Forever Bound (10 page)

“What’s
Ryan doing?” Patrick, the baby of the family, asked.

“He’s
wrecking everything!” Sheila said.

Ryan
had a very very bad feeling.

When
Sheila passed him the phone, that feeling only got worse.

He
had to talk to Jess before she saw this.

* * *

Mark
was pretty sure this had been the worst vacation of his life. He hadn’t gotten
lucky even once, which had to be some kind of a record. He’d thought he might
score with Fiona, but she’d gotten it on with Kade—of all people. The
pretty maid of honor had avoided him. The waitresses treated him like he had
the plague. And he’d completely failed to convince Jess that Ryan had been
unfaithful. The happy days of bachelorhood were coming to a grinding halt, and
Mark didn’t like it one bit.

The
way he saw it, he might as well start drinking early. It wasn’t like he was
going to need to be able to get it up, not in this place.

“So,
the big plan failed,” a woman said from close beside him and he started. “Score
one for the good guys.”

It
was the waitress, the outspoken one.

Laura.

It
was a curse that he remembered the names of women, even when they weren’t
interested in him.

“I
don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your
big plan to only share a fraction of the money.” Laura rolled her eyes at his
sidelong glance. “That’s serious rat asshole stuff.”

Rat
asshole?

“How
did you know anything about that?”

“I
have ears,” she said flatly.

“But...”

“Oh,
please. Don’t imagine you can paint yourself in a good light here. You’re of a
type that comes through those doors by the dozen. You come here, you fuck
whoever will have you because it makes you feel like a man. You don’t think
about consequences. You think you’re so hot that the rules don’t apply to you.
Great life. Very admirable.”

“I
don’t remember asking for your opinion.”

“So,
you got it for free. Good for you.”

He
watched her, hearing the bitterness in her tone. “Seems like it’s personal.”

“Maybe
once upon a time, it was.” She flicked him a look. “Now it’s just a question of
principle.”

Wait
a minute. Laura
knew
.

She’d
done something to jinx his chances with Alanna.

“Wait
a minute,” Mark said. “You were there, when we were talking about the bet.”

Laura
nodded. “When you showed yourselves to be a group of fine gentlemen.” She
rolled her eyes and stacked glasses on her tray.

“That
waitress, the curvy one...”

“Alanna.
Her name is Alanna. Oh, I guess that wasn’t important, was it?”

“Alanna
was interested in me until then, then she started ducking me.”

“Gosh,
I wonder why.” Laura looked him right in the eye, then hefted her tray and
turned to leave.

“You
did something!” he shouted after her.

“Maybe.”
She laughed. “Maybe I made sure you got what you deserved. That’s all.” And she
left, her hips swinging.

Mark
couldn’t believe it. He scanned the bar, hoping for a drink, but all the
waitresses ignored him. It was like he was invisible, but now he knew who was
responsible for that, at least. He went to the bar and ordered directly from
the bartender, thinking furiously. What had Laura said to the other women?
Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to change their minds.

Which
meant that Laura was the only woman talking to him.

Maybe
she wanted to keep him for herself.

Mark
spun to stare over the restaurant, watching her.

She
was gorgeous. She was smart. And she wasn’t afraid to challenge him. Mark liked
that. He liked it a lot.

* * *

By
lunchtime, Jess was starting to wonder about the rate of literacy in this
particular resort. The flowers were not as she had ordered: they were trying to
tell her that she’d ordered lilies when she knew she’d ordered roses. Lilies
were for funerals. Roses were for weddings. The florist in the resort insisted
that the lilies would be beautiful.

The
kitchen had substituted fish for chicken for the wedding dinner, even though
Jess’s mom couldn’t eat fish and Ryan’s parents didn’t eat fish. The prime rib
that she’d chosen had evidently been a figment of her imagination. Even when
she produced the written contract, the chef and catering manager both professed
ignorance of the document, lapsing into Spanish that Jess couldn’t understand.
The chef appeared to be affronted that she didn’t think his fish entrée would
do.

He
wanted to have céviche for the appetizer. Jess could just imagine the reaction
of both families to raw seafood, but made no progress in winning the chef’s
agreement.

“It’s
as if they have their own plan for the wedding,” Christine murmured, her tone
sympathetic. “And we’ll find out what we get when we get it.”

“I
can’t let them do this,” Jess said. “Ryan’s family are already unhappy about
coming all this way. I was hoping that at least they’d have a meal they found
memorable.”

“I’ll
guess that they’ll remember céviche,” Christine said with a smile.

“And
I’ll be hearing about it for the rest of my life,” Jess said, trying to keep
her temper. “Plus I gave the menu to that reporter. She’ll write that we didn’t
get what I ordered.”

There
was no sign of the minister, who should have arrived that morning on the same
flight with Ryan’s parents. It took Christine ages to get a telephone line,
only to discover that the minister was in bed with the flu and had been unable
to make the trip. He’d evidently left messages at Jess’s apartment and shop,
and was apologetic.

Jess
strove to reassure him, even as she wondered who they’d persuade to officiate.

It
was after the connection failed that she realized another problem.

“He
has the rings!” she said to Christine.

Christine
sat down hard. “Doesn’t Jake have them?”

“No.
Ryan’s mother wanted them blessed by their priest, so Ryan gave them to his
dad. He picked them up last weekend when he was home and gave them to our
minister when we went to church last Sunday. He thought it would be simpler.”

“Ooops,”
Christine said. She patted Jess on the shoulder. “That’s okay. It’s the vows
that count.”

Jess
wanted to agree, even as she watched her dream wedding disintegrate into chaos
before her eyes. “Let’s check the beach.”

The
wedding was scheduled to be on a section of the beach at sunset and the area
was to be cordoned off and cleaned of seaweed in advance.

When
they reached the spot, Jess stared at the volleyball nets set up on the beach.
A raucous game was in progress, rap music spewing out of a boom box. “That
won’t be there Thursday, right?” she said to the woman who was her contact at
the resort.

“It’s
always there.”

“Seriously?”

“That
part over there is for the wedding,” the woman explained. “But our other guests
also use the beach. This was in the contract...”

“But
they’re right beside us! And they have music playing.”

“You
are not the only guests in the resort...”

“Couldn’t
they stop for an hour?”

The
woman’s eyes narrowed and Jess couldn’t stand it any more. She was fresh out of
diplomacy.

Christine
must have seen her face. “You have another appointment, don’t you?” her maid of
honor said with a smile. “I’ll try to work this out, while you take care of
that.”

“Thanks!”
Jess said and meant it. She spun and walked back to the bar, thinking a drink
would ease her tension. She ordered and forced herself to enumerate the things
that were going right.

There
was the dress, perfection in itself.

And
there was Ryan. She had to remember what was important.

Even
if this ceremony was falling apart at the seams.

She’d
just ordered a drink when the reporter doing the blog hailed her from a perch
on a bar stool. “There’s the blushing bride.” She held up her phone and took a
picture of Jess, who was looking far from her best. “Ready for that interview?”

Jess
gritted her teeth when she smiled. “Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me. It’s a
very busy day and I’ve still got a lot to do.”

“Oh
well, maybe later.”

“Yes,”
she agreed, picking up her drink. “I hope we’ll see you at the rehearsal
dinner.”

“Just
one question: fairy tale wedding or nightmare?”

“The
jury’s still out,” Jess muttered under her breath. “Every dream come true, of
course,” she said in a louder voice.

The
journalist looked sly. “Then I guess you haven’t seen today’s post. That
wouldn’t be my dream.”

“No
luck,” Christine murmured from behind Jess, then caught her breath. “What’s
happened now?”

Jess
looked up to see Ryan closing fast, his expression one of concern. He had a
cell phone in his hand. “We have to talk,” he said. “I can explain.”

The
reporter smirked and took another picture of Jess.

Oh
no.

* * *

The
blog post was about the stag.

Entitled
“Fairy Tale Wedding or Nightmare?”, the post featured pictures from the stag
and a story on the bet. Most of the pictures were of Ryan.

He
didn’t remember any of it. They weren’t the best shots that had ever been taken
of him, although he suspected they showed the breasts of the strippers in
particularly good detail.

The
bet was explained in salacious detail, with a sidebar of candid shots of the
other guys. In her blog post, the reporter had speculated on who might win the
honors.

Not
exactly the coverage Jess had been hoping to get. Ryan couldn’t blame her for
being disappointed.

They
retreated to their cottage, and he tried to explain himself. She didn’t scream
or shout. She cried, a lot, cried as if she was wrung right out.

“Maybe
something good will come of it,” he said, trying to sound encouraging.

“It’s
not exactly my target market,” she said, wiping her tears.

“Well,
maybe the guys who follow the blog have fiancés. Maybe they’ll sympathize with
you.”

Jess
gave him a look and he had to admit it was a long shot.

She
sighed. “Are you one of those people who believes all publicity is good
publicity?”

“No,
but I’m starting to think that I’m a lousy marketing consultant. Maybe you
should shop around.”

To
his relief, she smiled, if only for a moment.

“I’m
sorry, Jess. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He took her hand in his. “I’m not
the first guy who got drunk at his stag.”

“I
know. You’re not the first to have his buddies take advantage either.” She
heaved a sigh. “But you might be the first to have starred in a newspaper blog
over it. I wish we’d had some idea what this journalist had planned. I thought
she might run a little paragraph or something when we sent the press release.”

“Well,
she probably thinks she’s getting the real story this way.”

Jess
grimaced. “And making us look like idiots.”

“Yeah.”
He rubbed her hand. “My mom is livid.”

“I’ll
bet.” She brightened. “Maybe they aren’t getting enough hits on the blog for
her to stay for the wedding.”

Ryan
shook his head. “No chance. Sheila said it’s gone viral.”

Jess
rolled her eyes and bent over, putting her face in her hands. “And of course,
every single thing is going wrong. It’s like our wedding is cursed. I’ll never
get another booking again, if this is all over that stupid blog.” She reached
out and grabbed his hand again. “At least you’re here. And the dress arrived.
I’ll take my victories where I can find them today. Just hold me tonight and
I’ll be all right.”

Ryan
swallowed. “Look, I’ve got to tell you something.”

She
gave him a look. “Good-something or bad-something.”

Ryan
winced. “My mom’s making a fuss about our staying together here before we’re
married.”

Jess
looked his way in surprise. “We live together.”

“I
know, but my folks are kind of old-fashioned.”

“And
it’s a problem that even though we’ve been having sex for months, we might have
sex in the forty-eight hours before we pledge to be together forever?”

“I
know it’s silly, but she’s really riled up....”

“You
could tell her about our deal.”