Sugared (Misfit Brides #4) (24 page)

But he felt as awkward and self-conscious as he’d always thought Kimmie was.

Kimmie didn’t hesitate, offering smiles with her
excuse me
s to everyone equally until she stopped at a small knot of familiar women huddled by one of the smaller side cakes of the monument. Some he recognized from Kimmie’s game night, some from Suckers, and the ice cream lady—Dahlia, Kimmie’s secret partner whose wedding cake Josh had accidentally helped ruin—was there too.

“Kimmie! The cake is gorgeous.”

“Oh, I love your dress. Is that new?”

“Did you see who’s here?
Oh my god
. I’m shaking. I’m hyperventilating. Do you think he’ll sing?
Oh my god
, do you think he’d dance with me? Is it bad form to ask for an autograph at a wedding?
Kimmie
! He’s going to eat your cake. I would die if I had to feed a man like him.”

“Which one?”

All the women except Kimmie erupted in giggles. Josh was getting whiplash keeping up with the conversations floating around him.

“Wouldn’t it be fabulous if they all stayed to play in the Husband Games?”

“Ohmigod, Nat would
die
.”

“Is Billy playing?”

“I don’t think so. But you and Mikey are, aren’t you, Dahlia?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve threatened no sex for a month if he doesn’t. Kimmie, is Josh playing?”

“It’s what happily married couples do in Bliss,” Kimmie replied with too much enthusiasm.

Her diamond sparkled in the afternoon light. Guilt and lies churned acid in Josh’s gut, and more suspicious eyeballs took aim at him.

Someone poked Josh. “I swear to God, if you do anything to break
this
cake, I will kill you.”

“That’s not very creative. I’d break into his house and shave his hair in his sleep.”

“I’d Photoshop his head onto a compromising picture and ask Billy to get it to one of the big gossip blogs.”

“I’d put shellfish in his curtain rods.”

“
Ooh
, good one.”

“I got the idea off the Internet.”

Murmurs of approval went through the group.

“Oh, stop,” Kimmie said. “This is the love of my life you’re talking about. He would
never
hurt me.”

Josh hooked an arm around Kimmie’s waist and flashed one of his famous smiles at the women, despite the panic bubbling in his chest. “Kimmie’s cakes are safe with me.”

They were anything but.

An electric guitar suddenly split the air. More instruments joined in for a cool take on a bridal march. The chatter around them went quiet. A white limo pulled up to the curb. Billy Brenton and his tall, bald sidekick, Mikey, appeared in front of the splash pad under the central part of the cake monument. Billy and Lindsey’s edible wedding cake was near the other side cake of the monument, five grand round tiers with sunflowers between each layer and green leaves circling each layer of white. Cameras were everywhere—photo and video—and security lined the ropes separating the invited guests from the gawkers.

Marilyn was across the way in a group of guests who outclassed her simply by breathing. Josh didn’t much keep up with country music, but he thought the dark-haired guy near her might’ve been Luke Bryan, with Tim McGraw next to them too. And that was undoubtedly Charlie Tucker—bassist for the country group Blue—standing with them.

Mom had developed something of a crush on the dark-haired, tattooed country rocker band dude after going to a Blue concert last year, which meant she occasionally mentioned whenever
People
magazine or the latest celebrity gossip reported something on him.

The gossips would have plenty to talk about after this wedding.

The limo door opened, and a short, dark-haired boy leapt out in a black suit, a grin as big as his ring bearer pillow lighting his face. He marched up the way, followed by a gangly brunette girl too old to be a flower girl, but too young to be a bridesmaid.

Natalie stepped out of the limo next in a red, knee-length dress and matching stilettos, then her father in a tux, and finally, the bride appeared. Lindsey took Arthur’s arm while Natalie fixed the bride’s train on her fitted white wedding dress.

And then a brown and tan boxer mix lumbered out of the car, a bow tie on its collar. Lindsey scratched the dog’s ears, and the four of them—bride, father, sister, and dog—started up the walk toward the groom.

Kimmie sighed beside him. A soft smile touched her lips, and her eyes took on a telltale shine.

He shifted.

She deserved this. The big wedding, the pretty dress, the adoration shining in her groom’s eyes. The security. The promise of a future. The love.

The hell of it was, he had the wedding planned for her. To keep up appearances.

But he needed to step out of her way so she could find a worthy man to walk down the aisle with her.

His gut clenched.

The morons here in Bliss didn’t see the way Kimmie sparkled. They took her for granted, the cake princess with the goofy dreams and the overbearing mother. They didn’t understand the big heart her oddities hid. Her strength. Her passion. Her everything.

What to do about a girl who deserved love, when there was no man on earth good enough for her?

The ceremony was short and sweet and ended with a movie-style kiss that had the crowd hooting and cheering, and the bride and groom smiling fairy-tale smiles at each other.

Kimmie’s lips were smiling, but her eyes were haunted.

And the cramp in Josh’s gut got tighter.

The minister announced the new Mr. and Mrs. Will Truitt—Josh had forgotten Billy Brenton was a stage name—and the crowd erupted in cheers again.

Music started—a full band was set up on a stage behind the monument—and Billy immediately twirled his new wife into their first dance. At some signal, other couples joined them. Kimmie said something about talking to the caterer and slipped away before Josh could answer, pulling an effective Kimmie disappearance.

He craned his neck to watch her path, but he couldn’t even get a glimpse of her hair.

Her friends scattered, but he’d had enough experience at classy fundraisers to easily slip into small talk with the people around him while he watched for Kimmie in the crowd, even though his heart wasn’t in it today.

After forty-five minutes of searching for her, he found someone else instead.

Her mother.

They collided in the shadow of the center part of the wedding cake monument beside the makeshift dance floor. Marilyn turned the full power of a fake smile-glare on him.

Much as he hated the woman, he had to hand it to her. She knew how to make a fight appear to be a civil conversation.

“Mr. Kincaid, name your price.”

Josh tucked his hands in his pockets and tilted his head. Two could play the
let’s politely eviscerate each other in public
game.

“Name your price to remove yourself from my business, or I’ll be forced to seek legal action regarding the use of Heaven’s Bakery recipes at the Sweet Dreams Snack Corporation.”

“Ah, the lawyer threat. And next you’ll threaten to spread vicious rumors to damage my family’s reputation, and then you’ll mock the diamond in Kimmie’s ring. Let’s skip to the end, where I offer to remove myself from your business as soon as you remove yourself from Heaven’s Bakery.”

Marilyn’s smile remained pleasant on her lips, but if the eyes were the windows to the soul, Marilyn’s was lingering in the fiery depths of hell. “I will never surrender my family’s bakery to you, Mr. Kincaid.
Ever
. For any reason.”

“What if he loved me?” Kimmie said.

Josh started. Marilyn jumped. Kimmie snuck between them.

“What if he loved me?” Kimmie repeated, stronger.

Sweat gathered under Josh’s collar, and his legs trembled.
What if he loved me
? She said it as though she believed he could.

His arms quaked with the effort of holding still while his heart took off on a sprint.

“What if he truly loved me, and he honestly wanted to marry me?” Kimmie pressed. “He’s a smart businessman. I’m an expert baker. What if we took Heaven’s Bakery into the next generation?”

Marilyn snorted delicately. “Kimberly, dear—”

“Don’t insult her,” Josh growled.

“I’m insulting
you
, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Stop,” Kimmie said.

“He’s stringing you along to get his hands on our bakery, Kimberly.”

“Is it
ours
?” Kimmie said. “Or is it
yours
?”

“The point is that it is not
his
. He is not in love with you, and your allowing this farce of an engagement to go on is simply prolonging the pain for everyone. Most especially yourself.”

Kimmie blinked at her mother. Her head swiveled, and she stared at Josh, those wide blue eyes wounded. Josh reached for her. He couldn’t say the L-word, but he also couldn’t bear to see her hurting. “Don’t listen to her, sugar.”

She sucked in a sharp breath that he felt in his own breastbone. “Don’t. Sugar. Me.”

“Ladies, gather ’round,” a voice boomed over the sound system. “Single ladies, I should say. The bride’s fixin’ to toss her bouquet.”

Marilyn arched a brow. “This shall be interesting. Come, Kimberly. You’re not married
yet
. Let’s see if fate has an opinion of Mr. Kincaid.”

The crowd jostled around them as the single ladies surged toward Lindsey and the married ladies and the men backed away.

Josh tightened his hold on Kimmie. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Kimmie.”

“Don’t I?” she said.

There was a weary hitch in her voice that suggested she’d been doing everything
but
what she wanted.

Including pretending to be engaged to Josh.

And his mind’s feeble protest that it was for her own protection from her mother didn’t ease the guilt bruising his heart.

“All right, all right, here’s our bride,” the voice boomed in the microphone. “And we’ve got our single ladies. Let’s toss this bouquet!”

“Kimberly?” Marilyn prompted. She gestured toward the crowd of single women beside them.

“Quit pestering her,” Josh said.

“Unlike
someone
, I’m looking out for my daughter’s best interests.”

“Insisting on her trying to catch a bouquet in an archaic and ridiculous tradition so she might snag the attention of a moron who only wants her for her cupcakes is in her best interest? Just like working her six days a week but failing to train her for the birthright you’ve been dangling in her face her whole life is in her best interest?”

“Mr. Kincaid, I strongly suggest you speak only of things you have actual knowledge about. I sincerely doubt you’re prepared to take over
your
family business, given what the man in charge of it has done to its finances.”

“
Stop
.” Kimmie shook Josh off.

“On the count of three!” the voice cried.

“
Three
,” the crowd chanted.

“Both of you. Stop,” Kimmie said.

“
Two
,” the crowd yelled.

“Mr. Kincaid, you heard your
fiancée
,” Marilyn said.

“
One!
”

“Mom, if you don’t—”

“
Kimberly!
” Marilyn lunged forward, grabbed Kimmie by the shoulders, and spun her around.

In front of Kimmie, women leapt in the air, arms spread, hands grasping, as the bridal bouquet sailed through the late spring afternoon.

“
Move
,” Marilyn commanded.

Kimmie’s hands went up so fast, it had to be pure reflex. Josh reached out too, but Kimmie snatched the bouquet before it sailed past her.

Applause broke out around them.

Marilyn joined in the clapping. “Oh, how appropriate, darling, with your wedding next week,” she said.

Loudly.

Someone clapped Josh on the back. “Way to go, man.”

Josh cringed.

Kimmie turned.

Slowly.

So very, very slowly.

In the month since Josh had gotten to know Kimmie, he’d seen her sad. He’d seen her happy. He’d seen her nervous and worried and tipsy, awkward and funny and delighted.

But he’d never seen her mad.

Red splotches bloomed on her cheeks—different splotches,
angry
splotches. Her eyes were livid blue flames, and her shoulders visibly shook. She pointed the bouquet at Marilyn. “Apologize,” she said.

Marilyn’s twisted smile morphed into a straight-lined frown. “Smile for the cameras, Kimberly.”

Kimmie turned the bouquet on Josh. His gut flipped inside out. “And you,” she said, “stop baiting her.”

“Kimberly, this is indecorous.”

“My name,” Kimmie growled, “is
Kimmie
. And I quit.”

A surge of pride trumped the tightness in Josh’s muscles.

This
was what people should be applauding. Kimmie standing up for herself. Believing in herself.
Finding
herself.

Marilyn’s brows slammed together. “Kimberly—”

“No. No. I’m done.”

Josh felt a smile blooming. She meant it.

She honestly meant it.

She swung on him. “Don’t you
dare
smile. You think you won? This isn’t a game. This is my life. And. You. Don’t. Love. Me.”

Josh’s denial caught in his throat.

“I love you,” Kimmie said. “And I hate that I love you, because I deserve to be loved too. And you—you can’t do it, can you?”

The knot in Josh’s gut twisted. Heat cascaded from his chest, up his neck, to his ears and the top of his scalp. Despite his practice schmoozing at fundraisers and fancy dinners, he couldn’t find his voice.

He couldn’t tell her he loved her.

If he loved her—if he let himself love her—she could still leave him. Walk away. Give up.

Die.

Just like his mom.

Leaving him alone. Without
her
love.

She flung the bouquet at the nearest person in the thickening crowd around them. Photographers perched on the edge of the group, video cameras rolling, reporters pushing at the ropes separating them from the central party.

“You’ve ruined
both
my friends’ weddings.” Kimmie ripped off his ring and flung it into the air. Her chin wobbled, but fire glowed in her eyes. “I’m
done
with
both
of you.”