiding off to the side because she emerged in the opening with her son, Keith. “You do look nice, Abbie.” She winced, as if hearing the understatement in her own words. “You know I’m no good with all this girl stuff.”

“Yeah, Aunt Abbie, you look bea-u-ti-ful,” Keith said in a dramatic tone. The seven-year-old, who took his duties as ring bearer with an appropriate solemnity, looked as cute as a button in a mini version of the suit ensemble her brother and Dustin were wearing.

Her new sister-in-law was more comfortable cuffing criminals than she was around weddings, which is why she hadn’t suggested she help Abbie dress or do her hair and makeup. It would have been too…strange. In truth, she’d rather enjoyed doing it all alone—something she’d wanted to do since the few times she’d been made up by so-called experts, she had ended up not looking like herself. The time alone had been a rare quiet moment in the chaos leading up to the wedding.

“Come inside,” she told her family and led them into the main salon of the suite.

Mac had given her the best one they had in The Grand Mountain Hotel. Outside, it was snowing lightly, and the carpet of white gave Dare Valley a delightfully picturesque feel. She hadn’t expected to marry in winter, but neither of them had wanted to wait, so they’d simply said poo to the cold weather and set the date. The location had been an obvious choice, particularly since Rhett’s only other suggestion had been an Elvis chapel in Vegas…and he’d later admitted to “funnin’ with her” by suggesting it.

“How about a drink?” she asked them.

“You don’t have to serve us, Abbie,” her brother said. “It’s your big day. How about we have a family toast?”

“Me too?” Dustin said with more glee than she cared for.

Mac cocked an eyebrow in her direction. “Ask your mother.”

“Half a glass,” she said as Mac stepped behind the suite’s bar to pick out a fabulous bottle of Dom Perignon she’d seen in the cooler.

The cork flew across the room when he popped it, and Peggy handed him four crystal flutes from one of the glossy mahogany cabinets. Then she poured sparking water into a glass and handed it to Keith.

“Someday, I’ll be big enough to have champagne,” Keith said wistfully.

“Yes, you will, but not today,” his mother said. “You have to be twenty-one.”

His brow furrowed. “But Dustin isn’t twenty-one. Are you going to arrest him?”

Her son gulped, and Abbie almost laughed.

Peggy gave him a pointed glance. “I think Dustin and I understand each other. This is a special occasion, and he won’t be driving.”

“No, not driving or anything,” he assured her with an emphatic nod. “In fact, I’m barely going to take a drink.”

Like she believed that one. “Is the driveway to the hotel clear? You plowed all the new snow, right?” she asked Mac when he handed her a glass. The yeasty smell tickled her nose.

“Abbie,” he said in that same indulgent tone he’d used with her all her life when she fretted. “I told you everything would be perfect.”

And it would be. Mac knew how to make everything perfect.

“Okay, I’m just a little nervous.”

“Chill, Mom,” Dustin told her, raising the glass to take a swig.

Mac stopped him with a gentle hand. “We toast first, kid.”

“Sorry.”

Extending his glass to her, Mac simply said, “To my sister, Abbie, one of the best women in the world. I am so happy to see you marrying one of my closest friends. May you always be as radiant as you are today.”

She dabbed at her eye with her free hand. “Oh, Mac.”

He hugged her close, and they had a moment. For so long, they’d been partners both in business and in the raising of her son. Now all of that was changing. He was living with Peggy and Keith, and she and Dustin would be living with Rhett.

“Here now,” he murmured and set his champagne glass aside untouched so he could fish out a monogrammed pink handkerchief that matched his silk tie and vest.

The handkerchief did the job, but she was afraid she’d have to touch up her makeup before they headed to the suite where she and Rhett would say their vows. After planning her wedding, she’d talked Mac into making one of their suites available for weddings since there weren’t too many event spaces for such occasions beyond the churches in Dare Valley.

She finally took a sip of her champagne, savoring the taste and the feel of the bubbles on her tongue. Keith was staring at his sparkling water and tugging on Mac’s jacket.

“How do they get those bubbles in there without a cork?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Good question. We’ll look it up on the computer after the wedding.”

“Cool! Maybe I can do my science project on it.” He took a big sip of the water and coughed. “It doesn’t taste like water.”

Everyone laughed when he wrinkled his nose for effect.

“We’re getting close to the time, Abbie,” Mac said, checking his wristwatch. “Is there anything else we can do for you before the ceremony?”

“I just need to touch up my makeup,” she said and decided to take her champagne with her into the bathroom. “Be right back.”

“We’ll be here.”

She was dabbing on more face powder when there was a soft knock on the door. Opening it, she found her son, staring down at his shoes.

“Are you almost finished?” he asked.

Since she knew he had something on his mind, she didn’t reach for her lipstick. She could do it after she discovered why he was blushing. Since she knew her son was too much of a teenager to talk to her comfortably while she got herself ready, she stepped out of the bathroom.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked him.

He fished out an envelope and handed it to her. “Rhett gave this to me this morning and told me that you and I should open it together.”

Wishing for her crystal letter opener, she carefully slit the seam with her fingers and drew out the folded paper. Rhett’s handwriting was scrawled across the thick cream linen stock.

It is my intention on this day, January 23, to formally request to adopt Dustin Maven as my son.

She had to stop reading because her lips were trembling so much. Dustin took the top paper from her, started to read, and his eyes immediately filled with tears.

“Oh, man,” her son said in a hoarse voice. “I knew he was going to do it, but it looks like—”

“He’s sending the papers to the judge today,” she finished. “Right after the wedding.”

When he’d told her that he wanted to adopt Dustin, she’d never known anyone could ever make her feel so loved and supported at the same time. Mac had been Dustin’s surrogate father for so long, but now Rhett wished to assume that privilege.

There was a card tucked inside the envelope, so she pulled it out.

To Abbie and Dustin,

I can’t wait to make both of you mine today.

Love, Rhett

“Oh, good heavens,” Abbie said after reading the card. That man got to her like no other.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, and when she saw Dustin was crying as well, she hugged him to her.

“We’re really going to be a family,” her son said in a hoarse voice.

She stroked his hair, rocking him like she used to when he was little. “Yes, we really are.”

And Rhett had known just how to make this day even more special than she could have ever imagined. He hadn’t just made today about the two of them. He’d made it about
all
of them.

“He’s the best guy in the world,” Dustin said. “I’m so glad you’re marrying him, Mom.”

She kissed his head and allowed herself an unladylike sniff. “Me too.”

She was more than ready for the ceremony to begin.

***

Rhett wasn’t lounging with the rest of his buddies on the sofa in his hotel suite. No, he was pacing. And not because he was nervous. He wanted to be with Abbie and Dustin—his new family—
right now.
Having been raised a Southerner, he knew all about wedding traditions. Respected them even. Found some of them sweet. But when they got in the way of him seeing his bride-to-be and his future son, well, those customs grated on his nerves.

His mama, the wonderful Eugenia Lynn Blaylock, and his cousin, Charleston Belle Butler, had been henpecking him all day about maintaining wedding traditions. He’d finally coaxed them out of the suite with the promise of never-ending mint juleps in the Ponderosa Room. He loved those women, cross his heart he did, but they sure knew how to drive a man to drink on his own wedding day.

He wished his poker babes were hanging out with them. They would have sided with him—or at least he thought they would have. But since they were still trying to transition from their roles as his super hot poker babes to his dog walker and publicist, Jane and Elizabeth would be coming later with the rest of the guests. The plan was for them to blend into the background in normal clothes so no one would make the connection. Otherwise, the gig would be up before they’d even made the transition.

“Sit down before you wear the carpet out,” Rye Crenshaw told him.

His buddies hadn’t henpecked him about girly bridal traditions like his mama and cousin liked to do. No, they kept telling him to chill—like today was any other day—or they were lamenting the loss of his bachelorhood.

He gave his friend a hard look and continued pacing. “I can’t stand all this waiting. Why did Abbie and I choose five o’clock for the ceremony?”

“Because it’s closer to dinnertime,” Rye responded, throwing a handful of salted cashews into his mouth.

“All he ever thinks about is his stomach,” Clayton Chandler, Rye’s deputy manager, said, kicking up his black boots onto the walnut coffee table.

“Good thing you and Abbie decided to go with that huge buffet,” songwriter and legal genius John Parker McGuiness added from his perch on the sofa. “Otherwise Rye might have created a shortage with his appetite.”

Rye’s insatiable appetite for good food was an ongoing joke among them. Today Rhett would have hunted down a ham bone for his friend in exchange for help sneaking into Abbie’s hotel suite for just one measly second. But no. Since his buddies were Southerners too—and sometimes gentlemen—they had blocked his plans, citing wedding customs and potential death.