Toss the Bouquet (22 page)

Today wasn't one of those days, especially with Kristin Quinn as the bride.

Jack buttoned himself in and frowned, a little uncomfortable with how closely he resembled a groom at that moment. But then just as soon as that feeling came . . . it left. Maybe one of these days he would be. Maybe someday soon he would meet a girl, fall in love, and find himself walking down the aisle to meet her. He fully expected that day not to occur for the next decade or so, at least that's how he had things planned. It's what he felt most comfortable with in his mind.

Which is why the sudden image of April in a wedding
dress his imagination conjured up had him feeling particularly uncomfortable.

He shook off the mental picture and reached for a pair of gold cufflinks, taking a moment to attach one and then the other. Satisfied that his look was complete, he headed for the door. He barely got the thing open when he spotted April across the church hallway, looking down at her feet as though trying to find something. She looked stunning. He hated that superficial word, but it was the only way he could think to describe her. Her hair was pulled up, her slender neck a smooth line of tanned skin from hairline to collarbone. He traced it down to her bare upper back, taking in the way her waist narrowed and disappeared underneath the clingy silk fabric. His eyes traveled lower . . . lower . . . until he caught himself and swallowed. She was stunning. Absolutely gorgeous.

He was frozen in his own doorway, unable to move, until he realized she had turned around and was looking right at him.

“If you're finished ogling me, do you think you could come help with this?”

Busted. The word she used last night, suddenly appropriate right now. He felt his stupid face turn red, a sensation he hadn't experienced since high school. So many incidents from those years crashed over him like a hurricane of bad memories. He wouldn't go back there for anything, not even if it meant Katie McKeen—most popular girl who never once gave him the time of day—sat on his lap at lunch, shared her order of ketchup and fries, and kissed him on the mouth while the entire cafeteria watched in awe.

A dumb schoolboy fantasy that stayed with him through sophomore and junior year. And maybe a little bit of senior year, too, but that wasn't important.

“I wasn't ogling you.” The lie bled red all over him, and inwardly he cursed. “What do you need help with?”

“I dropped Sam's wedding band and now I can't find it anywhere. Help me and I'll dance with you at the wedding.” It was a sarcastic comment, meant to sound amusing. The disappointment Jack felt surprised him.

“I'm singing. I won't be able to dance with you.”

He didn't miss her frown. Or the way she covered it with a tug on her hair and a small smile. They were both bothered.

“I was kidding. But I saw the way you filled those birdseed cups yesterday. You were practically racing to finish them on time. I've never seen anyone work so fast, and for nothing but a single scoop of chocolate.”

“It was a double scoop, and there's nothing wrong with chocolate.”

“Only boring people get plain chocolate.”

“Must be the reason you went with the super-exciting chocolate chip.”

In response, she smacked him on the arm. Using her very smooth, shapely arm. And funny thing, he liked being hit. By her. As far as he was concerned, she could do it again and again.

“Would you just help me for a second? If I don't find this ring, my sister will freak out, and I'm just really not in the mood for that today.”

“Your sister needs to chill.” Jack shot a quick glance at his feet. Something flashed right next to the sole of his shoe.
“Is this it?” He leaned over and picked it up, then handed it over.

Instead of the relieved smile he expected to see, she rolled her eyes. “Of course you would find it without even trying. I've been out here looking for ten minutes.”

“What did you expect? I'm Jack Vaughn. I can do anything I want.”

For the first time ever, he regretted that line as soon as it escaped his mouth. If April's expression was any indication, the words were definitely a mistake.

“It would seem that way,” she said with a shrug. And without another word, she slipped the band over her thumb and disappeared behind the door to the room that housed the rest of the wedding party. Jack could hear a half dozen excited conversations going on inside the room.

He swallowed. He had so much to make up to her. He only hoped today would put him on the road to getting there.

“What do you mean you lost it?” Kristin's shrill voice carried across the room. “I bought it as a gift and gave it to you only yesterday. How could you lose it?”

“Kristin, those things were so tiny, I'm not surprised she lost hers,” April said, rushing to the bridesmaid's defense. “Why in the world you thought it was a good idea to buy everyone a single pearl to commemorate the day completely escapes me.”

Kristin let out a long, labored sigh, so loud it was likely heard at the altar. “Because everyone knows pearls signify
fertility if you wear them in your shoes during a wedding ceremony, and I want to have lots of children.” April just looked at her. If Sam were a smart man, he would already be out the front door and looking for a cab to take him a million miles away from here.

“That doesn't mean everyone else does.” April said slowly, already planning to lose hers accidently on purpose.

“Suddenly I'm glad I can't find mine,” Brenda, the bridesmaid who had just been given the lecture, muttered under her breath.

“I don't understand why everyone can't just do their jobs and cooperate a little more,” Kristin—remaining firmly in meltdown mode—said into her hands. April just smiled at Brenda, the two of them sharing what might possibly be the only lighthearted moment of the entire day, week, or black hole of a month.

“Kristin, what are you yelling about?” Their mother, ever the picture of calm, cool, and collectedness in her blue silk suit and Jimmy Choo heels, walked into the room and closed the door—her thin lips pressed into a disapproving line.

And as Kristin started to cry about the benefits of fertility pearls and Brenda and the other bridesmaids looked anywhere but at Kristin, April swallowed her frustration and quietly left the room. She needed air. Of all the places she wanted to be in this moment, cowering on the receiving end of one of her sister's tantrums wasn't one of them. There was really only one place she wanted to be.

Back in the hallway with Jack.

April pressed a hand to her stomach, thinking surely she had come down with a strange bug or something. Because . . .
the hallway with Jack? Anywhere
at all
with Jack? The idea was ridiculous at best, horrific at worst. She'd been furious with Jack Vaughn for three years now. It wasn't like she could just give that up in less than a week's time and suddenly develop some sort of odd kinship with the man. And kinship wasn't even the right word. Affection was closer to it—no. She decided then and there to stick with kinship. It was safer. Accurate. The most correct way to describe how she felt.

She was totally lying to herself.

Still, the wedding was getting ready to start, she had a pearl to dispose of, her feet already hurt, and she hadn't seen Jack in ten minutes or so.

It had been the longest ten minutes of her life.

This had been the longest hour of Jack's life.

Weddings just weren't his thing.

Not the one-by-one parade down the aisle. Not the endless words about love and faithfulness by the pastor-for-hire—or in this case Kristin's pastor because she actually went to church here. Not the candle lighting or the vows or the mind-numbing words of encouragement spoken throughout by assorted unknown family members. Since when did family members speak? No, none of this was particularly his thing.

He glanced up at the stage, his gaze landing once again on April's slender form. Okay, maybe this wedding offered one thing.

April. April had definitely become his thing.

Truthfully, he shouldn't even be here. He needed to be at the reception hall getting his band ready to perform. Instead he sent them on ahead, unable to bring himself to
leave while April was still here. Besides, he was invited. And who was he to turn down a kindly offered invitation by the bride?

A man who was learning to have a thing for weddings, that's who.

Throughout the ceremony, Jack hadn't stopped staring at her. At the way she stood proudly at her sister's side, taking charge of the veil, the bouquet, the ring, the everything. At her figure in that form-fitting dress. At her eyes—the way they shone with unshed tears. As mad as she'd been only an hour ago when she marched up to him right before the ceremony started, he didn't expect the emotional side of her to come out. Then again, every chick he'd ever met cried at weddings. Obviously she was no exception. But something about her tears tugged at him.

Maybe because it was easy to imagine her crying those same tears after she discovered he had stolen her lyrics. Partial lyrics or not, it was time he finally stopped lying to himself. They were hers. Rightfully hers. And on the back of her creativity, he'd made millions.

All week he'd worked to convince himself that pocketing her napkin years ago wasn't a serious offense, rationalizing that someone needed to have the courage to make good words like hers available to the public. April hadn't had the guts; still didn't have them or she wouldn't be working in the same bar wearing the same apron and singing the same nightclub ballads.

That's what he'd told himself.

Now the only words floating through his mind were
liar . . . selfish . . . cheater
. All of them on repeat. Well, he was
tired of the labels. Weary of the mental taunt. There really was only one way to rectify that grievance, only one way to make the accusations stop launching toward him like hand grenades aimed straight for his head.

He just hoped he could actually bring himself to go through with it.

April was annoyed with her sister. Fed up and sick of her demands and weary of being Kristin's personal punching bag for the last week. No one should be treated the way she'd been treated the past several days, and she'd had enough. More than enough, and she was ticked off.

So why in the world was she crying?

Because her sister was getting married, and she would miss everything about their one-on-one relationship. Quiet conversations late at night from the living room sofa in the apartment they'd shared for the past three years. Fights over which one of them used the last of the conditioner and placed it back on the shower shelf for the other to discover it empty. Grocery store trips and split bills at the checkout—always in half and always annoying because Kristin's tastes ran decidedly more expensive than hers. Living with her sister was a pain in the butt. She was bossy and messy and lazy and selfish to the core.

But Kristin was her sister. April would miss her so much it hurt just thinking about it. She swiped at a tear threatening to run down her cheek and smear her perfectly applied makeup. But then another one followed it and she gave up.
It didn't matter if anyone saw her cry. She loved her sister; it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. Their love ran deep.