How to Rope a Real Man (7 page)

“Hey, man. I’ve got you on speaker. Jenna and I are only an hour away, and my sister’s following us in her van. Plenty of time to get the flowers everywhere they need to be. What’s up?”

“My brother. He’s here.” His voice had grown thicker with every word.

Matt met Jenna’s bright eyes. She gave a fist pump, grinning. She leaned toward the phone. “That’s fantastic, Kellan. I’m so happy for you.”

“That’s why I’m calling,” Kellan said. “Jake drove, but his car broke down in the Sandia Mountains and it’d take a taxi at least an hour to get to him. How close are you?”

The Sandias stretched along the east side of Albuquerque. Jake would be stuck on Highway 40, the same road Matt, Jenna, and Tara were on. “About the same as a taxi would be. But if a taxi ran late, Jake might not make it to the ceremony in time. Jenna and I will pick him up. I’ll send Tara ahead to the civic center with the flowers.”

Blinker on, he slowed the SUV onto the next off-ramp.

Kellan released a huge huff of air into the phone. “My brother drove from L.A. for my wedding.” He said it like maybe giving voice to it again would make it seem more believable.

Matt had never met Jake and he didn’t understand a lot about Kellan and Jake’s history, but he kind of hated Jake on the basis of all the circumstantial evidence he’d been presented. No way should a man have that much gratitude in his voice for his brother doing what every brother
should
do in the first place. But to each his own. Kellan was happy and his wedding was going to go off without incident. All was well.

He came to a full stop at the bottom of the ramp. There wasn’t any traffic at all out here in the middle of nowhere, so he wasn’t worried about blocking the lane for any other cars. Tara followed suit, probably wondering what the heck was going on.

“You’re going to have a fantastic wedding, man. The greatest. Amy’s feeling better, we’ve got your flowers, and we’re going to bring your brother. Nothing to worry about. You just relax and enjoy yourself, okay? We’ve got you covered.”

“You’re the best, Matt. Jenna, you too.”

After a few more words of consolation and thanks, Matt scribbled down Jake’s cell phone number and a description of the location, then ended the call.

He punched in Tara’s number and filled her in on the latest development. “You got this, sis? You know where you’re going?”

“Believe it or not, this isn’t my first wedding as a florist.” Always the smart-ass. “You two get the groom’s brother and I’ll see you at the reception hall in a few hours.”

“Thank you again. Now go forth and updo.” He tossed the phone into the center console and turned left onto the road under the freeway, then back up the ramp in the opposite direction.

“Wow,” said Jenna. She sat with a rigid spine, blinking hard. “Jake drove. I didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did Kellan, by the sound of it. Can’t wait to find out what Jake’s story is as to why he missed his flight.”

They blasted by the turn-off to the route leading to Santa Fe, headed west toward Albuquerque. Even though Matt’s speedometer read seventy-five, it felt like they were crawling along in comparison to how fast the numbers were clicking higher on the clock. After what felt like ages, they started to climb in elevation. The plants evolved from scrubby bushes to squat, mangy desert trees, and the road grew twisty.

After they passed the mile marker Kellan had given them for reference, tense silence filled the car as they concentrated on every turnout and shoulder looking for Jake.

“There he is,” Jenna said as they took a hairpin turn.

Sure enough, a sporty black coup sat in a turn-out. Matt pulled in behind it. A man who looked like a younger, tougher version of Kellan leaned against the side, two ripped, bulky arms crossed over his chest and a murderous expression carved on his face. His black hair was cropped short, about the same length as the facial hair that was desperately in need of a shave.

With the black ribbed tank top and nylon workout pants, he looked more MMA fighter than cop, but that look probably came in handy for a SWAT officer. “He looks pissed,” Matt said out of the side of his mouth.

Jenna chuckled under her breath. “I’ve only met the guy once, but Jake’s always pissed, as far as I can tell. In his defense, it’s nearly a hundred degrees outside. I’d be ticked off too if my car died in the middle of nowhere during the summer heat.”

Matt opened the door and hopped out. Jenna did the same.

Jake pushed away from the car and started their way. “Jenna, am I glad to see you. And you must be Matt?”

“Yeah. Nice to meet you, Jake.” They shook, and Matt’s initial impression of the guy softened. His angry eyes were red-rimmed and sat above dark bags, and his overgrown facial hair looked even scragglier up close. Whatever had led to Jake Reed being stranded on the side of the highway in the middle of New Mexico had to be one doozy of a story. “Grab your stuff and let’s get you into some air-conditioning.”

A dry, sardonic laugh burst from him. “Jesus, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in days. Thanks for the lift. My piece-of-crap car isn’t used to this kind of heat, I guess.”

It didn’t look like a piece-of-crap car to Matt. It looked like it might be worth more than Matt’s annual salary, but if it couldn’t last through a twelve-hour drive, maybe it really was a pile of junk under that slick exterior. God knew Matt had met many a lawyer and oil executive in his day who matched that description.

Jake grabbed a stuffed backpack from his passenger seat and collapsed on the backseat of the SUV. Jenna handed him a fresh water bottle.

He snapped off the lid and drank deeply. “Kellan said you two were off getting flowers. For the wedding?”

“I got jilted by the original florist, but Matt’s sister Tara saved our butts,” Jenna said.

Jake shook his head. “It’s always something, isn’t it? When I got married, the cake lady sent the wrong cake. She sent us this one with strawberry filling and Heather, the girl I was marrying, hated strawberries. We didn’t find out it was wrong inside until we cut it. That was probably a sign, like a bad omen, that Heather and I were doomed.”

“How long were you married?” Jenna asked.

Jake broke out in a self-deprecating smile. “We put up with each other’s shit for a whole three months before bailing. I’m not that guy, you know? Husband material.”

Matt wouldn’t touch that comment with a ten-foot pole. “How’d you end up making this drive? I bet it was a grind.”

He rubbed his eyes and lounged back. “I missed my flight and this was the best I could come up with.”

“No offense, but you don’t look so good,” Jenna said.

Jake sniggered. “Yeah, I bet. Haven’t slept in a few days.”

“Kellan said you had a work emergency.”

“Worse than that, but it was all I could think to say.” He took another noisy hit of water. “Nick, my partner, is in the hospital. Dropped right in the middle of an operation. A thirty-five-year-old man in prime shape and he had a fucking stroke right there next to me in a crapper of an alley while we were closing in on a suspect.”

Matt looked in the backseat through the rearview mirror. Jake stared at the water bottle in his folded hands, looking frustrated and tired.

Jenna twisted and set a hand on his knee. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. He survived surgery, but he’s still in a coma. All his family lives in Wyoming so I stayed with him until his folks got there.”

Matt swallowed hard, feeling like a douche bag for being so critical of Jake before knowing the real score. Amazing how easy it was to get on a high horse and forget that other people had their own stuff going on. “I’m really sorry about all that. I have an older brother who’s a cop, and we’re always worried about him being safe around all the scumbags and criminals, but to get taken down by a stroke? That’s the worst kind of irony.”

“You should’ve seen the look on his mother’s face when she first walked into the hospital room. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I’ve seen some heartbreaking shit on the job. I almost cancelled coming to the wedding. Nick and I have been partners for five years, you know? How could I leave him and his family and take off for a party? Didn’t seem right.”

Into the stretching silence, Jenna asked what Matt had been afraid to. “What changed your mind?”

“Complicated.”

In other words, mind your own business. Matt was all for that, but Jenna had other ideas.

“We can do complicated,” she said. “We’ve got two hours to kill before we get to the civic center.”

Matt gauged Jake’s reaction through the mirror, prepared to step in the middle of the conversation if he got snappy or rude to Jenna. Jake squirmed in his seat and scratched the thick stubble on his neck, but the seething look he’d had when they’d picked him up didn’t return. “All right. Fine. I didn’t invite Kellan to my wedding. I wanted to give him a big screw-you for all the bad blood we’d worked up through the years, but, uh . . . I’d do it differently if I had to do it again. I think being at his wedding makes up for that, at least a little.”

“It makes up a lot,” Jenna said gently. “When Kellan called asking us to give you a lift, he was choked up that you’d made an all-night drive to be with him.”

The plastic bottle crinkled as Jake drained it of water. After a few silent beats, he released a heavy sigh, thick with burden. “I’ve never been a best man before.”

The vulnerability implicit in his admission hit Matt in the gut. Whatever conclusions he’d jumped to about Jake, he’d been dead wrong. Here was a guy much like him, dealing with personal demons and doing the best he could to be a good man.

Matt cleared his throat and tried to sound casual and optimistic. “Being a best man is easy. I was a best man at my college roommate’s wedding and one of my brothers’. The only tricky part is the speech. I tried to recite it from memory the first time and that didn’t go so hot. There’s no shame in using your notes.”

Jake cursed. Matt’s eyes flew to the mirror. Jake was gripping the door handle like he was considering ripping it open and making a break for it.

The truth hit Jenna at the same time it did Matt. “You didn’t write a speech, did you?” she asked.

Another curse. “I thought something would come to me, but then with what happened to Nick, I . . .” He shook his head, his eyes back on his clasped hands. “What am I supposed to say about Kellan? It’s not like the two of us have spent much time together in the past twenty years.” He closed his fingers into a fist around the empty water bottle, crushing it.

To Matt’s way of thinking, there was only one thing to be done in a crisis like this. “Jenna, could you reach under your seat? There should be a pad of paper there.”

He grabbed one of the pens he kept stashed in his center console. Over the years, his car had morphed into a rolling office since most of his business was conducted from the road. He preferred to meet homeowners dealing with oil issues at their houses, where they were most comfortable and he could look at the land in question.

He clicked the pen, then tossed it to the backseat along with one of the candy bars left over from the all-nighter at Carpe Diem. “Okay, Jake. Brace yourself. It’s time to get mushy.”

Matt, Jenna, and Jake hightailed it from the parking lot into the lobby of the Tucumcari Civic Center with thirty minutes until showtime with the photographer.

Jenna had phoned Rachel and Kellan with an E.T.A. fifteen minutes earlier and confirmed that Jenna’s bridesmaid dress and boots were waiting for her in the bridal suite down the right-hand hallway from the ballroom, along with the hairdresser. Vaughn and Kellan were waiting with Matt and Jake’s tuxedos in the groom’s suite down the hall on the opposite side of the ballroom.

Tara emerged into the lobby from the ballroom’s double doors. Her hair was in disarray behind the red bandanna she’d fashioned into a headband and her cheeks were flushed from exertion. Her tank top was covered in pollen and petals, and her red, swollen nose and eyes dripped with moisture.

“Well?” Jenna asked. “How’d you do?”

Tara flashed a thumbs-up and a watery smile. “It’s ready. We did it.”

She was on her way to hugging Jenna when she noticed Jake and pulled back. “Oh.”

Jake squared his shoulders and gave her a once-over. “Oh, yourself.”

Matt had no idea what
oh
meant, and neither Jake’s nor Tara’s expression was giving much away.

“Who’s this, Jenna?” Jake asked.

Jenna fumbled through an introduction. “Um, Tara, this is Jake. Jake, this is Matt’s sister, Tara.”

Jake crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze raking over her tattoos. “So you’re the new flower lady that saved the day?”

Tara wiped her drippy nose with the back of her hand. “That’s me.”

“Your clothes are a mess and your face is leaking. What, are you allergic to flowers or something?”

Tara planted her hands on her hips and looked about as confident as a woman could with puffy sinuses and a shirt covered in flower debris. “Maybe I am. And you must be the best man who almost missed his brother’s wedding.”

“That’s me.” Jake’s eyes gleamed and his face morphed into either a scowl or a smile. With Jake, it was impossible to tell.

Matt wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was getting some weird vibes from the two of them so he stepped between them. “Tara, you said you’re done with the flowers. Are you hitting the road soon?”

She tore her gaze from the staring contest with Jake. “No. Ira called. He’s taking the kids to his house for the rest of the weekend so they can swim in his complex’s pool. Kellan invited me to stay. Mom and Dad are stopping by my place to pick me up a dress for tonight and one of the bridesmaids gave me the key to her hotel room so I can shower and primp.”

Their parents were coming to the wedding because they’d sold a handful of horses to Kellan over the years and, from what Matt could tell, he’d pretty much invited everyone he’d ever crossed paths with to his special day.

Tara swung her attention back to Jake, who had yet to take his eyes off her. “You need to shave. You can’t be in a wedding looking like that. It’ll offset all my beautiful flower arrangements.”

Jake narrowed his eyes.

Behind them, a door clattered. Matt twisted to see Kellan approaching, dressed to the nines in a tux and fancy new black Stetson. “Jake.”

For the first time, Jake’s focus left Tara. He strode over the carpet and met his brother halfway, his hand outstretched in greeting. “Sorry I’m late, man.”

Kellan got that look in his eyes and arms like he was about to grab Jake in a hug, but he jammed his left hand in his pocket and slapped his right one into Jake’s in a vigorous handshake. “I’m just glad you made it. Is everything okay at work?”

“Yeah.” Shrugging, Jake swatted the air. “With the LAPD, it’s always something. Nothing you want to hear about on your wedding day.”

Good on you, Jake.

“You got my monkey suit ready?” he asked Kellan.

“Absolutely. The groom’s suite has a shower so you can get cleaned up. That is one ugly beard you’ve got going.”

Jake scraped his fingers from his cheek to his neck, and this time Matt could tell he sported a grin and not a scowl. “It wasn’t a beard when I left L.A. I feel like a fuckin’ werewolf sometimes.”

Kellan rocked onto the heels of his shiny, black boots, affection radiating from his eyes. “I know what you mean.”

Tara patted Matt’s arm, wiggled some fingers at Jenna, and whispered, “I’m going to go get ready. See you soon.”

Jake’s chin flicked once, briefly, over his shoulder in Tara’s direction as she walked away. “I’d better get busy if the pictures start in a half hour. Is the suite this way?” He motioned to the hall Kellan had emerged from.

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’m right behind you.”

Jake afforded Matt and Jenna a one-finger wave. “Thanks for the lift and everything else.” Without waiting for a response, he turned his back to them and walked away.

“Matt, Jenna.” Kellan’s jaw was tight as he bridged the rest of the distance between them. He snagged both their shoulders for a group hug. “I can’t thank you enough. I don’t know what to say.”

Matt slapped his back. “It’s nothing. Happy to help.”

Jenna kissed his cheek. “You make my sister happier than she’s ever been in her life, and that’s thanks enough for me.”

“Still, I owe you.”

“No, you don’t,” Jenna and Matt answered at the same time.

Kellan pulled away from the hug, smiling. “The photographer’s starting with the groomsmen and me and Amy, so you have enough time to get ready, Jenna. Don’t worry about Tommy. My mom and Mr. Dixon are getting him dressed and ready at the hotel. I’m going to make sure Jake’s finding everything he needs. You coming, Matt?”

“In a sec.”

The moment Kellan disappeared and they were alone, Jenna and Matt’s eyes found each other.

“We did it,” he said, and before he could think better of it, he raised his hand for a high-five. ’Cause that was the smooth thing to do with a hot woman—high-five her like she was one of the guys. Doofus.

Before he could lower his hand, she set her palm on his and curled her fingers down. “You’re the one who made it happen. You saved the day.”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, the same soft expression she’d had the night before when she’d wanted a kiss. He twisted away from her grip. “Like I said, I’m happy to help.”

Unfazed, one corner of her lip kicked up. “Want to know something else?”

He was almost afraid to ask. “What?”

Her coy grin blossomed into a full-blown smile. “Your sister has a thing for Kellan’s brother.”

“No way. They were totally rude to each other. Plus he’s scary-looking.” And he had a completely opposite worldview from Tara, who thought all women should be surrounded by flowers and beauty.

“I think she likes the rough ones.”

Matt pressed his hands to his head with a groan, fighting to deflect the unwanted knowledge from sinking in. “I don’t want to think about that. She’s my sister. Bleh. More brain bleaching needed.”

“You’ll survive.” Chuckling, Jenna wrapped her arm around him, then ran the pad of her thumb over his lower lip.

He swallowed hard and thought about the pictures in his wallet. He thought about how he’d coached Brandon’s little league team that one year. He, Brandon, and Lauren had been playing house for two years and his transition into coaching had felt so good and right. A dream come true. The next season, after he and Lauren broke it off, he showed up to watch a game and Lauren asked him to leave. Too confusing for Brandon, she’d said.

That’s when he knew, once and for all, he was done with single moms. Because Lauren was absolutely right. It wasn’t fair for the kids to have him hanging around after he and their mom split. But standing here with Jenna, her soft, small hand warming his face, her flirty eyes bidding him nearer, it was so easy to forget everything he stood to lose.

His dad’s favorite saying came to him. No one ever said doing the right thing was easy. He turned the words over in his mind. What he was doing, leading Jenna on and flirting with her as he’d been, was wrong. It had to stop here and now. Time for him to man up and do the right thing.

Gathering her in his arms, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “You are . . . incredible.”

She stiffened, then pushed back and searched his face with mournful eyes. “But that’s not enough, is it?”

“You’ve got it backward. It’s that I’m not enough.” For one feverish moment, he thought about telling her why. Stupid idea because the last woman he’d told had sworn it didn’t matter to her right up until she broke up with him because she didn’t think their futures meshed—a.k.a., she wanted children and he couldn’t give them to her. End of story.

It was the one fact about his life that would never change. And there was no use praying about it or wasting time and money seeing any more doctors about it, because there was no cure. Matt’s infertility was in his goddamn DNA.

“You’re more than enough.” Closing her eyes again, she grazed his jaw with her closed lips. “You’re all I want.”

He’d heard that before too. “I bet that’s not true. I bet you want more kids.”

“Of course. But we don’t need to get ahead of ourselves. That doesn’t have anything to do with you kissing me right now.”

Impossible not to wince. And she must’ve seen it because she dropped her arms and put some space between them. He braced his hands on his hips, grinding his teeth, fighting to get a grip. “I can’t be with you and I’m sorry that I’ve led you to believe otherwise. That was unconscionable of me.”

Instead of looking offended, though, her expression remained soft, imploring. “Is it because we practice different religions? Because that doesn’t matter to me.”

In the months since he’d met Jenna, he’d contemplated that difference, even used it as an excuse on occasion when he was trying to convince himself that they were wrong for each other, but an excuse was all it was. Not an insurmountable problem or a deal breaker. Nothing that love couldn’t have conquered had he not been a broken man. “No. That’s not it. I wish that was all it was. It’s just me, and I . . . I can’t. I’m sorry.”

She nodded as though digesting his rejection. The world stilled as they studied each other in silence. He hoped he didn’t transmit any of the overwhelming frustration he felt. He hoped he looked strong and committed to his choice.

Finally, she drew herself up tall. “I won’t pressure you anymore. But please understand I care about you. A lot. And I think you and I would be great together. I want you to know that whatever it is—whatever you’re not telling me—if someday you decide to trust me with it, I won’t let you down and I won’t hurt you. You can take that to the bank.”

Her words slayed him. All he could do was push his tongue against the roof of his mouth and stay standing.
No one ever said doing the right thing was easy.

She cupped his cheek and it was a wonder that he was holding it together enough not to nuzzle deeper into her touch.

“Jenna—”

Her thumb slipped over his lips. “Shhh. You think about what I said, okay?” She brushed a kiss across his jaw. “I’ll see you at the wedding. You’re going to save a dance for me, right?”

“Of course.”

Nodding wistfully, she turned and walked away.

In a daze, Matt headed toward the groom’s suite, not releasing the breath he’d been holding until he heard the door to the bridal suite open and close. He stopped moving and wiped the back of his hand over his cheek and lips, where his skin still tingled from her touch.

He’d wanted Jenna Sorentino from the minute he’d laid eyes on her. From her toes to the wavy tips of her dark blond hair, and every little bit of her in between. Eight months later, the feeling had exploded into a fierce, unrelenting need.

He’d thought he was being strong, denying himself of Jenna. Self-preserving and strong, like a man should be. But if that was the case, then why was he still standing there shaky and breathless. Why did he feel so damn weak?

There was no denying it. Amy made a stunning bride.

Jenna froze in the door of the bridal suite and clamped a hand over her mouth as tears threatened. She’d never seen her sister look so beautiful.

Amy walked her way, arms outstretched. Rather than hug her, Jenna joined hands with her and held her arms open so she could thoroughly admire the way she looked. The sweep of her hair lent a perfect balance to her figure, lengthening her neck and highlighting her slender, strong arms and shoulders. As it had been when she’d first tried it on, her wedding dress was a head-turning knockout. An off-the-shoulder scoop neck in cream and lace, it hugged in all the right places, accentuating the curviness of her figure.

Kellan would be scraping his jaw off the ground after he saw her. Too bad Jenna would still be getting ready when he and Amy glimpsed each other in their fineries for the first time. Hopefully the photographer would capture the look on his face because it was going to be priceless.

She and Jenna had shopped for the dress together in a marathon day trip to Albuquerque with Kellan’s credit card, along with his blessing to buy whatever made Amy happy. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say Rachel had been relieved to stay at the farm and watch Tommy. Shopping—especially dress shopping—was as torturous a notion to her as getting a pedicure.

Though Amy looked stunning, her skin was paler than usual, and Jenna was fairly certain it wasn’t because of the makeup. Maybe she wasn’t as over her stomach ailment as she’d led Kellan to believe. In support of her theory, the glass of champagne someone had poured for her sat untouched on the glass coffee table. Only Lisa, Sloane, and Rachel were taking advantage of the bottle Jenna had paid the staff to stock.

Rachel, beaming ear to ear, nudged Jenna’s arm and gestured to Amy with her champagne flute. “She cleans up well, doesn’t she?”

“Does she ever,” Jenna said. “And so do you.”

Rachel’s impossibly straight brown hair had been twisted into a flower-dotted updo much like Amy’s. Marti, Catcher Creek’s premier hairstylist, had skillfully arranged it. However, on Rachel the style looked rather silly. As frivolous as the ruffle lining the bottom of the strapless pink country dress Jenna and Lisa Binderman had chosen for the bridesmaids. And yet her freckled, tanned skin glowed healthy and vibrant against the delicate fabric. She’d even accepted the application of mascara and eye shadow.