Two Times as Hot (7 page)

He heard his mother’s voice from inside the kitchen even before he pushed through
the screen door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She glanced at him from her position at the kitchen sink. “Your friend Jace is here.”

Logan held back his opinion on that statement and hooked a thumb at the door leading
to the hall and his room. “Okay, thanks. I gotta go get dressed.”

“All right. Let me see all you boys once you’re ready.”

Had he been transported back to his senior prom? “Will do, Mom.”

Logan turned the corner and headed into his bedroom and, like it or not, almost into
Jace, who was blocking the doorway.

“Admit it, Tuck. You nervous?”

Logan walked into the room just in time to hear the question and see Tuck frown in
reaction to it. “No. Not at all. Why should I be?”

“This isn’t your first time.” Jace cocked his head to one side and shrugged.

“No, it isn’t. Which is why this time I’m sure.” Tuck’s tone left no doubt of his
sincerity.

Had Jace been raised by wolves? He was seriously bringing up doubts about getting
married on the man’s wedding day? Couldn’t he see Tuck didn’t need any more stress
right now?

Time for Logan to end this conversation. He wedged himself into the space between
Tuck and Jace and reached for his tuxedo, which was hanging from the frame of the
wall mirror. “Excuse me.”

“Sure.” Jace had to take a step back or be whacked in the face with the tux.

Logan glanced at Jace. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

“Now?” Jace raised a brow and glanced at the digital clock on the dresser. “Do we
have to? The wedding isn’t for hours. I figured we could have a drink first.”

A drink? Logan had woken up on the rough side this morning. Thank God he had had the
presence of mind to take that ibuprofen and drink a bottle of water before passing
out last night or things might have been worse. But there was no way in hell he was
starting off his morning with a drink.

“The ceremony doesn’t start for a while yet, but we have to get to the church an hour
early to go over things with the preacher.” Logan ignored the drink comment and reviewed
the schedule. “And we have to meet the photographer before that to take some pictures
of the groomsmen without the girls.”

It never failed. It seemed he always ended up having to be the leader. Didn’t matter
if he was in charge of a unit in Afghanistan, or running a training for the ROTC cadets
at OSU. Or here and now, herding the groomsmen to get them to the church on time.

“Fine. My tux is in the truck. I’ll go get it.” Jace left with a pout worthy of a
child.

Petty as it might be, Logan enjoyed Jace’s displeasure. He glanced at Tuck, too busy
trying to put on his cufflinks to have paid much attention to the conversation. “Here,
let me help you.”

Logan felt every inch the surrogate older brother as he helped Tuck. Twenty years
ago, when Tuck and Logan’s little brother, Layne, had been inseparable and had both
been Logan’s shadows, they all might as well have been blood brothers. Back then Logan
could never have imagined the grown man standing before him now dressed for his wedding
and ready to start a new life and a family of his own with the woman he loved. As
much as it made Logan feel old and sentimental, the thought made him smile.

Tuck glanced up and saw Logan’s expression. “What?”

“I’m just thinking about the old days. Back when you and Layne were in little league
together. Things have sure changed.”

“Yeah, they have. Unlike in the past I now restrain myself from running down the road
after the ice cream truck.” Tuck grinned.

“Thank God for that. You skinned more knees than I could count running after that
damn truck.” Logan laughed at the memory. “And now here you are getting married.”

Tuck shrugged. “I’ve been married before, as Jace keeps reminding me.”

“That wedding was . . .” Logan searched to put a name to it.

“A mistake?” Tuck’s brows rose.

“No. What I was going to say was . . .” Logan shook his head. “Okay, maybe it was
a mistake. Either way, that time was nothing like this.”

“Yeah, I know. This feels different.” Tuck stood still as Logan continued to wrestle
with the tiny cufflink. Was there no invention to make putting these things on easier?

“It is different, Tuck.” Logan finished the job on one of Tuck’s wrists and moved
to the other. “And I’m not saying that because the first one was at the courthouse
and this time will be in a church. It’s not about where. It’s about who.”

“You’re right. It’s different because I’m marrying Becca.”

“Exactly.” Logan finished with the final cufflink and stepped back. “You two might
have started out a little unconventionally, but you did good finding her.”

Tuck adjusted his sleeve and then his gaze met Logan’s. “I’m glad you like her.”

“It would be hard not to. She’s likable.”

So was her sister. Damn, Jace—Logan hated that Jace had gotten to meet her first.
Logan fought the scowl threatening to settle on his face.

“I know something you don’t know. Something Emma said to Becca.” Tuck waggled his
eyebrows. “Wanna hear?”

Logan broke out into a laugh. “Are we both twelve-year-old girls now?” But dammit,
he did want to know. “All right. Tell me.”

“She called you a hottie.”

One look at Tuck’s grinning face told Logan his friend was enjoying this way too much.
Meanwhile, he couldn’t deny his heart sped at the revelation of what Emma had said
to her sister about him. Logan opened his mouth to reply when the door swung wide.

“Who called you a hottie?” With his usual annoying timing, Jace was back.

“No one.” Logan’s answer came out as more of a warning for Tuck to keep his mouth
shut.

Tuck’s grin widened.

Jace frowned. “Come on. Who?”

“My Aunt Matilda,” Tuck answered and shot a smirk in Logan’s direction.

“Your grandmother’s sister?” Jace slapped Logan on the back. “Wow. Good for you, big
guy. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on you, Aunt Matilda, and her walker on the dance
floor. It might be hard though, while I’m grinding against Emma’s hot little body.”

Logan set his jaw and drew in a bracing breath through his nose.

“Hey, guys.” Tyler came through the door, already dressed for the wedding. “The photographer
just called the house and talked to Ma. She’s meeting us at the church in fifteen.
Better get a move on.”

Lucky for Jace, though he’d never know it, that Tyler had chosen that moment to come
in. Otherwise, after that comment about Emma, there was a good chance Jace would have
been sporting a black eye for the wedding pictures.

“I
’m going to cry off all my makeup.” Becca was a vision in white, even with her red
eyes.

Emma wiped at her own cheek as a tear slipped down. Good thing no one could see them
in the tiny room off the back of the church. It was the perfect place for brides to
hide—and cry—until it was time to make their appearance.

“Becs, you have to stop. You’re making me cry, too.” Thank God for waterproof mascara
or Emma would look like a raccoon.

“I know. I’m sorry, but I can’t stop.” Becca drew in a shaky breath. “I didn’t even
get down the aisle yet. What’s going to happen when I’m standing next to Tucker and
have to say my vows?”

“That man waiting for you at the altar doesn’t care if you do sob your way through
the ceremony, because he loves you.” Emma’s voice cracked as the sentiment brought
a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. “Oh, no. Now I made myself cry.”

Becca let out a laugh through her tears. She reached for the tissue box the church
provided. Pulling two from inside, she handed one to Emma. “Quite a pair we make.”

Emma took the tissue and nodded. “I know. We’re pitiful. And we both had better stash
a spare tissue in our cleavage for during the ceremony.”

“Good idea.” Becca pulled two more out of the box.

“This morning I was worried about my hair.” Emma turned toward the mirror. She pointed
at her reddened eyes and turned to Becca. “I should have been more concerned about
looking like this.”

The door to the room swung open as Tara returned from the bathroom. She stood in the
doorway, looking from Becca to Emma. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing.” Becca shook her head.

Emma drew in a long breath, determined to steady herself. “We’re being silly and crying
over nothing and we’re going to stop. Right now. Right?”

“Right.” Becca nodded. “I hope.”

“Phew. Okay. I got scared for a second.” Tara stepped inside and closed the door behind
her.

Emma tried not to hate her as her perky little breasts stood up just fine on their
own beneath the sky blue taffeta dress. The halter style Becca had chosen meant Emma
had to wear a bra with convertible straps to contain her own C-cups. That strap, and
the weight of the breasts it supported, cut into the back of her neck and made the
dull headache she’d woken up with—probably from the shots at the bar last night—worse.

It was going to be a long night, but she’d get through it. She’d suffered for fashion
before and she was sure she would do so again. Tara, on the other hand, was braless
and no doubt far more comfortable. It must be nice to be twenty-something with the
breasts to match.

“I peeked inside. It’s really filling up in there.” Tara glanced at her own reflection
in the mirror.

“Good.” Becca blew out a breath. “I’m ready to get this ceremony going.”

Emma heard the tension in Becca’s voice and glanced at her sister. “You okay?”

“Yes. Fine. It’s just after all Tucker and I have been through this past year, I’m
ready to be married to him.” Becca dabbed the corner of her eye with a tissue. “Crap.
We better stop talking about Tucker. It makes me cry more.”

“Okay.” Emma smiled and willed the fresh wave of moisture in her own eyes to go away.
Becca’s love for Tucker was heartwarming enough to make anyone cry—at least they were
happy tears.

She glanced at Tara and saw her flick away a teardrop of her own. Maybe they weren’t
so different after all. Emma drew in a big, steadying breath, or at least as big as
the tight dress allowed. “Should I go out and find someone to tell us how much longer
before we start?”

“I guess—“ A knock interrupted Becca. She eyed the door and then spun toward Emma.
“Who could that be?”

“The preacher. Mom and Dad. Who knows? Answer it.” It could be any of a number of
people, but Emma could see Becca was too flustered right now to reason that out. Not
that she could blame her sister. She was pretty flustered herself.

“You’re right.” Becca pressed her hand to her chest. “Come in.”

Tyler’s smiling face greeted them when the door opened. Dressed in his tux with a
fresh haircut, he looked like a young clone of Tucker. “Ladies. You all look stunning
. . . even you, Tara.”

Tara scowled at her brother. “Thanks.”

“So.” He clapped his hands together. “We all ready? Everyone’s here who’s coming.
It’s showtime.”

“Wait. I need my father. He’s supposed to walk me down the aisle.” Becca turned toward
Emma. “He’s not here. I knew we needed to have a rehearsal. But you didn’t fly in
until so late and Tara was still at school and I didn’t want Tucker to see me this
morning—“

“Becca. Stop. Calm down.” Emma took Becca’s hands in hers. “We went over everything.
You even drew us a map of the church and put an X on it where each one of us is to
stand. And the guys came early and went over their part with the preacher. Right,
Tyler?”

He nodded. “We did. And I can go find your pa for you. No problem.”

“Find him? Is he missing?” Becca’s eyes opened wide.

This was a clear case of bridal nerves. They probably all should have had a drink
on the way over. It would have calmed Becca down, or it could have had the opposite
effect and they’d all be bawling their eyes out. Oh, well. Too late for that, anyway.

Motion in the doorway caught Emma’s attention and she smiled. “Dad. Come on in.”

Becca pivoted toward their father. “Dad.”

“You all look perfect.” His eyes looked a bit misty, too. “So are we set to go?”

It seemed weddings could choke up the best of them, even a tough old former New York
City police sergeant. Emma smiled. “Yes, sir. We were just waiting for you.”

“I’ll run up and tell them you’re ready to start.” Tyler took off out the door.

That was it. The only thing left to do was wait for the organ music to play the first
strains of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D.” And try not to cry. Emma shoved another tissue
into the front of her dress, just in case.

 

Emma’s hair brushed her shoulders, a cascade of golden silk that framed her face.

She’d left it down like he’d suggested instead of having it put up. It was a ridiculous
thought, but that’s what popped into Logan’s head when Emma appeared around the corner
and stopped in the doorway as the processional music began. One measured step at a
time, she made her way up the aisle toward him.

Once he got past noticing her hair, he couldn’t deny the rest of her looked pretty
great, too. The dress did some amazing things to her already curvy figure, as if it
had been made for her. He felt like a letch standing in church and imagining how those
curves would feel beneath his hands.

Sinful or not, he couldn’t seem to tear himself away from watching Emma until she
turned and followed the path Tara had taken off to the opposite side of the altar.

“You doing okay, bro?” Tyler whispered to Tuck over the processional music.

“Never been better.” Judging by the calm confidence in Tuck’s voice, Logan believed
he spoke the truth.

Once Emma was out of his field of vision, Logan wrestled his focus back to where it
should be as a groomsman, on Tuck and anything he might need. He glanced sideways
and saw Tuck’s attention riveted to the aisle. One glance told Logan that Becca had
come into view. The music changed to “The Bridal March” and Logan turned to see that
the bride, on the arm of her father, had indeed made her appearance.

Logan spared a glance at Tuck and saw a smile bow his friend’s lips, his attention
glued to the aisle and Becca. That was the look of a man in love. No denying it. The
military could be tough on a marriage. Logan had seen that time and time again with
the soldiers he served with, but this marriage—this one might just have a chance.
He felt like a cynical bastard even thinking that, or maybe he was just a realist.
Either way, he’d do what he always did. Hope for the best and plan for the worst,
and be there for Tuck no matter what happened.

“I’ve got a flask in my pocket if anybody needs it,” Jace hissed next to him.

Logan resisted the urge to clock him one. “Jace, I swear to God, if you dare drink
that here . . .” He kept his voice low but there was no mistaking he was serious.

“Fine. I’ll save it for later.” Jace rolled his eyes, until something in the direction
of the pews caught his eye. He paled. “Crap. There’s Jacqueline.”

Jace’s ex-girlfriend. Logan smiled. Good thing Jace had that flask. By the stricken
look on his face, he was going to need a drink.

Tuck, good-natured as always, grinned wider at Jace’s whispered comment, and then
all of his attention was needed for far more important things. He stepped forward
as Becca stopped at the end of the aisle in front of them. Her father kissed her on
the cheek and then moved aside so Tuck could take her hand. She looked up at Tuck
with love in her eyes so evident, Logan had to swallow a lump in his throat.

What Emma had said this morning in the garage was right. It was the littlest things
that made it feel real. That could get a person all choked up. Even a man like Logan,
who’d thought, until now, that he was perfectly content being single.

Logan cleared his throat and turned his attention to the preacher, happy to have something
else to focus on.