Ready to Wed (13 page)

Okay, so I totally didn’t deserve to be in this course, but it got me thinking that maybe I could use a couple of the tips. I’d already changed my environment, but maybe I needed to avoid getting in the habit of thinking about Brendan in any way but as friends. And I’d think of Grant as a possibility. And I’d change my thinking about weddings, too.

First I imagined smashing a cake into a mess of icing and a cracked cake topper, ripping apart a bridal gown, and overturning decorated tables, centerpieces and flowers flying everywhere. Months of work destroyed in the most satisfying way. Then I mentally put it together again, a nice wedding puzzle that ended with picturesque perfection. It didn’t make me super happy to think of my next event, but it did make me think it was bearable.

I
was in control of my life. Phoebe could write about it all she liked, but I wouldn’t let her change me. And I supposed I’d try extra hard not to punch her. Even make it a goal on my to-do list and everything.

After having Ron sign off on my slip, I bumped the knuckles Wild Bill held out to me, and told him I’d catch him next time.

Hope and tingly-happy feelings for weddings could wait. Right now, I was just grateful to be turning over a new leaf in my life. I crossed
Anger management class
off my to-do list, and moved down to the
Find a way to renew my hope in love
action item on the bottom. I figured it was time to change the color from Tangerine to Canary. Still elevated, but no longer high risk.

Yeah, I was all over this.

…

“How was Hulk class?” Brendan asked as I dropped my giant purse so I could give Cupid some attention.

I smooshed my doggy’s face between my hands and told him what a good boy he was, then glanced up at Brendan. “It’s anti-Hulk class, thank you very much. And it wasn’t as bad as I expected. I even made some friends.” I dug into my pocket and held up Wild Bill’s card as I moved closer to Brendan. “See. Good in a bar fight or if you’re looking to sport some ink.”

Brendan shot me a smile that I felt deep in my gut. “I’m so proud.”

He’s my friend. The friend glue that’s holding my life together right now.
I didn’t know what I’d do if I didn’t get to decompress around him—probably self-combust. Of course, decompressing wasn’t easy once I started thinking about those undone buttons on his shirt and what would happen if a few more of them came loose.

I switched to the topic that’d help derail that line of thinking. “So, Grant came into my office today.”

There was a slight tic in Brendan’s jaw, so I decided to skip the part where Brendan and I were in the paper and Grant was upset about it, and focused on the part I could use help on—I’d call Jillian tomorrow, but I already knew she’d tell me Grant didn’t deserve another shot, so I wanted another opinion. A less biased one. “He wants me to meet his son.” I perched on the arm of the couch, happy to take my weight off my sore ankle. “I said I would, even though it kinda freaks me out, and I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”

“Does that mean you’re thinking of getting back together with him?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know. He claims that’s what he wants. For now I’m going to take it slow. See what happens.”

For a moment it was dead silent. Apparently Brendan wasn’t going to be giving me any advice, and now it seemed weird that I’d asked his opinion. Cupid was dancing around at my feet anyway, giving me sad eyes, so I walked into the kitchen and got him a treat. When I turned around, Brendan was right behind me.

“Meeting someone’s kid isn’t going slow, Deej. It’s a serious step that implies you’re planning on being in both of their lives.”

“I worried about that at first, too, but it’ll just be lunch at the park. Grant assured me it’d be casual, and he needs my help.”

“Casual,” Brendan muttered. “Sounds like he’s manipulating you into meeting his son so he can use him to get you back.”

“I heard that.”

“Good.” Brendan’s eyes met mine. “You should be aware of what he’s trying to do.”

I sighed. “No matter how many times he says he still wants me, the only way for me to believe it is to see if I still fit into his life, kid and all. I’m trying to be careful, but it’s not like there’s a manual on how to act in this situation. If there was, I would’ve read it and had it highlighted and tabbed by now.”

A little of the tension leaked out of the room as Brendan bit back a smile. “I have no doubt you would.” He ran a hand through his hair and then glanced at me, his eyebrows drawing together as he noticed the way I was standing with all my weight on one side. “How’s the ankle?”

I lifted it and rotated it one way and then the other. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to piggyback me around for the foreseeable future,” I joked, glad to be on to an easier topic.

“Fine by me. It’ll be good exercise, packing you around.” He brushed past me, opened the freezer, and peered inside.

“I’ll try not to take that to mean I’m only good for weight training.” I thought he’d turn and make another joke, but he was still digging around, his attention on the bags of frozen food. I leaned on the counter. “Actually, I’m surprised by how much better it feels. I should be back in my heels in no time.”

Brendan glanced at me and then shook his head. He pulled out a bag of frozen peas, came over and put his arm around my waist, and then walked me back to the couch. I probably didn’t need to lean on him as heavily as I did, but he was warm and solid, and wearing that amazing total-guy cologne he always did.

We set up on the couch, and when he placed the icy peas on my ankle, I flinched and sighed, the cool nice and uncomfortable at the same time. Which pretty much described how being around Brendan always made me feel.

When I glanced up, I noticed a dark spot on his skin. “Is that a bruise on your chin?”

Brendan ran his fingers across his jaw, right where the hint of purple was. “Hmm. I didn’t think it’d bruise. Guess I need some ice, too.”

“Did someone hit you?”

“Barely glanced off me, really—not a big deal. Once in a while people take a swing, but they rarely land, and they only get one.”

I blinked at him for a moment, thinking I shouldn’t be turned on by the threat in his voice. “I’m now picturing you in the back room, going all
Sopranos
-style on a guy.”

Brendan’s expression didn’t confirm or deny.

“Wait…so at your job, takedowns are encouraged, and at mine, just saying the word ‘punch’ lands me in an anger management course? Wanna trade?”

He cracked a smile. “No one wants me planning a wedding or writing an article about it. I’d end up saying red or pink instead of crimson or…”

“Watermelon? Dusty rose? Orchid? Salmon? I could go on all day.”

“See. I totally fail at fifty shades of pink. And if it makes you feel any better, most days my job is more observing and keeping things in check than getting to take anyone down.” He shifted the peas on my now-numb ankle, which was now looking rather pink itself. “You should come by sometime. Tell them you know me, and I’ll give you the whole tour—the stuff no one else gets to see.” His eyes lit up when he talked about his job. I could tell that he liked it and was good at it, and it gave me hope that he was here in town to stay.

“Hmm, a trip to the casino. Can I bring all my new anger management friends with me?” I asked, all false innocence.

“Uh, no.” He leaned over me to grab the TV remote off the coffee table, his firm chest pressing against my thigh, his face so close that I could see his pulse beating at his neck.

It’d be so easy to lean in and kiss his cheek, drag my lips across his skin. A swirl of desire went through me. Reminding myself that Brendan and I needed to remain only friends just got upgraded to Fuchsia.

Chapter Sixteen

The good thing about being crazy busy was I didn’t have much time to think about my hot roommate or my also hot, maybe not-so-exed fiancé. The bad thing was, I kinda missed hanging out with my hot roommate. Not that I didn’t miss my other guy. Not that they were my guys.

Okay, I think I fried my brain. Which means I need coffee to jump-start it.

I strode to the kitchen, risking heels for the first time in a week. As long as I was careful, I should be fine. I opened the coffee bag and inhaled, hoping it’d help me be awake enough to get it into liquid form.

Cool air came in from the open sliding door. Within an hour it’d be stifling again, which, don’t get me wrong, I liked, but the hint of cool was nice. When I got to the window for a closer look at the morning light, I caught sight of a whole lot more than I bargained for. Brendan was shirtless, shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips, sweat glistening on his skin.

He must’ve just gotten back from his morning run. He tossed a tennis ball across the yard, the lean muscles in his back flexing under tan skin, and Cupid charged after it. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away, and I was pretty sure I was drooling at least as much as, if not more than, my dog.

Apparently I needed to be busier. Good thing I had a wedding to put on.

As if he could sense me, Brendan glanced back at me and waved.

The jolt in my gut was more powerful than the caffeinated beverage I was waiting on could ever be. Words weren’t forming, so I simply lifted my hand and smiled.

“Come on, Cupid,” Brendan called. “I gotta get ready for work.”

Cupid darted past me, the yellow ball in his mouth. Brendan was much slower, taking up the entire doorway before I realized that I should—duh—move out of the way so he could come inside.

I busied myself by grabbing a couple of mugs out of the cupboard. “Coffee?”

“Later.” He poured himself a glass of water, and while logically I was sure he was just drinking it, it seemed like he was slow-motion drinking. “You’ve got a wedding today, right?”

Yes. The wedding. Good distraction. “Yeah, and the bride wants her cat to be the ring bearer, so I’m at Code Fuchsia already.”

He leaned against the counter, crossing one ankle over the other, his chest still gloriously naked. In order to maintain cognitive thought, I focused on his face. But then I was noticing the stubble forming on his jaw, how the blond caught the light, and the tiny mole next to his nose. The dark brown eyes.

“Code Fuchsia?” he asked, and it took me a second to realize I’d brought it up, and that of course he didn’t know what it meant.

“It s-started as a joke,” I stuttered. “For bridal meltdowns. Like the terror code alert, but fancier colors. The brighter the color, the more dire the situation. It sorta seeped into my daily life, too. I even color code my to-do list. Keeps me on top of the high-action items.”

He nodded like it wasn’t an odd thing to do, but his twitching mouth said he was fighting the urge to mock me for it. “So what’s under fuchsia?”

“The full code is actually Fanatic Fuchsia, Temperamental Tangerine, Wary Canary, Cautious Cobalt, down all the way to Low-Key Lime. Although sometimes Lime is just a level of shock that appears low-key but is masking Tangerine or even Fuchsia. ”

“No purple?” Definitely mocking me now, a sexy smile curving his lips.

“Not on the code scale, but there’s Purple Passion of course. So something I or my bride care a lot about, but there’s not the meltdown factor involved. It’s more like good job, there’s some Purple Passion going on over there.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe I just told you all of that.”

“I can’t believe I’ve missed out on Purple Passion all my life.” The mockery in his expression faded as he looked at me. His throat worked a swallow, his eyes darkened and—I could have sworn—dropped to my lips.

Oh holy crap.
I gripped my mug like a lifeline, taking shallow breaths to calm my spiking heart rate. “So. Yeah. Code Fuchsia is happening today. I’m cursed with animals, and I don’t trust a fluffy ring bearer.”

Cupid barked, making me jump. Coffee sloshed over my cup, onto my hands. I hadn’t even realized my dog had come back in the room. “Not you, Cupid. You’re perfectly trustworthy.”

He wagged his tail, apparently satisfied with my compliment. Brendan grabbed a paper towel and squatted down, dabbing at the coffee on the floor. He glanced at my feet, and I was acutely aware of my bare legs.

His eyebrows drew together—not the reaction I was hoping for. Not that I was hoping for one, but no girl wants her gams to be frowned at. “Heels?”

Oh. That. “Baby heels. My ankle’s fine, I swear.” I wiggled my foot to prove it. “I have spare ballet flats if I need them. You know me. Always prepared.”

He straightened, so close now that I could feel the warmth radiating off him. He smelled like sunshine and dude, with a side of take-me-now.

Great, now
I’m
at Purple Passion. Nothing says ready to wed like a horny wedding planner.
“I’d better get going,” I said, embarrassed at how breathy my voice came out.

Brendan caught my hand as I started to turn. He gave it a quick squeeze. “Good luck with your fuchsia situation.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes. But with an animal curse on the line, my optimism is at Code White. Aka, nonexistent.”

Get Ready to Wed
by Dakota Halifax

Dogs, Horses, and Birds, Oh
My
!

Now, a quick word about involving animals in your wedding. Think of an infant, about a year old, running through your wedding, tugging on tablecloths and pulling off centerpieces. That’s about the same thing as having animals present for your special day. Only their parents won’t stop them. (Parents of small children, you really should stop them.) I’m just letting you know that when you invite animals in, you’re also inviting chaos whether you mean to or not.

Horses kick, run, and try to eat the flowers; cats hiss, claw, and run through cakes—they also get tortured by those children whose parents aren’t watching them—and dogs bark and feel the need to mark everything. Next thing you know, you’ve got pee at every table and surprises that need scooping up. Is that romance in the air? No, it’s much smellier and totally unwelcome. Releasing doves at weddings, while romantic, also comes with a side of—well, you know. You’ve seen the nasty white globs on your windshield, so think twice about it. Those flamingos you think will add “flavor” to your big day? They don’t always like humans in their space, and those beaks aren’t just for decoration. They’re really better left strutting around the wildlife habitat at the Flamingo where they have experts to take care of them in their own reserved space. Animals are an unpredictable variable that can cause the most planned to turn into the most hectic.

Is that Roscoe scratching at the door, begging to be let in? You better go get him. I know you’re not listening anyway and you want him to be in your wedding. It’s okay. You’re the bride and you want what you want. I understand and I’ll try to help you anyway. Just try to be as understanding when even I can’t control what your hairy family member does on your special, now-more-hectic day.

…

Maybe I’d cursed myself. Maybe optimism would’ve prevented this. And maybe that tree branch would hold my weight.

Maybes were so much fun, no?

I’d abandoned my shoes, hiked up my skirt, and shinnied up the tree after the fluffy ring bearer who was hell-bent on making my job impossible. They say curiosity killed the cat. Right now, I was thinking she should be more scared of me. Why didn’t I own a tranq gun? Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Clearly an oversight on my part.

On top of that fun, Waverly, the bridezilla of all bridezillas, decided this morning that she should’ve gotten a white limo to drive away from the ceremony, and that no respectable wedding was without one. Had she expressed this desire before, I could’ve had one lined up. As it was, I’d managed to get a black limo scheduled, but it was going to cost twice as much, and the father of the bride decided I was trying to price gouge him.

Yes, all price-gouging wedding planners climb after Pookie when she darts up a tree. All part of the service that not enough money in the world would cover—especially if I exposed my underwear to everyone in the near vicinity. I told myself the same thing I did when Brendan was frowning at my heels as he cleaned up the spilled coffee this morning, close enough to be able to look up my skirt—at least I’d worn my sexy, ironically enough, purple underwear today. Although truth be told, I didn’t want anyone to actually see it while I was in a tree.

Since I was starting to wish Pookie a horribly awful fate, I took a couple of deep breaths and pictured myself climbing down with the cat, both of us unharmed, and the perfect wedding that’d follow. Hey, I was nothing if not a fast learner, and I might as well put my anger management class tips to use.

“Dakota?”

Clinging on to a nearby branch, I searched the ground for Jillian.

“How’s it going?” she asked, humor filling her words.

“Great. Just fancied a climb before the day’s activities. Also, that white furball over there has the rings. Waverly got the creature when she was eleven, and while it’s ancient in cat years and pretended it could hardly walk, it suddenly decided to shoot up the tree when the florist arrived.”

“Ah, the curse. What a bitch.” I wasn’t sure if she meant the curse or the cat, but both seemed especially bitch-like right now. Jillian glanced from me to the cat, probably calculating the distance between us. “Fire department?”

“I was hoping to avoid it, but I’m afraid Pookie and I are at a stalemate.” Honestly, she was ahead, what with her ability to balance on a tiny branch and claws for support, but I had too much pride to admit that. “Come on you little piece of—”

“Is she okay?” Theresa, the mother of the bride, peeked up through the branches. Her hair was in curlers and she was wearing a long silk robe.

“She’s great.”
Until I get my hands on her.
“Did you bring the food?”

The woman held up a can and the fishy scent was strong enough I was sure the cat could smell it. Its ears twitched and then she mewed and turned away.

“I was afraid of that. She just ate. And once she settles into a place, even Waverly can’t coax her out.” Theresa clutched her robe closed with one hand. “If Waverly hears she got out of the house, even after she specifically told me to watch her—and that she’s up the tree… Well, you know how high-strung she is. She’s been freaking out about everything this morning.”

“I’m totally on it,” I said, careful to not remark on her high-strung statement either way—I’d learned that could come back to bite you if you weren’t careful. “Just go make sure everything’s on track with her, and I’ll have the cat down in no time.”

Theresa went back inside and I eyed the cat. She was only a couple feet out of reach, curled at the base of a skinny branch. If I could just… I clamped on to the branch above and inched forward, but froze when I heard a crack. No dice. I looked down at Jillian.

“On it,” she said.

“Ask for Larry Donovan, and tell him Dakota Halifax needs him.” His son had been one of my dad’s players several years ago, and he’d become a family friend, which rarely happens when it comes to a kid and their coach dynamic. But he and Dad had risen above all that, and he’d helped me out before. Speedy and nice were his specialty. Plus he’d have gloves, whereas I did not, and I preferred my skin without the claw marks I was sure to get if I actually got a hold of the cat. At this point, I was hoping the rings around her ribboned neck would simply fall off, so worst-case scenario we could go on with the ceremony.

But this was the animal curse we were talking about, so I wasn’t going to hold my breath. I managed to get out of the tree semi-gracefully. My almost healed ankle throbbed, so there went that. And hey, if it turned purple, at least I’d match the lilac and mint wedding colors.

…

Twenty minutes till start, the chairs in the reception hall were filled, and the cat was still up the damn tree. After I’d climbed down, it’d gone a few feet higher and caught the silver ribbon around its neck on a sawed-off branch. Not enough to get it to come loose—apparently Teresa had tied it tight so the rings wouldn’t come off. So now there was the fear the kitty would cause itself harm, and while I wasn’t exactly fond of the cat, I didn’t want that either.

But all of this was on the DL, qualified as Things the Bride Doesn’t Need to Know Right Now.

Waverly glanced away from her reflection as I entered the room. “Can you believe I’m finally getting married? I’ve waited for this day for so long!”

It was one of the weddings where I was counting down with the bride, mostly because I needed it to be over. The last month with all of my extra drama had made it even more difficult than it should’ve been. Some clients were impossible to make happy, and Waverly was one of them.

“You look amazing,” I assured her, pinning up the train of the dress so it wouldn’t drag and catch before she made it to the aisle. I almost asked her if she needed anything else, but for once in my life I bit off the question. I was tapped at what I could handle, and if those firemen didn’t show up soon…

I caught a flash of red out the window. Speak of the yellow-coated heroes. My phone vibrated with a text from Jillian, telling me the firemen had arrived. And that one of them was “all kinds of sexy.”

Which worked out, because I was so relieved, I wanted to kiss them. “I’ll be back in a few to make last-minute checks and then we’ll be good to go.” I pulled the curtains that overlooked the front yard with the tree, shot a meaningful glance at Theresa so she’d know to continue keeping Waverly happy and distracted, and then left them in the room, closing the door behind me.

There was no time to fake nonchalance, so I sprinted down the stairs and out the front door. “Hey, Halifax,” Larry said, slapping me on the back, the way he always greeted me. Apparently daughter of a coach meant treated like a sports player.

I explained the cat sitch and the time crunch. “Bonus points if we get him down within the next ten minutes and the wedding can start on time.”